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Check out these photos from the Ice Cream Social at Kinnelon Library on June 30, 2009. Thanks to the Ice Cream Station in Pompton Lakes, NJ for the tasty ice cream and to opening band Zone Zero and headliners Triphobia for the great music. Enjoy!
Kinnelon Library Teen Blog
Check out what we've been reading!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
After a slow start, James Dashner's upcoming novel "The Maze Runner" takes off as a twisty thriller packed with action and suspense. Let me set the story up first, since it is a bit high concept. Our teen hero Thomas suddenly wakes up in the Box alone, scared, and with no precise memories of his past life. Turns out the Box is a one-way elevator that regularly delivers one boy to the Glade, a protected area surrounded by towering walls, a complicated maze that shifts every night, and fearsome creatures known as Grievers. Although the Box brings memory-scrubbed boys ("greenies") and supplies from some unknown entity, it cannot be used for a return trip. The boys -- some of whom have spent years in the Glade -- have devised a well-ordered society complete with occupations governed by Keepers, council meetings, and strict rules to maintain order. Maze Runners (as their name indicates!) spend the daylight hours feverishly dashing through the Maze, mentally recording everything they see, so they can complete detailed maps each evening. When the Maze shifts overnight, they repeat the process the next morning, racing back at night to the Map House to draw new maps and compare the results. With no other visible means of escape, the Maze seems to be their only hope.
There are other complications. The Grievers are a hideous combination of oozing slug and mechanical nightmare, which I bet boys, in particular, will think are awesome. Although they typically emerge in the Maze only at night, a Griever's needle-like sting causes a boy to undergo a process called the Changing, in which memories of their former lives can be recovered. The toll, however, can be devastating, ranging from psychosis to death. Also, as an added bonus, sometimes the Grievers just shred you up into little pieces. Ack!
Shortly after Thomas enters the Glade, while he's still confused, bitter, and afraid, the Box brings forth its first-ever girl. Before entering a coma-like state, she delivers a warning that everything is about to change, and it sure does. The sun grays out, the walls fail to close at night, and Grievers start attacking the Glade with regularity. It looks like the Creators of the Glade and Maze want to bring their twisted game to a final climax ... one way or the other!
Before this happens, from the moment Thomas impulsively jumps through the still-closing walls to save two boys -- which means spending a night in the Maze with the Grievers -- the book jets off at a furious pace, which just about makes up for the slow first third. I appreciate how difficult it is to lay out a complicated mythology, to set up rules for your story's universe, but I found myself annoyed by the other boys' callous initial treatment of Thomas. Their continued refusal to reveal any substantive information about the Glade, Maze, or Grievers was frustrating as a reader. I also cringed every time Thomas repeatedly described the failings of his memory, which, again, brought the story to a screeching halt.
I worry that the draggy beginning might turn off male readers, particularly reluctant ones, which is a shame because the remaining two-thirds are as good as any teen lit out there today. Once the story finds its rhythm, we're treated to an entertaining mix of adventure, mystery, and sci fi with larger themes regarding the price of order, the consequences of punishment, and the morality of seemingly bad deeds. Plus, there are hidden codes, telepathic links, mysterious clues ("WICKED is good"), great bursts of ingenuity, and compelling examples of bravery, cowardice, and sacrifice. Although the obvious comparison here is to "Lord of the Flies," the final stand, in which a small band of boys decides to challenge the Creators directly despite being grossly outmatched, reminded me of the doomed heroism of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy.
In the end, we get a glimpse of the warped world outside the Glade and then a set of whiz-bang climaxes that set up another book. I, for one, am really looking forward to following Thomas through the next dystopian adventure, and I'm sure most readers will feel the same way. Despite the awkward start, I'd definitely recommend "The Maze Runner" to readers in grades 7 and up, especially boys. Although the characters use substitute curses ("klunk" being my favorite), some of the violence and darker themes might be a bit heavy for younger middle schoolers. Look for "The Maze Runner" in October!
After a slow start, James Dashner's upcoming novel "The Maze Runner" takes off as a twisty thriller packed with action and suspense. Let me set the story up first, since it is a bit high concept. Our teen hero Thomas suddenly wakes up in the Box alone, scared, and with no precise memories of his past life. Turns out the Box is a one-way elevator that regularly delivers one boy to the Glade, a protected area surrounded by towering walls, a complicated maze that shifts every night, and fearsome creatures known as Grievers. Although the Box brings memory-scrubbed boys ("greenies") and supplies from some unknown entity, it cannot be used for a return trip. The boys -- some of whom have spent years in the Glade -- have devised a well-ordered society complete with occupations governed by Keepers, council meetings, and strict rules to maintain order. Maze Runners (as their name indicates!) spend the daylight hours feverishly dashing through the Maze, mentally recording everything they see, so they can complete detailed maps each evening. When the Maze shifts overnight, they repeat the process the next morning, racing back at night to the Map House to draw new maps and compare the results. With no other visible means of escape, the Maze seems to be their only hope.
There are other complications. The Grievers are a hideous combination of oozing slug and mechanical nightmare, which I bet boys, in particular, will think are awesome. Although they typically emerge in the Maze only at night, a Griever's needle-like sting causes a boy to undergo a process called the Changing, in which memories of their former lives can be recovered. The toll, however, can be devastating, ranging from psychosis to death. Also, as an added bonus, sometimes the Grievers just shred you up into little pieces. Ack!
Shortly after Thomas enters the Glade, while he's still confused, bitter, and afraid, the Box brings forth its first-ever girl. Before entering a coma-like state, she delivers a warning that everything is about to change, and it sure does. The sun grays out, the walls fail to close at night, and Grievers start attacking the Glade with regularity. It looks like the Creators of the Glade and Maze want to bring their twisted game to a final climax ... one way or the other!
Before this happens, from the moment Thomas impulsively jumps through the still-closing walls to save two boys -- which means spending a night in the Maze with the Grievers -- the book jets off at a furious pace, which just about makes up for the slow first third. I appreciate how difficult it is to lay out a complicated mythology, to set up rules for your story's universe, but I found myself annoyed by the other boys' callous initial treatment of Thomas. Their continued refusal to reveal any substantive information about the Glade, Maze, or Grievers was frustrating as a reader. I also cringed every time Thomas repeatedly described the failings of his memory, which, again, brought the story to a screeching halt.
I worry that the draggy beginning might turn off male readers, particularly reluctant ones, which is a shame because the remaining two-thirds are as good as any teen lit out there today. Once the story finds its rhythm, we're treated to an entertaining mix of adventure, mystery, and sci fi with larger themes regarding the price of order, the consequences of punishment, and the morality of seemingly bad deeds. Plus, there are hidden codes, telepathic links, mysterious clues ("WICKED is good"), great bursts of ingenuity, and compelling examples of bravery, cowardice, and sacrifice. Although the obvious comparison here is to "Lord of the Flies," the final stand, in which a small band of boys decides to challenge the Creators directly despite being grossly outmatched, reminded me of the doomed heroism of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy.
In the end, we get a glimpse of the warped world outside the Glade and then a set of whiz-bang climaxes that set up another book. I, for one, am really looking forward to following Thomas through the next dystopian adventure, and I'm sure most readers will feel the same way. Despite the awkward start, I'd definitely recommend "The Maze Runner" to readers in grades 7 and up, especially boys. Although the characters use substitute curses ("klunk" being my favorite), some of the violence and darker themes might be a bit heavy for younger middle schoolers. Look for "The Maze Runner" in October!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
It was well worth fighting the crowds at Book Expo to get "Catching Fire" ... I even snagged an autographed copy! Thank you Scholastic.
The short version of this review -- I loved it! It's different than "The Hunger Games," but the same rapid pace, emotional complexity, unexpected plot twists, and steamroller intensity are on full display here. Initially, I thought there would be no way Collins could match "The Hunger Games," if for no other reason then that book's concept was utterly unique and compelling. Fear not! Without revealing any of the juicy plot points, District 12 victors and pretend-but-maybe-real lovers Katniss and Peeta are once again thrown into a sadistic ritual by the chilling President Snow and the unseen powers in the Capitol. And, I promise, you will basically devour every page in a frantic rush to find out what happens next!
I vowed there would be no spoilers here, and I'll do my best to adhere to that promise. I can say that the book starts out back in District 12, where Katniss, Peeta, and drunken mentor Haymitch are now living in an upscale victors' village. It's a big change from the unrelenting poverty Katniss had known before the Hunger Games, but it comes with a heavy price. Rumor has it that Katniss' poison berry suicide ploy during the Games and her wearing of the mockingjay pin have helped stoke a simmering revolt in some of the districts. President Snow peronally visits District 12 to warn Katniss that the Capitol basically owns her now. I liked how the overarching threat here of a brutally repressive government is so dark yet believable.
Katniss is also having some issues reconnecting with old best friend and former hunting companion Gale. For me, Gale still hasn't evolved as a complete character, making any potential love triangle problematic at this point. I'm not sure this is even Collins' fault; it may be that we've simply spent too much time with Peeta. Throughout "The Hunger Games, we witnessed firsthand his quiet bravery and devotion to Katniss. With Gale, we don't have that connection, making mere descriptions of his feelings for and bond with Katniss feel hollow by comparison.
Ok, so I'll stop right there, because to go any further may spoil the fun for you. I'll let you experience for yourself the fantastic blend of action, suspense, betrayal, sacrifice, pain, and triumph, since so much of it came as a complete surprise to me. Know that we also get lots of new characters, which at first may seem overwhelming. But we slowly grow to know, care for, or loathe Finnick, Joanna, Nuts, Volts, and Mags. These characters have such depth that we feel something for each of them, which is extraordinary.
The middle book in a trilogy can be difficult to execute, since it typically involves laying the foundation for the big climax in book three. "Catching Fire" is pretty close to perfect. It truly exceeded my expectations, as it's different but no less engaging than "The Hunger Games." It deserves every last bit of praise that it is sure to receive upon its official release on September 1st. I can't wait for the final installment. How long until September 2010?!
It was well worth fighting the crowds at Book Expo to get "Catching Fire" ... I even snagged an autographed copy! Thank you Scholastic.
The short version of this review -- I loved it! It's different than "The Hunger Games," but the same rapid pace, emotional complexity, unexpected plot twists, and steamroller intensity are on full display here. Initially, I thought there would be no way Collins could match "The Hunger Games," if for no other reason then that book's concept was utterly unique and compelling. Fear not! Without revealing any of the juicy plot points, District 12 victors and pretend-but-maybe-real lovers Katniss and Peeta are once again thrown into a sadistic ritual by the chilling President Snow and the unseen powers in the Capitol. And, I promise, you will basically devour every page in a frantic rush to find out what happens next!
I vowed there would be no spoilers here, and I'll do my best to adhere to that promise. I can say that the book starts out back in District 12, where Katniss, Peeta, and drunken mentor Haymitch are now living in an upscale victors' village. It's a big change from the unrelenting poverty Katniss had known before the Hunger Games, but it comes with a heavy price. Rumor has it that Katniss' poison berry suicide ploy during the Games and her wearing of the mockingjay pin have helped stoke a simmering revolt in some of the districts. President Snow peronally visits District 12 to warn Katniss that the Capitol basically owns her now. I liked how the overarching threat here of a brutally repressive government is so dark yet believable.
Katniss is also having some issues reconnecting with old best friend and former hunting companion Gale. For me, Gale still hasn't evolved as a complete character, making any potential love triangle problematic at this point. I'm not sure this is even Collins' fault; it may be that we've simply spent too much time with Peeta. Throughout "The Hunger Games, we witnessed firsthand his quiet bravery and devotion to Katniss. With Gale, we don't have that connection, making mere descriptions of his feelings for and bond with Katniss feel hollow by comparison.
Ok, so I'll stop right there, because to go any further may spoil the fun for you. I'll let you experience for yourself the fantastic blend of action, suspense, betrayal, sacrifice, pain, and triumph, since so much of it came as a complete surprise to me. Know that we also get lots of new characters, which at first may seem overwhelming. But we slowly grow to know, care for, or loathe Finnick, Joanna, Nuts, Volts, and Mags. These characters have such depth that we feel something for each of them, which is extraordinary.
The middle book in a trilogy can be difficult to execute, since it typically involves laying the foundation for the big climax in book three. "Catching Fire" is pretty close to perfect. It truly exceeded my expectations, as it's different but no less engaging than "The Hunger Games." It deserves every last bit of praise that it is sure to receive upon its official release on September 1st. I can't wait for the final installment. How long until September 2010?!
Disappointing
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
"Shug" author Jenny Han's newest book is "The Summer I Turned Pretty." I have to be honest, I was pretty disappointed in this one, and I loved "Shug." Maybe my expectations were just too high, or any summer-themed novel for girls pales in comparison to Sarah Dessen's fabulous "Along for the Ride," which I just read and reviewed. I wish I knew why, but I never felt much of a connection to either the characters or the story here.
Belly, her obnoxious older brother Steven, and her mom spend each summer at the expansive beach house of mom's best friend, Susannah, and her two sons, the complicated, aloof Conrad and the outgoing, friendly Jeremiah. The story primarily involves Belly's 16th summer (the one where she, you know, turns pretty - heh), and how her relationship with the guys changes as the months pass. Belly's always had a fierce crush on Conrad, who is a few years older than her and has never seemed to notice her much. She and Jeremiah, who are closer in age, have always been best friends, laughing and swimming together, but even he excludes Belly from lots of "guys-only" fun. Now that Belly's got the goods, looks-wise, both Conrad and Jeremiah are no longer seeing her as Steven's pesky little sister, complicating Belly's life in ways both good and bad. It takes her ages to realize that maybe dreamy Conrad might actually have a thing for her and that's why he's acting like such a total jerk, which, I suspect, most readers will clue in on pretty quickly.
Scenes from other summers of Belly's life are interspersed throughout the novel, which is a lovely way to help us understand the current relationship dynamics. There's a great flashback to a night when Conrad takes a young Belly out to the boardwalk; Belly is crushed and then rather brave and honorable upon realizing she's only there to break the ice with a cute arcade worker. And I liked how Belly found her own summer boyfriend, smart guy Cam, and used him to figure out what she's really looking for and how far she'll go when she finds it. That felt honest and authentic to me, the uncertainty of that relationship's boundaries, especially when Belly couldn't stop herself from using Cam to make Conrad jealous.
What I didn't like as much were the inconsistencies and empty characterizations. I never felt as if we got to know Steven at all, and then he completely disappeared from the story. Okay. But I also felt the same way about the brothers, almost as if they were a list of traits and disjointed actions rather than living, breathing people. For example, the brothers start acting crazy protective of Belly when she meets Cam at a keg party, dogging her everywhere she turns, only to ignore it completely when she goes with him to a drive-in movie (!) the very next night. And where were the boys' friends? Conrad and Jeremiah are repeatedly presented as two popular, athletic, handsome, all-American guys. They don't have any true friends from home or from the beach community itself? Really? In an era of instant communication -- text, IM, email, cell -- no one stays in touch over the summer? For me, that sense of isolation from the "real world" was a problem, as was the continual distance I felt from both brothers.
There's a whole subplot here about Susannah and her personal struggles, but since we only see brief glimpses of her before she runs out on errands with Belly's mom, I never felt invested in her story. [Total side note, but this is how I know I'm getting old -- I kept wondering who pays for all this free time at the beach. Jeremiah's lifeguarding job must bring in the big bucks!]
Overall, "The Summer I Turned Pretty" is good, but not great. There are better summer novels out there, but there's nothing offensively wrong with this one. I was put off by the false moments and the fact that the characters always remained at arms' length from me. Other readers might be more willing to overlook these flaws, which is fine. We're all different! If you read this one, I'd say it's aimed directly at girls heading into high school. There's some strong language peppered throughout and several drinking scenes as well, swinging it toward an older age group. While I was disappointed, I hope you'll enjoy this one more than I did!
"Shug" author Jenny Han's newest book is "The Summer I Turned Pretty." I have to be honest, I was pretty disappointed in this one, and I loved "Shug." Maybe my expectations were just too high, or any summer-themed novel for girls pales in comparison to Sarah Dessen's fabulous "Along for the Ride," which I just read and reviewed. I wish I knew why, but I never felt much of a connection to either the characters or the story here.
Belly, her obnoxious older brother Steven, and her mom spend each summer at the expansive beach house of mom's best friend, Susannah, and her two sons, the complicated, aloof Conrad and the outgoing, friendly Jeremiah. The story primarily involves Belly's 16th summer (the one where she, you know, turns pretty - heh), and how her relationship with the guys changes as the months pass. Belly's always had a fierce crush on Conrad, who is a few years older than her and has never seemed to notice her much. She and Jeremiah, who are closer in age, have always been best friends, laughing and swimming together, but even he excludes Belly from lots of "guys-only" fun. Now that Belly's got the goods, looks-wise, both Conrad and Jeremiah are no longer seeing her as Steven's pesky little sister, complicating Belly's life in ways both good and bad. It takes her ages to realize that maybe dreamy Conrad might actually have a thing for her and that's why he's acting like such a total jerk, which, I suspect, most readers will clue in on pretty quickly.
Scenes from other summers of Belly's life are interspersed throughout the novel, which is a lovely way to help us understand the current relationship dynamics. There's a great flashback to a night when Conrad takes a young Belly out to the boardwalk; Belly is crushed and then rather brave and honorable upon realizing she's only there to break the ice with a cute arcade worker. And I liked how Belly found her own summer boyfriend, smart guy Cam, and used him to figure out what she's really looking for and how far she'll go when she finds it. That felt honest and authentic to me, the uncertainty of that relationship's boundaries, especially when Belly couldn't stop herself from using Cam to make Conrad jealous.
What I didn't like as much were the inconsistencies and empty characterizations. I never felt as if we got to know Steven at all, and then he completely disappeared from the story. Okay. But I also felt the same way about the brothers, almost as if they were a list of traits and disjointed actions rather than living, breathing people. For example, the brothers start acting crazy protective of Belly when she meets Cam at a keg party, dogging her everywhere she turns, only to ignore it completely when she goes with him to a drive-in movie (!) the very next night. And where were the boys' friends? Conrad and Jeremiah are repeatedly presented as two popular, athletic, handsome, all-American guys. They don't have any true friends from home or from the beach community itself? Really? In an era of instant communication -- text, IM, email, cell -- no one stays in touch over the summer? For me, that sense of isolation from the "real world" was a problem, as was the continual distance I felt from both brothers.
There's a whole subplot here about Susannah and her personal struggles, but since we only see brief glimpses of her before she runs out on errands with Belly's mom, I never felt invested in her story. [Total side note, but this is how I know I'm getting old -- I kept wondering who pays for all this free time at the beach. Jeremiah's lifeguarding job must bring in the big bucks!]
Overall, "The Summer I Turned Pretty" is good, but not great. There are better summer novels out there, but there's nothing offensively wrong with this one. I was put off by the false moments and the fact that the characters always remained at arms' length from me. Other readers might be more willing to overlook these flaws, which is fine. We're all different! If you read this one, I'd say it's aimed directly at girls heading into high school. There's some strong language peppered throughout and several drinking scenes as well, swinging it toward an older age group. While I was disappointed, I hope you'll enjoy this one more than I did!
"The Homeschool Liberation League" by Lucy Frank
Posted on 5.5.2009 at 11:07aReview:
Better than I expected
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
I know, it's getting old, but once again I have to give props to the Penguin Young Readers Group for their package of teen ARCs (advanced readers copies). Lucy Frank's "The Homeschool Liberation League" is a book I probably never would have picked up on my own, but I was intrigued by a homeschool-themed middle grade novel and figured, what the heck, it's free. I'm so glad I gave it a try, because this book is so much different -- and so much better! -- than what the generic "chick lit" cover might indicate.
Kaity has just completed a summer at wilderness camp, and it's changed her whole outlook on returning to Martin Van Buren Middle School for eighth grade. She loved learning about nature, wildlife, and foraging for food. She also loved the person she became at camp (she's even renamed herself "Katya"). Katya is a smart, independent, interesting girl, in contrast to the catty, troublemaking prankster Kaity often was during the school year. Katya feels like middle school, besides stifling her inquisitive mind, also forces her to play a certain role, and, quite frankly, she can't bear to do that to herself again.
Katya bails on the first day of school and prepares two massive research binders on homeschooling for her parents. Mom and Dad are working class folks, and, while they understand much of what Katya's complaining about, they're, for lack of a better term, "school people." Besides, they don't even believe they're capable of teaching their daughter. Katya eventually gets a trial homeschooling run, which mainly involves downloaded worksheets, a part-time job in her mom's salon, and a little bit of what she loves -- engaging with and studying nature. As you might expect, there are many missteps along the way.
Much of the novel involves Katya, with an assist from her parents, trying to find her place in the world. Her folks aren't stupid, but they're not intellectual or academic people, and they worry -- legitimately so -- about Katya's education at home. Katya, meanwhile, is a bit frantic in trying to convince everyone that she can do all this schooling alone. "Unschooling" is, in fact, her dream. Unfortunately, to hide what's really going on, Katya tells some whopper lies to Francesca, the most popular girl at school, including one about the non-existent Homeschool Liberation League. As it turns out, though, even the seemingly perfect Francesca knows all about having to play a role to survive at school, and the Homeschool Liberation League, with an assist from cute violin master Milo, soon becomes a reality.
So there are a few things I loved about this book, which I'll just list for you:
(1) It's so rare to find a girl-oriented, light novel that takes place in a rural setting and focuses on the utter coolness of learning and education. The naturalist theme is wonderful and just so different, and the message here is a timely one.
