6 Times We Almost Kissed (And One Time We Did), by Tess Sharpe

While looking very much like a cute romance book about two girls who are best of friends and come close multiple times to actually locking lips, this novel is actually weightier material.  The girls are Penny and Tate, daughters of two best friends who have known each other most of their lives.  Tate's mother is in need of a new liver and Penny's mother volunteers to donate a part of hers to save her friend.  To make the whole thing work, the four of them have to move in with each other.  That would be fine, except that Penny and Tate have a long and complicated history which they have generally tried to avoid discussing or revisiting.  That proves difficult when the events and people involved are not exactly going away.  

The story contains a number of typical rom com tropes like the two girls having the share a bed after a snafu with their hotel reservations, but it quickly becomes apparent that there's more to the book.  A few years ago, Penny and her father were in a kayaking accident in which  Penny's father was killed. Penny's mother has never worked through her grief (or allowed Penny to do so).  This has left an awkward dynamic in their relationship, which being in close proximity with their best friends make much worse.  It's really the reconciliation of this painful history that ties the entire story together, making the predictable eponymous kiss at the end of the book something of an afterthought.

I liked the dynamics between the characters.  The complicated relationship between Tate and Penny which is far less romantic than one would expect.  The mothers (with each other and with their daughters) also bring in complications that are handled with aplomb by the author. I find the story of suppressed grief to be compelling enough to push the story forward.  And I even find the near-miss kisses to be surprisingly more dramatic than one would find usually in a romance.  This is a book of great characters and powerful emotions.

It's also a terribly busy story.  As often happens in these cases, the ending is a really hard trek tying up all of the loose ends.  Things suffer along the way.  A subplot involving an ex-girlfriend (Leslie) does nothing for the story and is even a bit bizarre.  More importantly, even the liver transplant story feels superfluous -- it provides an excuse for everyone to be together, but adds little else to the actual story.

Time to Roll, by Jamie Sumner

Ellie is dealing with a lot of changes this summer.  Her Mom has  gotten remarried -- to her gym teacher -- and is traveling Route 66 with him for their honeymoon for the next month.  Her Dad, who's never been that close wit her, has come (with his new wife and their boys) to live with her for the month.  The result is chaos and Ellie would do just about anything to get out of the house.  Her best friend Coralee has an idea:  they should both compete in the Little Miss Boots and Bows together.  Coralee lives for beauty pageants, but Ellie wouldn't be caught dead in one.

One of the more obvious reasons Coralee doesn't like the idea is that she has cerebral palsy and needs a wheelchair to get around.  She's not embarrassed by this fact, but often annoyed by the way her wheelchair causes people to treat her.  But Coralee is persistent and Ellie agrees to go along with it.  It's just about everything Ellie feared.  And when the organizer starts using Ellie to promote the "diversity" of the event, Coralee grows resentful of the attention Ellie is getting.  Ellie decides she has to take control and do this on her own terms.

There's undeniably excellent representation here for children with disabilities and the best part of this story was the character of Ellie.  She has the right amount of spunk and intelligence to be interesting.  But the  story felt rough and unfinished.  The development of Ellie's relationship with her estranged father had potential but never really takes off and the tensions with Coralee get a rushed resolution.

The Sky We Shared, by Shirley Reva Vernick

In the final days of World War II, two girls try to do what they can for their families and countries, and learn along the way that the right thing to do is often not as simple as grownups make it sound.

Nellie lives in Bly, Oregon.  Her father has been away for years now, defending the Aleutian Islands against Japanese advances.  Her next-door neighbors have just lost their elder son in combat in Europe and the younger brother, Nellie's best friend Joey, struggles with anger and grief.  Nellie knows that she can't really understand what Joey is going through but she wants to help him however she can.  Meanwhile, as a keen observer of his town, she sees the varying ways that the war has impacting the others around her as well.  It all seems to come down to luck! The war itself seems far away from her as all she sees first hand is rationing and blackout curtains.

In a village in southern Japan, Tamiko and her aunt sit worrying about Tamiko's brother who has trained as a kamikaze and prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for the Empire.  Tamiko is proud of her brother but wishes he were home safe.  She understands the war in inevitable and everyone must give their best if Japan is to emerge victorious.  

