“The Ruining” by Anna Collomore

Several librarians expressed concern that this book was not appropriate for the middle school audience it was selected for, given the description.  So, I had to read it.  Based on the comments of those who had read it, I didn’t expect much.  For the first 2/3 of the book, however, I was pleasantly surprised.  The writing was decent, albeit a typo here and there (a “thought” that should have been “though”) and the typical inconsistencies one finds in YA lit these days (in timeline and clothing description from paragraph to paragraph).  I wasn’t wild about the San Francisco descriptions which were clearly second-hand (Marin County is not considered “part” of SF proper and describing the area as “warm and sunny” is more of an LA thing than an “inside the bay area” thing) but I was okay with it as a “preconception” of the character.  The storyline was a bit clichéd and predictable ... nothing horrendous for the Romance genre.  Girl from impoverished inner-city Detroit moves to glorious California to become an au pair for a rich couple living near San Francisco.  Of course, there is a suntanned blonde boy next door who works as a paramedic one day a week (with a huge, cute dog).  The boy is attractive but somewhat irritating – yeah, I knew where it was going.  Or so I thought.  A little past half-way, some darker and confusing notes were threaded into the narrative.  There was the over-used and unnecessary plotline thrown in of evil drunken step-dad coming into Annie’s bedroom at night (back in Detroit).  It seemed contrived and only proved to be an additive needed to make the twisty last part of the book work.  It was also in stark contrast to the first half of the book, where Annie says that her home bedroom door “could not be closed because the room was so small that the dresser stuck out past the door’s threshold.”  The issue of closed doors becomes paramount in her new home.  Annie says she stopped evil step-dad by installing a deadbolt on the door … despite the fact that it didn’t close ???  This book had initial potential but didn’t fulfill it.  There were early themes of misery and how one assumes the “other half” is better off, even when they aren’t, but those were left in the dust as the plot began a migration to places unknown.  The two dimensional characters never fully stepped out to any layers – in particular, Annie.  One librarian complained that Annie didn’t sound like an 18 year-old.  I disagree – it’s just that the author never missed an opportunity to put 75 cent words in her mouth.  This makes sense if Annie is the nerdy bookworm she claims to be but her naivety and innocence is a little hard to take given her supposedly rough upbringing.  Maybe if she had come from a rural setting?  I’m also not sure there are too many 18 year-olds out there who would consider a 20 year-old to be an “older man.”   Bottom line – Annie is just a neurotic wuss – and designed that way so that this specific story could be told.  Let’s just say “Bella, move over” cuz we got a new victimized girl for ya.  These elements combined for a “flight of fantasy” in the last third of the book.  Annie is gaslighted, ending up in very dire circumstances, with murder and madness combining in a weird, yet strangely unsurprising way.  I’m not sure how a story can go completely off-kilter yet be utterly predictable at the same time but somehow this tale manages.  The ending has a “wrapping up the loose ties” section that results in resignation and creepiness that may not have been intended.  Let’s just say I’m not sure our heroine ever gets a backbone.  As a sidelight to the strange undertones, I couldn’t help but feel there was some bizarre lesbian thing going on … don’t think that was intended, either, but a little frustrated that the “big bad” here is portrayed as a subtle sexual predator.  Oh well.  Not a winner, in my mind.  We’ll see what my teen readers think.  With no outright violence, virtually no “language” and mild insinuations, at best, about sex, I’m not worried about it.  One last note?  Check out this cover in comparison to Malinda Lo’s “Adaptation” books:  http://www.amazon.com/Adaptation-Malinda-Lo/dp/B00EBFGUKY/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386784871&sr=1-6&keywords=malinda+lo  Not an exact copy, but certainly evokes a very similar feel.  I’m just saying. 

“Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, A Man Who Would Cure the World” by Tracy Kidder, Adapted for Young People by Michael French

In a quest to include more nonfiction on our “TAB Bookclub”cart, this new adaptation of Tracy Kidder’s powerful work was included.  Not sure it will draw in many readers but I will definately be marketing it.  Paul Farmer is a man we should all know about.  Surprisingly, we do not.  A doctor dedicated to the poor and to improving the lives of those in places like Haiti, Farmer has basically reinvented how the world deals with the health needs of the indigent and he has transformed TB care around the globe.  The book begins with an introduction by Kidder, explaining that we should not feel guilty when reading about the work of Paul Farmer.  It is hard not to.  “Tirelessly fighting for those with no voice” is an understatement and I was left with a desire to turn over all my worldly goods to Farmer’s PIH consortium after reading this (but didn't).  It was curious to read it near the holidays, with so many needy causes vying for attention.  The book ends with a postscript which addresses the changes in PIH and Haiti over the last ten years. 
 
The book itself seems to have undergone little or no vocabulary changes as a result of the “adaptation.”  I can only assume that some of the more detailed descriptions of violence in Haiti were left out.  It is a mature read and a technical one, as Farmer’s theories of social inequity being inexorably tied to health issues are explored as well as the epidemiology of disease in places like Haiti’s plateau region.  It is not a page turner, and, IMHO, not the most literary of books (a surprise, given Kidder’s Pulitzer Prize) but a personal story and an engaging one.  It is a biography, in the strictest sense, but not a “typical” biography in any way (yes, I know … librarian filing dilemma).  Kidder has a very intimate take on his subject, having spent nearly a year with Dr. Farmer.  He gushes on about how Farmer impacts him personally and interviews many of those surrounding the man to get a full picture of who he is.  The result is complex and interesting.  While reading it, I spent a lot of time wondering how someone becomes as selfless and dedicated as Farmer (so did Kidder) and thinking about the “big picture” of world poverty and health.  It becomes clear that Farmer is not perfect, but passionate and driven.  And there is a price he pays, I believe, that is more inferred than stated.  You will have to decide for yourself.  Bottom line – this isn’t just a book you should read, it’s one you will enjoy.  Now, it's time for me to hit the internet and make a few donations. 

“45 pounds (more or less)” by K.A. Barson

In a glut of YA books about eating disorders this one stands out.  Take Mackler’s “The Earth, My Butt and Other Big Round Things” and mix it with a little “Modern Family” and you have a thoroughly enjoyable story.  Ann is overweight and not just a by a little.  As a bridesmaid in her aunt’s upcoming wedding, Ann is determined to shed the unwanted weight.  Problem is … eating issues aren’t always about the food.  As Ann discovers, a healthy lifestyle is about a lot of things – including how you think about food and how you think about yourself.  Despite some dark threads this is not a “heavy” novel (pun not intended) and there is a good deal of humor mixed in beautifully with pathos for a heart-warming “dramedy.”  What I like about it is how real it is.  Ann’s path to an improved viewpoint is not simple and none of the characters are perfect.  The grandmother who has the best insight into life is a chain smoker and the thin, beautiful mother who is seemingly in control of all things has her own issues with food and self-image.  The family dynamic is complex and contemporary with layers that make it feel genuine.  As someone who has also struggled with food issues I really related to Ann, even when she got a little whiney.  There are also a few parallels that were achingly familiar:  a philandering biological father, an insightful and gentle step-dad and a controlling mom who internalizes anger and lives on salad.  The fact that I could see myself in the book is part of why it struck a chord with me.  The writing is also clean, direct and accessible.  The lessons learned aren’t preachy but do make an impact.  One of the biggest ones is something I figured out a few years back … eating issues are eating issues, no matter what your size is.  Just a great book throughout.