(2) The romance with the homeschooled Milo, himself a smart, quirky, conflicted guy, is charming and innocent enough for the age group but realistic enough to capture our interest; and
(3) There's an important idea here about the ways in which school -- teachers, peers, routines, and politics -- forces some people to behave in artificial ways that absolutely kill their spirits. Even better, this book reassures those kids who feel as frustrated by school as Katya.
"The Homeschool Liberation League" is an appealing, good-natured novel that will be adored by middle school girls. It's also pretty clean -- I think I remember one fleeting bit of profanity -- so it's perfect for fifth graders and up. Katya's self-introspection, grudging slide into bad behavior, and recognition of her flaws reminded me of Ant in Gennifer Choldenko's delightful "Notes From a Liar and Her Dog," so fans of that book might want to check this one out, too.
This smart, likable novel comes out in early July. I hope you'll look for it then!
I know, it's getting old, but once again I have to give props to the Penguin Young Readers Group for their package of teen ARCs (advanced readers copies). Lucy Frank's "The Homeschool Liberation League" is a book I probably never would have picked up on my own, but I was intrigued by a homeschool-themed middle grade novel and figured, what the heck, it's free. I'm so glad I gave it a try, because this book is so much different -- and so much better! -- than what the generic "chick lit" cover might indicate.
Kaity has just completed a summer at wilderness camp, and it's changed her whole outlook on returning to Martin Van Buren Middle School for eighth grade. She loved learning about nature, wildlife, and foraging for food. She also loved the person she became at camp (she's even renamed herself "Katya"). Katya is a smart, independent, interesting girl, in contrast to the catty, troublemaking prankster Kaity often was during the school year. Katya feels like middle school, besides stifling her inquisitive mind, also forces her to play a certain role, and, quite frankly, she can't bear to do that to herself again.
Katya bails on the first day of school and prepares two massive research binders on homeschooling for her parents. Mom and Dad are working class folks, and, while they understand much of what Katya's complaining about, they're, for lack of a better term, "school people." Besides, they don't even believe they're capable of teaching their daughter. Katya eventually gets a trial homeschooling run, which mainly involves downloaded worksheets, a part-time job in her mom's salon, and a little bit of what she loves -- engaging with and studying nature. As you might expect, there are many missteps along the way.
Much of the novel involves Katya, with an assist from her parents, trying to find her place in the world. Her folks aren't stupid, but they're not intellectual or academic people, and they worry -- legitimately so -- about Katya's education at home. Katya, meanwhile, is a bit frantic in trying to convince everyone that she can do all this schooling alone. "Unschooling" is, in fact, her dream. Unfortunately, to hide what's really going on, Katya tells some whopper lies to Francesca, the most popular girl at school, including one about the non-existent Homeschool Liberation League. As it turns out, though, even the seemingly perfect Francesca knows all about having to play a role to survive at school, and the Homeschool Liberation League, with an assist from cute violin master Milo, soon becomes a reality.
So there are a few things I loved about this book, which I'll just list for you:
(1) It's so rare to find a girl-oriented, light novel that takes place in a rural setting and focuses on the utter coolness of learning and education. The naturalist theme is wonderful and just so different, and the message here is a timely one.
(2) The romance with the homeschooled Milo, himself a smart, quirky, conflicted guy, is charming and innocent enough for the age group but realistic enough to capture our interest; and
(3) There's an important idea here about the ways in which school -- teachers, peers, routines, and politics -- forces some people to behave in artificial ways that absolutely kill their spirits. Even better, this book reassures those kids who feel as frustrated by school as Katya.
"The Homeschool Liberation League" is an appealing, good-natured novel that will be adored by middle school girls. It's also pretty clean -- I think I remember one fleeting bit of profanity -- so it's perfect for fifth graders and up. Katya's self-introspection, grudging slide into bad behavior, and recognition of her flaws reminded me of Ant in Gennifer Choldenko's delightful "Notes From a Liar and Her Dog," so fans of that book might want to check this one out, too.
This smart, likable novel comes out in early July. I hope you'll look for it then!
"Two Parties, One Tux, and a Very Short Film About The Grapes of Wrath" by Steven Goldman
Posted on 4.28.2009 at 11:55aReview:
Deadpan + delightful
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
"Two Parties, One Tux, and a Very Short Film About The Grapes of Wrath" (hello, unwieldy title!) is a sharp, funny, engaging novel that I bet plenty of teen boys would love. Whether they'd be willing to overlook the weirdly juvenile cover is another issue, so this one likely will require a hefty dose of handselling and strong word of mouth.
"Two Parties ..." is narrated in a droll style by 17 year-old high school junior Mitchell, who is one of those shy, offbeat, but not totally nerdy boys who tend to populate many a teen novel. Mitchell has one best friend, the wonderfully aloof David, who, it turns out, is not only gay but crushing on Mitchell. Before you think this is one of those awful "gay teen issue" novels, let me assure you it's not. David's sexual orientation, and Mitchell's well-meaning struggle to treat his pal like nothing has changed, is more of a subtle backdrop to the story than the overarching theme. Without giving anything away, I loved how Mitchell did just about everything wrong in trying to accept David's news, because his behavior -- good intentions devoured by fear and awkwardness -- is precisely how a teenage boy would act. Everything about Mitchell's quiet friendship with David is perfect.
In the end, this book is unequivocally Mitchell's story. In addition to dealing with the David fallout, Mitchell is also juggling his guilt over an AWOL English teacher; the repercussions of his Claymation-style, very R-rated film version of Steinbeck's classic novel "The Grapes of Wrath"; a popular but shallow younger sister and her bubbly best friend; the sudden romantic attention of the hottest girl in class; the politics of where to stand at a party; a bombastic yet perceptive pal; and a potentially disastrous prom night. In other words, it's a male coming of age story peppered with smart jokes, wry insights, authentic moments, and a light touch of meaning and, well, humanity.
Although the characters always felt slightly out of reach to me -- perhaps the tone is a bit too droll at times? -- "Two Parties ..." remains a delightful, deadpan tale that's truly perfect for teen guys. Please don't be put off by the cover! If you take a chance on this one, you'll find a winner.
"Two Parties, One Tux, and a Very Short Film About The Grapes of Wrath" (hello, unwieldy title!) is a sharp, funny, engaging novel that I bet plenty of teen boys would love. Whether they'd be willing to overlook the weirdly juvenile cover is another issue, so this one likely will require a hefty dose of handselling and strong word of mouth.
"Two Parties ..." is narrated in a droll style by 17 year-old high school junior Mitchell, who is one of those shy, offbeat, but not totally nerdy boys who tend to populate many a teen novel. Mitchell has one best friend, the wonderfully aloof David, who, it turns out, is not only gay but crushing on Mitchell. Before you think this is one of those awful "gay teen issue" novels, let me assure you it's not. David's sexual orientation, and Mitchell's well-meaning struggle to treat his pal like nothing has changed, is more of a subtle backdrop to the story than the overarching theme. Without giving anything away, I loved how Mitchell did just about everything wrong in trying to accept David's news, because his behavior -- good intentions devoured by fear and awkwardness -- is precisely how a teenage boy would act. Everything about Mitchell's quiet friendship with David is perfect.
In the end, this book is unequivocally Mitchell's story. In addition to dealing with the David fallout, Mitchell is also juggling his guilt over an AWOL English teacher; the repercussions of his Claymation-style, very R-rated film version of Steinbeck's classic novel "The Grapes of Wrath"; a popular but shallow younger sister and her bubbly best friend; the sudden romantic attention of the hottest girl in class; the politics of where to stand at a party; a bombastic yet perceptive pal; and a potentially disastrous prom night. In other words, it's a male coming of age story peppered with smart jokes, wry insights, authentic moments, and a light touch of meaning and, well, humanity.
Although the characters always felt slightly out of reach to me -- perhaps the tone is a bit too droll at times? -- "Two Parties ..." remains a delightful, deadpan tale that's truly perfect for teen guys. Please don't be put off by the cover! If you take a chance on this one, you'll find a winner.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
"Along for the Ride" is author Sarah Dessen's 9th novel for young adults. If you're already a fan of Sarah, then rest assured that everything you've come to love about her -- the graceful writing style, a beautifully conveyed sense of time and place, the complex characters and relationships, and (yay!) first love -- is on display here. And if you're a teen girl who's not already addicted to Sarah's books, I'm pretty sure this one will win you over.
First off, many thanks again to the Penguin Young Readers Group for another killer ARC. I may have actually squealed in delight when I saw the advance copy of "Along for the Ride" in last week's mail. You literally made my day!
Now, onto the plot synopsis, which I'll admit is pretty standard stuff. Auden, the school-smart daughter of two literary scholars, impulsively decides to spend the summer following high school graduation at her dad's house in the beach town of Colby. Dad, a once famous writer struggling for years to complete a follow-up novel, has a new young wife, the apparently ditzy girly-girl Heidi, and a newborn daughter, the colicky and constantly screaming Thisbe. Upon arriving in Colby, Auden quickly discovers that her dad's attention is focused solely on his book, making him oblivious to Heidi's exhaustion and Thisbe's continual unrest. Still, Auden's only alternative to this chaos is a boring summer at home studying under the eye of her cold, brilliant mother. In other words, she'll stick this situation out.
In Colby, Auden starts to emerge from her isolated, smart girl shell. Turns out there's a whole lot more to Heidi than meets the eye, and when Auden starts doing the books each night for Heidi's boardwalk clothing and accessories store, she discovers that there's also a whole lot more to co-worker Maggie and her friends Esther and Leah. The idea that female friendship can be empowering is a constant thread in Sarah's novels, and it's just as effective here. When Auden finally confides in Maggie, it opens a world of friendship that changes her life. How refreshing it is to see the positive side of girlfriends instead of the cattiness and bitchiness that typically pervade teen novels. And guess what? It works.
Now, because this is a novel set in the summertime and aimed at teen girls, there's also going to be a cute, wounded guy who totally falls for Auden in an offbeat way. Yeah, that's a little boilerplate, but Sarah's lyrical writing and the slow unfurling of the romance are so well done that you won't mind. Our guy here is Eli, a once-great bike rider still suffering after his best friend's death. Like Auden, the tortured Eli can't sleep at night, so the two explore the quirky world of Colby after dark, which includes bowling, all-night superstores, and a hidden cafe in the town's laundromat. Once Eli learns that Auden never had much of a childhood, he sets out to give her a lifetime's worth of experiences, from food fights to prom night, in one summer. He also works at slowly knocking down some of her walls, while she carefully does the same with him.
Ok, so what worked so well for me are the characters. Auden is bookish and responsible, but she's also incredibly disconnected from her peers. Her slow transformation from aloof outsider to more of a typical high school kid is believable and endearing. Even better, I can't imagine there's a girl out there who won't savor reading about Auden's late-night adventures with the complicated but sweet Eli. I also really loved how so many of the characters had incredible depth to them, especially the parental figures. It's unusual for a teen novel to be at all interested in the lives and tangled relationships of grown ups, but in this case, they're just so complicated and flawed that you can't help but be drawn in. We get to see weaknesses and some surprising strengths in Auden's mom and Heidi, just as we learn that Maggie isn't simply the cute girl at the Clementine's counter. Again, this kind of multidimensionality in a teen novel is rare ... and pretty great to find!
While some of the themes here might be a bit played out -- summer love found, thwarted, and rediscovered in the end; the old idea that if you fall off a bike you need to get back on it -- that's fine. Sarah's writing is so beautiful, the story is so touching and meaningful in parts, and her sense of place is so precise and evocative, that you won't mind if some of this feels a bit recycled. Plus, fans of Sarah's "Keeping the Moon" will love seeing the Last Chance Diner and old pals Isabel and Morgan one more time.
"Along for the Ride" is scheduled for release in June. Definitely keep an eye out for it. This is just about the perfect summer book for girls everywhere, say in grades seven and up. I have a feeling this book will go in a lot of beach bags this summer!
"Along for the Ride" is author Sarah Dessen's 9th novel for young adults. If you're already a fan of Sarah, then rest assured that everything you've come to love about her -- the graceful writing style, a beautifully conveyed sense of time and place, the complex characters and relationships, and (yay!) first love -- is on display here. And if you're a teen girl who's not already addicted to Sarah's books, I'm pretty sure this one will win you over.
First off, many thanks again to the Penguin Young Readers Group for another killer ARC. I may have actually squealed in delight when I saw the advance copy of "Along for the Ride" in last week's mail. You literally made my day!
Now, onto the plot synopsis, which I'll admit is pretty standard stuff. Auden, the school-smart daughter of two literary scholars, impulsively decides to spend the summer following high school graduation at her dad's house in the beach town of Colby. Dad, a once famous writer struggling for years to complete a follow-up novel, has a new young wife, the apparently ditzy girly-girl Heidi, and a newborn daughter, the colicky and constantly screaming Thisbe. Upon arriving in Colby, Auden quickly discovers that her dad's attention is focused solely on his book, making him oblivious to Heidi's exhaustion and Thisbe's continual unrest. Still, Auden's only alternative to this chaos is a boring summer at home studying under the eye of her cold, brilliant mother. In other words, she'll stick this situation out.
In Colby, Auden starts to emerge from her isolated, smart girl shell. Turns out there's a whole lot more to Heidi than meets the eye, and when Auden starts doing the books each night for Heidi's boardwalk clothing and accessories store, she discovers that there's also a whole lot more to co-worker Maggie and her friends Esther and Leah. The idea that female friendship can be empowering is a constant thread in Sarah's novels, and it's just as effective here. When Auden finally confides in Maggie, it opens a world of friendship that changes her life. How refreshing it is to see the positive side of girlfriends instead of the cattiness and bitchiness that typically pervade teen novels. And guess what? It works.
Now, because this is a novel set in the summertime and aimed at teen girls, there's also going to be a cute, wounded guy who totally falls for Auden in an offbeat way. Yeah, that's a little boilerplate, but Sarah's lyrical writing and the slow unfurling of the romance are so well done that you won't mind. Our guy here is Eli, a once-great bike rider still suffering after his best friend's death. Like Auden, the tortured Eli can't sleep at night, so the two explore the quirky world of Colby after dark, which includes bowling, all-night superstores, and a hidden cafe in the town's laundromat. Once Eli learns that Auden never had much of a childhood, he sets out to give her a lifetime's worth of experiences, from food fights to prom night, in one summer. He also works at slowly knocking down some of her walls, while she carefully does the same with him.
Ok, so what worked so well for me are the characters. Auden is bookish and responsible, but she's also incredibly disconnected from her peers. Her slow transformation from aloof outsider to more of a typical high school kid is believable and endearing. Even better, I can't imagine there's a girl out there who won't savor reading about Auden's late-night adventures with the complicated but sweet Eli. I also really loved how so many of the characters had incredible depth to them, especially the parental figures. It's unusual for a teen novel to be at all interested in the lives and tangled relationships of grown ups, but in this case, they're just so complicated and flawed that you can't help but be drawn in. We get to see weaknesses and some surprising strengths in Auden's mom and Heidi, just as we learn that Maggie isn't simply the cute girl at the Clementine's counter. Again, this kind of multidimensionality in a teen novel is rare ... and pretty great to find!
While some of the themes here might be a bit played out -- summer love found, thwarted, and rediscovered in the end; the old idea that if you fall off a bike you need to get back on it -- that's fine. Sarah's writing is so beautiful, the story is so touching and meaningful in parts, and her sense of place is so precise and evocative, that you won't mind if some of this feels a bit recycled. Plus, fans of Sarah's "Keeping the Moon" will love seeing the Last Chance Diner and old pals Isabel and Morgan one more time.
"Along for the Ride" is scheduled for release in June. Definitely keep an eye out for it. This is just about the perfect summer book for girls everywhere, say in grades seven and up. I have a feeling this book will go in a lot of beach bags this summer!
"Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow" by James Rollins
Posted on 3.26.2009 at 01:49pReview:
LOVED!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
In the interests of full disclosure, I should state that I absolutely LOVE James Rollins' Sigma Force novels for adults. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Mr. Rollins at Book Expo a few years back, when he signed "Black Order" for me, so I can also happily report that he's just as delightful in person. Needless to say, when I found out James Rollins was writing a middle grade adventure novel, I knew I had to read it as soon as possible. So, thank you HarperCollins for the ARC of this fantastic novel, which the rest of the world won't get to read until late April.
"Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow" is a good, old-fashioned swashbuckler. I mean that as the highest compliment, as this novel, with its seamless blend of history, action, and adventure, reads like an Indiana Jones for middle schoolers. The book is so chock full of cool puzzles, visual clues and glyphs, and mysterious snippets of secret language, that it almost feels like overkill to mention that it also includes alchemy, ancient cultures, and, hello, dinosaurs (!).
As the story begins, thirteen year-old budding archaeologist Jake Ransom and his cheerleader sister Kady are somehow transported back (or across?) time. One moment, they're in the British Museum, looking at artifacts from their now deceased parents' Mayan expedition, and the next, they're running for their lives from a dinosaur, accompanied by an ancient Mayan girl (Marika) and some sort of Roman teen soldier (Pindor). I know, cool. It gets better. Jake and Kady actually used two halves of a coin and, perhaps, the power of a small golden pyramid and a solar eclipse, to open a portal to Calypsos, the lost world that's an amalgam of cultures, peoples, and time periods. In a valley protected by powerful crystals, Mayans, Romans, Native Americans, Vikings, and even Neanderthals live harmoniously, mixing and mashing their cultures together. Calypsos is ruled by a council of elders and three Magisters, including Marika's father, who conduct experiments using crystals and sunbeams. Meanwhile, Kalverum Rex (the Skull King), a Magister who lost himself to dark alchemy, hovers on the outskirts of the settlement, creating horrible monsters and using all his evil tricks to break through the crystals' protections, attack Calypsos, and kidnap Jake and Kady.
There is such a bevy of cool stuff here that I hesitate to give away any more details; half the fun is deciphering the clues and unraveling the layered mysteries and hidden conspiracies right along with Jake. I loved how Jake was a clever, brave, ingenious young man one moment and then an impulsive, awkward but well-meaning kid the next. I'm sure middle school boys will readily identify with Jake, as he remains a real, believable character despite being thrown into all manner of outlandishly dangerous situations (you know, scorpion attacks, showdowns with evil beings ... the usual). Even the secondary characters are fully realized, as the once scared Pindor gets a moment to shine while Kady uses her bratty charms to organize a Viking cheerleader squad and create a timely diversion.
"Jake Ransom" is a smart action tale that assumes -- and rewards -- a smart, curious audience. Fans of the "Alex Rider" and "Percy Jackson" series, or anyone who likes adventure, history, and mystery mixed together with a good bit of humor, will love this book. I can't wait for you to read it!
In the interests of full disclosure, I should state that I absolutely LOVE James Rollins' Sigma Force novels for adults. I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Mr. Rollins at Book Expo a few years back, when he signed "Black Order" for me, so I can also happily report that he's just as delightful in person. Needless to say, when I found out James Rollins was writing a middle grade adventure novel, I knew I had to read it as soon as possible. So, thank you HarperCollins for the ARC of this fantastic novel, which the rest of the world won't get to read until late April.
"Jake Ransom and the Skull King's Shadow" is a good, old-fashioned swashbuckler. I mean that as the highest compliment, as this novel, with its seamless blend of history, action, and adventure, reads like an Indiana Jones for middle schoolers. The book is so chock full of cool puzzles, visual clues and glyphs, and mysterious snippets of secret language, that it almost feels like overkill to mention that it also includes alchemy, ancient cultures, and, hello, dinosaurs (!).
As the story begins, thirteen year-old budding archaeologist Jake Ransom and his cheerleader sister Kady are somehow transported back (or across?) time. One moment, they're in the British Museum, looking at artifacts from their now deceased parents' Mayan expedition, and the next, they're running for their lives from a dinosaur, accompanied by an ancient Mayan girl (Marika) and some sort of Roman teen soldier (Pindor). I know, cool. It gets better. Jake and Kady actually used two halves of a coin and, perhaps, the power of a small golden pyramid and a solar eclipse, to open a portal to Calypsos, the lost world that's an amalgam of cultures, peoples, and time periods. In a valley protected by powerful crystals, Mayans, Romans, Native Americans, Vikings, and even Neanderthals live harmoniously, mixing and mashing their cultures together. Calypsos is ruled by a council of elders and three Magisters, including Marika's father, who conduct experiments using crystals and sunbeams. Meanwhile, Kalverum Rex (the Skull King), a Magister who lost himself to dark alchemy, hovers on the outskirts of the settlement, creating horrible monsters and using all his evil tricks to break through the crystals' protections, attack Calypsos, and kidnap Jake and Kady.
There is such a bevy of cool stuff here that I hesitate to give away any more details; half the fun is deciphering the clues and unraveling the layered mysteries and hidden conspiracies right along with Jake. I loved how Jake was a clever, brave, ingenious young man one moment and then an impulsive, awkward but well-meaning kid the next. I'm sure middle school boys will readily identify with Jake, as he remains a real, believable character despite being thrown into all manner of outlandishly dangerous situations (you know, scorpion attacks, showdowns with evil beings ... the usual). Even the secondary characters are fully realized, as the once scared Pindor gets a moment to shine while Kady uses her bratty charms to organize a Viking cheerleader squad and create a timely diversion.
"Jake Ransom" is a smart action tale that assumes -- and rewards -- a smart, curious audience. Fans of the "Alex Rider" and "Percy Jackson" series, or anyone who likes adventure, history, and mystery mixed together with a good bit of humor, will love this book. I can't wait for you to read it!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Author Kim Harrison is well known for her paranormal fantasies for adults. "Once Dead, Twice Shy" is Harrison's first novel written specifically for a teen audience, and it's a total winner. Fast-paced and plot-driven -- but with interesting mythology and plenty of snark -- this quirky, amiable tale of reapers, timekeepers, and fate will grab teen girls everywhere.