So, Tamiko is excited to serve when her class is summoned to a factory to help assemble huge paper balloons.  They work long and arduous hours for weeks putting together these balloons with big sheets of washi paper.  At first she knows only that balloons are part of the war effort.  It's only when their work is completed that she learns that they will be used to drop bombs on the Americans.  She's OK with that as the Americans are the ones who are trying to hurt them, so anything that will bring victory quicker is to be celebrated.

But in the weeks that follow, things change dramatically for both girls.  The Americans start a ferocious bombing campaign of the Japanese mainland and Tamiko experiences war first-hand as her villages is destroyed.  And in Oregon, Nellie one night catches sight of what she thinks at first are shooting stars in the sky.  But instead, they turn out to be mysterious floating balloons.

A haunting story based on the true history of Japanese Fu-Go campaign which brought hundreds of floating explosives over North America in the dying days of the World War II.  For the most part, these attacks proved ineffective, but they did cause the only domestic casualties of the War in Bly, Oregon when one of the bombs killed a pregnant women and five children on a church picnic party.  Knowing nothing of the topic, I was fascinated and horrified at the way Vernick chooses to tie her two protagonists -- who never meet face to face -- together.

With a sometimes overly enthusiastic attention to historical detail, Vernick builds sympathetic portrayals of her characters who are typical young teens in so many ways but also products of their country's propaganda.  You clearly sense that they could be friends, but in a time of war such sympathy is impossible.  The novel becomes an unapologetic look at what causes hatred and fear for the alien other and what is necessary to pull back and learn to forgive.  Written for a middle school audience, the lessons are straightforward and unambiguous but there is wide room for discussion and debate for thoughtful adults as well.

This is children's literature at its finest.  It takes an interesting idea and spins it into an opportunity to explore the world and how it works.  It could be accused of trying a bit too hard at times (for example, a late inclusion of a nasty racist incident distracts from the general focus of the story), but there's so much here for readers to explore and think about.  It achieves its goals without sacrificing the story, which remains entertaining throughout.  Highly recommended.

Spin, by Rebecca Caprara

Caprara presents us a retelling of the story of Arachne, the young weaver who challenged the goddess Athena and was transformed into a spider for her hubris.  In this version, Arachne's antipathy towards the gods is born out of a life of economic hardship and social injustice.  The stories of the gods, clearly written to uphold patriarchal norms, hold no value to her.  She doesn't solicit divine intervention, but rather sets out through her own hard work to cultivate her talent.  Her efforts to set forth justice through her work is hindered at every turn by men, by the community, and ultimately by the gods themselves.

Not content to set the record straight on Arachne, Caprara takes apart most of the genre, calling out its misogyny, violence, and perversity with a strong grasp of the material.  Feminist retellings of classical literature have been done before, of course, but rarely as well as they are here.  The book is written in generally excellent verse and this gives the customary gravity but also evokes the epic style itself.  It's not Ovid, but it's a fitting tribute to the way such stories are told.

Caprara's instinct to make calls to action give the novel the taste of a screed (which will mostly be preaching to the choir as it is hard to imagine Ron DeSantis plucking up a copy of this book from his public schools' burn pile).  The writing could never be accused of subtlety!  A lot more could have been done without always connecting every dot.  However, that doubt in the reader's intelligence is a small flaw for this is a beautifully written tribute to Greek mythology and a work of great contemporary relevance.

Unseelie, by Ivelisse Housman

Iselia (or "Seelie") and her twin Isolde have managed to survive since they had to flee from home through their wits and their magic.  And it was their magic that first got them into trouble.  Seelie is a changeling who wields poorly-controlled magic that tends to get them into trouble.  But it is Isolde and her plan to burgle the home of the powerful enchantress Leira Wildfall that puts them in enough danger to set off the events of the story.  

While they are breaking in they find themselves face to face with another criminal duo (a boy named Maze and a girl named Odani) who are attempting to do the same thing.  The four of them are caught and have rely upon each other for their escape.  A much bigger heist/quest ensues where the four young people face greater and greater challenges, revealing strengths and powers that they didn't know they had.  All in all, pretty typical and unremarkable.

