#famous, by Jilly Gagnon

When Rachel secretly takes a picture of her utterly gorgeous crush Kyle and sends it to her best friend Monique on Flit, it's all just innocent fun.  But then Monique reflits the picture to some friends and it ends up going completely viral.  Within a day, virtually everyone has seen the picture and her secret crush is not so secret anymore.  Yet she hasn't exchanged a word with him!  The stakes grow higher when a daytime talk host takes an interest and proposes a reality series starring Rachel and Kyle.  Is their attraction staged from a desire to become famous or is there something real between them?

The budding romance will come as no surprise, but the path to true love is particularly rough road and the unusually ambiguous ending make this story engrossing.  That's pretty much how the whole story goes:  fast-paced and comfortably predictable (without being boring as Gagnon shakes thing up).  It drags a bit towards the end but overall was an entertaining story.

While the story is strong, I found the characters to be very inconsistent.  There's a weird shifting back and forth between confidence and insecurity in them that seemed more driven by the demands of the story than any sort of real psychology and it didn't work for me.  And Rachel and Kyle are annoyingly whiny (there's only so many times I can hear them both complaining about being not worthy of each other).  Luckily, you can skim past those parts without impacting the enjoyment.

Beast, by Brie Spangler

Dylan is a big guy.  Fifteen years old, but well over six feet and almost 300 pounds.  Coach wants him for the football team and everyone assumes he must already be on the team.  Hairy as an animal, the kids at school call him “beast.” But no one cares that he’s intelligent, dreams of attending school in England on a Rhodes Scholarship, or that he misses his Dad.

That changes when he meets Jamie, a beautiful girl who for some crazy reason seems to actually like him!  Dylan can’t believe his luck.  But then Dylan’s friend JP points out the obvious thing that Dylan himself has missed all along:  Jamie is transsexual.  Dylan is initially horrified, but ultimately confused as, even knowing Jamie's sexual identity, Dylan finds that he really is still attracted to her.

And with that twist, the story proceeds into fascinating new territory, becoming more than a tale about a large boy who has trouble fitting in.  Like the novel's inspiration Beauty and the Beast, it is a love story about two outsiders who are flawed heroes. Dylan has a good heart but he’s no angel and the strain he goes through to reconcile his honest affection for Jamie with his revulsion at the thought that he might not be “straight” (or whatever loving “a girl with boy parts” actually means) makes for palpable drama.  

Further complicating matters (sometimes unnecessarily) are his helicopter mom and his conniving duplicitous best friend JP.  I say “unnecessarily” because while JP certainly contributes plenty of villainous plotting, this is not a story that really needs it.  Far more interesting is the relationship between Dylan and Jamie – which is touching in a combustible adolescent way, but also deftly deals with issues that grownups can’t offer much help on (despite Mom’s best efforts).

As more and more books about teens struggling with gender identity come out, there is definitely space for this new one that explores how a straight male teen adjusts to the idea of being attracted to a transsexual peer.

How Not to Disappear, by Clare Furniss

A story of two women -- Hattie and Gloria.  Hattie is alone at home for the summer, feeling abandoned.  Her friends are elsewhere and even her Mum has gone off with her boyfriend.  And the timing couldn't be worse:  she’s pregnant and she doesn’t know what to do. 

Then a strange call comes.  Hattie, it seems, has a great aunt, who’s dying, suffering memory loss, and wants to see her.  Hattie doesn't really have any interest, but she's not doing anything else anyway, so she visits out of curiosity.  The initial meeting does not go well.

Gloria is maddening.  Messy, distracted, arrogant, and losing her memory, she is dismissive and rude to Hattie.  But as Hattie is about to leave, she utters some fateful words to the older woman and a strange bond is formed.  Gloria insists that she knows something that Hattie needs to know, but Gloria is reluctant to just blurt it out.  Instead, she asks Hattie to take her on a road trip.  Hattie, both intrigued and bored, agrees to take her.  During that trip, the story unfolds through flashbacks.