Madison Avery is already dead when we meet her, having been killed on prom night by Kairos, the dark timekeeper. While lying in the morgue, some spirit-like part of Madison steals Kairos' enchanted amulet, whose charms allow her to survive. Well, not "survive" in the sense of breathing and blood flow, but as long as she wears the amulet, Madison's soul remains in what appears to others to be a corporeal form. She doesn't eat or sleep (because she's dead!), but she still has to go to school and work. A little memory wiping by light timekeeper Ron allows her dad and prom date Josh to mostly forget her gruesome death, and so Madison now spends her summer days with light reaper Barnabas learning to communicate by thoughts and preventing dark reapers from scything any more innocents.
This reaper business probably requires some explanation. Here goes. Dark reapers are angels who believe that fate governs all human behavior. If an otherwise good 17 year-old is fated to do horrible things 40 years from now, dark reapers would rather scythe the kid now and prevent the future harm. Light reapers, well, they believe in the power of choice, so their job is to follow the trail of creepy black wings (think shadowy, flying harbingers of death and horror) and thwart a dark reaper's attack. The timekeepers? They're like a kind of reaper overlord with the nifty ability to jiggle time and change memories.
Ok, so dark timekeeper Kairos is not happy to have lost his powerful amulet, and he's got dark reapers out to snatch it back from Madison and Barnabas. If Madison loses the amulet, her soul will vanish and her scything (well, death) will be complete. You can see how she'd like to hang onto it, right? So we get an engaging, fast story with plenty of self-deprecating humor and a touch of romance, as Madison, good guy Josh, and a tiny, annoying guardian angel named Grace try to beat Kairos at his own game, save Josh's life, and get Madison her body back.
If this plot synopsis doesn't make sense here, trust me, the story works. Harrison does a great job in explaining her mythology and sticking to it. There's even a larger question here about fate versus choice, and Madison's stand on that issue -- as well as her allegiances -- shift throughout the story. I loved how Madison, dead and fighting off all manner of baddies, still has to deal with snobby classmates and a nosey but well-meaning dad. Madison is as worried about appearing flat-out weird -- she is, after all, talking to angels and testing powers of invisibility -- as she is about facing Kairos. All this real-world angst grounds the story and makes Madison an authentic, relatable character. Her sharp sense of humor also lightens the mood and makes the novel lots of fun.
Harrison nicely resolves the central story here while setting her characters up for more adventures in future sequels. Yay! I, for one, cannot wait to see what happens to Madison, Josh, and Barnabas. Middle and high school readers looking for an entertaining, otherworldy book that doesn't take itself too seriously will love "Once Dead, Twice Shy." Look for it in late May.
Author Kim Harrison is well known for her paranormal fantasies for adults. "Once Dead, Twice Shy" is Harrison's first novel written specifically for a teen audience, and it's a total winner. Fast-paced and plot-driven -- but with interesting mythology and plenty of snark -- this quirky, amiable tale of reapers, timekeepers, and fate will grab teen girls everywhere.
Madison Avery is already dead when we meet her, having been killed on prom night by Kairos, the dark timekeeper. While lying in the morgue, some spirit-like part of Madison steals Kairos' enchanted amulet, whose charms allow her to survive. Well, not "survive" in the sense of breathing and blood flow, but as long as she wears the amulet, Madison's soul remains in what appears to others to be a corporeal form. She doesn't eat or sleep (because she's dead!), but she still has to go to school and work. A little memory wiping by light timekeeper Ron allows her dad and prom date Josh to mostly forget her gruesome death, and so Madison now spends her summer days with light reaper Barnabas learning to communicate by thoughts and preventing dark reapers from scything any more innocents.
This reaper business probably requires some explanation. Here goes. Dark reapers are angels who believe that fate governs all human behavior. If an otherwise good 17 year-old is fated to do horrible things 40 years from now, dark reapers would rather scythe the kid now and prevent the future harm. Light reapers, well, they believe in the power of choice, so their job is to follow the trail of creepy black wings (think shadowy, flying harbingers of death and horror) and thwart a dark reaper's attack. The timekeepers? They're like a kind of reaper overlord with the nifty ability to jiggle time and change memories.
Ok, so dark timekeeper Kairos is not happy to have lost his powerful amulet, and he's got dark reapers out to snatch it back from Madison and Barnabas. If Madison loses the amulet, her soul will vanish and her scything (well, death) will be complete. You can see how she'd like to hang onto it, right? So we get an engaging, fast story with plenty of self-deprecating humor and a touch of romance, as Madison, good guy Josh, and a tiny, annoying guardian angel named Grace try to beat Kairos at his own game, save Josh's life, and get Madison her body back.
If this plot synopsis doesn't make sense here, trust me, the story works. Harrison does a great job in explaining her mythology and sticking to it. There's even a larger question here about fate versus choice, and Madison's stand on that issue -- as well as her allegiances -- shift throughout the story. I loved how Madison, dead and fighting off all manner of baddies, still has to deal with snobby classmates and a nosey but well-meaning dad. Madison is as worried about appearing flat-out weird -- she is, after all, talking to angels and testing powers of invisibility -- as she is about facing Kairos. All this real-world angst grounds the story and makes Madison an authentic, relatable character. Her sharp sense of humor also lightens the mood and makes the novel lots of fun.
Harrison nicely resolves the central story here while setting her characters up for more adventures in future sequels. Yay! I, for one, cannot wait to see what happens to Madison, Josh, and Barnabas. Middle and high school readers looking for an entertaining, otherworldy book that doesn't take itself too seriously will love "Once Dead, Twice Shy." Look for it in late May.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
A big thank you (again!) to the Penguin Young Readers Group for sending along the ARC of Gayle Forman's "If I Stay." There's been a lot of buzz on the Internet about this book, most of which I think is well deserved.
Here's the premise: Seventeen year-old Mia, her ex-punk mom and dad, and little brother Teddy are involved in a horrific car crash on a slick Oregon road. What started as a carefree day together ends in tragedy, as Mia's family is killed and she is gravely injured. While Mia's body lingers in the ICU in a coma, Mia's ... well, I guess her spirit? her essence? ... wanders about the hospital, watching her griefstricken grandparents, snarky best friend Kim, and adoring boyfriend Adam. We learn about Mia's life -- her exquisite cello playing, her quirky extended family's strong bond, her deep relationship with punk singer Adam -- through a series of flashbacks. It is the revelation of these small moments that allows us to slowly understand the happy, full life Mia had before the accident. In this way, we also grasp the pain of Mia's choice now, as she struggles to decide whether to stay and fight through unimaginable grief and physical torture or allow her battered body and broken heart to die.
Some elements of this setup, particularly the dead / dying girl narrating her life, seemed borrowed from other novels, like "The Lovely Bones," "Elsewhere," and even "All We Know of Heaven." What distinguishes "If I Stay" are the believable, fully developed characters and rich relationships, the beautiful sense of "family" as a broader concept than we might have imagined, and the way music plays such an important role in the story. Mia's love of the cello and classical music, her dad's past life as a drummer, Adam's rising punk band -- all are absolutely integral to the story, making music almost an extra character in the novel. In fact, music so permeates the text that I couldn't help but think of the wonderful "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist."
There is a lot of emotion and drama here, but I don't think "If I Stay" ever crosses the line into melodrama. Kudos to Gayle Forman for showing admirable restraint. Her writing is taut, she uses lovely phrases and descriptions, and the story moves along at a good clip. "If I Stay" raises intriguing questions about life, faith, hope, and the kind of love that allows for change and letting go. There is some strong language and one subtle sex scene, so I'd say this book is geared more toward a high school age audience, most likely teen girls. "If I Stay," which comes out next week, is an honest, touching story that's especially perfect for music lovers. I hope you enjoy it, too!
A big thank you (again!) to the Penguin Young Readers Group for sending along the ARC of Gayle Forman's "If I Stay." There's been a lot of buzz on the Internet about this book, most of which I think is well deserved.
Here's the premise: Seventeen year-old Mia, her ex-punk mom and dad, and little brother Teddy are involved in a horrific car crash on a slick Oregon road. What started as a carefree day together ends in tragedy, as Mia's family is killed and she is gravely injured. While Mia's body lingers in the ICU in a coma, Mia's ... well, I guess her spirit? her essence? ... wanders about the hospital, watching her griefstricken grandparents, snarky best friend Kim, and adoring boyfriend Adam. We learn about Mia's life -- her exquisite cello playing, her quirky extended family's strong bond, her deep relationship with punk singer Adam -- through a series of flashbacks. It is the revelation of these small moments that allows us to slowly understand the happy, full life Mia had before the accident. In this way, we also grasp the pain of Mia's choice now, as she struggles to decide whether to stay and fight through unimaginable grief and physical torture or allow her battered body and broken heart to die.
Some elements of this setup, particularly the dead / dying girl narrating her life, seemed borrowed from other novels, like "The Lovely Bones," "Elsewhere," and even "All We Know of Heaven." What distinguishes "If I Stay" are the believable, fully developed characters and rich relationships, the beautiful sense of "family" as a broader concept than we might have imagined, and the way music plays such an important role in the story. Mia's love of the cello and classical music, her dad's past life as a drummer, Adam's rising punk band -- all are absolutely integral to the story, making music almost an extra character in the novel. In fact, music so permeates the text that I couldn't help but think of the wonderful "Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist."
There is a lot of emotion and drama here, but I don't think "If I Stay" ever crosses the line into melodrama. Kudos to Gayle Forman for showing admirable restraint. Her writing is taut, she uses lovely phrases and descriptions, and the story moves along at a good clip. "If I Stay" raises intriguing questions about life, faith, hope, and the kind of love that allows for change and letting go. There is some strong language and one subtle sex scene, so I'd say this book is geared more toward a high school age audience, most likely teen girls. "If I Stay," which comes out next week, is an honest, touching story that's especially perfect for music lovers. I hope you enjoy it, too!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
"The Leanin' Dog" is a subtle, quiet novel about 11 year old Dessa Dean's friendship with a wayward brown dog. Although not clearly specified -- which was a nagging issue for me, as I kept thinking, "What the heck time period is this?" -- the story seems to take place in the 1930s (?) in the mountain West, shortly before Christmas. Dessa and her dad live in a bare, remote wildnerness cabin. By day, dad goes out trapping and hunting, often with limited success, while Dessa stays in the cabin doing school work, cooking, and cleaning. The two live a spare, hardscrabble existence. Both characters are similarly restrained in expressing their emotions -- it's as if the harsh setting requires a certain stoicism -- although we immediately sense just how much they love each other.
Dessa is largely confined to the cabin, and not by her own choosing. She's still suffering greatly from her mom's death a few months back. Dessa and her diabetic mom got caught in a snowstorm, and poor Dessa watched firsthand as mom froze to death in the brutal conditions. The trauma has effected Dessa physically (her ears still burn from the frostbite) and, more damagingly, emotionally. Dessa suffers from what she calls "daymares," which we'd understand as debilitating panic attacks. No amount of coaxing, bullying, or pushing can get Dessa to allow herself to leave the cabin. Dessa counts every step from the cabin to the porch's edge, and she simply cannot make herself reenter the world of hunting, fishing, and exploring that she once so adored. Her beloved cabin now stands as a prison.
One day, a brown dog, herself injured with a lame leg, wanders over to Dessa's cabin. Lonely Dessa becomes intrigued by the animal, and her kindness eventually gets the skittish dog to come in for some food. Pretty soon, the dog is spending every day with the increasingly happy Dessa, playing with her or warming herself by the stove. The only problem? The dog suffers from just about the exact problem as Dessa -- she cannot bear to be closed into the cabin. The dog whines all night outside the front door, and, during the day, when the dog is in the cabin, Dessa must always keep the door ajar to calm the dog's frayed nerves.
There's a big climax here that coincides with Christmas Eve, when Dessa is planning a special dinner for her dad and the dog. Without giving anything away, the dog protects Dessa from certain death and helps her face her own demons and live again. Christmas Day thus becomes a sweet, wonderful turning point in Dessa's life. In other words, you might get a bit choked up. You've been warned!
"The Leanin' Dog" is written in spare language, which beautifully evokes the barebones world in which Dessa lives. Dessa thinks and speaks as a country person, which may at first be jarring for today's readers, but her manner perfectly conveys her practical, good-hearted, hopeful nature. Dessa's faith in herself may have wavered, but she never stops believing in the dog, her father, and her lost mom. That's really quite beautiful. So while there's not a whole lot of whiz-bang action in this story, thoughtful readers should find much to like, from the rural setting to Dessa's understated bravery to the authentic, touching bond between Dessa and her dad to, finally, the lovely friendship she creates with the dog. This is a perfect book for young readers (grades five and up) looking for a gentle, poetic book about the transformative power of friendship. I also think it's great for dog lovers of all ages. As the Leanin' Dog herself would say, "Boof!" :-)
"The Leanin' Dog" is a subtle, quiet novel about 11 year old Dessa Dean's friendship with a wayward brown dog. Although not clearly specified -- which was a nagging issue for me, as I kept thinking, "What the heck time period is this?" -- the story seems to take place in the 1930s (?) in the mountain West, shortly before Christmas. Dessa and her dad live in a bare, remote wildnerness cabin. By day, dad goes out trapping and hunting, often with limited success, while Dessa stays in the cabin doing school work, cooking, and cleaning. The two live a spare, hardscrabble existence. Both characters are similarly restrained in expressing their emotions -- it's as if the harsh setting requires a certain stoicism -- although we immediately sense just how much they love each other.
Dessa is largely confined to the cabin, and not by her own choosing. She's still suffering greatly from her mom's death a few months back. Dessa and her diabetic mom got caught in a snowstorm, and poor Dessa watched firsthand as mom froze to death in the brutal conditions. The trauma has effected Dessa physically (her ears still burn from the frostbite) and, more damagingly, emotionally. Dessa suffers from what she calls "daymares," which we'd understand as debilitating panic attacks. No amount of coaxing, bullying, or pushing can get Dessa to allow herself to leave the cabin. Dessa counts every step from the cabin to the porch's edge, and she simply cannot make herself reenter the world of hunting, fishing, and exploring that she once so adored. Her beloved cabin now stands as a prison.
One day, a brown dog, herself injured with a lame leg, wanders over to Dessa's cabin. Lonely Dessa becomes intrigued by the animal, and her kindness eventually gets the skittish dog to come in for some food. Pretty soon, the dog is spending every day with the increasingly happy Dessa, playing with her or warming herself by the stove. The only problem? The dog suffers from just about the exact problem as Dessa -- she cannot bear to be closed into the cabin. The dog whines all night outside the front door, and, during the day, when the dog is in the cabin, Dessa must always keep the door ajar to calm the dog's frayed nerves.
There's a big climax here that coincides with Christmas Eve, when Dessa is planning a special dinner for her dad and the dog. Without giving anything away, the dog protects Dessa from certain death and helps her face her own demons and live again. Christmas Day thus becomes a sweet, wonderful turning point in Dessa's life. In other words, you might get a bit choked up. You've been warned!
"The Leanin' Dog" is written in spare language, which beautifully evokes the barebones world in which Dessa lives. Dessa thinks and speaks as a country person, which may at first be jarring for today's readers, but her manner perfectly conveys her practical, good-hearted, hopeful nature. Dessa's faith in herself may have wavered, but she never stops believing in the dog, her father, and her lost mom. That's really quite beautiful. So while there's not a whole lot of whiz-bang action in this story, thoughtful readers should find much to like, from the rural setting to Dessa's understated bravery to the authentic, touching bond between Dessa and her dad to, finally, the lovely friendship she creates with the dog. This is a perfect book for young readers (grades five and up) looking for a gentle, poetic book about the transformative power of friendship. I also think it's great for dog lovers of all ages. As the Leanin' Dog herself would say, "Boof!" :-)
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
First off, a huge THANK YOU!! to the good people at Penguin Young Readers Group for the wonderful box of goodies they sent, which included an advance copy of Laurie Halse Anderson's "Wintergirls." Laurie just won the American Library Association's Margaret A. Edwards Award for her incredible contributions ("Speak," "Fever 1793," "Twisted," etc.) to teen literature. "Wintergirls," due out in March, is her latest novel, and it is an absolutely haunting, riveting book about a lost girl starving herself to death in slow, painful measures. It is, in a word, stunning.
As the story begins, Lia is a high school senior whose estranged best friend, Cassie, has just been found dead in a rundown motel room. Like Lia, Cassie sought refuge from her many problems by obsessively monitoring her food intake. Cassie binged, purged, and drank quite a bit to dull the pain, while Lia measures and rations every tiny morsel she consumes; when that doesn't help enough, she cuts. Lia's anorexia is so severe that she's twice been hospitalized in an eating disorders facility. Unfortunately, Lia's still so far gone that she hardly eats anything, to the point of dizziness, dehydration, and racing heartbeats. Lia hides under bulky layers of clothes, compulsively exercises all night, and even figures out how to deceive her stepmother during weekly weigh-ins. Lia's anorexia is so grippingly portrayed, from her racing self-destructive thoughts to her physical agony to her frantic need to tally up her meager calories, that it's almost painful for the reader to endure. We see so clearly that anorexia has almost nothing do with food and just about everything to do with control. Lia herself recognizes this, as she knows full well that her goal of 90 lbs. will soon become 85, 80, and 75. There is no point, short of death, where this starvation ends for Lia, and that fact is simply horrible.
So what's so great here? Everything. Laurie's writing is powerful, using descriptions that are at times lyrical and haunting. Whole passages read like poetry. For example, Laurie's portrayal of wintergirls as being caught between life and death is a beautiful metaphor for anorexic girls. Her literary techniques -- including striking out Lia's real thoughts in favor of the words she knows she's expected to say -- never seem gimmicky. In fact, we are so deeply connected to Lia's broken mind and spirit that we feel her suffocating despair and shame. Teen novels don't get more gripping than this, believe me.
I also loved how every character is so wonderfully fleshed out. Lia's loving, well-meaning parents are flawed and often say exactly the wrong thing, causing her to spiral further into anorexia's clutches; her little stepsister Emma idolizes Lia in private, but is embarrassed to see her at a soccer game; and her new friend Elijah, a lost traveler himself, is both kind and, ultimately, cruelly honest. Even Cassie's ghost -- yes, you read that correctly -- is as conflicted a friend as ever. Each person here feels and behaves like an actual, complicated person.
The combination of realistic characters, atmospheric writing, and stark insight into one wounded girl makes "Wintergirls" one of the best, most compelling books a teenager could find. While this book is often difficult to read, mature readers will find it utterly engrossing and nearly impossible to put down. I absolutely recommend "Wintergirls" to readers in 8th grade and up. I hope those who need this novel's message of hope most will discover it, too; perhaps the finalized edition will include some resources to aid in recovery? If not, please let me highlight the ANAD site and, more generally, Teen Health's Eating Disorders Resources for those seeking more information. Look for "Wintergirls" in mid-March of 2009. I promise, you will not be disappointed.
First off, a huge THANK YOU!! to the good people at Penguin Young Readers Group for the wonderful box of goodies they sent, which included an advance copy of Laurie Halse Anderson's "Wintergirls." Laurie just won the American Library Association's Margaret A. Edwards Award for her incredible contributions ("Speak," "Fever 1793," "Twisted," etc.) to teen literature. "Wintergirls," due out in March, is her latest novel, and it is an absolutely haunting, riveting book about a lost girl starving herself to death in slow, painful measures. It is, in a word, stunning.
As the story begins, Lia is a high school senior whose estranged best friend, Cassie, has just been found dead in a rundown motel room. Like Lia, Cassie sought refuge from her many problems by obsessively monitoring her food intake. Cassie binged, purged, and drank quite a bit to dull the pain, while Lia measures and rations every tiny morsel she consumes; when that doesn't help enough, she cuts. Lia's anorexia is so severe that she's twice been hospitalized in an eating disorders facility. Unfortunately, Lia's still so far gone that she hardly eats anything, to the point of dizziness, dehydration, and racing heartbeats. Lia hides under bulky layers of clothes, compulsively exercises all night, and even figures out how to deceive her stepmother during weekly weigh-ins. Lia's anorexia is so grippingly portrayed, from her racing self-destructive thoughts to her physical agony to her frantic need to tally up her meager calories, that it's almost painful for the reader to endure. We see so clearly that anorexia has almost nothing do with food and just about everything to do with control. Lia herself recognizes this, as she knows full well that her goal of 90 lbs. will soon become 85, 80, and 75. There is no point, short of death, where this starvation ends for Lia, and that fact is simply horrible.
So what's so great here? Everything. Laurie's writing is powerful, using descriptions that are at times lyrical and haunting. Whole passages read like poetry. For example, Laurie's portrayal of wintergirls as being caught between life and death is a beautiful metaphor for anorexic girls. Her literary techniques -- including striking out Lia's real thoughts in favor of the words she knows she's expected to say -- never seem gimmicky. In fact, we are so deeply connected to Lia's broken mind and spirit that we feel her suffocating despair and shame. Teen novels don't get more gripping than this, believe me.
I also loved how every character is so wonderfully fleshed out. Lia's loving, well-meaning parents are flawed and often say exactly the wrong thing, causing her to spiral further into anorexia's clutches; her little stepsister Emma idolizes Lia in private, but is embarrassed to see her at a soccer game; and her new friend Elijah, a lost traveler himself, is both kind and, ultimately, cruelly honest. Even Cassie's ghost -- yes, you read that correctly -- is as conflicted a friend as ever. Each person here feels and behaves like an actual, complicated person.