“MILA 2.0” by Debra Driza

If I were the type of person to stop reading a book I didn’t like, this would have been it.  I wish I were that kind of person, as I slogged through this whole thing more and more regretful with every page that I just couldn’t walk away.  It started out “okay” and quickly became lame, followed by ridiculous.  ***SPOILER ALERT***  The premise isn’t that bad.  Teenage girl discovers she isn’t really a teenage girl, but an android, created by the military and then “taken” by a researcher who wants her to have a chance at a real life.  There are echoes of “Cinder” here  (Marissa Meyer has a comment on the back) with the whole human/not human thing and a drop-off ending whose only purpose is to set up the sequel, but the difference is stark … “Cinder” has real literary quality.  This book does not.  “MILA 2.0” falls into every YA book trap I hate.  1)  It’s poorly written.  Sentence structure is weak and repetitive, with the kind of prose I see from students who are just starting out in their high-school level writing.  2)  It’s very poorly edited.  Typos and grammar issues abound throughout.  Incorrect words are sometimes in place, there are sentences which aren’t sentences and at one point, a character’s name is simply truncated, with the end left off.  Did no one notice?  3)  The cover art, as usual, does not match the character.  Described as a “stocky” 16 year-old girl with brown hair and eyes (“like her father”) on page 10, she suddenly has green eyes by page 95.  Then, she dyes her hair black and cuts it short and “spiky” later in the tale … but never, in my imagination, looks similar to the ballerina-like portrait of a young woman with porcelain skin on the cover.  4)  The structure is poor.  Chapter breaks seem to be dictated by length rather than need and the four section breaks don’t seem to have any reason at all.  Each new section picks up seconds after the old one with no significant change or break in the narrative.  The story is a paradox … it is simultaneously all over the place and goes nowhere.  Mila falls for every young man she meets (two of them) within five minutes, but the romance aspect just seems stuffed into the story to make the tale appeal to teens.  Mila’s “big dilemma” in the novel is to reconcile who she is with, well, who she is.  But it takes 470 pages.  And near the end, she is still as whiney and un-accepting of her “new reality” as she was on page 50.  Ms. Driza also gets caught up in her own compulsion for details.  She describes two bullets entering (someone’s) body.  “Both bullets entered the left side” but inexplicably, one hits the liver … which is on the right side.  As a casual viewer of TV medical shows like “Grey’s Anatomy,” even I know that.  When describing a car chase around DC, the description of roads used was so ridiculous that I started laughing out loud (not the heart-pounding exhilaration I was supposed to be feeling, methinks?)  As a resident of this area, I’m used to media getting it wrong, but in books, I expect better research.  There obviously was some … Driza mentions the “Kutz” bridge, which she pretty much would have had to look up – but describes it as “looming over the Potomac” when it is, in fact, a small causeway that lives a scant three feet above the Tidal Basin.  Most people who drive on it would not even consider it a “bridge.”  It was this kind of consistent sloppiness that made the book distracting and silly.  Obviously, not a fan and not waiting for the “next” book in the series.  Sorry.

“A Tangle of Knots” by Lisa Graff

Best book ever.  Unlike the dark, depressing, dystopian novels dominating the landscape these days, this one harkens back to an earlier era of children’s books by being delightful, clever, smart and fun.  In a world not too different from our own, most people have a “Talent.”  This can be anything from spitting to knitting, baking cakes to playing an oboe.  The tales of ten people interweave in this mysterious yarn (yes, all puns intended, in honor of our author’s great writing style) to show us that we are all part of something greater.  A mysterious man in gray has a talent for tying knots.  He travels through this world with echoes of L. Frank Baum’s “Wizard of Oz” helping each character make connections with their past and with each other.  The chapters are short and jump from one person’s point of view to the other (much like Fleischman’s "Seedfolks").  There is a palpable sense to the story – made even stronger by repeated “sounds” articulated in the text.  As a reader, I loved the many moments where I exclaimed “Oh!” because another facet of the story was becoming clear.  The characters, ranging from four young people to their parents and the adults around them, are nicely realistic and a good mix of hopeful and flawed.  There isn’t great drama here, just enough of life to draw you in with a sense of cozy familiarity.  Recipes for the most delicious cakes are sprinkled throughout the book and I simply had to copy them for future baking efforts.  The only downside to this book is that I really wanted to read it in one or two sittings.  Since my reading tends to be fairly fractured I had to really focus on the storyline each time I started to read it or run the risk of being mightily confused.  No fear.  Within minutes of picking it up I was drawn in.  This book is “highly” relatable … which of us doesn’t dream of having that one thing that helps us stand out in the world?  Brava to Ms. Graff for writing something I looked forward to reading and something that didn’t leave me reaching for a Rom/Com DVD after finishing it because I had to lift my mood.  (Without too much of a spoiler, I’m happy to report that the pet does NOT die!  In fact, no one dies!)  If you are looking for something fresh, amusing and "just right" check out this book.

“Peanut” by Ayun Halliday & Paul Hoppe

This is another one of those “okay” books that didn’t rock my world, and another fictional book that sounds so much like a memoir that I have to think there is a grain of truth in there.  Sadie, a nerdy little Freshman with no friends, transfers to a new school her Sophomore year and wants to reinvent herself.  So, she pretends she has a peanut allergy, which kinda-sorta ingratiates her into a club of cool kids.  As one of my teen readers said, the plot is just weak (or, in her words, “lame and stupid”).  It’s the great failing of this graphic novel, which portrays teen life fairly accurately but doesn’t have any oomph.  The mean girls are overly mean, the awful teacher is truly awful.  Characters are pretty black and white (no pun intended) with the exception of Sadie’s mom, the school nurse, and Sadie’s boyfriend “Zoo” who is nothing if not unique.  The artwork is “okay” as well.  Done mostly in pen and ink, with gray shadings and a burst of red for Sadie’s shirt, the drawings are good without adding much to the tale.  One colleague who read the book objected to the dialog of the mean girls, who harp on everything and everyone, including the idea that a kid who killed himself was trying auto asphyxiation (it’s never stated as such, but inferred).  This book isn’t awful, but it’s not “good enough to defend” in the parlance of my profession.  Short enough to be read in one sitting, it will likely entertain a number of teen readers, but is unlikely to challenge their ideas regarding the price of popularity.  Bottom line:  The book is on a cart for Middle School students but might be more appropriate to High School kids as the dialog is real, if distasteful.  Since this is the second “ehh” book I’ve read in the last few weeks, I’m looking forward to my next choice. 

