“The One and Only Ivan” by Katherine Applegate

This year’s Newbery was one I predicted, for a change, as chatter had it on the short list as early as last summer.  It gained a bit of notoriety, however, as many felt “Wonder” by Palacio deserved a nod and was overlooked.  I haven’t read “Wonder” but did like this book, which was delightful, sweet and endearing with strong overtones of “Charlotte’s Web.”  The sad tale of a gorilla living in a small cage in a run-down roadside tourist spot; it is the kind of story that makes all of us animal lovers reach for the Kleenex (and yes, there is the pre-requisite loss of life, because there always is in these kinds of stories).  A faster read than the 305 pages would indicate, I got through it in an afternoon.  Told in sparse phrasing and short chapters, it borders on poetry without all the flowery stuff and actually makes for a fabulous read-aloud.  Applegate gets props for creating characters, animal and human, who are layered and three-dimensional.  Based on real events (how I want to go visit Ivan now!!) it could become one of those Lassie/Old Yeller/Black Beauty books that is kept and read over and over again through the years.  The twist here is that Ivan needs to rescue someone, but it isn’t necessarily the someone you would think it is.  Highly accessible (not so for many Newbery picks) this is one of those “warm your heart” stories – or, as Applegate states, in the voice of Ivan, “I like colorful tales with black beginnings and stormy middles and cloudless blue-sky endings.”  Me too!  A great little book that should make for a family favorite.  Enjoy.

“In Darkness” by Nick Lake

The Printz winner for this year, “In Darkness” is a brilliant, disturbing and very dark tale (yes, pun intended).  It is, in fact, one of the darkest books I have ever read.  Unlike “My Friend Dahmer,” which hinted at horror, this book spells it out – all of it – in painful detail.  “Shorty” is a child of the Haitian ghetto who is deep into gang life.  At 14, he has killed many and has recently been shot.  Recovering from his injuries he finds himself in the rubble of a collapsed hospital during the earthquake of 2010.  Lost in the blackness, surrounded by crushed bodies and death, he recounts his brief life even as he struggles for sanity and survival, drinking in bodily fluids to sate his growing dehydration.  In the midst of this he travels back in time and bonds with Toussaint, a former slave facing his own nightmares as he tries to end slavery and unite a nation.  Nick Lake, a British national, clearly did his homework and the novel abounds with specifics on actual events but the telling is neither prosaic nor pedantic.  He does an outstanding job of getting into the heads of these two characters and making them real.  Lake also didn’t let history dictate the story, tweaking Toussaint’s life just enough to make the novel work.  At no point does this feel like a textbook accounting but rather the very real struggles of individuals against impossible circumstances.  These are characters you feel for and I felt ripped apart inside as these two men fought to move through their ugly, sad worlds.  It is a brutal beauty here.  Mr. Lake is a subtle writer and uses the two storylines in a parallel fashion to softly emphasize major points.  Chapter to chapter, each tale reflects something discovered by the “other half” of this duo.  Even the dialog is subtle, set off by dashes instead of quotes, blending back and forth between what is said and what is thought.  Lake has a lyric touch, even when using the foulest of language, as he describes scenes that many of us can hardly bring ourselves to imagine.  There are dead infants throughout, and shocking incidences (true) of UN forces treating the poorest of Haiti not unlike the Nazis did to the Jews.  First, they walled them off in a miserable section of Port-au-Prince, starving the people there from food (the residents sometimes resort to eating pies of baked mud),  job opportunities and medical services.  Then they went in with guns … ostensibly to kill the inevitable drug-lords that surfaced … and killed civilians in violent, late-night attacks that were indiscriminate in their targets.  That this did not make the news here in America is appalling.  That it was tolerated by the government of France, who was a major force in these actions, is even more so.  While very difficult to read, kudos should be given to this author for this powerful novel and for raising awareness of a people too often forgotten.  Shocking and painful, this isn’t so much a book you might want to read, but it is one you should.