The combination of realistic characters, atmospheric writing, and stark insight into one wounded girl makes "Wintergirls" one of the best, most compelling books a teenager could find. While this book is often difficult to read, mature readers will find it utterly engrossing and nearly impossible to put down. I absolutely recommend "Wintergirls" to readers in 8th grade and up. I hope those who need this novel's message of hope most will discover it, too; perhaps the finalized edition will include some resources to aid in recovery? If not, please let me highlight the ANAD site and, more generally, Teen Health's Eating Disorders Resources for those seeking more information. Look for "Wintergirls" in mid-March of 2009. I promise, you will not be disappointed.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
"Impossible" is National Book Award Finalist Nancy Werlin's latest novel. Although I thought there were some flaws here -- hello, draggy passages and flat characterizations! -- overall this is a decent, generally entertaining novel.
Lucinda "Lucy" Scarborough is our girl here, and she's a 17 year-old senior at a Massachusetts high school. Lucy's life with foster parents Soledad and Leo is pretty ordinary. She runs track, has a gossipy BFF named Sarah, one of those "he's only a friend" types (as if!) in Zach, and an eagerly anticipated prom date with sweet band geek Gray Spencer. The only hitch in Lucy's life involves her biological mom, Miranda, a wayward drifter who shadows Lucy, hurling the occasional invective, bottle, or ominous warning her way. Miranda lost her mind around the time of Lucy's birth, and she's never been able to establish any kind of normal relationship with her daughter. As for Lucy's birth father? We soon learn that's an awfully complicated story. And by "complicated," I mean the ancient, generation-spanning curse type of complicated!
Yes, indeed, Lucy is fated to become an eternal possession, the icky "true love," of a swanky, mystical creep known as the Elfin Knight. In what struck me as an exceptionally jarring passage, Lucy is raped by an Elfin Knight-possessed Gray on prom night, later discovering that she's pregnant. (Don't even get me started on the Elfin Knight switching Lucy's morning after pills or Lucy's glossed-over acknowledgment that raising a child presents nearly insurmountable obstacles for most teens; there are vaguely distasteful messages sent to teen girls in this novel that I'd prefer not to dwell upon.) Long story short, Lucy decides to keep the baby, despite knowing that upon the infant's birth, she, like Miranda before her, will surely lose her mind.
Of course, because this is a novel, there is an escape clause. While I doubt many members of this book's audience have even heard of the old pop/folk duo Simon & Garfunkel, their hit song "Scarborough Fair" plays a central role in the story. Well, I should correct that; a version of their song, with modified lyrics, is the star here. If Lucy can complete three impossible tasks highlighted in the song -- among them, weaving a seamless shirt with no needles and using a goat's horn to plow an acre of seaside land ... you know, the usual! -- she will break the Elfin Knight's curse and hang onto her life, happiness, and sanity.
There's a cool, clever premise here, as Lucy, her foster folks, and the dreamy, sturdy Zach race against time to crack these puzzles. I liked how none of the characters needed too much convincing to buy into the ancient curse. We're already suspending reality here as readers; there's simply no need to delay the good stuff with forced incredulity, as too often happens in stories with fantastical elements. The Elfin Knight is both equally charming and repulsive, making him an interesting foil for Lucy's gang. I also found myself caught up in the tangible sense of danger here, as Lucy's pregnancy amounts to a ticking clock on her own survival. The whole premise of "Impossible" is so interesting and unusual that it almost makes up for the book's flaws.
Yup, I said "almost." While there are many strong elements, my attention wandered at some points. Whole passages were painfully tedious, particularly in the beginning, and I felt little connection to Lucy throughout the story. She seemed like more of a superteen -- smart, pretty, athletic, kind, heroic -- than a real person. Even in the aftermath of her rape, with teen motherhood looming before her, she never changed much. Lucy is this wonderful, special girl before these life-shattering events, and afterward she's just more of the same. To be honest, this idealization is the same issue I had with Zach, who, naturally, becomes the pregnant Lucy's love interest. Zach is an older college student and longtime family friend now living with Lucy's folks. He is so irritatingly perfect, from his chiseled body and tousled hair to his strong, caring, and respectful nature, that he, too, seemed utterly artificial. The stretches where Lucy and Zach repeatedly express their love to each other just about set my teeth on edge, not unlike any number of "Oh, I love you, too, Bella!" moments throughout the entire Twilight Saga, but especially in "Breaking Dawn."
In the end, I was hoping for a bit more twisty, engaging fun from such a strikingly original premise, and I was disappointed. If you can get past some of the draggy sections and overlook the one-note characterizations -- not to mention the bizarre shifts in tone relating to sexual violence at several junctures in the story -- then you'll probably be just fine with "Impossible." As I said on top, this story is essentially a good read. For me, it simply could have been so much better. If you give "Impossible" a try, I'd say the themes and sexual references here indicate more of a high school audience. I hope you like it more than I did!
"Impossible" is National Book Award Finalist Nancy Werlin's latest novel. Although I thought there were some flaws here -- hello, draggy passages and flat characterizations! -- overall this is a decent, generally entertaining novel.
Lucinda "Lucy" Scarborough is our girl here, and she's a 17 year-old senior at a Massachusetts high school. Lucy's life with foster parents Soledad and Leo is pretty ordinary. She runs track, has a gossipy BFF named Sarah, one of those "he's only a friend" types (as if!) in Zach, and an eagerly anticipated prom date with sweet band geek Gray Spencer. The only hitch in Lucy's life involves her biological mom, Miranda, a wayward drifter who shadows Lucy, hurling the occasional invective, bottle, or ominous warning her way. Miranda lost her mind around the time of Lucy's birth, and she's never been able to establish any kind of normal relationship with her daughter. As for Lucy's birth father? We soon learn that's an awfully complicated story. And by "complicated," I mean the ancient, generation-spanning curse type of complicated!
Yes, indeed, Lucy is fated to become an eternal possession, the icky "true love," of a swanky, mystical creep known as the Elfin Knight. In what struck me as an exceptionally jarring passage, Lucy is raped by an Elfin Knight-possessed Gray on prom night, later discovering that she's pregnant. (Don't even get me started on the Elfin Knight switching Lucy's morning after pills or Lucy's glossed-over acknowledgment that raising a child presents nearly insurmountable obstacles for most teens; there are vaguely distasteful messages sent to teen girls in this novel that I'd prefer not to dwell upon.) Long story short, Lucy decides to keep the baby, despite knowing that upon the infant's birth, she, like Miranda before her, will surely lose her mind.
Of course, because this is a novel, there is an escape clause. While I doubt many members of this book's audience have even heard of the old pop/folk duo Simon & Garfunkel, their hit song "Scarborough Fair" plays a central role in the story. Well, I should correct that; a version of their song, with modified lyrics, is the star here. If Lucy can complete three impossible tasks highlighted in the song -- among them, weaving a seamless shirt with no needles and using a goat's horn to plow an acre of seaside land ... you know, the usual! -- she will break the Elfin Knight's curse and hang onto her life, happiness, and sanity.
There's a cool, clever premise here, as Lucy, her foster folks, and the dreamy, sturdy Zach race against time to crack these puzzles. I liked how none of the characters needed too much convincing to buy into the ancient curse. We're already suspending reality here as readers; there's simply no need to delay the good stuff with forced incredulity, as too often happens in stories with fantastical elements. The Elfin Knight is both equally charming and repulsive, making him an interesting foil for Lucy's gang. I also found myself caught up in the tangible sense of danger here, as Lucy's pregnancy amounts to a ticking clock on her own survival. The whole premise of "Impossible" is so interesting and unusual that it almost makes up for the book's flaws.
Yup, I said "almost." While there are many strong elements, my attention wandered at some points. Whole passages were painfully tedious, particularly in the beginning, and I felt little connection to Lucy throughout the story. She seemed like more of a superteen -- smart, pretty, athletic, kind, heroic -- than a real person. Even in the aftermath of her rape, with teen motherhood looming before her, she never changed much. Lucy is this wonderful, special girl before these life-shattering events, and afterward she's just more of the same. To be honest, this idealization is the same issue I had with Zach, who, naturally, becomes the pregnant Lucy's love interest. Zach is an older college student and longtime family friend now living with Lucy's folks. He is so irritatingly perfect, from his chiseled body and tousled hair to his strong, caring, and respectful nature, that he, too, seemed utterly artificial. The stretches where Lucy and Zach repeatedly express their love to each other just about set my teeth on edge, not unlike any number of "Oh, I love you, too, Bella!" moments throughout the entire Twilight Saga, but especially in "Breaking Dawn."
In the end, I was hoping for a bit more twisty, engaging fun from such a strikingly original premise, and I was disappointed. If you can get past some of the draggy sections and overlook the one-note characterizations -- not to mention the bizarre shifts in tone relating to sexual violence at several junctures in the story -- then you'll probably be just fine with "Impossible." As I said on top, this story is essentially a good read. For me, it simply could have been so much better. If you give "Impossible" a try, I'd say the themes and sexual references here indicate more of a high school audience. I hope you like it more than I did!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Meg Rosoff's "How I Live Now"won the American Library Association's Printz Award back in 2005 as that year's outstanding novel for young adults. Ok, I realize I am a little late in reading this one -- hey, I have a pretty big "to-read" stack! -- but since I thought this novel was so striking and original, I just had to write up a review for our blog readers.
Quick summary: Daisy is a 15 year-old American sent away from New York City by her apparently exasperated dad and stepmom. She arrives in rural England to stay with her eccentric Aunt Penn, a slew of cousins (precocious 9 year-old Piper, 14 year-old, seemingly empathic twins Isaac and Edmond, and 17 year-old would-be-man Osbert), and a healthy assortment of sheep dogs, goats, and other animals. Aunt Penn quickly departs for a vague peacekeeping task in Oslo, leaving the kids the run of their country house and surrounding farmland. Daisy, a cynic who struggles with anorexia, finds herself quickly opening up to her cousins, especially compassionate, insightful Edmond. While she recognizes it's technically wrong -- they are, after all, first cousins! -- she falls into an obsessive, all-encompassing love with Edmond, which makes her days fly by in sheer bliss. Even after a London bombing leaves thousands dead, plunging England into chaos and war and preventing Aunt Penn's return, Daisy can't help but savor the delicious freedom inherent in her new, unsupervised life. One glorious day, all the kids, including the aloof Osbert, spend a magical afternoon picnicking and frolicking by the river.
Unfortunately, the once unseen and distant war soon reaches into Daisy's life. An occupying army, never identified for the reader, lands in the countryside, and the few remaining British forces commandeer Aunt Penn's house as a barracks for their troops. Daisy's newfound family is wrenched apart, and she and the gentle, resourceful Piper are left on their own to make a long, arduous journey back home.
I'm not sure if my plot synopsis conveys it, but "How I Live Now" is a fantastic read for so many reasons. First, Daisy's narration, which occurs in an almost frantic, run-on manner, is captivating. This is the way a teenager thinks, with intense, sometimes jumbled ideas rampantly speeding along. Daisy's description of her intoxicating affair with Edmond is portrayed in a dreamlike, hazy fashion. It's as if she and Edmond share a bond that transcends the mortal and physical, which we soon learn may be the case; Daisy can literally feel Edmond in her mind during their painful separation. I also loved Daisy's unrepentant honesty and brashness, which, again, make her such a realistic teen character.
What else was great? Hrm, where should I start!? The ruthlessness necessary to endure hard times is beautifully portrayed, particularly during Daisy and Piper's struggle to reach home. Yet, despite the often brutal conditions, both dignity and humanity survive in, say, the brotherly attention of a soldier or the knowing advice of an army major. These small touches of compassion have so much more meaning in a landscape of brutality. I also thought Rosoff's depiction of England encountering a faceless enemy and a war with no stated purpose or goals was absolutely brilliant, giving the story a futuristic feel while glancing back to Britain's history of self-sufficiency during two world wars. Rosoff's subtle descriptions of Daisy's eating disorder are similarly wonderful, including the climactic moment when a starving Daisy realizes just how hungry she has been for so long. Finally, the mutually protective relationship between Daisy and Piper is believable, lovely, and occasionally heartbreaking; Daisy mentions holding an exhausted Piper's "paw" on the night their lost dog returns, which is simply beautiful. Readers may find this relationship similar to the touching bond that developed between jaded Katniss and the doelike young tribute Rue in Suzanne Collins' stunning novel, "The Hunger Games."
"How I Live Now" is a compelling, unique, fast-paced novel that has a little something for everyone (love, self growth, action, danger). It is written in an exceptional manner, with insight, hard-earned emotion, and a gripping sense of drama and tension. I would definitely recommend this short novel with a powerful impact to teen readers, both boys and girls, in grades 8 and higher. While there is both sex and violence present here, neither is depicted in a gratuitous manner. Although this novel may challenge you, I think it's a worthy, rewarding read.
Meg Rosoff's "How I Live Now"won the American Library Association's Printz Award back in 2005 as that year's outstanding novel for young adults. Ok, I realize I am a little late in reading this one -- hey, I have a pretty big "to-read" stack! -- but since I thought this novel was so striking and original, I just had to write up a review for our blog readers.
Quick summary: Daisy is a 15 year-old American sent away from New York City by her apparently exasperated dad and stepmom. She arrives in rural England to stay with her eccentric Aunt Penn, a slew of cousins (precocious 9 year-old Piper, 14 year-old, seemingly empathic twins Isaac and Edmond, and 17 year-old would-be-man Osbert), and a healthy assortment of sheep dogs, goats, and other animals. Aunt Penn quickly departs for a vague peacekeeping task in Oslo, leaving the kids the run of their country house and surrounding farmland. Daisy, a cynic who struggles with anorexia, finds herself quickly opening up to her cousins, especially compassionate, insightful Edmond. While she recognizes it's technically wrong -- they are, after all, first cousins! -- she falls into an obsessive, all-encompassing love with Edmond, which makes her days fly by in sheer bliss. Even after a London bombing leaves thousands dead, plunging England into chaos and war and preventing Aunt Penn's return, Daisy can't help but savor the delicious freedom inherent in her new, unsupervised life. One glorious day, all the kids, including the aloof Osbert, spend a magical afternoon picnicking and frolicking by the river.
Unfortunately, the once unseen and distant war soon reaches into Daisy's life. An occupying army, never identified for the reader, lands in the countryside, and the few remaining British forces commandeer Aunt Penn's house as a barracks for their troops. Daisy's newfound family is wrenched apart, and she and the gentle, resourceful Piper are left on their own to make a long, arduous journey back home.
I'm not sure if my plot synopsis conveys it, but "How I Live Now" is a fantastic read for so many reasons. First, Daisy's narration, which occurs in an almost frantic, run-on manner, is captivating. This is the way a teenager thinks, with intense, sometimes jumbled ideas rampantly speeding along. Daisy's description of her intoxicating affair with Edmond is portrayed in a dreamlike, hazy fashion. It's as if she and Edmond share a bond that transcends the mortal and physical, which we soon learn may be the case; Daisy can literally feel Edmond in her mind during their painful separation. I also loved Daisy's unrepentant honesty and brashness, which, again, make her such a realistic teen character.
What else was great? Hrm, where should I start!? The ruthlessness necessary to endure hard times is beautifully portrayed, particularly during Daisy and Piper's struggle to reach home. Yet, despite the often brutal conditions, both dignity and humanity survive in, say, the brotherly attention of a soldier or the knowing advice of an army major. These small touches of compassion have so much more meaning in a landscape of brutality. I also thought Rosoff's depiction of England encountering a faceless enemy and a war with no stated purpose or goals was absolutely brilliant, giving the story a futuristic feel while glancing back to Britain's history of self-sufficiency during two world wars. Rosoff's subtle descriptions of Daisy's eating disorder are similarly wonderful, including the climactic moment when a starving Daisy realizes just how hungry she has been for so long. Finally, the mutually protective relationship between Daisy and Piper is believable, lovely, and occasionally heartbreaking; Daisy mentions holding an exhausted Piper's "paw" on the night their lost dog returns, which is simply beautiful. Readers may find this relationship similar to the touching bond that developed between jaded Katniss and the doelike young tribute Rue in Suzanne Collins' stunning novel, "The Hunger Games."
"How I Live Now" is a compelling, unique, fast-paced novel that has a little something for everyone (love, self growth, action, danger). It is written in an exceptional manner, with insight, hard-earned emotion, and a gripping sense of drama and tension. I would definitely recommend this short novel with a powerful impact to teen readers, both boys and girls, in grades 8 and higher. While there is both sex and violence present here, neither is depicted in a gratuitous manner. Although this novel may challenge you, I think it's a worthy, rewarding read.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Tim Tharp's "The Spectacular Now" was a finalist for the National Book Award for Young People's Literature (please click here to read an interview with Tharp on the NBA website). After reading this almost stream of consciousness peek into the last few months of one teen guy's senior year of high school, I can definitely see why. "The Spectacular Now" is authentic, lively, and ultimately disturbing in a way I can't identify.
Sutter Keely is the senior guy in question, and he's quite literally the life of the party. Sutter is so precisely portrayed that I understood exactly who he was. You know that charming, exuberant, scruffy, kinda lovable screw-up that girls always think they can tame or protect or somehow fix? That's Sutter. He can talk to anyone, making that person feel special and magical for those few moments in his spotlight. He's all about fun and adventure and maybe even a little danger. Sutter's problem? He's also a closeted, mostly functioning alcoholic ("god's own drunk," as he says), driving around Oklahoma City with a Big Gulp 7UP generously laced with whiskey. Sutter drinks constantly, from the time he wakes up right on through the day, even getting loaded for his job at Mr. Leon's men's clothing store and before a dinner at his uptight sister's house. Sutter's easy, natural charisma helps deflect many of the consequences of his drinking, and he's in full-on denial mode about any other problems it might be causing. See, Sutter's all about "embracing the weird," and he's hit on something so many anti-drinking crusades miss: drinking can be a lot of fun. That's why kids do it. So while we as readers see all the scary issues raised by Sutter's drinking, he thinks he's living it up right in the moment. In the spectacular now.
Sutter's life is already careening pretty far out of control when he meets the shy, nerdy, sci fi geek Aimee. Well, "meet" might be too strong a word for what actually happens. Sutter blacks out after a night of drinking, waking up to discover that he's in an unfamiliar neighborhood -- sitting on someone's front lawn! -- and being roused by a quiet newspaper delivery girl. Sutter initially takes on Aimee as a kind of project, thinking he can boost the confidence of this gentle, meek girl and really do something right in his life. Along the way, he learns that Aimee is pretty spectacular herself, despite -- or perhaps because of -- her love of horses and Commander Amanda Gallico and her unquenchable, maybe naive capacity to dream big dreams. Unfortunately, Sutter, in "helping" Aimee, also introduces her to the lure of near-constant drinking. All this leads to a climax that is touching, real, and unexpectedly sad.
I'm not entirely sure this book will be fully appreciated by its target audience of high school age readers. As a (cough) somewhat older reader, I recognized Sutter's character and knew exactly how pathetic he'd be with another 10 or 15 years of "partying" under his belt. While Tharp capably conveys this very point when we meet Sutter's estranged dad in Fort Worth, I'm still not convinced those without the life experience will fully appreciate the utter depth of Sutter's impending decline.
Regardless, this is a real "wow" kind of book. Sutter's voice is so compelling that I felt like I was strapped into some sort of amusement park ride run amok. That's what the narration of his life feels like. You will absolutely root for this terribly flawed but well-intentioned guy, who will disappoint you and surprise you in equal measure. Plus, Sutter's relationship with Aimee is so hopeful and tragic (at the same time!), that it's reason alone to read this outstanding novel.
Please know there are lots of drinking (well, duh!), drug, and sexual references here. Even beyond that, I think the somewhat subtle nature of this story lends itself more to high school age readers. Finally, although my description here might make "The Spectacular Now" seem like a dull "issue" book, nothing could be further from the truth. The great feat of this novel is how it manages to make self destruction seem so incredibly attractive. Truly, although it may sound odd, this is an energetic, almost bouncy story of one boy's slow descent into real despair and heartbreak. It is definitely worth reading.
Tim Tharp's "The Spectacular Now" was a finalist for the National Book Award for Young People's Literature (please click here to read an interview with Tharp on the NBA website). After reading this almost stream of consciousness peek into the last few months of one teen guy's senior year of high school, I can definitely see why. "The Spectacular Now" is authentic, lively, and ultimately disturbing in a way I can't identify.
Sutter Keely is the senior guy in question, and he's quite literally the life of the party. Sutter is so precisely portrayed that I understood exactly who he was. You know that charming, exuberant, scruffy, kinda lovable screw-up that girls always think they can tame or protect or somehow fix? That's Sutter. He can talk to anyone, making that person feel special and magical for those few moments in his spotlight. He's all about fun and adventure and maybe even a little danger. Sutter's problem? He's also a closeted, mostly functioning alcoholic ("god's own drunk," as he says), driving around Oklahoma City with a Big Gulp 7UP generously laced with whiskey. Sutter drinks constantly, from the time he wakes up right on through the day, even getting loaded for his job at Mr. Leon's men's clothing store and before a dinner at his uptight sister's house. Sutter's easy, natural charisma helps deflect many of the consequences of his drinking, and he's in full-on denial mode about any other problems it might be causing. See, Sutter's all about "embracing the weird," and he's hit on something so many anti-drinking crusades miss: drinking can be a lot of fun. That's why kids do it. So while we as readers see all the scary issues raised by Sutter's drinking, he thinks he's living it up right in the moment. In the spectacular now.