“Tiger Lily” by Jodi Lynn Anderson

Have you ever seen one of those hotel art show sales?  The pictures are lovely – the brushstrokes are all in the correct place.  But the paintings don’t move you.  They are pretty to look at, but that is about it.  That’s because art needs to transcend the medium.  It can’t just be “well done.”  It has to make you think, challenge you, engage you.  So it is with this book, which is perfectly well written, with nary a flaw, but not fabulous.  Ironically, I read this at a time when the third season of “Once Upon a Time” (OUAT) premiered and both the book and TV show have plots revolving around re-envisioning the Peter Pan story.  OUAT does it better.  In Anderson’s book, magic is virtually wiped out with the minor exception of “Tink,” a faerie who is the narrator of the story, and the odd fact that people who live on the island of Neverland don’t age past a certain point in their lives.  There is irony, too, in the narration given that faeries in this world are mute.  Tinkerbell weaves a love story between Tiger Lily and Peter, but it is a doomed tale, as we all know of one critical missing element there.  The novel is dark.  Hook is an old, weakened alcoholic; Smee is a serial killer; Tiger Lily’s intended husband is a rapist … etc.  I found myself aching for the book to simply be over.  With the magic and cheeriness and hope removed from it, this famous story is nothing but ugliness and despair.  There is also the question of whose story this is and what the book is really about.  From the eponymous title, one assumes that it is a familiar story told from Tiger Lily’s point of view.  But it is also is Tink’s tale.  Both characters fall in love, and both grow and change throughout the book – and don’t change to some degree, which leaves them in Neverland as others move on.  But it’s not a love story, either.  It’s mostly a diatribe describing the European subjugation of native peoples.  The whole thing is simply bleak.  By way of contrast, OUAT has made the Peter Pan story very dark (Peter is an absolute terror) but retains a heart of belief … the more you believe in magic, the more good is on your side and triumph is possible.  The one outstanding part of “Tiger Lily” is the prominent role of a transgender character … but, of course, that doesn’t end well, either.  Sorry for the fans out there, but I give this one a big “two thumbs down.”  In my quest to find any kind of faerie story I like, the score is now four-zip.  Anyone out there who has read a worthy tale of the little ones, do let me know.

“Delirium” by Lauren Oliver

If “The Unwanteds” was “Hunger Games” for the younger set, and “Matched” was “Hunger Games” for those interested in less gore, then “Delirium” is “Matched” for upper-level readers.  Which is all to say that the plot elements here are achingly familiar:  In a dystopian America, citizens are pacified into a uniform existence – one where dissention from the autocratic rules can result in torture and death.  Each member of this society is essentially lobotomized when they turn 18, so that they will not feel the effects of “love.”  They are then assigned a career path and life partner.  Lena looks forward to this day, as she fears the chaos of emotion that threatens to rise up inside of her.  But then she meets Alex and becomes “infected.”  Needless to say, there is a resistance movement in “the Wilds” which becomes the focus of the next book in the series.  Despite hugely predictable turns, Oliver should be congratulated for this first book in a trilogy, as the characters are real and engaging and the writing superior.  It’s not a fast-mover but still I felt drawn in and compelled to see “what happens next.”  There were repeated times when I looked up from my reading wanting to share a passage with someone – sometimes for the literary merit, sometimes for the way in which Lena is a highly relatable figure.  Not only is the book in first person, it is very internal.  Most of it is Lena’s wishes, desires and fears.  When she answers “Gray” as her favorite color at the mandated exams (the expected answer is “Blue”) she muses:  “Sometimes I feel as though there are two me’s, one coasting directly on top of the other:  the superficial me, who nods when she’s supposed to nod and says what she’s supposed to say, and some other, deeper part, the part that worries and dreams and says ‘Gray.’  Most of the time they move along in sync and I hardly notice the split, but sometimes it feels as though I’m two whole different people and I could rip apart any second.”  Certainly, something we have all felt from time-to-time, particularly in our teen years.  If you aren’t totally sick of this genre, I recommend giving this series a try.  It is definitely one of those “can’t wait to read the sequel” books.  The version I read also had an insightful interview with the author and a preview of “Pandemonium.”

“Stupid Fast” by Geoff Herbach

Wow, this is one was not what I expected – and that’s a good thing.  Cover art being what it is (the character apparently has a “jew-fro” which is not evident with the kid in the picture), I assumed this was one of those “hi/lo” books I could read really fast ‘cuz it would be about football games, which I don’t understand, so I could skip all those blow-by-blow sections.  Wrong.  It’s an unexpected, layered, and surprisingly sports-free book about a young man named Felton Reinstein, who is the kind of protagonist that most teen boys will be able to relate to.  Think more like Chris Crutcher with this, and less “Orca Soundings.’  Felton is having a bad summer … or is he?  Trapped in that Neverland between being a geeky awkward kid and turning into an adult, he faces his 16^th birthday with few friends and a body that is betraying him.  He’s grown seven inches and gained 42 pounds in the previous year.  None of his clothes fit, he has hair “everywhere” and he is a bit sensitive to the various smells that now surround him.  Family issues converge with the attention of the high school athletics coaches to make his summer a surreal mix of drama and training.  In short, his life becomes something extremely different in these few months, and he wants to tell the reader about it.  Told in first-person narrative, as if the reader is his confidant, the entire tale is told rapid-fire, in short chapters, over a single night.  It is almost stream of consciousness, and that is what makes it so engaging.  Felton’s voice is absolutely real and his randomness (timelines are kind of all over the place) is semi-adorable.  It’s a bit of a ride but since I bought into Felton’s character quickly, it was easy to buy into the other premises, which include a rural town in Wisconsin populated by a Jewish kid, a Venezuelan kid, an Asian kid, and an African American girl – who just happens to be a piano phenom.  Felton has tremendous struggles, more than he even perceives, at first; but his spirit is indomitable.  A big “Bravo” for this one.

“My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece” by Annabel Pitcher

It’s easy to see why this 2010 book from the UK has won so many awards.  Touching and real, it will pull at your heartstrings.  Jamie is a ten year-old boy with issues.  Five years ago, one of his older twin sisters was killed in a terrorist bombing in London.  His devastated parents live every day in memory of their lost child – forgetting the children they have.  Mom up and leaves, dad dives into a bottle.  Starting over in a small town up north, Jamie only has his sister, Jasmine, and his orange tabby cat, Roger, to cling to.  It’s not nearly as depressing as it sounds.  Jamie doesn’t remember his sister, much less her death, and is simply trying to live his life and make it all work out the way that ten year-old boys do.  Of all of the books I have read, Jamie’s voice is one of the most authentic I’ve seen for a child of this age.  Ms. Pitcher deserves kudos for making him absolutely real.  It is only as an adult, reading the book, that your stomach ties itself in knots.  I definitely wanted to reach through the pages and throttle the parents, Jamie’s teacher, the bully, and very occasionally, Jamie.  He is ten, and the author makes no apologies.  In trying to figure out the rules of the world he makes some huge mistakes, and hurts people who try to help.  He learns a lot, though, and his growth throughout the book makes sense.  The only thing I didn’t like was one of those “inevitable” losses so prevalent in YA books.  You will know what I mean when you read it … and I saw it coming from the first pages.  While the event is critical in helping Jamie understand the complexities of grief, I do wish that authors could come up with some other way of moving their young protagonists forward.  In any case, the book struck a very strong chord with me and will resonate for some time to come.  Grab some Kleenex and curl up with it.