“Level Up” by Gene Luen Yang, Art by Thien Pham

“Level Up” is a significantly different graphic novel than Gene Yang’s “American Born Chinese.”  That book, using three interwoven metaphorical tales to address immigrant experiences, is drawn in bold colors with sharp lines.  This work still has symbolism and mythos but is more serious and subtler overall.  Drawn with soft lines and highlighted in watercolors that wash over and beyond the images, this is a pseudo-autobiographical story of a boy named Dennis.  Attracted to computer gaming (which nearly sinks his college career), Dennis struggles to meet the high ideals of his parents.  Dennis is haunted, literally, by spirits who follow his every action in day-to-day living.  Fighting the stereotypical Asian ideal of becoming a doctor he seeks a meaningful and purposeful life, eventually coming to a surprising conclusion after many “re-boots.”  The book is very thoughtfully laid out.  Childhood sections are a wash of blue, remembrances are sepia-toned.  Each “level up” (mimicking any number of computer games) represents a new world and maturation point for Dennis to try and conquer.  Even when Dennis finally gets what he wants he is not happy, as evidenced in a striking two-page spread that makes the point beautifully (side-note – check out the shape of the tears when Dennis gets to his breaking point).  I stated that this is pseudo-autobiographical in that I can see a lot of parallels from Gene Yang’s life, but his opening dedication “… to our brothers Jon and Thinh, both of whom work in the medical field, for being the good Asian sons” is downright poignant when you read the book.  Makes you think.  It was a good, one-sitting, read, although not nearly as fun as “American Born Chinese.”  And the angels are creepy.  But it is a well-done novel, and worth dipping into.

“My Friend Dahmer” by Derf Backderf

What a strange thing to go from a medieval fantasy to this dark and disturbing tale.  First and foremost, this is an excellent book.  That being said, it is not an easy graphic novel to read.  Longer and more in-depth than many graphic novels, the author explains that this is a second attempt to capture his unusual connection to Jeffrey Dahmer and that this time, he did extensive research before diving in.  The efforts show and make this an obvious choice for the many awards now being placed on it, including the “Alex” Award from ALA.  Many things about the novel struck me, in no particular order:

• The title is a tad misleading, but “My Acquaintance Dahmer” would not have had the same ring to it.  Using the term friend implies that this is someone one cares about.  There is no indication that Backderf (real name John) was a friend to Dahmer, or that Dahmer was really able to make the connection you would call friendship.  Rather, Dahmer was an oddball who was taken in by a group of teen boys kind of like a pet.  The boys alternately tolerated and were amused by Dahmer’s antics but they didn’t invite him to parties or social activities, just sort of used Jeffrey as a running gag.  Nonetheless, Dahmer said this period in his life was the closest he ever got to being happy.
• Backderf is torn, emotionally, about this relationship.  In an extended intro and in the detailed notes afterwards (worth the read) he tries to articulate this complexity of feelings.  He doesn’t succeed, in my humble opinion, but then how can you?  There is pity, anger, grief, horror, unspoken-yet-clear guilt … but then this is an attempt to understand that which most of us will never be able to fully comprehend.  John feels badly for Jeffrey, who was obviously struggling, anger at the many adults who clearly turned a blind eye, and tries to draw a hard line as to when the sympathy and blame to others ends.  The reality is that Jeffrey Dahmer, at 15, was most likely already battling inherited mental health issues, including depression, alcoholism and sociopathic tendencies.  Trying to determine, at this point, what could have made a difference is an exercise with no happy solutions.  Hindsight, as they say, is 20/20, but we don’t live our life in re-wind.  Backderf does not pull his punches when showing the callousness of his youth, and that of his comrades-in-arms, and I felt like I went with him on this journey; experiencing the tale more on a visceral than intellectual level.  While very linear, this isn’t so much a story as a kind of purging of conflicting feelings.  It reads like a tremendously sad elegy.
• Backderf and his friends ridiculed many, and he apologizes to one man who had cerebral palsy in the notes section of the book.  He doesn’t apologize, however, to a character he repeatedly refers to as a “loser” and the “class psycho,” even going as far as initially thinking that it is this person, not Dahmer, who committed the horrific crimes once they are discovered.  For an adult looking back, it is interesting to feel that he still bears a good bit of animosity to the “Figg” character.  I don’t know what to make of that.  Backderf and friends were not at the top of the high school social ladder, however, and perhaps he is exhibiting that basic human need to find someone below himself to raise himself up.
• Since I know the history of this true story, and most of my students do not, I wonder how much creepiness I brought to the reading.  It was literally hard to turn the page at points.  I wonder how my students would react to the book knowing little or nothing about Jeffrey Dahmer’s crimes.
• Reading this book so shortly after yet another shocking mass shooting is strange.  How do Jeffrey Dahmer’s crimes, which were beyond awful yet private, stack up to the killings we see today, which are so incredibly public?  Both kinds of acts shake me to the core, but does one outweigh the other?  (I don’t suspect this is a question I can answer).