Sutter's life is already careening pretty far out of control when he meets the shy, nerdy, sci fi geek Aimee. Well, "meet" might be too strong a word for what actually happens. Sutter blacks out after a night of drinking, waking up to discover that he's in an unfamiliar neighborhood -- sitting on someone's front lawn! -- and being roused by a quiet newspaper delivery girl. Sutter initially takes on Aimee as a kind of project, thinking he can boost the confidence of this gentle, meek girl and really do something right in his life. Along the way, he learns that Aimee is pretty spectacular herself, despite -- or perhaps because of -- her love of horses and Commander Amanda Gallico and her unquenchable, maybe naive capacity to dream big dreams. Unfortunately, Sutter, in "helping" Aimee, also introduces her to the lure of near-constant drinking. All this leads to a climax that is touching, real, and unexpectedly sad.
I'm not entirely sure this book will be fully appreciated by its target audience of high school age readers. As a (cough) somewhat older reader, I recognized Sutter's character and knew exactly how pathetic he'd be with another 10 or 15 years of "partying" under his belt. While Tharp capably conveys this very point when we meet Sutter's estranged dad in Fort Worth, I'm still not convinced those without the life experience will fully appreciate the utter depth of Sutter's impending decline.
Regardless, this is a real "wow" kind of book. Sutter's voice is so compelling that I felt like I was strapped into some sort of amusement park ride run amok. That's what the narration of his life feels like. You will absolutely root for this terribly flawed but well-intentioned guy, who will disappoint you and surprise you in equal measure. Plus, Sutter's relationship with Aimee is so hopeful and tragic (at the same time!), that it's reason alone to read this outstanding novel.
Please know there are lots of drinking (well, duh!), drug, and sexual references here. Even beyond that, I think the somewhat subtle nature of this story lends itself more to high school age readers. Finally, although my description here might make "The Spectacular Now" seem like a dull "issue" book, nothing could be further from the truth. The great feat of this novel is how it manages to make self destruction seem so incredibly attractive. Truly, although it may sound odd, this is an energetic, almost bouncy story of one boy's slow descent into real despair and heartbreak. It is definitely worth reading.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
I love the snarky satires Carl Hiaasen has written for adults, and I got a huge kick out of his delightful "Flush." Naturally, I figured I'd adore his latest book for young people, "Scat." I was right!
"Scat" is a typical Hiaasen book ... and I mean that statement in the best possible way! It takes place in Florida, has a strong pro-environment theme, features plenty of laughs, and, my personal favorite, allows the good guys to triumph while ensuring the bad guys get their hilariously fitting comeuppance. The advanced copy of "Scat" I have is nearly 400 pages long, and I consumed it in basically one long sitting. I was actually sort of sad to see it end, which tells you just about everything you need to know.
Oh, what's that? You'd like some actual plot details? Fair enough. Our young hero is Nick Waters, one of those genuinely good (though not smarmy or self-righteous) kids who tries to do the right thing, even when that means standing up to ultra-demanding biology teacher Mrs. Starch. When Mrs. Starch and class delinquent Duane "Smoke" Scrod both disappear after a school field trip to Black Vine Swamp, Nick and his pal Marta decide to investigate. While searching Mrs. Starch's house -- which, incidentally, is a taxidermy paradise -- the kids meet Twilly Spree, a back-to-nature guy (think a sort of eco-crusader) out to, among other things, prevent the shady Red Diamond Energy company from drilling in Black Vine Swamp. Also, as a total side note, if you've read Hiaasen's "Sick Puppy," you'll remember Twilly; I was half expecting another old Hiaasen favorite, the roadkill-eating Skink, to make an appearance!
Anyway, I'm leaving loads out, including Nick's dad, a National Guard captain serving in Iraq; the blowhard owner of Red Diamond and his sidekick, Jimmy Lee, who, let's say, should definitely know better; Smoke's macaw-loving, beaten-down dad and wealthy, streetwise grandma; and, maybe best of all, the endangered Florida panther herself. Hiaasen weaves all these characters and plot elements together and delivers a satisfying, funny, warm, and charming tale. I especially loved how Hiaasen showed each character's innate humanity, including the once-feared Mrs. Starch, the reformed arsonist Smoke, and even the greedy Jimmy Lee. Fully realized, three-dimensional characters help ground what might otherwise have been an almost slapstick story.
I would absolutely recommend this book to middle school readers, both boys and girls. "Scat" has abundant humor, realistic -- if admittedly eccentric -- characters, plenty of adventure, and a big old heart. I hope you all like it as much as I did!
I love the snarky satires Carl Hiaasen has written for adults, and I got a huge kick out of his delightful "Flush." Naturally, I figured I'd adore his latest book for young people, "Scat." I was right!
"Scat" is a typical Hiaasen book ... and I mean that statement in the best possible way! It takes place in Florida, has a strong pro-environment theme, features plenty of laughs, and, my personal favorite, allows the good guys to triumph while ensuring the bad guys get their hilariously fitting comeuppance. The advanced copy of "Scat" I have is nearly 400 pages long, and I consumed it in basically one long sitting. I was actually sort of sad to see it end, which tells you just about everything you need to know.
Oh, what's that? You'd like some actual plot details? Fair enough. Our young hero is Nick Waters, one of those genuinely good (though not smarmy or self-righteous) kids who tries to do the right thing, even when that means standing up to ultra-demanding biology teacher Mrs. Starch. When Mrs. Starch and class delinquent Duane "Smoke" Scrod both disappear after a school field trip to Black Vine Swamp, Nick and his pal Marta decide to investigate. While searching Mrs. Starch's house -- which, incidentally, is a taxidermy paradise -- the kids meet Twilly Spree, a back-to-nature guy (think a sort of eco-crusader) out to, among other things, prevent the shady Red Diamond Energy company from drilling in Black Vine Swamp. Also, as a total side note, if you've read Hiaasen's "Sick Puppy," you'll remember Twilly; I was half expecting another old Hiaasen favorite, the roadkill-eating Skink, to make an appearance!
Anyway, I'm leaving loads out, including Nick's dad, a National Guard captain serving in Iraq; the blowhard owner of Red Diamond and his sidekick, Jimmy Lee, who, let's say, should definitely know better; Smoke's macaw-loving, beaten-down dad and wealthy, streetwise grandma; and, maybe best of all, the endangered Florida panther herself. Hiaasen weaves all these characters and plot elements together and delivers a satisfying, funny, warm, and charming tale. I especially loved how Hiaasen showed each character's innate humanity, including the once-feared Mrs. Starch, the reformed arsonist Smoke, and even the greedy Jimmy Lee. Fully realized, three-dimensional characters help ground what might otherwise have been an almost slapstick story.
I would absolutely recommend this book to middle school readers, both boys and girls. "Scat" has abundant humor, realistic -- if admittedly eccentric -- characters, plenty of adventure, and a big old heart. I hope you all like it as much as I did!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
While not written or marketed as a young adult novel, I'm sure teens will find Randy Pausch's "The Last Lecture" a poignant and valuable book. It's, flat-out, a great read. Maybe you remember hearing about Randy, either on Oprah or just generally in the news media? He was a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, a guy in his late 40s with a beautiful family, a great job, and, stunningly, a diagnosis in August of 2007 that his pancreatic cancer had returned and spread, giving Randy only months to live. Randy returned to Carnegie Mellon that fall to give a lecture on "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams," which covered everything from his being allowed to paint on his bedroom walls as a teenager to becoming a Disney Imagineer. The video of this lecture became an Internet sensation (you can still view it on You Tube here), leading Randy to publish a book version of the lecture's advice in April of 2008, shortly before he died.
This book is just about the definition of a quick read -- I knocked it out in under two hours -- but it's so meaningful and bittersweet, especially reading it with the knowledge that Randy, this vibrant, unfailingly optimistic guy, is no longer with us. His death lends a sense of urgency to his advice. Randy basically covers his childhood dreams and discusses how he achieved them (he met Captain Kirk!), or, as the case may be, what not achieving them (NFL stardom!) taught him. Randy comes across as brilliant but relatable, honest, and, in the best sense of the word, earnest. While his life advice may seem obvious at times -- I think we all sort of know that we should, say, face down brick walls and tell the truth -- he presents these life lessons in a way that makes them feel new, fresh, and unquestionably important.
I was very moved by reading this book (I suspect you'd have to be made of stone not to be!). Above all, I just so enjoyed Randy's plainspoken manner, his tons of real-life examples to support his advice, and the uplifting quality of the entire book. I know that some of the high school kids in this area are required to read "Tuesdays with Morrie" or "It's Not About the Bike" as their "inspirational" summer reading choices. I hope these same teens will check out "The Last Lecture," a book they'll both learn from and enjoy.
While not written or marketed as a young adult novel, I'm sure teens will find Randy Pausch's "The Last Lecture" a poignant and valuable book. It's, flat-out, a great read. Maybe you remember hearing about Randy, either on Oprah or just generally in the news media? He was a computer science professor at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, a guy in his late 40s with a beautiful family, a great job, and, stunningly, a diagnosis in August of 2007 that his pancreatic cancer had returned and spread, giving Randy only months to live. Randy returned to Carnegie Mellon that fall to give a lecture on "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams," which covered everything from his being allowed to paint on his bedroom walls as a teenager to becoming a Disney Imagineer. The video of this lecture became an Internet sensation (you can still view it on You Tube here), leading Randy to publish a book version of the lecture's advice in April of 2008, shortly before he died.
This book is just about the definition of a quick read -- I knocked it out in under two hours -- but it's so meaningful and bittersweet, especially reading it with the knowledge that Randy, this vibrant, unfailingly optimistic guy, is no longer with us. His death lends a sense of urgency to his advice. Randy basically covers his childhood dreams and discusses how he achieved them (he met Captain Kirk!), or, as the case may be, what not achieving them (NFL stardom!) taught him. Randy comes across as brilliant but relatable, honest, and, in the best sense of the word, earnest. While his life advice may seem obvious at times -- I think we all sort of know that we should, say, face down brick walls and tell the truth -- he presents these life lessons in a way that makes them feel new, fresh, and unquestionably important.
I was very moved by reading this book (I suspect you'd have to be made of stone not to be!). Above all, I just so enjoyed Randy's plainspoken manner, his tons of real-life examples to support his advice, and the uplifting quality of the entire book. I know that some of the high school kids in this area are required to read "Tuesdays with Morrie" or "It's Not About the Bike" as their "inspirational" summer reading choices. I hope these same teens will check out "The Last Lecture," a book they'll both learn from and enjoy.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
I'm on a roll now! I read Judy Blundell's absolutely wonderful "What I Saw and How I Lied" in two nights, and I'm so eager to share my thoughts on it.
As many of you may have heard, "What I Saw and How I Lied" recently won the National Book Award for Young People's Literature. (Click here to see a video of the author's acceptance speech.) Wow, what a well-deserved honor! I read a lot of books, both teen and adult fiction, and since I read an ARC of Suzanne Collins' "The Hunger Games" back in June, I've said that was my favorite book of the year. I may need to rethink that assessment, because "What I Saw and How I Lied" is a true masterpiece of precise tone, setting, and writing style. I love the old noir mysteries from the 1940s, and this book perfectly captures that smokey, shadowy, double-crossing, staccato vibe from back in the day. But what's really fantastic is that Blundell has also crafted a compelling, multilayered story that somehow manages to combine all the elements of noir mysteries -- murder, blackmail, deceit -- with deeper issues of personal and family relationships, the lasting consequences of wartime actions, and the varied meanings of truth, justice, and responsibility.
I don't want to give away too many plot points -- after all, this is a mystery! -- so I'll try to provide only a general outline. It's the fall of 1947, and Evie Spooner, just shy of her sixteenth birthday, has grown up watching her gorgeous, sexy mom, Bev, turn heads (and raise jealousy and suspicions) nearly everywhere she goes. Evie thinks she's content existing safely in the background, but part of her longs to grow up already. Evie's stepfather, Joe, has returned from World War II and launched a chain of successful appliance stores throughout the New York City area. Evie desperately wants life to be perfect, and it seems that everyone -- including Evie -- is trying a bit too hard to prove that's the case. Still, even Evie can't help but notice that Joe is usually anxious and jittery and that her folks are arguing and drinking way too much. After a series of phone calls from a mysterious man, Joe abruptly packs up Bev and Evie and drives them down to Palm Beach, Florida for a "vacation."
When the Spooners arrive in boarded-up Palm Beach -- the resort town doesn't really open until December -- they find themselves among only a handful of guests at Le Mirage, including Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, a wealthy, secretive couple from New York City. They're also quickly joined by Peter Coleridge, a handsome, seemingly wealthy 23 year-old who served with Joe's unit in the war. While Evie is immediately smitten by the worldly, charming Peter, Joe seems increasingly disturbed by his very presence. As the fall passes, Evie falls in love with Peter, who has been spending many afternoons with Evie and Bev, driving, taking walks on the beach, or watching movies in a local theatre. Evie finally stops acting like a shy child and attempts to gain Peter's affections by showing him the woman she has become, setting in motion a chain of events that results in death, a cover up, an intricately enmeshed web of lies, and, ultimately, Evie's decision to reveal or keep hidden the real truth.
I hope I've done this wonderful book justice in my description. Rest assured, it's a winning combination of mystery and coming of age tale, and, along the way, the book raises some unsettling questions about justice, sacrifice, and redemption. Evie is a fully fleshed out character, and although you may recognize what's going on long before she does, you will still feel every moment of her shock, pain, and devastation at learning the truth. I loved how none of the relationships in the book -- Evie and Bev, Bev and Joe, Evie and Peter -- are ever exactly as they might appear at a given moment; both alliances and affections shift and change throughout the story, keeping the reader off balance.
Without any reservation, I would absolutely recommend this book for both boys and girls in grades 8 and higher. While there is ample smoking and drinking among the adults and two scenes that involve sexual situations, there's nothing here that should offend or alarm older middle school students. Instead, readers will find a tense mystery that will keep them eagerly turning the pages and a moral drama whose ramifications will linger with them long afterward.
I'm on a roll now! I read Judy Blundell's absolutely wonderful "What I Saw and How I Lied" in two nights, and I'm so eager to share my thoughts on it.
As many of you may have heard, "What I Saw and How I Lied" recently won the National Book Award for Young People's Literature. (Click here to see a video of the author's acceptance speech.) Wow, what a well-deserved honor! I read a lot of books, both teen and adult fiction, and since I read an ARC of Suzanne Collins' "The Hunger Games" back in June, I've said that was my favorite book of the year. I may need to rethink that assessment, because "What I Saw and How I Lied" is a true masterpiece of precise tone, setting, and writing style. I love the old noir mysteries from the 1940s, and this book perfectly captures that smokey, shadowy, double-crossing, staccato vibe from back in the day. But what's really fantastic is that Blundell has also crafted a compelling, multilayered story that somehow manages to combine all the elements of noir mysteries -- murder, blackmail, deceit -- with deeper issues of personal and family relationships, the lasting consequences of wartime actions, and the varied meanings of truth, justice, and responsibility.
I don't want to give away too many plot points -- after all, this is a mystery! -- so I'll try to provide only a general outline. It's the fall of 1947, and Evie Spooner, just shy of her sixteenth birthday, has grown up watching her gorgeous, sexy mom, Bev, turn heads (and raise jealousy and suspicions) nearly everywhere she goes. Evie thinks she's content existing safely in the background, but part of her longs to grow up already. Evie's stepfather, Joe, has returned from World War II and launched a chain of successful appliance stores throughout the New York City area. Evie desperately wants life to be perfect, and it seems that everyone -- including Evie -- is trying a bit too hard to prove that's the case. Still, even Evie can't help but notice that Joe is usually anxious and jittery and that her folks are arguing and drinking way too much. After a series of phone calls from a mysterious man, Joe abruptly packs up Bev and Evie and drives them down to Palm Beach, Florida for a "vacation."
When the Spooners arrive in boarded-up Palm Beach -- the resort town doesn't really open until December -- they find themselves among only a handful of guests at Le Mirage, including Mr. and Mrs. Grayson, a wealthy, secretive couple from New York City. They're also quickly joined by Peter Coleridge, a handsome, seemingly wealthy 23 year-old who served with Joe's unit in the war. While Evie is immediately smitten by the worldly, charming Peter, Joe seems increasingly disturbed by his very presence. As the fall passes, Evie falls in love with Peter, who has been spending many afternoons with Evie and Bev, driving, taking walks on the beach, or watching movies in a local theatre. Evie finally stops acting like a shy child and attempts to gain Peter's affections by showing him the woman she has become, setting in motion a chain of events that results in death, a cover up, an intricately enmeshed web of lies, and, ultimately, Evie's decision to reveal or keep hidden the real truth.
I hope I've done this wonderful book justice in my description. Rest assured, it's a winning combination of mystery and coming of age tale, and, along the way, the book raises some unsettling questions about justice, sacrifice, and redemption. Evie is a fully fleshed out character, and although you may recognize what's going on long before she does, you will still feel every moment of her shock, pain, and devastation at learning the truth. I loved how none of the relationships in the book -- Evie and Bev, Bev and Joe, Evie and Peter -- are ever exactly as they might appear at a given moment; both alliances and affections shift and change throughout the story, keeping the reader off balance.
Without any reservation, I would absolutely recommend this book for both boys and girls in grades 8 and higher. While there is ample smoking and drinking among the adults and two scenes that involve sexual situations, there's nothing here that should offend or alarm older middle school students. Instead, readers will find a tense mystery that will keep them eagerly turning the pages and a moral drama whose ramifications will linger with them long afterward.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Wow, it's been a long time since I posted a review here! Full disclosure, it's also been a long time since I finished a teen book. Don't get me wrong, I've started quite a few (Barry Lyga's "Hero-Type" was probably the closest I came to completion), but I seemed to put each book down for one reason or another. I've also been reading more adult-oriented fiction lately, so let me know if you want to hear about David Baldacci's "Divine Justice" (the Camel Club returns!) or Jonathan Kellerman's latest Alex Delaware novel, "Bones."
Oh, but I did plow delightedly through Neil Gaiman's lovely, wry, deeply touching "The Graveyard Book," which I'll do my best to recap here. In "The Graveyard Book," we have a series of interconnected stories, each of which are self-contained incidents in the life of Nobody Owens, an orphaned baby raised by the spirits of a graveyard. Yup, if you just read that and said, "WHAT?!", try to remember it's Neil Gaiman we're talking about here. Trust me, it works.
At the outset of the story, Nobody is only a baby as he crawls away from "the man Jack," a knife-wielding assassin who has just killed his family. The baby wanders over to the graveyard, where dead spirits whose bodies are buried there have a sort of second life. After much discussion, the dead Mr. and Mrs. Owens are allowed to keep the baby, renamed Nobody, and raise him with all the rights and privileges of the graveyard. As he grows up, Nobody, unlike other living beings, can see and communicate with all the spirits of the graveyard, and he can literally fade into the background. Nobody (or "Bod" as he's known) is schooled by long-dead poets, ancient Romans, and Victorian era school teachers, which leads to some truly hilarious moments for the reader. Bod also has a guardian in Silas, the caretaker of the graveyard, who hovers between the worlds of the living and the dead. Silas is shadowy, mysterious, and unfailingly stern, but he cares deeply for Bod and risks his life several times to protect him. The relationship between Bod and Silas is utterly devoid of any romanticism or sentimentality, and it works all the better for it. Every ounce of feeling between the two is hard earned.
As you might expect, Bod has lots of adventures while growing up, including several harrowing trips to an ancient Druid tomb guarded by a sinister presence. He also passes through a ghoul gate and enters a hell-like dimension. For me, the ghoul gate story was the scariest and most disturbing part of the novel. While you might think a story set largely in a graveyard would be morbid or dark, let me remind you again that it's Neil Gaiman at work here! "The Graveyard Book" is more a story of friendship, family, love, and loyalty than a horror novel. Interestingly, much of the true evil Bod encounters comes from the "real" world of the living, whether through school bullies or "the man Jack's" twisted society of killers. So while elements here may be dark, the violence is never depicted in an obvious way. Instead, there's more an ominous threat or a sense of foreboding lingering around the edges of Bod's life. But there are also great moments of levity -- some of the tombstone inscriptions will make you laugh out loud -- and good humor here.
I absolutely loved "The Graveyard Book." I think it's a great novel for boys and girls in 5th grade and higher. As I said, there are some dark themes here, but middle school kids can easily handle it. They'll love Bod's adventures, his sense of daring and responsibility, and the magic and wonder woven beautifully throughout the story. Plus, as I mentioned, it's just plain funny at times. I'd also say that adults, even non-Gaiman fans, will find a lot to like here, as the depth of the characters and the complexity of the relationships add a richness to the story. Please give this one a try. I promise you won't be disappointed!
Wow, it's been a long time since I posted a review here! Full disclosure, it's also been a long time since I finished a teen book. Don't get me wrong, I've started quite a few (Barry Lyga's "Hero-Type" was probably the closest I came to completion), but I seemed to put each book down for one reason or another. I've also been reading more adult-oriented fiction lately, so let me know if you want to hear about David Baldacci's "Divine Justice" (the Camel Club returns!) or Jonathan Kellerman's latest Alex Delaware novel, "Bones."
Oh, but I did plow delightedly through Neil Gaiman's lovely, wry, deeply touching "The Graveyard Book," which I'll do my best to recap here. In "The Graveyard Book," we have a series of interconnected stories, each of which are self-contained incidents in the life of Nobody Owens, an orphaned baby raised by the spirits of a graveyard. Yup, if you just read that and said, "WHAT?!", try to remember it's Neil Gaiman we're talking about here. Trust me, it works.