I liked the idea of this story of two women from different generations uncovering family secrets and seeing how their lives are intertwined.  I also like the depth of the characters and the scope of the story.  The overall tone was a bit more mature than I expect for a YA/NA novel, and I suspect it really isn't intended for teens.

I did find it uneven and drawn out.  As tends to happen for me, I enjoyed the historical flashbacks more than the contemporary scenes.  Gloria's story is far more interesting than Hattie's and the characters from the past more developed that Hattie's contemporaries.  The novel is long and might have benefited from paring down Hattie's contributions.  It also drags since it relies on Gloria’s reluctance to divulge her secrets, a behavior that starts to seem tedious after a while.

Optimists Die First, by Susin Nielsen

Since the accidental death of Petula’s younger sister, Petula has tried to game the risks in her life by anticipating every possible danger and always expecting the worst.  Pessimists, she argues, live longer than optimists.  No amount of arguing from her parents or counselors will dissuade her.  But she isn't just overly cautious, her behavior leads to paralyzing fears of change or novelty in her life.

Then she meets the "Bionic Man," Jacob, a guy with a prosthetic arm and a secret grief which is eating him just as much as hers.  And Petula finds that, as much as she tries to anticipate anything that can go wrong, she can’t control others or the leanings of her own heart.

On the surface, this story about a young woman with an anxiety disorder from Vancouver is strikingly similar to the last book I read.  But when you move beyond those surface items, the novels couldn’t be more different.  Nielsen’s book is more entertaining, but also more superficial.  Her characters are pleasant but not terribly deep.

Perhaps the contrast is best illustrated by the running gimmick that each author uses.  In 10 Things I Can See From Here, the protagonist Maeve is constantly drafting hypothetical obituaries, which underscore her fears of death, dying, and being left behind.  Here, it is Petula’s scrapbook of bizarre deaths (death from watering flowers, being crushed by a cow, etc.), which seems more intended to elicit laughter.  In the end, Petula’s phobia are easily resolved, while Maeve’s struggle with anxiety is more of a battle and that story ended with a note of unresolved hope.  Nielsen's optimism seems misplaced.

10 Things I Can See From Here, by Carrie Mac

People are always telling Maeve to “not stress things,” “relax,” “let it go,” and so on (she’s heard it all before!), but it never helps.  Since she was little, she’s always been worried.  And those worries have blossomed into full-blown panic attacks that leave her paralyzed.  Some tricks she’s developed (like sketching) can help her cope, but most of all, being home with her Mom does best.  So, things can’t be good when Mom decides to spend six months in Haiti and sends Maeve to live with her father.

Not that things there are going all that well anyway.  Her stepmom is expecting a new baby and insists (to Maeve’s panicked horror) that the baby needs to be born at home.  Dad is freaking out about becoming a Dad again and simultaneously falling off the wagon.  And Maeve misses her mother.  But there’s a ray of hope in the form of a girl named Salix, who’s a virtuoso on the violin, hot for Maeve, and a spirited positive counterpoint to Maeve’s doom and gloom.  While total opposites, the two girls hit it off in an awkward, but ultimately endearing relationship.  And somehow, everyone comes together in the end to sort out a multitude of misfit behaviors.

It’s nice to see LGBT literature become common enough that we can tackle other issues and not make the protagonist’s sexual orientation the sole issue.  Maeve’s panic disorders can be quite amusing (to an outsider), but I liked Mac’s sympathetic portrayal of how much she struggles with them.  And it provided a great dramatic device.  

There were a few random subplots (drug abuse, relationship violence, Mom’s woes in Haiti, Salix’s musical career) that I’m not sure added much to the overall story, but in general I liked the storytelling, mixing in of local color, the nice family dynamic, the presence of mature adults and realistically awkward teens, and the fun friendly neighbors.

Our Own Private Universe, by Robin Talley

When Aki and her best friend Lori go to Mexico to do a church-sponsored service project, they make a pact that this is the summer they will both hook up with someone.  But what Aki doesn't count on is that her partner would be Claudia, a girl from another church group. While she's considered herself bisexual, she's never given it much thought and the intensity of her feelings for another girl take her by surprise.