Getting back to the review – Backderf’s choices in “framing” the story graphically are top-notch.  In black and white pen drawings, he took time to have wordless panels.  Pages with Jeffrey Dahmer walking down a road, focusing on his own feet, or staring out a bus window set a strong tone.  Even the arch of a hill or the busy-ness (or lack there-of) of the background helps set the stage.  As Jeffrey’s descent into oblivion is chronicled, the backgrounds of the panels become pitch black.  Backderf manages to create a kind of glassy, disconnected stare so reminiscent of men who commit these crimes, but also limits the number of times we see Dahmer’s eyes … the artist increasingly places glare on Dahmer’s glasses to block out the eyes entirely.  This is eerily reminiscent of a photo included in the book – one of a joke yearbook shot where Jeffrey Dahmer stands in the back, head slightly tilted, a white bulb flash on the lens of his glasses.  Backderf saves the worst of  Dahmer’s crimes from the reader, using intimation to touch on the nastier parts.  There is little blood, just a sense of omniscient threat as the images zoom in, a single drop of “something” coming out of a car trunk, and then a quick fade-out.  The artwork (which Backderf says is the best he has ever done) creates blocky, pudgy profiles that work well for re-creating 1970s era teens, but falls a tad short on female characters, who all seem a bit masculine.  It is a minor complaint in an otherwise excellently executed tale.  I particularly liked the use of bold text in word bubbles to articulate subtleties, like sarcasm, and the tremendous accuracy Backderf took in recreating the 1970s and a highway sign for Washington, DC.  I always get cranky when they get details about “my city” wrong.

On my own, I would not seek out a book on a serial killer but I did feel compelled to read this before putting it on the shelf.  For me, it was best to take “breaks” while reading it.  In the end, I appreciate its brilliance, but am very glad to move on.  Let this review be your warning label. 

“Seraphina” by Rachel Hartman

Much like the Philip Pullman “His Dark Materials” series, this book grew on me – but the winner of this year’s Morris Award is not an easy novel to slide into, or one where you are likely to careen from one chapter to the next.  Easily one of the most complex, dense stories I have read in a good deal of time, I found it was important to slow down and allow myself to be enriched by this world.  Take 14^th Century Verona Italy, heavy-duty religious overtones, the racism of America’s 1950s, a dash of Zen Buddhism and a twist on dragonlore I’ve never seen before and you have the ~beginnings~ of this tale.  Throw in a *lot* of SAT words (perspicacity, calefactive, ventrum) and you have a medieval story that could almost be historically accurate … if not for the dragons.  Seraphina is a girl of questionable background.  Born into a world where the church is as much of a presence as the ruling nobility (who have intrigues of their own), Seraphina is a girl of musical gifts and tremendous secrets.  The pacing is not quick.  For several weeks, I covered a few chapters at a time, each day, until the middle of the book, when suddenly I began to crave “what happens next.”  The ending is rich and satisfactory (and could be the build-up to a sequel, although the novel stands on its own just fine).  There is a love interest, but like all elements of this story, it is subtle and tricky (have you ever heard lovers declaring their feelings using the term “prevaricated”?)  Like the Pullman books, Ms. Hartman has succeeded in creating a world with many levels and many surprises.  Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out (a bad habit of readers like me) there is an element you didn’t see coming.  This is a “book” book – literary and engaging, something you could re-read several times and see new sides of.  It is a story that lingers – days later I’m still thinking about it.  I can understand the Morris Award, given to a “fresh voice” in YA publishing.  Unlike many first-time authors, Ms. Hartman most certainly has the chops.  It will be interesting to see what comes next for her.  In the meantime, take some time to enjoy.

"Beneath a Meth Moon" by Jacqueline Woodson

An excellent addition to books like "Go Ask Alice" and "Smack," "Beneath a Meth Moon" is Jacqueline Woodson's ode to young people fighting addiction.  The main character, Laurel, is a scant 15 years old but has suffered tremendous loss in her young life.  Seemingly naive, or perhaps undereducated, her descent into Meth addiction is swift and devastating.  Told in a lyric style that borders on the poetic, Laurel attempts to write an elegy to honor and then let go of her past.  The story flows like water, with water and waves being major themes in this tale.  Snapshots emerge with each of the short chapters, told in a nonlinear style, and fill in a picture of a normal life that is upended by Mother Nature.  Although it is never confirmed that this is a tale of Hurricane Katrina it could be.  The novel shows ripples created by such a storm (there's that water metaphor again) and how they can echo across people's lives for years to come.  There are also numerous echoes of faith.  While not heavy-handed, Laurel comes from one of those rural sections of our nation where life is slower and God is found in all things.  Laurel's grandmother echoes this in her musings.  Laurel's sing-song speaking style, written with exquisite specificity by Ms. Woodson, adds to the rhythm of the telling.  Even spoken words are italicized here, rather than put in quotes, perhaps to make sure this is smooth reading or to add an ethereal quality to the whole thing.  In any case, it is yet another brilliant book by the hugely talented Jacqueline Woodson and reaffirms her status as a lifetime achievement writer, an honor bestowed on her by the American Library Association.  Ms. Woodson may be one of the youngest recipients of this prize but her extensive body of work shows that it is talent, not years, that makes a writer truly worthy.