"A Game for Swallows: To Die, To Leave, To Return" by Zeina Abirached

Zeina Abirached is an artist, and it shows.  In all graphic novels, you want the text and images to blend into a dynamic partnership with each element enhancing the overall story-telling.  In this case, the story is good, but the artwork is spectacular.  Done in black and white ink, the tale is of a child's viewpoint during the Lebanese civil war in the late 1970s/early 1980s.  It is easy to see how this book garnered a Batchelder Honor this past year.  With tremendous similarities to "Persepolis" this is another story of a young person's perception of the world around them being wholly and irrevokably changed by growing up in a war-zone.  Where "Persepolis" succeeds on a personal level (you learn to love Marjane Satrapi's snarky alter-ego) this one is more subtle.  The entire tale takes place during a single blackout.  Two children are awaiting their parents' arrival from the "other side" of the demarcation zone.  The bombing prevents the parents from travelling, so neighbors in the small apartment building gather together in the building foyer to pass the time and calm the children.  Unlike "Persepolis" the narrator is somewhat de-personalized in this tale, as most of the points of view -- image-wise, are the neighbors.  For more than half of the book, the children do not even appear in the frames.  The story focuses on the neighbors, an eclectic and colorful group who represent the many ways that the citizens of Lebanon were impacted by the war.  Backgrounds are almost universally black, with occasional white spots to single out a specific figure.  The artwork doesn't just set the tone, it tells much of the story, with the opening pages zooming in on the streets of Beirut -- only after staring at them for a moment do you realize the number of bullet-holes pockmarking the various surfaces.  A few pages later there is a map of the city that is whited out in the center, showing how little of the area was actually navigable.  The memories (and these are memories) are those of children, with the focus on the games and smoking of the adults, make-believe dragons and the sort.  The deeply sad emotional threads in the story are undercurrents, and are often portrayed simply -- such as the time when a rattling chandalier is bordered by small images of a frightened older woman praying with her rosary beads.  In another scene, several pages are devoted to waiting -- with little happening other than increased puffs of smoke and the clicking of tiles as one person plays a Scrabble-like game.  It is a book that is simplicity, but due to the excellent art and story-telling, one that is rich in culture and history.  It is no small coincidence that the book is created with thick, high-quality paper, making it weigh much more than most books its size ... as if to say that it might be small, but there is much meat here to absorb.  Another short read that will enlarge your understanding of the world, a big thumbs up.

"The Book of Blood and Shadow" by Robin Wasserman

Whoa.  And my-oh-my.  Combine "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" with "The Da Vinci Code," add in seriously strong literary merit, and you have a very very complex book with a predictable and yet fully engaging story.  "The Book of Blood and Shadow" not only exceeds 400 pages, but uses words like "miasma" and has paragraph-long sentences -- which is to say, it's not a short read.  But it shouldn't be.  Drawing the plot through time and place, touching on alchemy, astronomy, religion and mysticism, Wasserman's tale takes us from a real-life poetess of thirteenth century Czechoslovakia to modern day New England; from Rabbi Judah Loew's Golem to the mysterious and untranslatable Voynich manuscript ... even Johannes Kepler makes a guest appearance.  This book is not for the faint of heart or the uncommitted, but I found myself inexorably drawn in.  Nora, a high school student in an unusual friendship with a couple at her upscale prep school, works on a college campus with an eccentric professor trying to find the "Lumen Dei" -- the Light of God.  Think of it as a modern-day cell-phone call to the Almighty, who would then answer all of your questions.  There is murder and madness and a clue or two buried in letters written in Latin.  Nora translates them, finding a soul-mate in a woman long gone, and uncovers her possible connection to a questionable invention lost in the dust.  Along the way, she reflects a good deal on the weirdness of the world around her -- longing to be part of it but recognizing inherent separateness.  Those familiar with this kind of tale will know that there are secrets within secrets and quite a number of fanatical religious soldiers intent on fulfilling or stopping a centuries-old prophecy so most of the "surprises" were of little surprise to me.  It didn't matter.  This was a book that had me stopping early, at pages 10, then 13, and so-on and so-on, to re-read passages that required the reader to really think about what was being said.  The word "layers" simply does not do it justice.  Highly satisfying, with only one glaring boo-boo (they leave one city with no luggage, only to find their luggage "ripped apart" in the hotel room of the next city), this one is worth spending the time with.  I'd say "enjoy," but it's a little dark for that -- let's just say it is totally worth the visit.

“Virtuosity” by Jessica Martinez

As oft-stated in this blog, I’m not always a huge fan of romance.  This book avoids most clichés by being about something altogether different.  Carmen is a virtuoso violinist.  A child prodigy, she has been performing as long as she can remember.  At 17, she has won a Grammy and has been accepted to Julliard.  Her future is nearly assured – all she has to do is win the top prize in the prestigious Guarneri competition.  One problem – her European counterpart is also competing.  And he is good.  And cute.  And British (they are always British, yes?)  Stifled by a mother-manager who she calls “Diana” instead of “Mom,” this is a young woman with ~~issues~~.  Having a performing background myself, I was stressed reading this book, my heart racing with every minute of pre-performance nerves that Carmen suffers through.  “The boy,” in this case Jeremy, is not Carmen’s savior, but perhaps that critical piece of the puzzle that allows her to save herself to some degree.  (BTW, the book opens with a section from the end … but not the absolute end, so don’t be assured that you know what is going to happen …)  The writing is good without being great.  It’s clean and clear, the kind of prose which is highly accessible to most readers.  I’m not sure that I would have been as pulled into the story had it not been for the performing element, which was so real it gave me anxiety nightmares (yeah, you try auditioning for 65 casting directors with a 90 second monologue).  The mom/manager behavior is also a little reprehensible and gave the story a touch of depth as that was explored.  It’s simply a very “palatable” book.  My one and only complaint – yet again – is that the girl on the cover art is clearly *not* Carmen, as she describes herself.  Such is the trend.  The book will undoubtedly move, and it should.

"Bootleg: Murder, Moonshine, and the Lawless Years of Prohibition" by Karen Blumenthal

