“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.