“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.

“Pinned” by Sharon G. Flake

I really wanted to like this book. The first read in my summer blitzkrieg for the “Books for the Beast” conference, it has a strong premise and comes from an award-winning author. The concept, as mentioned, is good. Autumn, a nearly illiterate high school girl wrestler, with dreams of becoming a chef, is in love with Adonis. Adonis is a brilliant and hard-working boy in a wheelchair who looks down on most of the people around him (yes, there is irony in that). The story (more of a love story than a sports tale, as it was marketed to me) is told by each of these characters, in alternating chapters, until the inevitable conclusion. The title is simultaneously a reference to Autumn’s skills on the mat and her determination to “lock” Adonis into a relationship. It was difficult to warm up to Autumn and Adonis. Autumn is a cheery and upbeat young woman, but she is also stubborn, a tad whiney, and makes an absolute pest of herself around Adonis (think “stalker”) – forcing her affections on him to the point where he gets very mean with her. Adonis is arrogant and stuck-up and even in his “internal monologue” doesn’t seem to have a spark that makes him worthy of Autumn’s attentions. On a subtle level, it felt like a young woman trying to be in love with someone who is, frankly, abusive. That wasn’t the biggest problem for me, however. The writing was just messy. In so many ways, this felt more like a draft than a finished product. Where were the editors? So many threads were raised and never followed through on that I lost count. What really happened when some bullies tried to drown Adonis? It is hinted at throughout, but there is never a full re-cap or reckoning. Will Peaches (Autumn’s best friend) and Adonis ever make peace? Not clear. From the first page, Adonis is described as having arms “frozen in place.” Is he a quadriplegic? No, he is a paraplegic, and the arm thing is another aspect of his personality, but that doesn’t become obvious for several chapters. At one point, Autumn “raises her pant leg” to show off wrestling bruises to Adonis … two paragraphs later he describes her as wearing tights. There is a gift – a box of cupcakes, but it materializes out of nowhere and disappears just as fast. Autumn has a confrontation in the cafeteria, then she is suddenly in the library. The whole book is like this … sloppy and disconnected. What should have been a fast read was weighed down as I kept flipping back to see if I had missed something or read it wrong. Lastly, I’m not sure I like the semi-manufactured resolution, which has Autumn’s parents taking drastic action to help their struggling daughter – “tough love” I suppose, but in this piecemeal novel, it only works because the author seems determined to crowbar it in. Not my favorite. Hopefully, the next few on the list hold greater potential.