This book is one of the few nonfiction titles included in this year's "Books for the Beast" reading list.  A notable book on the recent award lists, I had wondered about its appeal.  Arranged in nine short chapters with a preface, epilogue, glossary and list of sources, this is a high-information book that spans the  far-ranging history of alcohol in America.  Much more so than the title would indicate.  Ms. Blumenthal clearly went above and beyond in her research, using many print resources and archival documents -- and not a single website.  She wrote to famous people alive in the 1920s to get their reflections (most notably, Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens) and collaborated with other experts on the topic, such as writer Catherine Gilbert Murdock.  The result is a fact-filled read that is clear and to-the-point, but not particularly engaging.  Blumenthal avoids the current trend of trying to appeal to teen readers by using contemporary phrasing and emotional overtones.  The writing is very clean -- but boring.  It's almost like a really detailed encyclopedia entry.  She opens with a few pages on the St. Valentine's Day massacre, and one might assume that the colorful aspects of that event might be a hint of things to come -- but no.  Chapter One is a mini-biography of Morris Sheppard, a politician who became the "Father of National Prohibition" in the 1910s.  In Chapter Two, we careen back to the 1700s and get an overview of the history of alcohol in the U.S. (George Washington won his first election by buying drinks for those who showed up to the polls) and move forward as women begin temperance movements in the 1800s.  The information is interesting -- some of the heaviest drinking in this country was in the early 1800s, not during prohibition, as many assume; and public water fountains are a gift to us from one of the early temperance movements -- but the arrangement is haphazard.  The chapter on Morris Sheppard?  Why is it first?  Since most of the book is chronological, it should have been placed in the middle.  Random pieces of information are included, such as the recollections of a boy named Leroy Ostransky.  I thought that maybe this was a lead-up to Leroy becoming a gangster or something, but no, he was just a kid who helped his parents run a bar.  I guess part of this was expectations -- with the title and an opening section on gangland violence, I expected, well, a book that focused on the 1920s.  Only three of the nine chapters actually detail the period of Prohibition, and only one of those -- a section on Al Capone -- details some of the horrific violence that took place at this time.  I learned a lot ... for instance, NASCAR has roots in the illegal transport of liquor during Prohibition ... but it wasn't really to the point.  So, who is the book for?  Certainly, not students studying this topic (unless they have a true interest and want to wind their way through a lot of narrative).  The vocabulary is also a bit high for the average 7th grader who does reports on Prohibition (in my district).  It's a book that is far heavier on the politics than the sensationalism.  Older readers interested in the subject or who enjoy the little nuggets along the way might like it.  And it did make me think.  Although not mentioned, the current debate over legalizing marijuana is taking an extraordinarily similar path through legislatures.  Arguments for legalization -- putting violent drug traffickers out of business, lowering the prison population and allowing the government to moderate the use -- are almost identical to the arguments made for the repeal of the 18th Amendment.  Arguments against legalization of marijuana are also very similar -- endangerment to the young, health concerns and inability to control abuse once it is accepted by the population at large.  The epilogue notes that Prohibition worked, to a great degree, and cites the acceptance of alcohol use to be a social problem in the country today ... with high levels of alcoholism and our government overwhelmed by the associated crime and deaths connected to chemical abuse.  In any case, the book has sat on my shelves for a year now with only one check-out.  We'll see if continued assignments on the topic will result in more use.  Well-indexed, it could be used for research by a patient student -- dry though the material may be (pun intended).

"Orchards" by Holly Thompson

This isn't so much an old story re-told as a contemporary story re-envisioned.  Cyber-bullying resulting in suicide has been all over the media of late.  What is different here is that this tale is told from the point of view of one of the perpetrators, and it is told in verse.  This has several advantages.  First, we see the many complexities of this current trend -- noting that perhaps the biggest problem is our inability to see the point of view of others.  Second, the choice to make this a verse novel fits well with the emotional tone of the book -- with the lead character struggling, often, to form sentences as she works through the events that took place at the end of her 8th grade year.  Kana Goldberg is an Asian/Jewish girl sent off to relatives in Japan for the summer to escape the swirling allegations in her suburban town of "who did what to who."  While the book is called "Orchards", it could easily have been called "Because of You" -- the title of the first chapter.  As Kana makes her internal and external journey forward, she is perpetually haunted by the ghost of "Ruth" -- the victim.  Much of the story is told in second person, with Kana framing her comments directly towards Ruth.  Every action, every thought -- anger, empathy, sadness, is grounded in her constant sense of loss surrounding Ruth's death.  Arranged in short chapters, the book is beautifully illustrated and very "Japanese" in its simplicity.  In many ways, Kana's journey is a spiritual one as she works to make sense of it all.  Like most verse novels, it could be a fast read, but the weight of what you are reading requires you to pause and reflect.  Lovely and to-the-point without hitting you over the head, it is a worthwhile selection.

“Jasper Jones” by Craig Silvey

Joining fellow Aussies Markus Zusak, Margo Lanagan and Melina Marchetta, Craig Silvey delivers this highly literary, rich, disturbing tale. Charlie Bucktin is a 13 year-old boy living in a mining town far south of Perth. The year is 1965 and tensions are high during a hot summer in a place where drinking and corporal punishment are frequent in families. Despite all of this, Charlie’s existence is fairly average – hanging out with his friend Jeffrey, making gross jokes, using foul language and cheering Jeffrey on as he tries to make the cut on the local Cricket team. Charlie’s innocence is shattered by a knock at his bedroom window one night. The local bad boy, Jasper Jones, has a horrific secret and needs Charlie’s help. Charlie, being a generally kind and well-meaning kid, travels into the bush with Jasper, only to have his understanding of the world shattered. Unlike most novels, this one opens with the critical event and much of the rest of the book is falling action. The focus of the tale is not really on what happens that one night, but Charlie’s attempt to make sense of the world around him when the veil of propriety falls away. Charlie is a reader and a writer and a lover of words. Much of the book is his internal monologue, seeking to put meaning to meaningless violence, hoping that there is a reason for events rather than accept that there is evil in the world. If this had been an American tale, I would say that Charlie is too mature for his years – he reflects on joy as a palpable yet indefinable element of life, and waxes on for over a page as to what kind of person says the word “sorry” and the weight that the word contains. But this isn’t an American novel. It is quintessentially Australian. While events of the time (the Vietnam War, the rise of Muhammad Ali, the talk of communists and space flights) were achingly familiar to me, much of the book describes a world so alien it feels like a different planet. Charlie drinks coffee throughout the day – flavored with sweetened condensed milk, courtesy of his parents. He hates the heat of summer but enjoys being out of school. Of course, summer includes Christmas and New Years! His relationship with Jeffrey is filled with enough colloquialisms and slang to make your head spin. I was able to parse out most of it based on context but the Cricket matches, described in detail, are still a huge mystery to me. The landscape includes native trees and kangaroo and Charlie’s growing friendship with Jasper may seem a little “bromance-like” to U.S. readers but I suspect it is more reflective of the difference in cultures. The concepts in the book are ones you can reflect on a good deal while reading. The dense nature of the writing explains my slow pacing in getting through it, although I was driven to turn the page and see if Charlie would find any resolution. I was only able to complete one or two of the nine chapters a day as I needed time to digest and review each before moving on. Powerful, real and deeply poignant, this one, like “Code Name Verity” will haunt me a while. It is creepy, but on a far deeper level than you might expect. Enjoy a layered story that goes so many places you don’t expect.