Neither Aki nor Claudia are ready to come out to their peers or to the adults (Aki's father is a pastor and Claudia's folks are wildly homophobic), so they sneak around, which only makes their longings more intense.  However, someone will eventually find out and, in any case, the trip will come to an end and the summer soon be over.  Neither girl wants to imagine what separating will be like, but to keep their relationship going, they will need to go public.

Meanwhile, Aki is discovering broader interests in her church's politics and the world.  Along with a boy in the group (for whom she occasionally also finds some attraction), she tries to interest her peers in various social issues, including helping the people of the village where they are working find better medical care.

Harlequin Teen continues to surprise me, publishing a line of very sophisticated and edgy YA books.  This one is quite steamy (more in keeping with the stereotype about their adult line), but it is far from formulaic and it probes interesting territory.  Aki is a rare beast in mainstream literature -- a young bi-sexual of color who is a devout Christian (there's all sorts of topic here that is actually never explored, as Talley has more interesting things to do in this novel).  Her father is a conservative African American minister (not a demographic known for its celebration of queer lifestyles) who surprises us by not becoming an antagonist. 

Talley's explicit but largely matter-of-fact lesbian sex scenes will raise a few eyebrows, but mostly for the endearing way she depicts the very realistic clumsiness of young lovers (although I found her inclusion of a discussion of safe sex to be clumsy in a not-so-good way).  I think the novel's detailed and honest depiction of two young women in love in a frank, but non-exploitative way, is a milestone.

I was less taken by Talley's reliance upon deception and deceit to move the story along.  Resolving most of the struggles and conflicts by simply having the antagonist reverse themselves by admitting that they were lying is a cheap trick.  Done once or twice, it would have been fine, but most of the resolution of the story relies upon admitting that there was never a problem in the first place. 

Highly Illogical Behavior, by John Corey Whaley

Lisa is on a mission to write an amazing admission essay that will get her into the second-best psychology program in the country (she has pragmatically decided that she needs to shoot for something less than perfection).  The theme of the essay has to be about her personal experience with mental illness, and she know exactly what she will write about: Solomon Reed.

Three years ago, Lisa witnessed Sol having a panic attack that ended up with him in a public fountain.  In the aftermath, Solomon withdrew from school and isolated himself at home, afraid to go outside for fear of having more panic attacks.  With some research, Lisa tracks him down and manages to convince Sol's family to open up to her (although she doesn't tell them why she is suddenly interested in being friends with Sol).

Their contact is tentative at first, but she wins his trust and a real friendship develops between them.  Mostly to reassure her boyfriend that her interest in Sol is platonic, Lisa invites her boyfriend to meet Sol and it turns out that the two boys have a lot of similar interests.  The flourishing of that friendship complicates issues as the boyfriend threatens to expose Lisa's exploitation of Sol.  It also triggers Lisa's insecurity and jealousy as the boys' friendship seems to become romantic.

While the ultimate fallout from Lisa's ill-advised foray into amateur psychotherapy is not much of a surprise, the story is kept fresh by its characters.  Certainly, the three protagonists have a complicated and interesting dynamic going on, but the strong cast of supporting characters also deserves special mention.

Character, Driven, by David Lubar

Told in a rambling and light-hearted way, Character, Driven is a story ostensibly about Cliff Sparks's misadventures in love (or, at the very least, his search for a girl who won't mind having Cliff touch her).  And while the narrator is funny and the recollection often quite hilarious, there is an odd tension in this novel between that lightness and the series of grim events that are being recalled.  The ending of the book (previews and forthshadowing aside) takes a particularly dark turn, but throughout there are actions (including suicide, assault, child abuse, infant and parental death, and drug trafficking) seemingly at odds with the humor that permeates the story.