"Sita's Ramayana" by Samhita Arni and Moyna Chitrakar

"Sita's Ramayana" is a graphic novel retelling of one of the more famous folktales of India, focusing on the tragic love story between Sita and Rama.  Full of twists, turns, monsters and magic, it makes the works of Homer seem downright simplistic.  For those unfamiliar with Indian myth, be prepared for anamistic plants and animals, more battles than you can throw a stick at, and very large, complicated familial connections (it's kind of like a bunch of Irish Catholics at Easter ...)  In any case, the authors provide a set of genealogies at the beginning and some information on Indian story-telling traditions at the end of the book.

The tale is told as succinctly as possible (which pretty much means:  love, death, escape, capture, hope, hopelessness, battle, battle, battle, etc, betrayal, estrangement, and more death).  Images (which came first, according to the notes) are painted in primitive style, with bold colors, disproportionate figures and expressions which don't change much, but are rotated in such a way as to make them more vertical or prone depending on their circumstances.  The text almost seems to be an intrusion into this, as the images flow like Indian music -- on a single, unending path (see the term "Raaga" for an explanation) but the words are fairly staccato.

It's not that I disliked this book, but it takes effort on the part of the reader to engage.  This book is truly "Indian" -- with Indian creators and publishers.  It is one of many new books I have purchased to appeal to the burgeoning Indian population here in the states, but in many ways it feels foreign to those of us unaccustomed to this kind of literature.  In other words, if you know nothing about Indian culture, don't start here.  If, however, you know your Bhangra from your Bollywood, you might enjoy dipping your toe into this full-fledged homage to the female perspective on the Sita/Rama legend.

"Ranger's Apprentice, Book One: The Ruins of Gorlan" by John Flanagan

I finally had the time to dip into this very popular series and it was a satisfying entry.  "Ranger's Apprentice" is pretty standard fantasy fare without heavy-duty magic.  Think more along the lines of Lloyd Alexander and less Madeleine L'Engle.  There is the young boy without a sense of where his life is going; an older, if not mysterious, mentor; a growing sense of purpose and a good number of fights along the way to the big uber-battle.  The attraction of boys to this series is easy to see.  With lots of action, a few valuable life-lessons, and only the slightest hint of "girls" this is one has enough blood, yet enough intelligence, to appeal to a broad range of male readers.  John Flanagan is one of the growing number of Australian authors gracing bookshelves these days.  For the most part, he writes well.  The story has the nuts and bolts found in all fantasy novels but is original in the details.  The characters are fully drawn and the lead character, "Will" is both appealing and accessible.  Mr. Flanagan keeps the action moving but puts in enough specifics to get a substantial feel for the world that he creates.  Perhaps my favorite element in his writing is the relative depth to both characters and plot-lines.  Nothing is simple or clean.  Things progress as they should (and, at a couple points, exactly as I expected them to) but there are edges to each event and the reader can easily see any element of the tale fleshed out to include stories upon stories (which is why, I'm guessing, that this series is now up to 12 books??)  The only two hiccups for me were relatively minor.  First, there was no map!  Which was mostly just curious, since all fantasy novels of this type seem to include them.  Keep in mind that there is always an external journey in these things, which is typically reflective of the main character's bildungsroman (don't you love fancy words?)  Anyway, it wasn't a big deal, just a bit surprising, as I had to imagine all the "travels" into mountains and far-off lands.  Since books are about using one's imagination it shouldn't be a reach to picture it all in your head.  More off-putting was the author's habit of changing point of view from paragraph to paragraph (sometimes sentence to sentence) which slowed me down a bit in reading speed, as I had to double-back more than once to keep track of who was thinking what.  The overall story, however, was short and engaging enough for me to get through in under a week, so the narrative voice(s) were not a major issue.  In a word, this was a very "solid" first book.  Glad to have it in the collection and feel more comfortable than ever recommending it to a wide base of readers.