“How They Croaked: The Awful Ends of the Awfully Famous” by Georgia Bragg, illustrated by Kevin O'Malley

Laugh-out-loud funny, the “voice” of this book is edgy, snarky, and perfectly “teen.” With warnings aplenty about the grossness yet-to-come, the focus on genitalia, bodily fluids and poop is sure to excite almost any YA reader, particularly those of the male persuasion. Arranged in the order of expiration, each famous person is treated to a four-page (give or take) synopsis of their life, death, and things we've learned since they “croaked.” After this, you get a two-page addendum of sorts which might explain more about leeching or tuberculosis, for example. Throughout, there are great illustrations which highlight various parts of the tale, such as the dog that Marie Antoinette had to give up at the border when traveling to Paris. At the back, you actually get two bibliographies – a list of the academic sources used to write the book, and a second listing of “lighter” sources for students to learn more – including white-washed children's biographies, sketchy websites and Wikipedia. I think you have to take into account what this book is designed for, and what it isn't. This isn't a research item, it's a coffee-table book for teens that is best used to peak interest. Although you could blast through the 161 pages in a day, I found it more enjoyable to read a couple of entries, then come back to it now and then. That's all on the plus side. On the negative, there are serious concerns about facts with books like this. Trying to streamline history in a way to make it “cool” often results in a kind of dumbing-down that is somewhat cringe-worthy. Take, for instance, the comment that none of Henry VIII's wives stayed around very long – contradicted by the fact that he was married to his first wife for more than 20 years, something noted in the addendum to that section. The Henry entry also neglects to mention that the king “leaked” out of his coffin in the end – odd for a book that delights in anything nasty. In the section on Elizabeth I, the addendum states that only nine Shakespeare plays were written during her lifetime (um, no, the bulk of the canon was written and performed during her reign, including “The Merry Wives of Windsor” – written specifically for the Queen, who wanted Falstaff resurrected after she saw “Henry V”). In the James Garfield section, Lee Harvey Oswald is listed as a Presidential Assassin, but with a question-mark. It goes on and on. The love letters between Napoleon and Josephine? Ignored. The would-be emperor is made out to be a jerk, and in the black-and-white world of teen books, a bad guy can't also be someone who had a hot, steamy love-affair. What is inferred or left off is a general issue throughout. For example, Beethoven is virtually the only major composer to see significant recognition in his lifetime – and surely this was the reason that he had the financial means to address ongoing health issues – but it is never mentioned. It is also hinted at that he was gay – maybe, maybe not (what I've read leads me to lean on the side of not) but it's more for the smart-a** factor that this part of his personal life is mentioned, rather than anything relevant to the story. The author also waxes on about how lives were cut short by bad diagnoses, poor treatment and horrific diseases, but many in this book lived far beyond what they should have, given the life-expectancy of their times and the health issues they faced. One inexplicable omission in the book is coverage of Catherine the Great, whose death (in rumor, if not fact) was certainly as notorious as her life. Guess they wanted to keep the whole thing PG. In the end, it's an enjoyable book that will attract and engage teen readers. If they are serious about learning more, the academic resources listed in the back will be great places to start. I just have to work on not taking it too seriously.

“The Disenchantments” by Nina LaCour

Another slice-of-life/more memoir-than-fiction book, this one holds together better than others I have read of late. The week-long tale covers a post-high school road trip by artist guy Colby and three girls who make up the neo-Riot Grrl band, “The Disenchantments.” The title of the band, and book, is extremely apropos, given that this is a week where the young people must let go of their made-up dreams and embrace the uncertainty of the real world. This isn’t so much a romance book as an anti-romance book – Colby’s plans with his best friend, Bev, are shattered quickly, leaving all four occupants of a tripped-out, ancient VW bus to contemplate their fates as they travel to low-rent bars in small towns during a farewell tour. The charm of the book is the road trip. Quintessential in our collective dreaming about life, road trips are the ultimate “go-do” for almost everyone I have ever met. Real charm is found in the quirky and delightful people they meet, the conversations and reflections they have along the way, and their efforts to make an impact on the places they visit even as the trip changes them on a visceral level. The experiences here struck me as universal, and they are a huge part of why the book left me with such a strong impression. I didn’t love it – more happens internally with Colby than externally with the story, but the characters are strong and their “longing” drew me in. Thinking about my own personal need to just get out of Dodge and have some adventures made this a perfect pick for this moment in my life. While well-written, and with tremendous detail chronicling, well, everything, there were a couple of things that nagged. First – the book is a little exhausting to read. With no chapter breaks (the only breaks you get are between days, but even that pretense is dropped mid-week) this felt like stream of consciousness. There were no natural stopping points to step away and consider what you have taken in so far. The result was a pressing need to read straight through – and it is not a short book. I have the luxury right now of doing that, so I was able to finish it in a couple of days, but my “normal” life involves very short spurts to read. I would have liked the opportunity to tuck in the bookmark and not feel like I was leaving in the middle of things. Since the entire book is essentially about one question, I knew I wouldn’t get the answers I wanted until the end, so eventually I just crashed and did a marathon read. There were also two, somewhat glaring, inconsistencies (in a book that cataloged every minute of every day). One is a forgotten amp, which leads our intrepid protagonist to make a major alteration to his plan. The amp is retrieved, but then he careens off in another direction and it is never quite clear how the thing ends up at the next location. Did they haul it across a horse farm? Leave it on the bus for someone else to retrieve in Portland? We never find out.  Also, less glaring, but curious, an important tattoo image appears several times but is treated differently in each instance. The first time, a cell-phone picture is taken and sent to Colby’s dad. The second time, the tattoo is more important, as it has a huge influence on Colby, but he doesn’t record the image. More odd, than anything. In any case, this is a book of dreams. If you dream about shaking your life up, taking some risks, and maybe discovering a new road to travel, it’s the perfect pick. As the writer herself says, “There is something about distance, being removed from what’s familiar, that lets things happen.”

“Everybody Sees the Ants” by A.S. King

Lucky Linderman is having a rough go of it. Suffering tremendous violence at the hands of the local bully while his disaffected parents seem to tune him out entirely, he struggles with issues of his role, his manhood and his purpose. School officials also turn a blind eye and put the emPHAsis on the wrong sylLAble with their efforts. Extraordinarily vivid dreams connect him with a grandfather lost decades ago in the Vietnam War and mysterious ants surround his imagination like his own personal pep squad. When things get really bad, his mother yanks him out of town to stay with relatives who definitely don’t put the “fun” in dysfunctional. All of this seems like it would make for a pretty bleak, dark tale. While there are bleak and dark aspects to it, Lucky’s 15 year-old snark and his grandfather’s wisdom takes this from being a depressing story to a hopeful – and occasionally funny – one. I’ve recently written a number of reviews of books where I felt too much “randomness” kept the tales from pulling together. In the case of this book, the randomness, and serious weirdness, dominates … but all of these disparate elements have a purpose, and the way the whole thing comes together is fairly brilliant … enough to have me staying up late at night to finish the book. Much like Libba Bray’s “Going Bovine” this is a story that keeps you guessing as to where it is going. Is it realistic fiction? Maybe. Is Lucky mentally unbalanced? Possibly. Is there a fantastical element or two that don’t really seem clear at first? Yes, definitely. It wasn’t the easiest book to get into – the timeline swings wildly from Lucky’s previous year as a high school Freshman to his present – a miserable summer – to his long-ago past, when a dying grandmother charged him to find and bring home his POW/MIA grandfather from a foreign jungle. Interspersed with this are a series of lucid dreams chronicling Lucky’s growth into maturity as he works to save his grandfather, who is an ever-changing decrepit corpse-like figure with significant insight into life. The dreams are symbolism, metaphor, whatever you want to believe they are, but, like the ants, they are also a survival mechanism Lucky needs to move himself forward. You can’t help but like this young man, whose honesty, observations and forthright comments make you want to reach out and pat him on the back. He desperately wants to do the right thing but has been so deeply abused that it nearly paralyzes him. All the other characters in the book are written in complex ways as well. The adult figures, in particular, are deeply flawed, but very human. The novel includes lengthy appendices – an interview with the author conducted by fellow Printz winner Paolo Bacigalupi; an excerpt of her next book, “Ask the Passengers”; and a discussion guide. The discussion questions are clearly geared towards classroom activities, but the strong (realistic) language of the protagonist and the subjects touched on, including rape, drug abuse, suicide and “The Vagina Monologues” makes it doubtful that most teachers would select it as a class novel. This is unfortunate, as the story is layered, more so than most YA selections, and has not a single theme but a series of them – all intertwined and impacting on each other. Perhaps the discussion guide could be used with a bookclub? In any case, I not only really liked this book, but I learned a lot more about the military draft and the ground war in Vietnam – and I was alive back then. I can only imagine how our students, who only read about the war in history books, would appreciate Lucky’s insight on an event he is both separated from yet inexorably tied to. It is a rich book, with lots of “nuggets” to take away. Lucky’s face is damaged in an attack and he notes that the scab goes from looking like Ohio, to West Virginia, to Pennsylvania, etc. This reinforces the reviewers comments that Lucky is in some ways an “Everyman” that exists in all the high schools in America. In one of the most poignant and prophetic statements in the book, Lucky’s grandfather notes that the soldiers in his war are so young that they learn to hate before they learn to love. It is a powerful thought in a story replete with reflections that are likely to touch you in some way. Brava, Ms. King. A job very well done.