What makes this fantasy story about magic and fairies different from the rest is Seelie.  She's neurodivergent.  The idea is born from a theory the author has that people who were accused of being changelings or possessed by spirits were really autistic.  And so she imagines how an autistic person would understand a fantasy story.  Seelie's view of the world is our view.  From Seelie's understanding of her magic powers to the basic way she communicates with the others, she struggles.  Events are not always linear.  A huge stress is placed on sensory perception:  caves that are pitch black, walls that seem endless, lights that blind, and so on.  Scenes are not always easy to follow as Seelie sorts out what is going on around her, but they come together in their own way in the end.

The result is storytelling that is fresh and a voice that is unique and distinct.  However, I was less taken by story, which was repetitive (endless variations of the same basic set-up:   a battle that they inevitably lose, a hasty deal or a rash decision to escape the leaves Seelie disoriented, and then it just happens again).  There's an endless supply of new characters to supply these iterations of conflicts, but no clear direction to the story.  And a plot twist at the end suddenly undoes most of the understandings developed during the novel in order to create the requisite cliffhanger for the second half of this duology.  I'll entertain that my expectations for the story may bear a neurotypical bias, but I found the story boring.

The Coldest Winter I Ever Spent, by Ann Jacobus

Del suffers from anxiety and panic disorders, which she has in the past self-medicated with alcohol and narcotics.  A suicide attempt a year and a half ago brought her to live with her Aunt Fran, an art dealer in San Francisco.  Now in recovery, Del is planning to start school in the Fall, works on a suicide help line, and is excited that her high school crush Nick is coming to visit.

However, the panic attacks have not gone away and there is temptation everywhere for Del to relapse.  Nick is friendly, but he doesn't want to have anything to do with her because of all that baggage.  Helping suicidal people feels good, but it's challenging to Del and a failed rescue leaves her doubting her ability to do the work.  And then Aunt Fran starts showing signs of getting sick, which morphs into a terminal cancer diagnosis.

As Fran's condition declines, she decides to stop seeking treatment and starts hospice at home.  But it isn't enough.  Fran doesn't want to let the disease take its course and she asks Del to help her get to Oregon so she can get help in terminating her life on her own terms.  For Del, who has struggled so long with fighting her own suicidal impulses (as well as talking her callers out of them) she is reluctant to help her Aunt "speed up the process."

While plenty of YA novels use death as a dramatic device (dead mother, dying best friend, etc.), very few focus on the process of dying and hospice the way this novel does.  The book is well-researched and intelligently discusses the process of assisted suicide.  Moreover, the latter part of the book becomes a detailed catalog of the later stages of dying and it's quite eye-opening.  The story doesn't make for the cheeriest of reading but there's a raw honesty to the way the experience is portrayed and the impact on Del and her family and friends.  I feel that alone makes this a notable book.

A Scatter of Light, by Malinda Lo

When pictures of Aria topless find their way on to Instagram, her parents decide it would be best if she spent her last summer before college with her grandmother in San Francisco rather than unsupervised with friends on Martha's Vineyard.  While she is naturally resentful of this decision, she eventually finds her summer to be memorable.  

Set in 2013, right after California legalized same sex marriage, Aria undergoes her own realization that she might be a lesbian as she falls in love with Steph, her grandmother's gardener  At the same time, her grandmother Joan opens Aria's eyes to art.  Aria, who wants to study astronomy and is on her way to MIT, has never entertained that she has artistic leanings, but under her grandmother's guidance, she starts to blossom as an artist.

In sum, a coming of age story with several different facets. Aria's transformation is interesting to follow, but she's a surprisingly dull protagonist.  She goes through a number of important self-realizations, but they mostly seem to bounce off of her and I felt largely excluded from what she was experiencing.  It doesn't help that both Joan and Steph are cut out of the story rather abruptly, leaving Aria on her own to sort things out at the end.  And instead of doing so, the novel simply jumps ten years ahead after everything has worked out.

Intended to be a companion work to a much heavier novel called Last Night at the Telegraph Club, this novel stands on its own and makes only fleeting reference to the characters of that book.

Remind Me to Hate You Later, by Lizzy Mason

As the subject of her mother's blog, Jules has lived her entire life in the spotlight.  It's not a place where she's ever been comfortable, but her mother refuses to stop writing about her daughter, often in great graphic detail.  Every embarrassing moment in Jules's life has been fodder for her Mom's millions of followers.  The more mortifying the event, after all, the better for ratings.  Never mind that the violations of privacy are driving Jules to depression and self-harm.  Tragedy ensues when, after a particularly invasive post that discusses Jules's burgeoning sex activity, Jules decides to end her life.