At the outset of the story, Nobody is only a baby as he crawls away from "the man Jack," a knife-wielding assassin who has just killed his family. The baby wanders over to the graveyard, where dead spirits whose bodies are buried there have a sort of second life. After much discussion, the dead Mr. and Mrs. Owens are allowed to keep the baby, renamed Nobody, and raise him with all the rights and privileges of the graveyard. As he grows up, Nobody, unlike other living beings, can see and communicate with all the spirits of the graveyard, and he can literally fade into the background. Nobody (or "Bod" as he's known) is schooled by long-dead poets, ancient Romans, and Victorian era school teachers, which leads to some truly hilarious moments for the reader. Bod also has a guardian in Silas, the caretaker of the graveyard, who hovers between the worlds of the living and the dead. Silas is shadowy, mysterious, and unfailingly stern, but he cares deeply for Bod and risks his life several times to protect him. The relationship between Bod and Silas is utterly devoid of any romanticism or sentimentality, and it works all the better for it. Every ounce of feeling between the two is hard earned.
As you might expect, Bod has lots of adventures while growing up, including several harrowing trips to an ancient Druid tomb guarded by a sinister presence. He also passes through a ghoul gate and enters a hell-like dimension. For me, the ghoul gate story was the scariest and most disturbing part of the novel. While you might think a story set largely in a graveyard would be morbid or dark, let me remind you again that it's Neil Gaiman at work here! "The Graveyard Book" is more a story of friendship, family, love, and loyalty than a horror novel. Interestingly, much of the true evil Bod encounters comes from the "real" world of the living, whether through school bullies or "the man Jack's" twisted society of killers. So while elements here may be dark, the violence is never depicted in an obvious way. Instead, there's more an ominous threat or a sense of foreboding lingering around the edges of Bod's life. But there are also great moments of levity -- some of the tombstone inscriptions will make you laugh out loud -- and good humor here.
I absolutely loved "The Graveyard Book." I think it's a great novel for boys and girls in 5th grade and higher. As I said, there are some dark themes here, but middle school kids can easily handle it. They'll love Bod's adventures, his sense of daring and responsibility, and the magic and wonder woven beautifully throughout the story. Plus, as I mentioned, it's just plain funny at times. I'd also say that adults, even non-Gaiman fans, will find a lot to like here, as the depth of the characters and the complexity of the relationships add a richness to the story. Please give this one a try. I promise you won't be disappointed!
"All We Know of Heaven" by Jacquelyn Mitchard
Posted on 10.24.2008 at 10:13aReview:
Fails after a strong start
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Does anyone remember hearing that story a few years back about the two similar looking best friends whom authorities misidentified after one died in a traffic accident? For over a month, everyone -- including family members and doctors -- thought Whitney Cerak had died and Laura Van Ryn was badly injured and lying in a comatose state. In an absolutely mind-bending case of mistaken identity, Laura's shocked family was told that their daughter had actually died and been buried as Whitney, while Whitney's family learned their seemingly dead daughter was, in fact, alive. Wow, right?
Jacquelyn Mitchard's "All We Know of Heaven" riffs on this true life tale, taking the same concept and applying it, fictionally, to 16 year-old pixie-like best friends Maureen O'Malley and Bridget Flannery. These slight, blonde cheerleaders are gravely injured in a traffic accident on a snowy Minnesota road shortly before Christmas. Since both girls are so horribly battered, doctors and officials wrongly assume that the dead driver of Maureen's car is Maureen while the girl who survived from the passenger seat is Bridget.
The beginning of the novel is stunning. We're listening to the surviving girl's anguished, painfully slow and confused thoughts as she struggles even to find the words to determine whether she is dead or alive. Meanwhile, we experience the O'Malleys' devastation at losing their sweet songbird of a daughter and the Flannerys' cautious hope that their girl will be able to reclaim a life shattered by severe brain trauma. Bridget's mom Kitt, in particular, is a flawlessly rendered depiction of the competing emotions of grief, fear, hope, dread, and anxiety. When Kitt sees just how developmentally challenged the young residents of a rehab facility are, she cannot help but wish that her daughter had died rather than face life as something less than the vibrant, intelligent person she was. Of course, Kitt soon learns that Bridget's death is exactly what has happened. While she is literally lost to guilt and depression, the O'Malleys are reborn with unimaginable and unexpected joy. I cannot remember reading a more compelling first third of a novel. It really is that good.
Unfortunately, the wheels come off rather quickly after this point. Once the girls' true identities are revealed (the living girl's dental records don't match Bridget's), the novel abruptly devolves into an eminently strange combination of campy soap opera, star-crossed teen romance, and earnest after school special-like story of survival. Don't believe me? On your melodrama scorecard, check off Kitt becoming a raging alcoholic and a bit of a lunatic as she destroys a recovered Maureen's shiny new car and attacks Maureen at Bridget's grave site. Also be sure to add in the town's backlash against Maureen when, instead of marveling at her amazing recovery, they inexplicably brand her a heartless slut. (Really.) The ill-fated love occurs between Maureen and Danny, Bridget's boyfriend. The pair are continually challenged, first by their strong feelings toward each other and, later, by parental restrictions -- remember, Maureen is now the town pariah! -- and distance. Eh. Finally, and perhaps most unbelievably, despite repeated warnings that Maureen will never fully recover, she so does. Right, there's the limp and the occasional reach for an elusive word, but that's about it. Through sheer guts and determination, Maureen astounds everyone by becoming strong, capable, and independent ... plus, now she's a musical prodigy! (Again, really.)
I genuinely have a hard time understanding why this book received rave reviews from critics (a 5Q from VOYA?). The strong start cannot possibly forgive the melodramatic nonsense that follows. Still, I'm sure there's an audience of teen girls for this novel, one that will suspend disbelief and buy into the romance and the plot twists and Maureen's remarkable transformation. That's fine. This book just clearly was not for me. If you give "All We Know of a Heaven" a try, I'll point out that it's more of a high school age book. There are references to sex, drugs, and drinking, although none are presented in any great detail. I'd also say it's one geared almost exclusively toward girls, despite Danny playing a central role in the second half of the book. The sweeping romance, and all the anguish and heartache that goes along with it, will turn most boys off.
Does anyone remember hearing that story a few years back about the two similar looking best friends whom authorities misidentified after one died in a traffic accident? For over a month, everyone -- including family members and doctors -- thought Whitney Cerak had died and Laura Van Ryn was badly injured and lying in a comatose state. In an absolutely mind-bending case of mistaken identity, Laura's shocked family was told that their daughter had actually died and been buried as Whitney, while Whitney's family learned their seemingly dead daughter was, in fact, alive. Wow, right?
Jacquelyn Mitchard's "All We Know of Heaven" riffs on this true life tale, taking the same concept and applying it, fictionally, to 16 year-old pixie-like best friends Maureen O'Malley and Bridget Flannery. These slight, blonde cheerleaders are gravely injured in a traffic accident on a snowy Minnesota road shortly before Christmas. Since both girls are so horribly battered, doctors and officials wrongly assume that the dead driver of Maureen's car is Maureen while the girl who survived from the passenger seat is Bridget.
The beginning of the novel is stunning. We're listening to the surviving girl's anguished, painfully slow and confused thoughts as she struggles even to find the words to determine whether she is dead or alive. Meanwhile, we experience the O'Malleys' devastation at losing their sweet songbird of a daughter and the Flannerys' cautious hope that their girl will be able to reclaim a life shattered by severe brain trauma. Bridget's mom Kitt, in particular, is a flawlessly rendered depiction of the competing emotions of grief, fear, hope, dread, and anxiety. When Kitt sees just how developmentally challenged the young residents of a rehab facility are, she cannot help but wish that her daughter had died rather than face life as something less than the vibrant, intelligent person she was. Of course, Kitt soon learns that Bridget's death is exactly what has happened. While she is literally lost to guilt and depression, the O'Malleys are reborn with unimaginable and unexpected joy. I cannot remember reading a more compelling first third of a novel. It really is that good.
Unfortunately, the wheels come off rather quickly after this point. Once the girls' true identities are revealed (the living girl's dental records don't match Bridget's), the novel abruptly devolves into an eminently strange combination of campy soap opera, star-crossed teen romance, and earnest after school special-like story of survival. Don't believe me? On your melodrama scorecard, check off Kitt becoming a raging alcoholic and a bit of a lunatic as she destroys a recovered Maureen's shiny new car and attacks Maureen at Bridget's grave site. Also be sure to add in the town's backlash against Maureen when, instead of marveling at her amazing recovery, they inexplicably brand her a heartless slut. (Really.) The ill-fated love occurs between Maureen and Danny, Bridget's boyfriend. The pair are continually challenged, first by their strong feelings toward each other and, later, by parental restrictions -- remember, Maureen is now the town pariah! -- and distance. Eh. Finally, and perhaps most unbelievably, despite repeated warnings that Maureen will never fully recover, she so does. Right, there's the limp and the occasional reach for an elusive word, but that's about it. Through sheer guts and determination, Maureen astounds everyone by becoming strong, capable, and independent ... plus, now she's a musical prodigy! (Again, really.)
I genuinely have a hard time understanding why this book received rave reviews from critics (a 5Q from VOYA?). The strong start cannot possibly forgive the melodramatic nonsense that follows. Still, I'm sure there's an audience of teen girls for this novel, one that will suspend disbelief and buy into the romance and the plot twists and Maureen's remarkable transformation. That's fine. This book just clearly was not for me. If you give "All We Know of a Heaven" a try, I'll point out that it's more of a high school age book. There are references to sex, drugs, and drinking, although none are presented in any great detail. I'd also say it's one geared almost exclusively toward girls, despite Danny playing a central role in the second half of the book. The sweeping romance, and all the anguish and heartache that goes along with it, will turn most boys off.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Oh, man, I was so excited to finally read John Green's "Paper Towns." For YA literature fans out there, you know John Green is the author of "Looking for Alaska" and "An Abundance of Katherines," two novels that were rightly praised for their winning combination of sharp humor and believable drama. I had heard there were some early mixed reviews on "Paper Towns," but I sort of covered my ears and closed my eyes to them, because John Green is awesome and can do no wrong. Except, well, maybe in this case. And, believe me, that's a tough thing for me to admit.
In "Paper Towns," our self-deprecating anti-hero is Quentin ("Q") Jacobsen, your typical nerdy, sorta sweet, sensitive, wicked smart, possibly even cute senior guy. We've all seen this character before in teen literature. Q has two clever, loyal, insanely funny best friends. There's the manic Ben, who relentlessly, rather grossly talks about pleasing the "honeybunnys" (note: actual honeybunnys avoid Ben like the plague), and Radar, the Omnictionary addict (think wikipedia) whose parents own an impressive collection of black Santas.
The novel here is divided into three parts. In the first section, Q and his next door neighbor, the enigmatic and popular Margo Roth Spiegelman, spend one school night committing a cool series of revenge pranks. Although Q and Margo were best friends as children, they've barely spoken in years, making Margo's selection of Q as her partner in crime quite intriguing. Then Margo disappears / runs away, which is apparently something she's prone to doing, and Q and his buds spend the second section of the novel piecing together some bread crumb-like clues she's left behind. Much of this involves Walt Whitman's epic poem "Song of Myself" and an abandoned strip mall that stands like a time capsule of the 1980s. In the final section, Q and the gang -- with a surprising addition -- take a frenzied, often hilarious road trip to find Margo before it's too late.
The elements that work here are those that work in all of John Green's novels, namely, the ample helpings of crackling wit and humor and the wonderful, believable friendships between the characters. The banter between Q and his pals sparkles with the kind of intelligent ribbing that real (well, real smart) friends regularly engage in. I don't see how someone could read the passage where the gang attacks a gas station convenience store like a race car pit crew and not burst out laughing. And that's just wonderful. Unfortunately, what isn't so great is the crushing weight of ideas that bog the story down, particularly at the end. I'm all for the discussion of philosophical ideas and looking at the world with introspection and depth, but, good lord, for page after page after page? Too many times, it felt like the novel ground to an abrupt, jarring halt to wedge in these discussions on the meaning of life.
I had other issues, especially with Margo. Although she was regularly described as this kind of once in a lifetime, spectacular creature, she never seemed all that special to me. Yes, she executed some clever pranks and had a nice record collection, but beyond that? Eh. I'd rather be shown how unique Margo is than have it force-fed to me through other characters' constant affirmations. Although, to be fair, this is the same problem I had with the title character in "Looking for Alaska," so maybe it's just me. It's possible. I also had some trouble with the shifts in tone. The many swings from lighthearted fun times to gravely serious moments struck me as rough and awkward. Several times, I felt like I was reading two different novels at once.
Listen, I think smart high school age teens, YA lit lovers, and librarians will probably find a lot to like here. And John Green certainly has a large fan base ready to devour his latest book, meaning that my lone criticism may not even stand for much. But I expected so much more, and, to be honest, I left this one feeling rather disappointed. See what you think. Hopefully, you'll like it more than I did.
Oh, man, I was so excited to finally read John Green's "Paper Towns." For YA literature fans out there, you know John Green is the author of "Looking for Alaska" and "An Abundance of Katherines," two novels that were rightly praised for their winning combination of sharp humor and believable drama. I had heard there were some early mixed reviews on "Paper Towns," but I sort of covered my ears and closed my eyes to them, because John Green is awesome and can do no wrong. Except, well, maybe in this case. And, believe me, that's a tough thing for me to admit.
In "Paper Towns," our self-deprecating anti-hero is Quentin ("Q") Jacobsen, your typical nerdy, sorta sweet, sensitive, wicked smart, possibly even cute senior guy. We've all seen this character before in teen literature. Q has two clever, loyal, insanely funny best friends. There's the manic Ben, who relentlessly, rather grossly talks about pleasing the "honeybunnys" (note: actual honeybunnys avoid Ben like the plague), and Radar, the Omnictionary addict (think wikipedia) whose parents own an impressive collection of black Santas.
The novel here is divided into three parts. In the first section, Q and his next door neighbor, the enigmatic and popular Margo Roth Spiegelman, spend one school night committing a cool series of revenge pranks. Although Q and Margo were best friends as children, they've barely spoken in years, making Margo's selection of Q as her partner in crime quite intriguing. Then Margo disappears / runs away, which is apparently something she's prone to doing, and Q and his buds spend the second section of the novel piecing together some bread crumb-like clues she's left behind. Much of this involves Walt Whitman's epic poem "Song of Myself" and an abandoned strip mall that stands like a time capsule of the 1980s. In the final section, Q and the gang -- with a surprising addition -- take a frenzied, often hilarious road trip to find Margo before it's too late.
The elements that work here are those that work in all of John Green's novels, namely, the ample helpings of crackling wit and humor and the wonderful, believable friendships between the characters. The banter between Q and his pals sparkles with the kind of intelligent ribbing that real (well, real smart) friends regularly engage in. I don't see how someone could read the passage where the gang attacks a gas station convenience store like a race car pit crew and not burst out laughing. And that's just wonderful. Unfortunately, what isn't so great is the crushing weight of ideas that bog the story down, particularly at the end. I'm all for the discussion of philosophical ideas and looking at the world with introspection and depth, but, good lord, for page after page after page? Too many times, it felt like the novel ground to an abrupt, jarring halt to wedge in these discussions on the meaning of life.
I had other issues, especially with Margo. Although she was regularly described as this kind of once in a lifetime, spectacular creature, she never seemed all that special to me. Yes, she executed some clever pranks and had a nice record collection, but beyond that? Eh. I'd rather be shown how unique Margo is than have it force-fed to me through other characters' constant affirmations. Although, to be fair, this is the same problem I had with the title character in "Looking for Alaska," so maybe it's just me. It's possible. I also had some trouble with the shifts in tone. The many swings from lighthearted fun times to gravely serious moments struck me as rough and awkward. Several times, I felt like I was reading two different novels at once.
Listen, I think smart high school age teens, YA lit lovers, and librarians will probably find a lot to like here. And John Green certainly has a large fan base ready to devour his latest book, meaning that my lone criticism may not even stand for much. But I expected so much more, and, to be honest, I left this one feeling rather disappointed. See what you think. Hopefully, you'll like it more than I did.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
I have started so many books recently only to set them aside through a toxic combination of restlessness and boredom. We're talking dozens here. What a relief it was, then, to pick up Ingrid Law's delightful, quirky novel "Savvy" and roll straight through it, laughing often along the way. This is a sweet, offbeat, wholesome novel about what happens when Mississippi ("Mibs") Beaumont turns thirteen. The Beaumont family are very different from other folks. On a Beaumont's thirteenth birthday, he or she discovers their "savvy," which is basically an exceptional talent or ability unique to the family. Mibs' grandpa can literally move mountains, her brother Rocket conducts electricity, and her brother Fish can summon powerful storms. A savvy takes some "scumbling" to keep in line, so until a Beaumont learns to control this innate power, strange occurrences -- like rogue hurricanes and power outages -- have been known to occur.
Mibs is a smart, sensitive girl who has been looking forward to finding her savvy for as long as she can remember. As the pivotal birthday approaches, Mibs' regular-guy dad, Poppa, is critically injured in a car accident. While her Momma and Rocket wait at Poppa's bedside miles away, Mibs' birthday party is hijacked by the overbearing wife of a local preacher. Fearing what might happen when her savvy emerges at a public event, and desperately hoping to save her father, Mibs impulsively flees her church party and hops on a bible seller's pink school bus. As it turns out, Mibs isn't the only one on the run. Fish and silent, shadowy little brother Samson have followed her onto the bus, as has the preacher's bratty teenage daughter Bobbi and his solemn, kind son Will Junior. What follows is an odd road trip in which Will Junior and Mibs become closer, Bobbi turns out to be less tough than she appears, and bus driver Lester's two tattoos start talking to Mibs. Yes, you read that one correctly. Despite wishing otherwise, Mibs' savvy involves being able to read people's thoughts through the ink on their skin. You'd be surprised how that comes in handy in the end.
"Savvy" is a lovely hybrid of the coming of age and road trip novel. There are genuine moments of true emotion here between so many of the characters that I literally stopped several times and thought, "Aw, that's awesome!" Mibs is feisty and spunky, but she's also young in an authentic, non-cloying way. Following Mibs and her gang on this journey is one of the better reading experiences I've had in a long time. I can't imagine that there's a middle school girl around who wouldn't get a kick out of this story on so many levels. Enjoy!
I have started so many books recently only to set them aside through a toxic combination of restlessness and boredom. We're talking dozens here. What a relief it was, then, to pick up Ingrid Law's delightful, quirky novel "Savvy" and roll straight through it, laughing often along the way. This is a sweet, offbeat, wholesome novel about what happens when Mississippi ("Mibs") Beaumont turns thirteen. The Beaumont family are very different from other folks. On a Beaumont's thirteenth birthday, he or she discovers their "savvy," which is basically an exceptional talent or ability unique to the family. Mibs' grandpa can literally move mountains, her brother Rocket conducts electricity, and her brother Fish can summon powerful storms. A savvy takes some "scumbling" to keep in line, so until a Beaumont learns to control this innate power, strange occurrences -- like rogue hurricanes and power outages -- have been known to occur.
Mibs is a smart, sensitive girl who has been looking forward to finding her savvy for as long as she can remember. As the pivotal birthday approaches, Mibs' regular-guy dad, Poppa, is critically injured in a car accident. While her Momma and Rocket wait at Poppa's bedside miles away, Mibs' birthday party is hijacked by the overbearing wife of a local preacher. Fearing what might happen when her savvy emerges at a public event, and desperately hoping to save her father, Mibs impulsively flees her church party and hops on a bible seller's pink school bus. As it turns out, Mibs isn't the only one on the run. Fish and silent, shadowy little brother Samson have followed her onto the bus, as has the preacher's bratty teenage daughter Bobbi and his solemn, kind son Will Junior. What follows is an odd road trip in which Will Junior and Mibs become closer, Bobbi turns out to be less tough than she appears, and bus driver Lester's two tattoos start talking to Mibs. Yes, you read that one correctly. Despite wishing otherwise, Mibs' savvy involves being able to read people's thoughts through the ink on their skin. You'd be surprised how that comes in handy in the end.
"Savvy" is a lovely hybrid of the coming of age and road trip novel. There are genuine moments of true emotion here between so many of the characters that I literally stopped several times and thought, "Aw, that's awesome!" Mibs is feisty and spunky, but she's also young in an authentic, non-cloying way. Following Mibs and her gang on this journey is one of the better reading experiences I've had in a long time. I can't imagine that there's a middle school girl around who wouldn't get a kick out of this story on so many levels. Enjoy!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
As a casual glance through my blog entries will reveal, I am no fan of fantasy. I know, I'm sorry! But something about all those convoluted names, flitting fairies, and fire-breathing dragons gets under my skin. Given that statement, then, you might imagine that reading Christopher Paolini's "Eragon" and "Eldest" would've been a struggle for me. You'd only be partly right; while the beginning of "Eragon" felt like a painful slog through a muddy river, the story -- mercifully! -- picks up considerably afterward.
Let me provide a quick plot synopsis, in which I will due my level best to avoid anything spoiler-ish. Eragon is a farm boy, and, to be frank, a petulant, whiny teen. While out hunting in a mountain range, he discovers a blue stone which reveals itself to be a dragon egg. Neat. The tiny blue dragon, later named Saphira, quickly grows beyond Eragon's ability to keep her hidden. Unfortunately, that issue is the least of Eragon's problems, since two lethal, cloaked, beaked (!) figures, the Ra'zac, are hunting the egg and, by extension, Eragon and his Uncle Garrow for the evil King Galbatorix. Eragon eventually ends up on the run with Saphira, who communicates mentally with Eragon and has a nice snarky streak; Brom, a local storyteller who seems to know an awful lot about Dragon Riders; Murtagh, a capable fighter with plenty of secrets of his own; and Arya, a beautiful elf with extraordinary powers.