"Swords" by Ben Boos

The full title of this book is "Swords -- an Artist's Devotion."  Mr. Boos makes a point (actually, twice ... at the beginning *and* the end of the book) that he is not an expert on the topic, just an artist and a devotee.  You should take him at his word.  The images are stunning and rich, reproduced in deep colors on silky, thick paper.  The work is so good that one could mistake some images for photographs.  For any fan of swords (as I am), the close-up details are interesting and greatly appreciated.  For all of the "pretty" nature of this book, however, the text is deeply lacking.  Despite his protestations that he is "not an expert" Mr. Boos clearly did his research (there is a good bibliography in the back) yet writes in a haphazard, weak style.  The annotations range from information-specific (Scottish swords have a "braid" inside them that creates a ripple effect down the center of the sword) to hopelessly vague (there are 10 kinds of Viking hilts ... drawn but not described or named) to randomly subjective (in a discussion on female warriors he states "These brave and noble women are written into the sagas and histories, and they prove beyond doubt that the sword in the hand of a war maiden is as fearsome as the sword in the hand of any man.")  He also includes information I would consider incorrect ... that medieval peasants had access to a plethora of large knives ... not likely for serfs -- or that wild boars would willingly impale themselves because of "bloodlust."  More likely, this large wild animal running fast towards a target couldn't turn around in time (they aren't particularly known for their mobility.  Think "bull" with shorter legs.)  In any case, it's a nice "coffee table" book -- gorgeous to skim through.  I wouldn't recommend it for research, however -- as the author emphasizes, time and time again.

"Set to Sea" by Drew Weing

The back of this graphic novel describes it as a “ballad told in visual rhyme.”  While correct, it could also be described as haiku – with short, specifically chosen images and spare words conveying tremendous meaning.  The tale itself is symbolism and metaphor.  A would-be poet struggles to write flowery verse about life on the sea – from a tavern.  Failing, miserable and drunk, he is shanghaied into service with a rough and ready crew.  As the years pass, he experiences the life he struggled to write about, seeing a wealth of realities he never imagined.  This gives birth to a satisfying and appropriate conclusion – one might even call it ironic.  Drawings that remind you of the “Popeye” cartoons are nonetheless detailed and specific, hiding gentle humor throughout (for instance, the tavern where the story begins is “The Angry Kitten”).  The artistic style, combined with the black and white line drawings, make it easy for the reader to harken back to the time period, very roughly set in the period of tall sailing ships.  A brief read, I was able to get through the book in less than 10 minutes.  Like Shaun Tan’s book, “The Arrival,” however, it is one of those stories you should slow down for.  This is poetry, and it is important not to rush through it but to take each image and word for their full meaning.  A neat little book, it is easy to see why it has “buzz” going into awards season.

“Between the Lines” by Jodi Picoult and Samantha Van Leer

A very “different” kind of book by Jodi Picoult, as she explains in a lengthy note at the opening of the novel (I shouldn't be surprised, she did a great job with "Wonder Woman" as described in an earlier review.  Definitely an author that likes to stretch herself out of the box now and then).  This one is a fairytale, inspired by and written with her high school aged daughter, “Sammy.”  Stories within stories, it is clever and creative with capital “Cs.”  Oliver is a prince in a fairytale who is bored with doing the same thing over and over … he wants out.  Delilah is a teenage girl who craves something more.  Until the day that she realizes the characters in the book are alive.  What follows is a strongly-woven fable that cycles between the actual fairytale and the perspectives of Oliver and Delilah.  Crazy “rules” are created in these blended universes, but Picoult and her daughter remain absolutely committed to the strictures they invent.  The characters in all three storylines are smart and their occasional drifting into over-the-top romanticism can be excused as they don’t linger in the place of sighing, lingering looks (it is a fairytale, after all).  The book isn’t just an enjoyable read, it is pretty to look at.  The fairytale drawings are detailed and rich in color, crosshatched for depth.  Ironically, the non-fairytale sections have two dimensional black cut-outs – which are nonetheless intriguing.  It makes you think about reality when the fairytale images are more fully realized than the real-world images, but questioning reality is a major theme here.  Delilah’s sections are written in a clean, green, non-serif font, while Oliver’s voice is portrayed in a more traditional “Times New Roman” font, in a subtle indigo hue.  Everything about this book is that carefully chosen … the images, the layout, the words.  It is a fun read but also exquisitely executed.  Brava.