In the aftermath, Jules's best friend Natalie tries to cope with the loss.  She knew plenty about Jules's misery but she didn't understand how bad it was for her.  She despises Jules's mother for what she did to Jules. And she hasn't stopped.  Now she's writing a book to capitalize on the experience!  But Natalie also wants to explore her own role in the tragedy and address the guilt she feels for moving on.

The first half of the book, told by Jules, is a harrowing story of parental abuse.  But while it gives us a clear sense of what she went through, it turns out not to be the most interesting part of the novel.  It's really the second half, where Natalie takes over, that brings the pieces together.  For one thing, Natalie is a far more reliable narrator, with a strong sense of obligation to get the story right.  And while she is immensely sad and angry about what happened to her friend, she recognizes that there are multiple sides to the story.  She even eventually comes round to being willing to sit down with Jules's mother!  She also struggles with guilt as she and Jules's boyfriend develop romantic feelings towards each other.

The story packs a pretty heavy punch and is a compelling read, but it transcends the usual suicide tropes by spending considerable time on how people's lives go on after a tragedy.  So, while there is plenty of grief, the story doesn't really dwell on it. I also found the subject of social media addiction to be quite interesting.  A lot more could have been made of it, but Mason avoids preaching and simply sets out the point that Mom's narcissism (fed by her followers) really was the trigger for this tragedy.  And her daughter's compulsion for paying attention to those posts sealed her fate.  That leaves us food for thought.

We Weren't Looking to Be Found, by Stephanie Kuehn

Two girls of color from different worlds room together at a residential psychiatric facility and seek clarity and connection.  With the possible exception of the racial diversity in this novel, this has been done so so many times, what could possibly make this iteration stand out? Insight, patience, and charisma.

Dani comes from a well-off family in Dallas.  Her mother is an ambitious black politico and she can't stand it.  To escape what she sees as the hypocrisy of her family, she drowns herself in alcohol, pills, and parties.  And when it all gets to be too much, she runs away and ends up getting sent to Peach Tree Hills, a facility for young woman outside of Atlanta.

Camila loves dance and after three years of auditions she's finally gotten herself accepted to a dance school.  But the stress of getting this far has taken its toll and Camila developed a habit of cutting to relieve her pain.  The breaking point, however, is when her parents inform her that she can't go because the money that was to have paid for school is gone.  In crisis, she tries to end her life and ends up at Peach Tree Hills.

Both girls are angry and frustrated, convinced that their issues have everything to do with their parents and other adults who want to keep them down.  But through patient guidance from the facility's caregivers and the bond that develops between them, they begin to dig their way out on the road to self-discovery.  A minor subplot about a cache of found letters written by a previous resident adds some pathos to their search.

The characters make this story.  Dani and Camila are intelligent and articulate advocates for themselves.  Even in the beginning when they don't have the focus they need to find their way out, they are fearless and determined.  They make plenty of mistakes and do things that are plainly stupid, but these are their mistakes to make and they accept the responsibility for them.  There are a few tears but never any self-pity from these girls.  That makes this novel rather unique in a genre that tends to wallow in navel-gazing and self-hatred.  There were times when the story seemed to drift (the whole letters cache being the most obvious example), but Dani and Camila kick ass from beginning to end.

Miracle, by Karen S. Chow

For Amie, her father has always been the muse for her art.  It is his love for music and his love for her playing that has helped her succeed at violin.  And while he is dying of cancer, she tries desperately to please him.  She know the prognosis but it can't stop her from hoping that somehow he will get better.  When he does eventually succumb, she is bereft and finds that she simply cannot play at all anymore.

In the ensuing months, she works through guilt and anger to try to find a new equilibrium and build a new hope of her own, rekindling her music.

A better-than-average story of grief and recovery, helped by the beautiful way that Chow works music into the story of Amie's relationship with her father.  Another aspect I liked was the contrast between the way that Amie and her mother copes with their loss, showing the complexity of dealing with one's own needs balanced against those of another.  While each of them attempt to solve their own problems in order to not burden the other, the find that it is really something they need to do together.  Finally, instead of a clean ending with some sort of full recovery, we find only hope for the future -- a solution that felt right.