Like I said, "Eragon" started off at an absolutely crippling pace. The plot was clunky, the pacing awkward, and the writing style just plain tedious. At about the midway point, as the plot elements became more interesting, the story as a whole seemed to move more swiftly and surely. Suddenly, there was a sense of urgency and vitality that had been missing before. I even reached a place where I was eager to experience the climactic showdown in the dwarf city of Tronjheim. Considering I was ready to pack it in completely at one point, that's a remarkable turnaround.
While "Eragon" had some rough patches, I found "Eldest" to be a much stronger and far more enjoyable book. I loved how half the book focuses on Eragon's cousin, Roran, and his bloody, heroic quest to save his village from the Ra'zac and the grotesque Urgals. Unlike Eragon, Roran has no magical powers, so his battles are waged through sheer guts, strength, and determination. He is a compelling, flawed character -- his moments of bleakly tallying the deaths he has caused are striking -- and I found myself rushing through the sometimes draggy scenes of Eragon's magical instruction in the elf world just to get back to Roran's story. (See my review of Stephenie Meyer's "Breaking Dawn" for another instance where a secondary character's point of view spices up a novel.)
In the end, despite some misgivings about "Eragon," I have no problem recommending both books to fantasy fans in middle school and up. Although the complicated mythology and detailed scenes make these novels quite lengthy, there is a nice payoff in seeing how all the disparate plot threads and seemingly inconsequential characters come together in the end. This makes for a rich, rewarding experience for the reader. So, while "Eragon" and "Eldest" probably won't bring outsiders into the genre, fantasy fans will find lots to like here.
And, yes, I realize this means I will have to read "Brisingr," too!
As a casual glance through my blog entries will reveal, I am no fan of fantasy. I know, I'm sorry! But something about all those convoluted names, flitting fairies, and fire-breathing dragons gets under my skin. Given that statement, then, you might imagine that reading Christopher Paolini's "Eragon" and "Eldest" would've been a struggle for me. You'd only be partly right; while the beginning of "Eragon" felt like a painful slog through a muddy river, the story -- mercifully! -- picks up considerably afterward.
Let me provide a quick plot synopsis, in which I will due my level best to avoid anything spoiler-ish. Eragon is a farm boy, and, to be frank, a petulant, whiny teen. While out hunting in a mountain range, he discovers a blue stone which reveals itself to be a dragon egg. Neat. The tiny blue dragon, later named Saphira, quickly grows beyond Eragon's ability to keep her hidden. Unfortunately, that issue is the least of Eragon's problems, since two lethal, cloaked, beaked (!) figures, the Ra'zac, are hunting the egg and, by extension, Eragon and his Uncle Garrow for the evil King Galbatorix. Eragon eventually ends up on the run with Saphira, who communicates mentally with Eragon and has a nice snarky streak; Brom, a local storyteller who seems to know an awful lot about Dragon Riders; Murtagh, a capable fighter with plenty of secrets of his own; and Arya, a beautiful elf with extraordinary powers.
Like I said, "Eragon" started off at an absolutely crippling pace. The plot was clunky, the pacing awkward, and the writing style just plain tedious. At about the midway point, as the plot elements became more interesting, the story as a whole seemed to move more swiftly and surely. Suddenly, there was a sense of urgency and vitality that had been missing before. I even reached a place where I was eager to experience the climactic showdown in the dwarf city of Tronjheim. Considering I was ready to pack it in completely at one point, that's a remarkable turnaround.
While "Eragon" had some rough patches, I found "Eldest" to be a much stronger and far more enjoyable book. I loved how half the book focuses on Eragon's cousin, Roran, and his bloody, heroic quest to save his village from the Ra'zac and the grotesque Urgals. Unlike Eragon, Roran has no magical powers, so his battles are waged through sheer guts, strength, and determination. He is a compelling, flawed character -- his moments of bleakly tallying the deaths he has caused are striking -- and I found myself rushing through the sometimes draggy scenes of Eragon's magical instruction in the elf world just to get back to Roran's story. (See my review of Stephenie Meyer's "Breaking Dawn" for another instance where a secondary character's point of view spices up a novel.)
In the end, despite some misgivings about "Eragon," I have no problem recommending both books to fantasy fans in middle school and up. Although the complicated mythology and detailed scenes make these novels quite lengthy, there is a nice payoff in seeing how all the disparate plot threads and seemingly inconsequential characters come together in the end. This makes for a rich, rewarding experience for the reader. So, while "Eragon" and "Eldest" probably won't bring outsiders into the genre, fantasy fans will find lots to like here.
And, yes, I realize this means I will have to read "Brisingr," too!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
"Living Dead Girl" is such a devastating, stark, painful novel that, almost a day later, I'm still thinking about it. This book about a kidnapped, brutalized teen girl renamed "Alice" by her captor is easily one of the best teen novels to come out in 2008. While the subject matter is incredibly heavy, I think (hope) there is a high school audience out there for it.
When we meet Alice, she's been Ray's prisoner for over five years, since he abducted her at an aquarium while she was on a class field trip. After experiencing Ray's sadistic cruelty for so long -- Alice has continually been beaten, raped, starved, and isolated -- she is dead in just about every way. Alice feels almost nothing anymore, and she has long since had the last glimmers of hope beaten out of her by Ray. At this point, with Alice fifteen and no longer able to meet Ray's twisted little girl fantasies, she knows he will soon dispose of her. Alice longs for that time when she will, at last, be fully dead.
Ray uses Alice to find his next victim, utilizing the same combination of violence and fear that has enslaved her for years. But while Alice is out scouting potential girls in the park, she discovers that, amazingly, some small piece of herself still wants to live -- and still believes that's possible.
For a short, spare novel, the impact of "Living Dead Girl" is incredible. Author Elizabeth Scott has made Alice a believable, haunted, tragic character. She withstands years of torment yet is not depicted as an exceptionally brave or stoic girl. Instead, Alice miserably endures, day after day, as just a shell of a person dragging through life. In other words, she exists because that's all that is left for her, which is powerful stuff. When Alice enjoys brief moments of inflicting pain or wielding power over others (a boy in the park, a little girl looking to retrieve a lost notebook), it really drives home the miserable cycle of abuse.
My only complaint -- and it's a minor one, I'll admit -- revolves around a bit of Ray's back story. Like many abusers of children, Ray has continually threatened to kill Alice's real family members if she ever tries to escape. (Once, long before, Alice made a desperate attempt at freedom, only to be ignored by a store clerk.) The threat reinforces Ray's power over every aspect of Alice's life, and for most abused children, that threat alone is sufficient. In this novel, Ray has actually killed the family of his first abducted girl years after her disappearance. This bit of characterization struck me as patently false. Ray is enough of a monster solely for the horrific ways he treats Alice, making all his threats of future violence credible enough to stand alone. He's also the worst kind of coward, preying on and terrorizing defenseless children. Making him a murderer on top of all this seemed wholly unnecessary.
If you give "Living Dead Girl" a try, please recognize that the story here is quite intense. While the details of Alice's abuse are not gratuitous, what is revealed, even discretely, can be very difficult to read. Mature teens should be able to handle this novel, and I'm sure they, too, will be thinking about it long afterward.
"Living Dead Girl" is such a devastating, stark, painful novel that, almost a day later, I'm still thinking about it. This book about a kidnapped, brutalized teen girl renamed "Alice" by her captor is easily one of the best teen novels to come out in 2008. While the subject matter is incredibly heavy, I think (hope) there is a high school audience out there for it.
When we meet Alice, she's been Ray's prisoner for over five years, since he abducted her at an aquarium while she was on a class field trip. After experiencing Ray's sadistic cruelty for so long -- Alice has continually been beaten, raped, starved, and isolated -- she is dead in just about every way. Alice feels almost nothing anymore, and she has long since had the last glimmers of hope beaten out of her by Ray. At this point, with Alice fifteen and no longer able to meet Ray's twisted little girl fantasies, she knows he will soon dispose of her. Alice longs for that time when she will, at last, be fully dead.
Ray uses Alice to find his next victim, utilizing the same combination of violence and fear that has enslaved her for years. But while Alice is out scouting potential girls in the park, she discovers that, amazingly, some small piece of herself still wants to live -- and still believes that's possible.
For a short, spare novel, the impact of "Living Dead Girl" is incredible. Author Elizabeth Scott has made Alice a believable, haunted, tragic character. She withstands years of torment yet is not depicted as an exceptionally brave or stoic girl. Instead, Alice miserably endures, day after day, as just a shell of a person dragging through life. In other words, she exists because that's all that is left for her, which is powerful stuff. When Alice enjoys brief moments of inflicting pain or wielding power over others (a boy in the park, a little girl looking to retrieve a lost notebook), it really drives home the miserable cycle of abuse.
My only complaint -- and it's a minor one, I'll admit -- revolves around a bit of Ray's back story. Like many abusers of children, Ray has continually threatened to kill Alice's real family members if she ever tries to escape. (Once, long before, Alice made a desperate attempt at freedom, only to be ignored by a store clerk.) The threat reinforces Ray's power over every aspect of Alice's life, and for most abused children, that threat alone is sufficient. In this novel, Ray has actually killed the family of his first abducted girl years after her disappearance. This bit of characterization struck me as patently false. Ray is enough of a monster solely for the horrific ways he treats Alice, making all his threats of future violence credible enough to stand alone. He's also the worst kind of coward, preying on and terrorizing defenseless children. Making him a murderer on top of all this seemed wholly unnecessary.
If you give "Living Dead Girl" a try, please recognize that the story here is quite intense. While the details of Alice's abuse are not gratuitous, what is revealed, even discretely, can be very difficult to read. Mature teens should be able to handle this novel, and I'm sure they, too, will be thinking about it long afterward.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Okay, I could probably stop this review after revealing that "The Summoning" features fifteen year-old Chloe Saunders, who starts seeing ghosts the very day she gets her first period (!) and winds up in a shady group home for teens, where it seems some of the other kids also exhibit special, otherworldly powers. Am I right? From this description alone, some of you will be clamoring to read this first installment in the "Darkest Powers" series, while others will probably roll their eyes and move on. Fair enough!
For those of you hooked from the description, let me flesh it out a bit here. Chloe is the only child of a wealthy, distant father who spends most of his time traveling. She's mostly portrayed as short, young-looking, and a budding film director, which I realize is not much in the way of character development. Yes, I'll be the first to admit that "The Summoning" won't win any awards for the depth and believability of its characters, who are mostly of the cardboard variety (bitchy girl Tori, everyone's best friend Rae, brooding hulk Derek, suave Simon). Still, I promise that's quite alright, as this book is all about the lightning-fast plot and the supernatural elements. I assure you, this one moves at a good clip, and you will get so caught up in Chloe's story (she's a necromancer who can summon the dead!) and her sleuthing with Derek and Simon (they find dead bodies in the crawl space!) that you will readily forgive any shortcomings.
When superman Derek -- really, for a big, greasy kid, he's literally superhuman -- finally gets Chloe to accept the truth about her talent, the book takes off. We learn all sorts of cool secrets and shady conspiracies, and Chloe, Derek, and Simon team up to escape the evil Lyle House and locate Simon's missing sorcerer dad. Good stuff! Plus, there's a budding love triangle between Chloe, Derek, and Simon -- trust me, Derek isn't nearly as gross as he's first depicted -- and a shocking betrayal. I'm telling you, fans of supernatural action and romance will eat this one up and anxiously await the second book, "The Awakening." I don't remember anything terribly offensive here, so I'd say fans of this sort of book in middle school and up should give it a try. Enjoy!
Okay, I could probably stop this review after revealing that "The Summoning" features fifteen year-old Chloe Saunders, who starts seeing ghosts the very day she gets her first period (!) and winds up in a shady group home for teens, where it seems some of the other kids also exhibit special, otherworldly powers. Am I right? From this description alone, some of you will be clamoring to read this first installment in the "Darkest Powers" series, while others will probably roll their eyes and move on. Fair enough!
For those of you hooked from the description, let me flesh it out a bit here. Chloe is the only child of a wealthy, distant father who spends most of his time traveling. She's mostly portrayed as short, young-looking, and a budding film director, which I realize is not much in the way of character development. Yes, I'll be the first to admit that "The Summoning" won't win any awards for the depth and believability of its characters, who are mostly of the cardboard variety (bitchy girl Tori, everyone's best friend Rae, brooding hulk Derek, suave Simon). Still, I promise that's quite alright, as this book is all about the lightning-fast plot and the supernatural elements. I assure you, this one moves at a good clip, and you will get so caught up in Chloe's story (she's a necromancer who can summon the dead!) and her sleuthing with Derek and Simon (they find dead bodies in the crawl space!) that you will readily forgive any shortcomings.
When superman Derek -- really, for a big, greasy kid, he's literally superhuman -- finally gets Chloe to accept the truth about her talent, the book takes off. We learn all sorts of cool secrets and shady conspiracies, and Chloe, Derek, and Simon team up to escape the evil Lyle House and locate Simon's missing sorcerer dad. Good stuff! Plus, there's a budding love triangle between Chloe, Derek, and Simon -- trust me, Derek isn't nearly as gross as he's first depicted -- and a shocking betrayal. I'm telling you, fans of supernatural action and romance will eat this one up and anxiously await the second book, "The Awakening." I don't remember anything terribly offensive here, so I'd say fans of this sort of book in middle school and up should give it a try. Enjoy!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Paul Volponi's timely novel "Hurricane Song" lets us experience firsthand some of the degradation, fear, and confusion experienced by New Orleans residents who evacuated to the Superdome to escape Hurricane Katrina's devastation. While slim in size, this book leaves a powerful impression.
Miles is a transplanted New Orleanian, having only recently come to the city to live with his jazz musician father, Doc. Unlike his dad, who lives and breathes jazz, Miles is more interested in football. He's only come to New Orleans because his newly remarried mom has literally run out of living space for him. While in New Orleans, Miles rarely sees his dad, even while living in the same apartment, and they struggle to make any meaningful conversation. Miles often suspects his dad will never love him with the depth and passion that he reserves for jazz.
As Hurricane Katrina approches New Orleans, Miles, Doc, and his Uncle Roy try to drive out of the city in search of a safe haven up north. After the car dies while idling for hours in traffic, the three end up in the Superdome, a covered football stadium hastily converted to house storm evacuees. While the National Guard is supposedly in charge of the facility, it quickly becomes apparent to Miles and his family that mob rule is in effect. Roving gangs -- including several of Miles' football teammates -- set fires, vandalize the building, commit assaults, and rob and terrorize the other evacuees. At the same time, the stadium is plunged into repeated darkness, clogged bathrooms overflow and become stench-filled swamps, dead bodies are left to fester in the brutal indoor heat, and there is little if any food to be found. In the midst of all this chaos and violence, a mentally deranged man leaps to his death from the upper deck seats, much to the horror of his daughter and grandchildren. Doc, Uncle Roy, and a local preacher organize a modified jazz funeral for the man, with Miles banging away on an African drum his father gave him. Later, Miles and Doc leave the Superdome only to discover that conditions in the city are even worse than they feared.
Author Paul Volponi does a masterful job of conveying the suffocating horror experienced by Hurricane Katrina evacuees at the Superdome. He provides harrowing descriptions of the rank conditions while also exploring the issues of race and class that combined to make Katrina a disaster on so many levels. "Hurricane Song" would be a wonderful novel and gripping piece of social commentary only for these reasons. Even better, though, Volponi gives us great insight into both the worst of human nature (the Superdome thugs and the twitchy, hostile National Guardsmen) and the best (the dignity of the preacher and the bravery of Miles in standing up to the mob). By the end of this short novel, Miles and Doc have begun to find common ground in both music and family, and they start to form the bonds of a real, lasting relationship. Their personal journey in the shadow of one of America's most shameful incidents will be appreciated by both boys and girls in grades seven and higher.
Paul Volponi's timely novel "Hurricane Song" lets us experience firsthand some of the degradation, fear, and confusion experienced by New Orleans residents who evacuated to the Superdome to escape Hurricane Katrina's devastation. While slim in size, this book leaves a powerful impression.
Miles is a transplanted New Orleanian, having only recently come to the city to live with his jazz musician father, Doc. Unlike his dad, who lives and breathes jazz, Miles is more interested in football. He's only come to New Orleans because his newly remarried mom has literally run out of living space for him. While in New Orleans, Miles rarely sees his dad, even while living in the same apartment, and they struggle to make any meaningful conversation. Miles often suspects his dad will never love him with the depth and passion that he reserves for jazz.
As Hurricane Katrina approches New Orleans, Miles, Doc, and his Uncle Roy try to drive out of the city in search of a safe haven up north. After the car dies while idling for hours in traffic, the three end up in the Superdome, a covered football stadium hastily converted to house storm evacuees. While the National Guard is supposedly in charge of the facility, it quickly becomes apparent to Miles and his family that mob rule is in effect. Roving gangs -- including several of Miles' football teammates -- set fires, vandalize the building, commit assaults, and rob and terrorize the other evacuees. At the same time, the stadium is plunged into repeated darkness, clogged bathrooms overflow and become stench-filled swamps, dead bodies are left to fester in the brutal indoor heat, and there is little if any food to be found. In the midst of all this chaos and violence, a mentally deranged man leaps to his death from the upper deck seats, much to the horror of his daughter and grandchildren. Doc, Uncle Roy, and a local preacher organize a modified jazz funeral for the man, with Miles banging away on an African drum his father gave him. Later, Miles and Doc leave the Superdome only to discover that conditions in the city are even worse than they feared.
Author Paul Volponi does a masterful job of conveying the suffocating horror experienced by Hurricane Katrina evacuees at the Superdome. He provides harrowing descriptions of the rank conditions while also exploring the issues of race and class that combined to make Katrina a disaster on so many levels. "Hurricane Song" would be a wonderful novel and gripping piece of social commentary only for these reasons. Even better, though, Volponi gives us great insight into both the worst of human nature (the Superdome thugs and the twitchy, hostile National Guardsmen) and the best (the dignity of the preacher and the bravery of Miles in standing up to the mob). By the end of this short novel, Miles and Doc have begun to find common ground in both music and family, and they start to form the bonds of a real, lasting relationship. Their personal journey in the shadow of one of America's most shameful incidents will be appreciated by both boys and girls in grades seven and higher.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
"Unraveling" is a provocative, amazingly realistic story of how one girl regrettably trades her sexuality for fleeting popularity. Honestly, this is one of the most gripping, stunningly accurate depictions of teenage life that I've come across in ages, and I think high school girls should read it both as entertainment and, perhaps, cautionary tale.
High school sophomore Amanda Himmelfarb is blessed with a curvy body and lots of natural sex appeal. A member of her school's swim team, Amanda exists in that netherworld of invisibility between popularity and geekdom. In the summer before tenth grade, Amanda performs a sex act on a crush while her family is staying at the shore. Although the boy never speaks to her again and her overbearing mother punishes her, Amanda chooses instead to focus on those precious few moments when she was important to that boy. Back at school, after a hot jock starts to secretly sneak around with Amanda -- he has a girlfriend he sees in public -- she again can't help but recognize the power she possesses in her sexuality. In a bit of flirting that gets way out of hand, Amanda offers to sleep with the dreamy Rick Hayes if he will escort her to the homecoming dance. Rick, as you might expect, agrees.
What makes "Unraveling" work so well is that we as readers understand exactly why Amanda would enter into such a demeaning bargain. Her own mother was an overachiever with plans for college and a career when she unexpectedly got pregnant with Amanda as a teen. Amanda's mom, whom she labels "the Captain," constantly criticizes, scolds, nitpicks, and otherwise hassles Amanda, all under the mistaken belief that such actions will help Amanda achieve her full potential and avoid her mom's past errors. Instead, Amanda sees herself as an unwanted mistake, a constant burden, and as someone who can never seem to do anything right. Naturally, then, Rick's hideous offer makes perfect sense to Amanda, as now she can finally become someone. Amanda believes that when she walks into homecoming on Rick's arm, her life, at long last, will be perfect.
It's refreshing to read a novel that portrays loveless teen sex in a straightforward, non-moralizing manner. Amanda's fractured self-esteem and sense of shame, as well as the utter frankness of this novel's depiction of the consequences of sex for teen girls, reminded me of Sara Zarr's "Story of a Girl" and Ellen Wittlinger's "Sandpiper." This blunt -- but not at all lewd! -- novel features a complex, fully realized mother/daughter relationship, some harsh but believably conveyed life lessons, and deeply personal and moving poetry. I recommend it to high school age readers.
"Unraveling" is a provocative, amazingly realistic story of how one girl regrettably trades her sexuality for fleeting popularity. Honestly, this is one of the most gripping, stunningly accurate depictions of teenage life that I've come across in ages, and I think high school girls should read it both as entertainment and, perhaps, cautionary tale.
High school sophomore Amanda Himmelfarb is blessed with a curvy body and lots of natural sex appeal. A member of her school's swim team, Amanda exists in that netherworld of invisibility between popularity and geekdom. In the summer before tenth grade, Amanda performs a sex act on a crush while her family is staying at the shore. Although the boy never speaks to her again and her overbearing mother punishes her, Amanda chooses instead to focus on those precious few moments when she was important to that boy. Back at school, after a hot jock starts to secretly sneak around with Amanda -- he has a girlfriend he sees in public -- she again can't help but recognize the power she possesses in her sexuality. In a bit of flirting that gets way out of hand, Amanda offers to sleep with the dreamy Rick Hayes if he will escort her to the homecoming dance. Rick, as you might expect, agrees.