"Every Day" by David Levithan

It is easy to see why this book is already getting serious buzz coming into awards season, and why it is rising fast on the New York Times bestseller list.  David Levithan is a guy with gifts.  He not only is a terrific writer, but it turns out he also works as an editor for Scholastic -- teaming with some of the top YA authors out there today.  His efforts come together in a novel that simply does not have flaws ... and is the most unique story I've ever read.  A sixteen year-old named "A" does not have a body, but flows from person to person each day.  The perspectives and experiences of "A" challenge the reader to redefine our preconceptions about, well, everything.  What does it mean to not have tomorrow?  What would happen if we were to see out of the eyes of others?  Who are we if we are not defined by our physicality and gender?  What is personhood?  This is one of those "eating" books that you simply must savor, and may want to read and re-read.  A classic in the making, it is a novel with tremendous literary merit that is also extremely accessible.  This, too, is one of Mr. Levithan's gifts; the ability to create characters you connect to, even when the characters are seemingly inaccessible.

SPOILER ALERT

Readers of this blog will know that I'm not always a fan of the open ending, but the truth is, I don't mind open endings when that is where the story builds to.  In "The Giver" for instance, the ending fits.  That is also the case here, although Levithan's fans clearly want more.  At the National Book Festival the author was asked about a sequel to this book.  He responded that he might consider writing a type of companion novel, about one of the people "A" inhabits, but that a sequel was not likely.  If nothing else, the end will make the world of fanfic writers happy, although I'm pretty sure none could match the richness of this tale.

Hands-down a "best book" -- get it now.  Seriously, stop reading this, turn off your computer, go out to your local library, and find a copy.  And enjoy.  And think.  And enjoy.

“Cinder” by Marissa Meyer

Another brilliant book ruined by a bad ending.  More on that in a moment.  Let’s talk about the brilliance first.  This is Cinderella (and you should know, I love me some Cinderella).  Except … Cinderella is a cyborg living in a plague-ridden future Earth.  World War IV has come and gone and the five remaining governments of the world struggle with increasing tensions between them and the Queen of the lunar colonies … someone so calculating, manipulative and dangerous she makes Richard III look like a puppy dog.  Cinder works as a mechanic in an open-air Asian marketplace.  Ms. Meyer does a phenomenal job of subtly weaving in all elements of the original fairy-tale … in remarkably clever ways at times.  It is a fresh, re-imagined story, but one with echoes of familiarity.  The world Meyer creates is detailed, specific and real and she is strikingly consistent on every element she brings into it (always a pet peeve with me and Sci Fi authors who make up stuff as they go along).  A page turner, I couldn’t wait to pick this one up and read the next chapter.  I also deeply enjoyed the romance element – painted with a soft and engaging brush.  I truly was “wowed” by this book.  Until the end. 

SPOILER ALERT

Clearly, this is planned to be a series, which I didn’t know when I picked it up.  The thing is, it doesn’t need to be.  Ms. Meyer exceeded all expectations in creating this tale and shouldn’t have left us dangling at the end to begin a whole other story about a whole other character (“Scarlet” is the as-yet-unpublished 2nd book in the series about a different girl in the same world who dresses in a red cloak).  Meyer included every element of the original fairytale, wove a believable and endearing love story … then walks away (in this case, the character, literally) right where the pay-off should have been.  As much as I like the book, I don’t see myself plowing through yet another endless YA series to get what should have been here in the first book – a complete story.  It’s ironic that someone like myself, who is generally not a fan of romance, is so very into the “true love” as portrayed in fairy tales.  I really want the prince to get his girl … isn’t that the whole point of these things? 

Anyway.  It’s a fantastic read.  And if you don’t mind the cliff-hanger ending and waiting for the next (??? how many???) books to be published for resolution, go ahead.   One side note of interest to me, personally, is how our inherent racial biases play into our perception of people in books.  Although the physical details of the characters aren’t tremendously specific, it is clear they are not Caucasian, as I am.  It was fascinating to me how many times I had to mentally adjust the images of the characters in my head, working to steer away from that euro-centric Disney princess one tends to default to.  Props, again, to Ms. Meyer for expanding the familiar into new territory.  If only she had wrapped things up a tad more.