Hamra and the Jungle of Memories, by Hanna Alkaf

There are certain rules about the jungle that every Malaysian child knows:  always ask permission before you enter, never take anything without permission, and never give out your real name.  But Hamra doesn't care.  It's her thirteenth birthday and everyone has forgotten.  No one has done anything more than order her around.  So, she enters the jungle, brazenly refusing to seek permission, and takes a piece of fruit home to her family.

The fruit turns out to be magical and the fearsome weretiger who owns the tree it came from demands compensation for her offense -- Hamra must go on a quest to help the weretiger become a man.  That quest sends Hamra, her best friend Ilyas, and the weretiger on an adventure through the realm of fairies and demons.  They struggle with a variety of magical forces to restore the weretiger's humanity and unearth his history, which she finds is intertwined with her own family's history.

Heavily populated with Malaysian culture and folklore, Alkaf spins a story loosely based on Little Red Riding Hood and set in the middle of the Covid Pandemic.  It is a wildly incongruous setting where Hamra and her companions do things like use invisibility spells to dodge detection from police enforcing the quarantine.  That complexity doesn't always work, making the story feel crowded.  It is also long and repetitive as similar events (taking things without paying for them, narrowing escaping certain death through a surprise visitor, etc.) happen again and again.  After a while, the narrow escapes become largely indistinguishable.  A final complaint I would have is that the heavy use of unfamiliar words and settings, while delightful in theory, makes the story challenging to read and it takes a while to get into it.

Leeva at Last, by Sara Pennypacker (ill by Matthew Cordell)

Leeva's mother only cares about fame.  Her father only cares about money.  Neither of them cares anything about her.  When Leeva finds out that the town has a school and gets excited about attending, her parents laugh off the idea.  School?  What an absurdity!  What good could school ever do for you?  But Leeva is curious and when her curiosity leads her to sneak out of the house (violating the "Employee Handbook" her parents have created for her) she discovers a whole world out there.  It's a world full of books, homemade cookies, an orphaned badger, and a hypochondriac boy in a hazmat suit.  Most of all, it is full of human beings making connections.

In an absurd style that will remind readers of Roald Dahl or David Walliams, Pennypacker deftly explores a variety of topics including friendship, family, and creativity.  It's a story that cannot be taken seriously and younger readers who can't recognize the satirical elements may find it confusing.  I personally found the abusive nature of the humor disturbing.  But if you delight in books that are so cruel that it is "obvious" that they are not to be taken seriously, this can be a silly read.

A Song Called Home, by Sara Zarr

Lou and her sister Casey have a hard time adjusting to the changes brought on when their mother decides to get remarried and moves them out of the city and into the suburbs.  Their new stepdad Steve is a pretty good guy, but for the girls things were fine the way they were.  They had their school and their best friends.  Also, after dealing with their father's drinking problems, they don't exactly have a lot of trust.  Gradually, the family comes together.  A guitar, left for Lou on the doorstep (presumably by her father) provides a central theme to tie everything together.

The characters are all excellent, but the efforts of Steve to break through to the girls and Lou's complicated relationship with her sister were really the best parts. It's a busy book. In addition to the various challenges that each character faces in living together, there are some pretty serious topics raised, including alcoholism, co-dependency, and classism.  Casey acts out the most, but Lou picks up a habit of stealing  from family and friends (a problem which is never fully addressed).

While covering very little new ground, Zarr's story is well-written and a delight to read.

I Miss You, I Hate This, by Sara Saedi

During the Covid Pandemic, I wondered what YA literature set during the period would look like.  This novel, while taking great artistic license, does a great job of exploring some of the key themes, but is ultimately knee-capped by that license.  In order to create a story that fits within a single academic year and has greater relevance to young people, Saedi creates a whole new pandemic called "Adema," with slightly different symptoms.  Adema is more virulent for the young than the old (thus forcing young people to quarantine and the elderly to be largely immune).  That switch allows our teen protagonists to truly be the center of the universe and to explore issues of isolation that during Covid were felt more intensely by older people.  

Parisa and Gabriela are two high school seniors who are best friends despite their differences.  Parisa is from a wealthy Iranian-American family and on her way to becoming valedictorian.  Despite this privilege, she suffers from panic attacks that the pandemic lockdown aggravates.  In contrast, Gabriela's two Moms struggle to make ends meet and when the pandemic destroys their catering business, Gabriela has to put her life on the line and get a job to help the family pay the rent.