“WinterTown” story and art by Stephen Emond

Ehh. Following up on the well-reviewed “Happyface” (which I have not read) comes Stephen Emond’s semi-romance between Evan and Lucy, a couple that may or may not be working against fates to come together. Their childhood friendship has devolved into a two-week winter-break get-together ever since Lucy’s dysfunctional family split apart, sending her to live in the south with a mother more concerned about her next boyfriend than the welfare of her child. Evan looks forward to their limited time together – relaxing into an old, comfy relationship in a sea of New England snow – but recognizes that this visit, during his pressure-filled Senior year of High School, has the two of them at very different places in life. With a strong desire to be an artist (drawings and comics fill the book), he struggles with his father’s demands that he apply to the most demanding colleges so that he can become a chip off the old block. Lucy, living nearly on her own, has fallen into some scary behavior and is too sad and angry to find comfort in a world that now seems alien to her. The book takes place (mostly) over this one two-week period and has a fair amount of angst as the two would-be lovers struggle to connect. On the plus side, the characters are strong and it is refreshing to see a romantic story with a male lead. Supplemental characters, such as the gay friends, the parents and grandparents, are well-filled out and the tendency to stereotype them is mostly avoided. It makes the novel feel real, which might explain the kind of messy, non-linear feel to the book. The drawings enrich the story by underpinning the tone and the title “WinterTown” becomes obvious as a theme when you compare the fake holiday town Evan’s dad puts up each year with the kind of distant view of the city which Lucy sees outside of her plane window. It is a “tonal” novel overall. Events don’t run smoothly and there are a lot of random bits that just don’t seem to fit – it’s not clear, for instance, as to how/where Lucy gets her plane ticket to come up for the visit as her mother is not currently in the picture. Another disconnect is the comic excerpt at the end of each chapter. The two young people have created a world in their joint comic “Aelysthia,” but the storyline in the comic doesn’t further the narrative, rather it seems to be an esoteric comment on the latest fight between the two leads. Aelysthia is supposed to be “instantly recognizable” by a sun that vomits, but that image is never included in any of the strips until the lengthy addendum at the end of the book. The result is a choppy story that doesn’t so much draw you in as it challenges you to figure out what is happening. I didn’t feel like I was entering Evan’s world, I felt like I was spying on a slice of his life. It didn’t engender me to the story and I didn’t feel overly compelled to push through it as it was coming off as yet another one of those semi-autobiographical fiction-but-not-fiction novels I dislike … there are just too many “inside references” that I can’t understand as reader. That being said, Lucy’s take on “the perfect night” is terrific and Evan’s grandmother is the kind of person we should all aspire to be. Worth it, I guess, if you are a guy who appreciates a certain amount of randomness, longs for a girl you don’t think you can have, and wonders whether the path your family has set for you is the right one.

“Anna and the French Kiss” by Stephanie Perkins

After a number of dark and dense books, I needed a little break. “Anna and the French Kiss” provided the perfect respite. Frothy and light, this romance novel includes every cliché available, but somehow manages to side-step predictable plot development with fresh characters that are both real and interesting. Anna has been “dumped” by her nuevo-riche father into the American School of Paris for her Senior year of high school. Resentful at leaving her friends, family and a possible beau behind in her hometown of Atlanta, she encounters a very different world where she understands neither the language nor the culture. Despite this, Anna is taken into a social group quite quickly, and develops a monster crush on a guy who is American, French and British. With wavy brown locks of hair and that delicious accent, Anna is head-over-heels in no time. There are complications, of course, and more than one occasion where she waxes on about “the hair” and the guy’s “perfect beauty” a bit much for my taste. There are also the inevitable “longing/aching” passages on what she “can’t have.” It’s this kind of thing that is usually such a turn-off for me in these kinds of books. Ms. Perkins seems to be aware of this tendency, however, and has made Anna and her friends diverse and layered. Anna, herself, is aware of her over-the-top responses, and works to mitigate them, or at least laugh at herself now and then. When given a chance to make a wish near Notre Dame, she considers “the boy” but settles for “I wish for the thing that is best for me.” I had to admire the young woman for such a grounded sense of self-awareness. Romance stories will always be romance stories … there is a couple you *know* should be together, but in the meantime, they make a lot of mistakes (Anna makes enough that I occasionally wanted to reach through the pages and throttle her a tad) but there is also a kind of promise in this genre that it all works out in the end. Stephanie Perkins manages to avoid sappy whiny-ness (well, there is a little, but not a lot) by making this a tale of Anna’s growth as a person. She arrives in Paris as an immature 17 year-old, and finishes the year as a much wiser, more circumspect and secure 18 year-old. Cue “La Vie en Rose” and you have a book that every Romance fan (or a non-fan, such as myself) and every Francophile will adore. Ooo-la-la!  Jouir de.

“Au Revoir, Crazy European Check” by Joe Schreiber

Um, okay. First and foremost, I must say that I like dark humor. Once upon a time, I read “Running with Scissors” and laughed out loud repeatedly. A colleague thought I was a bit of a sick puppy to laugh at a book she found “highly disturbing.” The same is true for this over-the-top tale of adventure and murder (and explosions and chases and such). Put simply, teenage boy Perry is having a rough night. A Senior in high school, Perry is pressured by his father to get perfect grades, get into Columbia, become a lawyer and join dad’s law firm. Knuckling under has become Perry’s art-form, although it makes him silently miserable. Add to this mix a shy foreign exchange student that Perry “must” take to the prom and you get the very beginnings of a fantastical night of action and horror in New York City. Adding to the perverted sense of humor are the chapter headings – which begin with essay prompts from a number of high-end, competitive colleges. Think “irony” with a capital “I”. The book is seriously twisted and readers who can appreciate an edge on things should enjoy it a great deal. Perry and Gobi’s journey takes them through the hottest spots in Manhattan – aficionados of NYC will like the insider’s take on the city. A short book, in short chapters, this one is a fast read. There were only a couple of things that nagged me about it. First, like so many books, the cover makes little sense at the beginning and it’s still not a good match for the “facts of the tale” as things progress. The second issue is that it is getting a little hard to laugh at random violence these days. 9/11 ruined “Independence Day” and other such books and films for me given that blowing things up isn’t really fiction anymore. This book is tremendously contemporary, so much so that it did evoke images of the Boston bombings, making it hard to read, at first. The truth, however, is that the actions of the tale become so increasingly ridiculous that you can’t take it seriously. Consider this one a roller-coaster – readers are just on for the ride. Take it at the surface level it is intended to be and the view is fine.  And yes, it's okay to laugh.