“Trapped” by Michael Northrop

I don’t know what it is lately, but for the last year or so I have been picking up books to read which have tremendous similarities to the book I just finished.  Such was the case with “Gone” and “Trapped.”  Both feature young people suddenly bereft of adults as they sit in school.  Both feature significant disasters which put the kids in great peril, and both feature male protagonists that are “regular guys.”  “Trapped” is the story of six young people caught inside of their high school during a massive blizzard.  The book is told from the perspective of Sophomore Scotty Weems, a 2^nd string basketball kid who lives on the edge of cool, but isn’t a geek, either.  Scotty’s voice is realistic (almost too much so, with a focus on gross guy humor and girl fixations) and in many ways, that is what carries the story.  Amidst extraordinary circumstances, you can buy into Scotty being a well-rounded, “real” teen … avoiding the seriousness of the situation, and occasionally obsessed with a growing zit on his face.  The near-fatal circumstances help push the short book forward, as I was turning from page to page to see if the end result would be as dire as I predicted.  The characterization and pacing were two big plusses but the book stumbles from what is, presumably, “young author syndrome.”  I define this as a need to overdrive the events of the novel to make the tale spin out as planned.  Note:  some of the best stories don’t go where you expect them to.  “Willing suspension of disbelief” aside, I had to just keep plowing forward when things happened too conveniently or too unrealistically.  Why am I able to accept the supernatural in “Gone” and not take it here?  Because “Gone” is in the Sci-fi/Fantasy genre.  This one purports to be realistic fiction … the reader just has to put “realistic” into lowercase and capitalize the “Fiction” part.  Examples of frustrations include major plot points that are given away very early on and others that simply don’t ever pay off.  In one of the opening chapters, Scotty says “that’s when we started keeping secrets” but it never really leads to anything.  There are no major secrets kept.  Also, in the theme of a bus-driver’s holiday, I struggle with the idea of educators leaving students alone in a school during a major weather event.  Sorry, folks, this would never, never, never happen.  Anyway.  Most students tell me they really like the book, except for the end.  I get it.  First, the climax is too manufactured.  A girl gets upset about … well, I’m still not sure.  It is never explained.  But the author needed there to be a blow-up to create a reason for another character to make a dangerous choice, so there is this big non-event event.  Second, and perhaps more irritating, is that Mr. Northrop does not seem to know the meaning of “denouement” (falling action after the climax).  There is this terrific rush in the last couple of chapters, which ends with “the ending” but no follow-up.  Questions of survival are never fully answered.  No offense, this isn’t “The Giver” and few authors can get away with a relatively open ending like that.  Lastly, Scotty waxing poetic after 200+ pages of talking like a 10^th grader might be chalked up to hypothermia, but it doesn’t ring as true as his earlier ramblings.  All-in-all, a decent book.  Kind of like a week-day dinner – perfunctory more than deliciously satisfying.  On the other hand, we meet the author in a few weeks … so I may have to eat my words …

“Gone” by Michael Grant

Wow.  Plain-out Wow.  “Gone” is the first in a multi-book series about another dystopian universe where teens face brutal realities … but it is really really good.  The best I have read in a bit.  Saw Michael Grant at the National Book Festival, where the apparently stoned organizers decided to put him in the Children’s tent instead of the Teen tent.  He wasn’t five minutes in before parents were grabbing little ones by the wrist and dragging them out.  I laughed myself silly.  An exuberant, engaging speaker, Mr. Grant held nothing back and was true to the gritty nature of his writing.  “Gone” is the story of an ordinary day – which turns quickly “un-ordinary” when all of the adults in the town of Perdido Beach disappear in an instant.  And that’s in the first paragraph.  What follows is a twisting, turning, gut-wrenching series of events and adventures that not only left me ripping through a very large book very quickly, but left me nearly gasping to see “what happens next.”  Science and/or Science Fiction blends with strong religious overtones to make this a tale where the story wraps itself into directions you never see coming.  The characters are diverse and real, with none of them one-dimensional.  The good guy questions himself, the savior of the littlest kids struggles with an eating disorder, the best friend is never clear on where his loyalties lie and the bad guys … well, they are all unique.  A warning – the violence is visceral and this makes the novel (and Mr. Grant’s presentation at the Book Festival?) a “bit much” for more sensitive readers.  Almost every reviewer mentions the similarity here with “Lord of the Flies.”  The survivalist theme amidst competing human struggles for power can’t be denied, but there is such a freshness to this book that it feels like it is happening as you read it.  The teens sound like the kids I interact with every day and jump off the page as someone you seem to know.  Point-of-view careens from one character to another, with a wide spectrum of people coming together in such an achingly slow pace that it sometimes feels like watching a daytime drama.  What will happen to Lana and the hyenas?  Is Caine’s evil plan going to work?  Will Sam return from the power plant in time?  Read the next chapter to find out … or the next …

Spoiler Alert

Yes, it was so good, I want to read the rest.  But on the other hand … this book doesn’t end badly, and Grant alluded to the conclusion of the series in his presentation, indicating that “a lot” of the major characters die.  Don’t think I can take it.  Barely got through this one.  We’ll see if I plow on.