What makes "Unraveling" work so well is that we as readers understand exactly why Amanda would enter into such a demeaning bargain. Her own mother was an overachiever with plans for college and a career when she unexpectedly got pregnant with Amanda as a teen. Amanda's mom, whom she labels "the Captain," constantly criticizes, scolds, nitpicks, and otherwise hassles Amanda, all under the mistaken belief that such actions will help Amanda achieve her full potential and avoid her mom's past errors. Instead, Amanda sees herself as an unwanted mistake, a constant burden, and as someone who can never seem to do anything right. Naturally, then, Rick's hideous offer makes perfect sense to Amanda, as now she can finally become someone. Amanda believes that when she walks into homecoming on Rick's arm, her life, at long last, will be perfect.
It's refreshing to read a novel that portrays loveless teen sex in a straightforward, non-moralizing manner. Amanda's fractured self-esteem and sense of shame, as well as the utter frankness of this novel's depiction of the consequences of sex for teen girls, reminded me of Sara Zarr's "Story of a Girl" and Ellen Wittlinger's "Sandpiper." This blunt -- but not at all lewd! -- novel features a complex, fully realized mother/daughter relationship, some harsh but believably conveyed life lessons, and deeply personal and moving poetry. I recommend it to high school age readers.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Let me begin by saying that Dana Reinhardt's "How to Build a House" received starred reviews in both Publishers Weekly and School Library Journal, so it's entirely possible that my opinion is just plain wrong! Still, I have to admit I found it to be a decent but not great story of one teenager's summer spent building a house in western Tennessee.
Homes from the Heart is a sort of Habitat for Humanity outfit, and here the group is working with a few teens from across the country to build a new house for the Wrights, a biracial family who lost everything in a devastating tornado. Harper has signed on for this summer of hard labor and sweat partly because she's a staunch environmentalist and news of the tornado, which was overshadowed by Hurricane Katrina's destruction, touched her heart. Mostly, though, Harper wanted a way to get out of southern California for the summer. She desperately needed to leave behind her newly divorced and brokenhearted dad; her former stepmother and stepsisters, who were the only real family members she ever had; and her oldest friend, Gabriel, who callously used and discarded Harper when she was at her most vulnerable.
Harper's summer goes about how you'd expect if you've ever read a single teen novel. Harper makes friends with a diverse group of kids from across the country (although, to me, her snarky pal Captain feels like a complete ripoff of the snarky Colonel in John Green's fabulous "Looking for Alaska" ... right down to the name!). Harper begins to forgive her stepsister and closest friend, Tess, for a perceived wrong involving Gabriel. She discovers her strength and resourcefulness as she literally constructs something out of nothing. And, of course, she lets go and falls in love, in this case with Teddy, the Wrights' smart, affectionate, deep yet fun-loving son.
In the end, "How to Build a House" is a pleasant, earnest, yet wholly predictable novel populated by stock characters. It follows a standard yet inoffensive story arc, so it will neither surprise nor disgust you. While there's nothing exceptional here -- typically, this sort of "chick lit" at least features zippy wit, crackling dialogue, or lyrical descriptions -- there's nothing awful either. If you decide to check it out, I'd say this is more of a high school book (there are several discreet sex and drinking scenes) and one geared entirely toward girls. And, who knows, maybe you'll like it more than I did.
Let me begin by saying that Dana Reinhardt's "How to Build a House" received starred reviews in both Publishers Weekly and School Library Journal, so it's entirely possible that my opinion is just plain wrong! Still, I have to admit I found it to be a decent but not great story of one teenager's summer spent building a house in western Tennessee.
Homes from the Heart is a sort of Habitat for Humanity outfit, and here the group is working with a few teens from across the country to build a new house for the Wrights, a biracial family who lost everything in a devastating tornado. Harper has signed on for this summer of hard labor and sweat partly because she's a staunch environmentalist and news of the tornado, which was overshadowed by Hurricane Katrina's destruction, touched her heart. Mostly, though, Harper wanted a way to get out of southern California for the summer. She desperately needed to leave behind her newly divorced and brokenhearted dad; her former stepmother and stepsisters, who were the only real family members she ever had; and her oldest friend, Gabriel, who callously used and discarded Harper when she was at her most vulnerable.
Harper's summer goes about how you'd expect if you've ever read a single teen novel. Harper makes friends with a diverse group of kids from across the country (although, to me, her snarky pal Captain feels like a complete ripoff of the snarky Colonel in John Green's fabulous "Looking for Alaska" ... right down to the name!). Harper begins to forgive her stepsister and closest friend, Tess, for a perceived wrong involving Gabriel. She discovers her strength and resourcefulness as she literally constructs something out of nothing. And, of course, she lets go and falls in love, in this case with Teddy, the Wrights' smart, affectionate, deep yet fun-loving son.
In the end, "How to Build a House" is a pleasant, earnest, yet wholly predictable novel populated by stock characters. It follows a standard yet inoffensive story arc, so it will neither surprise nor disgust you. While there's nothing exceptional here -- typically, this sort of "chick lit" at least features zippy wit, crackling dialogue, or lyrical descriptions -- there's nothing awful either. If you decide to check it out, I'd say this is more of a high school book (there are several discreet sex and drinking scenes) and one geared entirely toward girls. And, who knows, maybe you'll like it more than I did.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"The Westing Game" was like Clue. It had tons of mystery, so I really liked it.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"The Westing Game" was like Clue. It had tons of mystery, so I really liked it.
"Nancy Drew: The Ghost of Blackwood Hall" by Carolyn Keene
Posted on 8.22.2008 at 02:02pReview:
Good mystery
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Ghost of Blackwood Hall." Nancy is solving a mystery and a "ghost" is involved. I like to try to solve the mysteries with Nancy.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Ghost of Blackwood Hall." Nancy is solving a mystery and a "ghost" is involved. I like to try to solve the mysteries with Nancy.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "Tai-Pan" because just when something seems to be going one way, it often turns around completely.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "Tai-Pan" because just when something seems to be going one way, it often turns around completely.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "Shogun." It really makes you wonder what will happen or what you will do. It also makes you think more like a different kind of person, one who puts duty and honor above life.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "Shogun." It really makes you wonder what will happen or what you will do. It also makes you think more like a different kind of person, one who puts duty and honor above life.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked this book in the "Clique" series. You can relate to the characters' lives and problems in "The Pretty Committee Strikes Back."
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked this book in the "Clique" series. You can relate to the characters' lives and problems in "The Pretty Committee Strikes Back."
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"Seeker" combines character development that is perfectly shown with great plot twists and action scenes.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
"Seeker" is the first book in the "Noble Warriors" series. Be sure to check out both "Jango" and "Noman," the next two books in the series.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"Seeker" combines character development that is perfectly shown with great plot twists and action scenes.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
"Seeker" is the first book in the "Noble Warriors" series. Be sure to check out both "Jango" and "Noman," the next two books in the series.
"I Luv Halloween" by Benjamin Roman & Keith Giffen
Posted on 8.22.2008 at 11:55aReview:
Funny and sarcastic
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked this manga. "I Luv Halloween" was gory and violent, but it was also illustrated very well and had wonderful humor and sarcasm.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked this manga. "I Luv Halloween" was gory and violent, but it was also illustrated very well and had wonderful humor and sarcasm.
"The Time Thief" by Linda Buckley-Archer
Posted on 8.22.2008 at 11:46aReview:
Different from other books
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"The Time Thief" was different and interesting. I never read anything like it before.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
"The Time Thief" is the second book in this author's "Gideon Trilogy." Be sure to check out the first book in the series, "Gideon the Cutpurse." Happy reading!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"The Time Thief" was different and interesting. I never read anything like it before.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
"The Time Thief" is the second book in this author's "Gideon Trilogy." Be sure to check out the first book in the series, "Gideon the Cutpurse." Happy reading!
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"The Gollywhopper Games" is a very fun and imaginative book!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"The Gollywhopper Games" is a very fun and imaginative book!
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
At the beginning of "Pretty Tough," sisters Krista and Charlie hated each other. By the end of the story, they worked together and ended up liking each other.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
There is a second book in the "Pretty Tough" series. In "Playing With the Boys," Lucy tries out for the varsity boys' football team!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
At the beginning of "Pretty Tough," sisters Krista and Charlie hated each other. By the end of the story, they worked together and ended up liking each other.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
There is a second book in the "Pretty Tough" series. In "Playing With the Boys," Lucy tries out for the varsity boys' football team!
"Cranberry Cousins: No More Promises" by Christie Wells
Posted on 8.22.2008 at 11:32aReview:
Cousins working together
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "No More Promises." It was about a girl who needed to solve her problem with help from her cousin. Though she and her cousin were different in many ways, they needed to work together and forget their differences.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "No More Promises." It was about a girl who needed to solve her problem with help from her cousin. Though she and her cousin were different in many ways, they needed to work together and forget their differences.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Fountainhead." The interactions of the characters and their extent of emotion kept the book interesting through the long speeches.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Fountainhead." The interactions of the characters and their extent of emotion kept the book interesting through the long speeches.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"City of Bones" is a fantasy and action book. I would recommend it.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
Fans of "City of Bones" should be sure to check out the sequel, which was published in the spring of 2008. You can find out more about "City of Ashes" by clicking here.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"City of Bones" is a fantasy and action book. I would recommend it.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
Fans of "City of Bones" should be sure to check out the sequel, which was published in the spring of 2008. You can find out more about "City of Ashes" by clicking here.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "On the Devil's Court." The author described every basketball game with so much detail that I felt like I was in the crowd watching.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "On the Devil's Court." The author described every basketball game with so much detail that I felt like I was in the crowd watching.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"Inkheart" was magical. I love books that have things that can't really happen in them.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
If you like "Inkheart," be sure to check out the sequel, "Inkspell" and, coming in October, "Inkdeath." Enjoy!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"Inkheart" was magical. I love books that have things that can't really happen in them.
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S NOTE:
If you like "Inkheart," be sure to check out the sequel, "Inkspell" and, coming in October, "Inkdeath." Enjoy!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
I thoroughly enjoyed "Good Enough," which tells the story of high school senior Patti Yoon. Patti, who is Korean-American, is an exceptional violinist and a straight-A student. She's also got a killer sense of humor (you know, the bone dry, cynical, self-deprecating wit that absolutely slays me). As you might imagine, being the All-State concertmaster for the previous three years, taking all AP classes, and spending free time at Korean church youth group doesn't exactly make Patti the most popular girl in school. Still, she seems to have made peace with her low standing in the high school hierarchy, as she's totally focused on acing her makeup SATs, maintaining her sky high GPA, and getting into -- as her mom calls it in one hushed breath -- HarvardPrincetonYale.
Yes, as you might have guessed, Patti's first-generation parents place a heavy emphasis on Patti's academic success. What Patti sees as an almost suffocating pressure her parents view as mere support and encouragement. Patti's future is the most important thing in the world to them, and if getting her into an Ivy League school means constantly nagging her about SAT vocabulary words and practice tests and such, then so be it. The thing is, Patti has internalized her folks' high expectations, and she's just about the most dedicated, conscientious student around. It's only when Patti befriends a cute, rock-loving classmate that she takes her first small steps away from the rigid structure of her life and toward freedom and even rebellion. Before long, Patti is regularly sneaking off to Ben's house for jam sessions, ducking out of a church lock-in to hit a punk show, and even secretly sending an application off to (gasp!) Julliard, NYC's famous music school.
Besides providing candid insight into a Korean-American household, "Good Enough" is smart, charming, realistic without being overly gritty or heavy-handed, and just so much fun. I loved Patti's character, from her amazingly true teen voice to the dignified, respectful way she starts to challenge her parents' expectations and fulfill her own dreams. Even Patti's overachieving youth group pals are revealed as real kids with their own quirks. "Good Enough" is a lively, quick read, and I recommend it for all middle school girls. It's also a great choice for those interested in music, as Patti's descriptions of being transported away while playing her violin should be warmly received by all you budding musicians out there. (And if you like that aspect of the novel, please check out Virginia Euwer Wolff's "Mozart Season" for another peak into a violinist's world.) I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did!
I thoroughly enjoyed "Good Enough," which tells the story of high school senior Patti Yoon. Patti, who is Korean-American, is an exceptional violinist and a straight-A student. She's also got a killer sense of humor (you know, the bone dry, cynical, self-deprecating wit that absolutely slays me). As you might imagine, being the All-State concertmaster for the previous three years, taking all AP classes, and spending free time at Korean church youth group doesn't exactly make Patti the most popular girl in school. Still, she seems to have made peace with her low standing in the high school hierarchy, as she's totally focused on acing her makeup SATs, maintaining her sky high GPA, and getting into -- as her mom calls it in one hushed breath -- HarvardPrincetonYale.
Yes, as you might have guessed, Patti's first-generation parents place a heavy emphasis on Patti's academic success. What Patti sees as an almost suffocating pressure her parents view as mere support and encouragement. Patti's future is the most important thing in the world to them, and if getting her into an Ivy League school means constantly nagging her about SAT vocabulary words and practice tests and such, then so be it. The thing is, Patti has internalized her folks' high expectations, and she's just about the most dedicated, conscientious student around. It's only when Patti befriends a cute, rock-loving classmate that she takes her first small steps away from the rigid structure of her life and toward freedom and even rebellion. Before long, Patti is regularly sneaking off to Ben's house for jam sessions, ducking out of a church lock-in to hit a punk show, and even secretly sending an application off to (gasp!) Julliard, NYC's famous music school.
Besides providing candid insight into a Korean-American household, "Good Enough" is smart, charming, realistic without being overly gritty or heavy-handed, and just so much fun. I loved Patti's character, from her amazingly true teen voice to the dignified, respectful way she starts to challenge her parents' expectations and fulfill her own dreams. Even Patti's overachieving youth group pals are revealed as real kids with their own quirks. "Good Enough" is a lively, quick read, and I recommend it for all middle school girls. It's also a great choice for those interested in music, as Patti's descriptions of being transported away while playing her violin should be warmly received by all you budding musicians out there. (And if you like that aspect of the novel, please check out Virginia Euwer Wolff's "Mozart Season" for another peak into a violinist's world.) I hope you enjoy this story as much as I did!
TEEN LIBRARIAN'S REVIEW:
Ok, I have to break my own rule and reveal spoilers in this review. I just can't see any way to write a meaningful review without bringing up some critical plot points. But I'm warning you right now, in advance, so hopefully you won't be heartbroken, surprised, appalled, etc.
HERE COME THE SPOILERS!!
"Breaking Dawn" is split into three sections, or books. The first, and clearly the weakest, is narrated by Bella and details her wedding to Edward, their honeymoon, and her subsequent ... er ... alright, there's no easy way to say this. It discusses Bella's pregnancy. I know! Worse yet, this is a "Rosemary's Baby" style pregnancy, where the fetus is apparently some kind of tiny monster whose very existence is destroying the mother and threatening the world. I cannot begin to adequately describe how awful this first section of the book truly is. Much of the dialogue between Edward and Bella sounds something like this:
E: "I love you so much, Bella."
B: "No, Edward, I love you so much."
And on, and on, and on. Also, leaving aside the fact that Bella's pregnancy violates Meyer's own vampire mythology -- Edward's not "alive," biologically; didn't we establish that in the lab class back in "Twilight"? -- I could live without the tired cautionary tale (sex = pregnancy + death!) that used to be such a staple of teen novels. Haven't we moved beyond that? Sheesh.
The second book gives us Jacob's narration, and the improvement is noticeable and immediate. In my view, Jacob is the only character throughout the saga who displays any level of complexity. He's honorable, weak, impulsive, brave, loyal, angst-ridden, and joyful, often all at the same time. In contrast to the Cullens' cold perfection, Bella's constant awkwardness, and Charlie's one-note bluster, Jacob has depth and shading. No wonder following his story of heartbreak, pain, and ultimate hope is so much more fulfilling.
Long story short, Bella has a perfect baby girl who is half-vampire, half-human. To save her life following Renesmee's birth, Edward makes Bella a vampire. (Note: he literally tries to pimp her out to Jacob first, as a last ditch effort (?!?), which is so wrong on so many levels that I cannot even begin to comment.) Turns out the baby is an absolute jewel and not a monster, so hooray. But, wait, the Volturri have a strict law forbidding vampire children, and now they're headed to Forks for a big showdown.
Except, not so much. Yes, the passages detailing Bella's vampire transformation, in which all her senses are heightened to extraordinary levels, are full of magic and wonder. They're delightful to read. And I'm all for a thaw in the Jacob-Edward relationship, which is long overdue. Other good stuff? Vampire folks from far and wide circling their wagons and prepping for a Volturri smackdown. There is genuine excitement in these scenes, in which the sense of impending terror is palpable. Finally, yippee, Bella is at last strong and powerful instead of the weak girl following Edward's every order. Brava! It's just the entire, rather lengthy book builds to a climax that goes absolutely nowhere. Talk about fizzling out! The whole ending felt like a college debate and not the grand finale of an epic series. What a letdown.
I realize all "Twilight" fans will read this, and some will overlook the flaws while others, like me, will be terribly disappointed. Either way, perhaps we can focus on the biggest positive to emerge from this saga, which is that teen reading -- for girls! -- has finally become a big news story and a viable force in mainstream culture. For that, I'll always be grateful to Stephenie Meyer, despite my failed expectations here.
Ok, I have to break my own rule and reveal spoilers in this review. I just can't see any way to write a meaningful review without bringing up some critical plot points. But I'm warning you right now, in advance, so hopefully you won't be heartbroken, surprised, appalled, etc.
HERE COME THE SPOILERS!!
"Breaking Dawn" is split into three sections, or books. The first, and clearly the weakest, is narrated by Bella and details her wedding to Edward, their honeymoon, and her subsequent ... er ... alright, there's no easy way to say this. It discusses Bella's pregnancy. I know! Worse yet, this is a "Rosemary's Baby" style pregnancy, where the fetus is apparently some kind of tiny monster whose very existence is destroying the mother and threatening the world. I cannot begin to adequately describe how awful this first section of the book truly is. Much of the dialogue between Edward and Bella sounds something like this:
E: "I love you so much, Bella."
B: "No, Edward, I love you so much."
And on, and on, and on. Also, leaving aside the fact that Bella's pregnancy violates Meyer's own vampire mythology -- Edward's not "alive," biologically; didn't we establish that in the lab class back in "Twilight"? -- I could live without the tired cautionary tale (sex = pregnancy + death!) that used to be such a staple of teen novels. Haven't we moved beyond that? Sheesh.
The second book gives us Jacob's narration, and the improvement is noticeable and immediate. In my view, Jacob is the only character throughout the saga who displays any level of complexity. He's honorable, weak, impulsive, brave, loyal, angst-ridden, and joyful, often all at the same time. In contrast to the Cullens' cold perfection, Bella's constant awkwardness, and Charlie's one-note bluster, Jacob has depth and shading. No wonder following his story of heartbreak, pain, and ultimate hope is so much more fulfilling.
Long story short, Bella has a perfect baby girl who is half-vampire, half-human. To save her life following Renesmee's birth, Edward makes Bella a vampire. (Note: he literally tries to pimp her out to Jacob first, as a last ditch effort (?!?), which is so wrong on so many levels that I cannot even begin to comment.) Turns out the baby is an absolute jewel and not a monster, so hooray. But, wait, the Volturri have a strict law forbidding vampire children, and now they're headed to Forks for a big showdown.
Except, not so much. Yes, the passages detailing Bella's vampire transformation, in which all her senses are heightened to extraordinary levels, are full of magic and wonder. They're delightful to read. And I'm all for a thaw in the Jacob-Edward relationship, which is long overdue. Other good stuff? Vampire folks from far and wide circling their wagons and prepping for a Volturri smackdown. There is genuine excitement in these scenes, in which the sense of impending terror is palpable. Finally, yippee, Bella is at last strong and powerful instead of the weak girl following Edward's every order. Brava! It's just the entire, rather lengthy book builds to a climax that goes absolutely nowhere. Talk about fizzling out! The whole ending felt like a college debate and not the grand finale of an epic series. What a letdown.
I realize all "Twilight" fans will read this, and some will overlook the flaws while others, like me, will be terribly disappointed. Either way, perhaps we can focus on the biggest positive to emerge from this saga, which is that teen reading -- for girls! -- has finally become a big news story and a viable force in mainstream culture. For that, I'll always be grateful to Stephenie Meyer, despite my failed expectations here.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"Stuck in Neutral" had a lot of meaning and it had some elements of mystery, which I love because I enjoy mystery books. I also liked this book because I can relate to what the main character is going through.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
"Stuck in Neutral" had a lot of meaning and it had some elements of mystery, which I love because I enjoy mystery books. I also liked this book because I can relate to what the main character is going through.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Egypt Game". It was a mix between learning about Egypt and entering mysteries and suspenseful situations.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Egypt Game". It was a mix between learning about Egypt and entering mysteries and suspenseful situations.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "Ender's Game" because the action never stops. Even though science fiction isn't one of my favorite genres, this book is one of the best I've ever read!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "Ender's Game" because the action never stops. Even though science fiction isn't one of my favorite genres, this book is one of the best I've ever read!
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Melting of Maggie Bean." It was about a subject almost all girls worry about (their weight) and how Maggie overcame her weight troubles. This book tells us we all can solve even the most difficult problems.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I liked "The Melting of Maggie Bean." It was about a subject almost all girls worry about (their weight) and how Maggie overcame her weight troubles. This book tells us we all can solve even the most difficult problems.
SUMMER READING REVIEW!
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I loved "Defying the Diva!" It was sad in the beginning, but then it got happier towards the end. It was a great story with a fantastic message.
FROM A KINNELON LIBRARY TEEN REVIEWER:
I loved "Defying the Diva!" It was sad in the beginning, but then it got happier towards the end. It was a great story with a fantastic message.