Throughout the lockdown period (which for this disease runs during 2022-2023 school year), Parisa and Gabriela stay in touch through texting and work through a variety of issues including Parisa's crush on her sister's boyfriend and Gabriela's search to reunite with her estranged family.  When a sudden terrible mistake destroys their deep friendship, it takes an even deeper tragedy to bring them back together.

It's a fine story that really does take on a lot of familiar pandemic-era issues including the psychological trauma of isolation, the economic impact of the stay-at-home orders and the way "essential workers" were treated, and the uncertainty of the future.  It's therefore really distracting that in this parallel world, Covid never happened and instead this Adema ravages the country in a similar-but-different way.  I understand why Saedi went with a different disease but it's off-putting to have very real and salient recent events being fictionalized.

Sweet and Sour, by Debbi Michiko Florence

Up until two years ago, Mai and her family has spent every summer with Zach and his family.  That was the year that Zach's family moved to Japan.  It was also the summer that Zach betrayed Mai, hurting her deeply and causing her to swear lifelong enmity for her former best friend.  Now, Zach is back and Mai has to spend another summer with him.  She's sworn to get revenge for his unforgivable cruelty.  However, she finds him changed and her anger and desire for vengeance wavers.  Can she stay the course or will she choose the much harder path of forgiveness?

A sweet middle grade book about friendship and forgiveness, with all of the messy subjects of acknowledging hurt and learning how to let go of negative feelings.  In a vast universe of books about friendships and how to cultivate them, this story has some valuable life lessons to offer and the work that is involved in being a good friend.  I found Mai's stubborn attachment to vengeance a bit arrogant and it made it hard to like her, but she's certainly a good educational example.  The lessons come on a bit too heavy and elements of the story will age poorly, but the kids in the story are relatable and there's a sweet romance and an overall innocence to a story that is hard to find nowadays.

Each Night Was Illuminated, by Jodi Lynn Anderson

When Cassie and Elias were young children, they witnessed a horrific train accident together. Cassie lost her faith in God that day, unable to conceive how such horrible suffering could have occurred.  And shortly after that, Elias moved away.  In the ensuing years, they corresponded and stayed in touch.  Elias returns when they are now in High School, with an obsession with finding ghosts and he enlists Cassie to help him contact the victims of the train accident.

When he is not searching for ghosts, he plots elaborate pranks against Father James -- a mean-spirited blowhard priest who dominates their parish.  Cassie, who has never liked Father James, finds it amusing but it is very dangerous.  And when Elias gets caught, Father James turns the community against him and he and his family are forced to move away again.  Lonely without her friend, Cassie is determined to continue her search for the ghosts.  Her search comes to an end with a cataclysmic flood.  

An ambitious novel that is loosely based on the life of Saint Eia of the Celts which explores Cassie's search for God and contains a heavy ecological theme.  As a straight story, the plot is a mess, taking significant shifts at several points and drifting between ideas.  That said, the writing is lovely and deep and there are profound moments scattered throughout the book.  It's artistic, but it's a strange read.

The Falling Girls, by Hayley Krischer

Shade and Jadis have always been there for each other.  United in their distaste for the popular kids and things like Homecoming and Prom, they have enjoyed being outsiders.  But Shade is changing.  She thinks she might like to belong to a group after all.  She misses the gymnastics she excelled at when she was young and regrets never having made it on the cheerleading team.  So, she decides to try out.

She is surprised to find that she is actually warmly received.  Even the "three Chloes" (queen Chloe Orbach, insecure Chloe Schmidt, and pleaser Chloe Clarke) who rule the cheer team accept her as a team member.  Jadis is shocked though and feels betrayed.  She warns Shade that she's being exploited but Shade doesn't care.  And to everyone's surprise, Shade and Chloe Orbach grow surprisingly close, upsetting the prevailing social hierarchy.

Then, at the Homecoming dance, while the girls are experimenting with Ecstasy, Chloe Orbach collapses and dies.  Suspicion falls on Jadis (who supplied the drugs) and Shade (who connected them).  But would Jadis really try to kill her perceived competition?  All signs seem to indicate so, but Shade isn't sure she believes it  Jadis meanwhile tries to warn Shade that the remaining Chloes are out to frame them.