At its heart, the novel is an insightful look at boyhood.  Lubar does a good job bringing in the usual tropes of horny adolescence, but adding some sensitivity to Cliff (and balancing it by giving the girls a chance to have some agency of their own).  Likewise, Lubar does a decent job giving the adults a more nuanced depiction.  However, when it comes to the character-driven nature of the book, this is all about Cliff, no matter what else goes on in the story.  And given that Cliff ultimately turns out to be an unreliable narrator, we are left with the frustration of not being entirely sure what actually happened in the story.  This makes it hard to really summarize the story.

I enjoyed reading the book because it was funny (even if the subject matter suggests otherwise) and because I think Lubar (through Cliff's voice) made some wonderful observations, but I'm not really sure what it was all about.

A List of Cages, by Robin Roe

Julian and Adam met years ago when Adam was a fifth-grader with ADHD helping kindergartner Julian with his reading.  When Julian's parents died around that time, it was Adam's mom who took Julian in for a while (until Julian's uncle took him away).

Reunited seven years later in Adam's senior year, Adam takes a strong protective interest in Julian.  He's suspicious that something is not right about how Julian is living (Julian skips classes and hides out in a secret safe place at school during the day).  But as Adam pushes harder to break through Julian's secrets, he plunges both of them into great danger.

A novel that works best because of its unusual pairing of the two boys -- split by age, but bonding over their developmental issues.  It's a complex relationship that balances the friendship of Julian and Adam, with Adam's friendships with his peers -- a multidimensional dynamic that Roe handles well.

I felt she didn't do quite as good of a job with the storytelling.  Roe leaves many of the threads unresolved -- a decision that sometimes works, but not always.  For example, I thought the romance between Adam and Emerald was frustratingly vague.  And the creepy uncle character seemed gratuitous.  It's a good case of less-is-more: as a villain, he casts a long shadow and his actual appearances in the story add little.  Finally (and most surprisingly), while we see how both boys have imprisoned themselves in their respective "cages," their escape from those bonds are left unexplored.

The Serpent King, by Jeff Zenter

Dill is the son of a defrocked Pentecostal minister.  Once upon a time, his father led services that involved handling poisonous snakes and drinking poison, but now he languishes in jail and only spits venom at Dill.

Dill's friend Travis imagines himself as a character in a fantasy novel, carrying a long staff with him and pretending to be a wise warrior.  In real life, Travis is dodging an abusive father and the ghost of dead older brother.

In comparison, their mutual friend Lydia is a bright shining light.  Intelligent and vivacious, she tries to prod her two friends to look to a better future.  As for herself, she does well enough in school to have a shot at a good school and her popular fashion blog has gained her a nationwide following, which strains her friendship with the two boys.

When a fatal tragedy strikes, the survivors have to find a way to pull themselves together and move on.

A dreary story of dead-end dreams in rural Tennessee.  But while the story is depressing, the characters are vivid and full-bodied, which makes the reading tolerable.  There is a huge contrast between Lydia's surreal success and the struggles of her friends, but it actually works in Zentner's hands as, no matter how well she does, it is clear that she is just one step out of the swamp.

Don't Ever Change, by M. Beth Bloom

Eva wants to be a writer and she's well-regarded by her teacher, but he wants her to stick to things she knows about.  She doesn't agree:  it's not like she has a lot of life experience to draw upon!  He also points out that she might do better learning to be kinder to her fellow classmates during their peer reviews.

Partly to follow his advice, she branches out during the summer between high school and college, to attempt to broaden her experience.  While counseling at a summer day camp, she inspires a group of girls to write, and learns some lessons standing up for a bullied child. In this mix, she juggles two relationships and repairs her broken friendships.

Bloom has a very unique style.  The story is rooted in fairly floral prose, but the dialogue is snappy and colloquial, creating a clash of styles.  Add to this that the settings are a little unusual (for example, Eva meets her first romantic interest while they are sharing the bathroom).  I thought the novel was  choppy (very nice scenes were sometimes just dropped into the story, not so much because they added to the story, but seemingly simply because they were nice scenes) and often hard to follow.  I suspect that the story might have a bigger pay off with greater attention or a second read, but I generally don't like to work that hard with a book.