“The Scorpio Races” by Maggie Stiefvater

Capaill Uisce. Mythical water horses who come charging out of the sea once a year to devour whatever they can find on land. Because of this, “Scorpio Races” is labeled as a fantasy book. It is anything but. And, because of the age of the protagonists, it is also labeled as a YA novel. Again, like “Code Name Verity”, I would disagree. This tremendously complex novel is set in on the small island of Thisby along the coast of Scotland/Ireland/Canada/England/France in the 1940s/1950s/1960s. Which is to say, it isn’t real. But (minus the meat-eating horses) it could be. You have a small town of fisherman, and once a year there is a crowd-drawing horse-race where great prizes can be won and lives can be lost. You have two young people, both orphans, both dependent on winning this year’s race in order to gain … their freedom, their security, their dream ??? Like “Pinned” this is a book where the athletics of the horse-race are coupled with a budding romance. Also, like “Pinned,” it is hard to warm up to the protagonists because they are prickly, moody and superior. After that, however, the comparisons end. Here, the writing is superior. Think “Hemingway-esque.” While I never fully engaged with the characters, “Puck” and “Sean”, I felt fully immersed in the story – told with all the atmospheric indulgence one might hear while sitting in an Irish pub in Galway with a pint of Guinness by your side. Eponymous names – the town of Skarmouth and the evil landlord Malvern, enrich a land where the sea, the air and even the animals all bring sensation to the tale. Skarmouth is described as “inky” by both Puck and Sean and the people are exactly what you might imagine … scarred and colorful and, at times, simple. This book is an award-winner and it is easy to see why. I could analyze every chapter over and over again. But it’s not a YA book – unless the words “halcyon” and “guillemot” are part of a typical teen vocabulary. With very little action, other than the actual race (which happens in a scant few pages near the end of the book) this story is more about making choices, stepping up, and daring to dream. Despite the fairy horses, the greatest improbability here is whether a girl can win a race that no woman has ever entered. In other words, it’s not a “turn the page to see what happens next” book, and it has circulated little since it arrived in the library. And it’s not really about the love-interest either, which plays, IMHO, a background role in the book until the end. For me, it was also not a book where you see yourself in the characters.  My emotional connections were actually with the animals and I shed a tear or two at the end … but not over the loss of human life. It’s a book that feels much older than the 2012 copyright – like something my parents might have read growing up. It’s sad that it has been categorized as a fantasy since that crowd is not likely to seek it out. While rich and brilliant, I see this one being picked up mostly by fans of horses, historical fiction and a patient reader who likes to immerse themselves in another world. One far from the technological busyness of the modern era. If you are willing to take the plunge, go for it. It’s worth the visit.

“A Tale Dark & Grimm” by Adam Gidwitz

I’m a bit of a sick puppy. Laughed out loud at this book, but it’s not really a comedy. A re-telling of the Hansel and Gretel tale of old, Gidwitz returns to the bloody, gory, dark fairy tales of the Brothers Grimm. There are beheadings (of children, no less), vivisections (also children), dismemberment (children) … okay, a lot of children are carved up in a variety of ways in this book. So, why is it funny? An omnipresent author “comments” on each disgusting part, warning you beforehand and telling you “I told you so” afterwards. The tone is snarky, over-the-top, and so silly it makes it hard to take seriously. Keeping to the style of fairytales, this one requires about as much willing-suspense-of-disbelief as you can possibly muster – but that is the nature of these things, isn’t it? This isn’t reality, it’s a bildungsroman, a moral, a metaphor draped in symbolism. Somewhere in the midst of the magic and the myth, we see the frailty of parents, the innocence of childhood, and the incredible pain that is part of growing up. Gidwitz is somewhat brilliant here as he weaves humor and horror with the subtleties of real life. A fast read (he places many “the ends” throughout the book, followed by blank pages, with the single line “not really” or “not yet” scribbled on them), I thoroughly enjoyed this twisted take on a classic story. Teachers, too, will find valuable discussion questions at the very end (Adam Gidwitz is a teacher. He really couldn’t write a book like this without suggesting educational use, could he?) While the book is clearly too much for more sensitive readers, the faithful rendition of these kinds of tales will appeal to many a teen. More than you might expect. This book would also make for a great read-aloud.  Have fun. But don’t read it in the dark ;--}

“Code Name Verity” by Elizabeth Wein

I recently went to a funeral. It was a life celebrated, but also a life denied. Human beings are complex, and that complexity can be almost impossible to put into words. In some ways, we learn as much about a person by what is not said than what is. Verity is a young British woman captured by the Germans in Occupied France during WWII. Much like Scheherazade, Verity has a limited amount of time to weave a story of her life … one that will capture the attention of her inquisitor and allow her to live another day. Unlike the mythical “1001 Arabian Nights” however, this tale could have been taken straight from the actual events of 1943. Told in diary-like entries, I wasn’t pulled in at first by a narrative that is heavily technical in military and aeronautic detail, but it is not these “facts” that compel you to turn the page. This is the story of a friendship – two women caught up in a war and how one of them, exploring that friendship, reveals so much of herself. It is pure poetry at times, and heartbreaking at others. As mentioned above, human beings are complex, and Ms. Wein takes care that every character in the tale is not an “us” or a “them” but people with their own inner needs who struggle to stay afloat amidst events that are far beyond their control. The research for the book, described in a “debriefing” and bibliography at the end, must have been intense. As Elizabeth Wein admits, this is a fiction, but so much fact is woven up in her tale that it reads like actual history. The British-isms, techno-jargon, language and manners of the time, even the settings are steeped in reality to the degree that I felt I had traveled back in time. There is an inexorable march here to some awful inevitabilities, but I came to love Verity – for her spunk, her intractability, her sheer force of will. The book has a twist or two – one I saw coming and one I did not. In the end, it is a book that has stayed with me, even though I finished it many days ago. It “haunts my thoughts” frequently and I have insisted that several friends read it at once. A New York Times Bestseller, it became the darling of mother/daughter bookclubs this year, most probably because it reveals so much about the forgotten role of British women during the war. Because of the bookclub thing, it is listed as a YA book on many recommended lists, but it feels like an adult novel to me. The protagonists are college-age and the density of the material made for a lengthy read. There is real literary structure here, and enough literary allusion to make any English teacher sit up and take notice. Nonetheless, it is far more of a compelling tale than I guessed at in the first few pages and dedicated readers of any age (particularly girls) are likely to label it a “favorite.” So, not for little ones, but certainly a book that is “worthy” of the many accolades being piled upon it. Grab some Kleenex, block off a week or so, and delve in.