A taut psychological thriller about adolescent insecurity and the depths that girls will go to in order to preserve their friendships and their place in the social hierarchy.  Less exploitative than other novels in the genre, I was taken by the complex relationships between the girls.  I also liked the way the adults were portrayed, with greater-than-usual multi-dimensionality.

Big Rig, by Louise Hawes

Hazel (or as she likes to call herself, “Hazmat”) and her father are creatures of the road, making a living as long haul truckers.  While only eleven, Hazmat already knows how to keep travel logs and manage the business.  She knows all about loading and unloading cargo.  She even understands the theory of how to operate a truck (although she’ll have to be 18 before she can apply for her CDL).  She loves everything about the job and the lifestyle.

But things are changing and she worries that automation will end the use of human operators and there may not be jobs for her in the future.  That may be far-fetched worry, but she also knows that her Dad wants to find them a stable home now that she’s about to become a teenager.  The trouble is that she doesn’t want to ever settle down to a house in the burbs with a frilly bed in a pink bedroom.  She’s rather live free on the road.

A bit thin on an overall plot, the book consists mostly of vignettes (some of them quite outlandish) that fill the pages but don’t really advance the story.  I liked the characters, but when we’re adopting cats who survive plane crashes and rescuing a group of special needs children from flood waters, I have to start questioning the realism of the story.  It's a fast entertaining read that taught me a bit about the trucking lifestyle and the basics of the business, but didn’t have a compelling dramatic arc to carry it through. 

The Grace of Wild Things, by Heather Fawcett

Grace's wild imagination and her conviction that she is skilled at magic hasn't exactly endeared the young orphan to any adoption prospects.  So she decides to run away from the orphanage and present herself to the local witch.  At worst, the witch might try to roast her in her oven (which she in fact does), but it would be better than having her wild imagination suppressed.  

Grace manages to convince the witch to give her a trial -- to cast the 100 (and a half) spells that are in the witch's grimoire.  If Grace can do this before next spring, the witch will take her on as her apprentice.  If not, then the witch will take away any talent Grace has for magic.  It's a challenge that seems insurmountable, but Grace is as determined as she is melodramatic and with the help of a few friends, she works through the task.

Some elements of the story will feel quite familiar.  Inspired by the classic Anne of Green Gables, many of Grace's adventures (from smashing the school bully with her slate to accidentally intoxicating her best friend) are taken from Anne Shirley's mishaps.  The setting on Prince Edward Island is also the same.  But Grace, while prone to Anne's loquaciousness and inspired imagination, is an aspiring witch and this story is magic fantasy with faeries, ghosts, and spirits.  That Fawcett manages to also work in the themes of imagination and found homes is a marker of the cleverness of this novel and a testament to the universality of the inspiration.

The Talent Thief, by Mike Thayer

After her grandmother passes away, Tiffany knows she has been cursed.  How else could you explain the string of embarrassing incidents that plague her middle school existence?  Or what about the fact that her Dad is about to lose the planetarium that he has devoted so much effort to keeping afloat?  It will take a miracle to flip things around.

When two meteors collide one night in the skies above her, Tiffany feels like something significant has changed in her life.  Inexplicably, she finds herself gifted with talents that she never imagined possessing.  She gains the ability to sing like queen bee Candace, the talent to sink three-point shots like smoldering Brady, and even the ability to do card tricks like her grandmother's old friend in the nursing home.  But the magic comes with two caveats:  it is temporary and it requires that Tiffany steal it away (the person who had the talent becomes normal while Tiffany possesses it).  

With such magic, Tiffany could really fix things and make everything right.  But the ethics of the power vex her.  Very quickly she realizes how much harm she can cause to others.  And while there are instances when hurting others might feel justified (stealing Candace's voice before a performance so she flubs it), it is never nice.  And moreover, what does it say that you can only get ahead by stealing from others?  In the end, Tiffany comes to realize that being successful comes as much from self-confidence and the support of others as it comes from any talent.

A fine fantasy novel that approaches the morality of playing fair.  I was put off by the character of Tiffany who never really felt authentic to me and by the setting (planetarium? really?).  I also found the characters rather thin.  But I appreciated the nice age-appropriate development of a theme that allowed Tiffany to explore the pitfalls of her incredible power.