"Wicked Lovely" by Melissa Marr

For someone who loves fantasy, I have yet to read a fairy book I like much.  This was my third attempt.  "Good Fairies of New York" was just gross and another one I read a while back wasn't bad but I don't remember the title so, clearly, it wasn't striking.  I have been curious about Melissa Marr for a while -- I saw her at last year's "Books for the Beast" conference, then saw her again at the National Book Festival.  On both occasions, she was a tad odd.  I chalked it up to her general discomfort with appearing in public.  Not all authors are naturally "into" speaking before a crowd.  At that first meeting, she did make me laugh.  When asked by an audience member as to whether she liked "Twilight," she paused quite a bit.  Then, she quietly responded, "Well, I'm a feminist..."  I howled.  After that, she basically "read" a thesis paper, never looking at the audience.  The paper was interesting (she is a college professor) but the delivery a bit flat.  At the National Book Festival, she didn't stand at the podium, like most speakers, but sat in a chair (somewhat behind and blocked by the podium) and had her publicist interview her.  When addressing questions from the audience, she had her publicist "take" some of the questions.  It gave the overall impression of one of those shy authors you often hear about, but rarely see.  It was also a bit off-putting.  Many of the more popular YA authors have a natural affinity in connecting with their readers.  My curiosity was peaked, and I finally picked up "Wicked Lovely."  With a remarkable similarity in plot to that book whose name I can't remember, this is the tale of a young woman who discovers she is, in fact, a fairy and not fully human.  Pursued by and entangled with fairy nobility, she works to find safety and maintain some semblance of herself.  With mature and rich descriptions, the writing here has potential, but the story itself fell flat for me.  I didn't get that "page-turning" quality that makes for a really good read.  Things happened, and then more things happened, and then certain inevitable things happened, and it was all pretty to picture from an image standpoint, but it didn't have that critical build I like.  There is also inconsistency.  Some characters are fully realized, others come off as mustachioed villains (can you say "mommy issues" much?).  The lead character, Aislinn, has far more chutzpah than Bella, but still struggles with a lack of self-esteem and ends up kind of wishy-washy as a result.  In the end, she stands up for herself, but I'm not sure I buy the sudden strength after 300 pages of running away.  Dialog rarely moved the plot forward and often seemed repetitive.  Some of the fairy characters talk like they have been around for a really long time, others (including a main character) seemed to have a different style of speech every time they open their mouths.  The point where I lost it was when Aislinn goes into the bedroom of her friend, Seth, and describes the setting like some 17 year-old girl's vision of the perfect vampire boudoir -- complete with black sheets and melting candles.  Not likely for a guy who lives in an abandoned railway car.  And with all the specific details given on descriptions, some critical plot points are dismissed too quickly.  Aislinn's "will she/won't she" sexual tensions aren't really resolved, as she spends the night with a gentleman, but I wasn't completely clear on what actually happened.  When she discovers a major talent beyond the normal, it is covered in a single sentence -- one I had to read over a few times as it felt like a drive-by of an important clue.  My problems with the book are clearly mine.  The novel received excellent reviews and one colleague gushed about how much she enjoyed it.  I suspect that my issues may be more with the genre.  Fantasy often has romance, but it often takes a back seat to the action (see: "Hunger Games").  Fairy-themed books tend to focus on romance over the action, and obviously, that is just not my thing.  So, a decent read for those who like romance.  Which is not me!

“Smile” by Raina Telgemeier

When this book came in, it arrived at the same time as another book with a happy face on the cover.  For some reason, that one caught my attention more than this one did.  I had the pleasure of seeing Ms. Telegemeier at the National Book Festival and was impressed by the demo she did on how she creates graphic stories.  In two short sittings, I was able to read “Smile,” the autobiographical tale of her childhood.  The story begins with an unexpected injury to her mouth in sixth grade, resulting in four and a half years of torturous dental work – and no shortage of teasing through those wonderful middle school years.  Unlike the “autobiography as fiction” novels I dislike, this is a well-balanced tale that has a healthy mix of teen angst and humor.  Despite the figures being drawn in a fairly simple style, the bright colors and small details (how the dialog boxes are drawn, movement lines) help the story leap out from the page and really engage the reader.  I would bet that the book would appeal to boys as well as girls, despite the female protagonist, as the story is one that almost any kid could relate to.  “Raina” as a character is a multidimensional young woman, and credits to Ms. Telegemeier for being honest about all the trials, tribulations and dramas that accompany this time in life.  She never goes out of her way to clean up her fictional self and the result feels distinctly real.  This is also evident in the story-telling, as she doesn’t overwork the tale to “find meaning.”  There is a moral here, but it comes naturally and gently.  Greatly enjoyed reading this and look forward to her next book, “Drama.”

“Peeps” by Scott Westerfeld

I’ve been meaning to read books by the uber-popular Westerfeld for some time.  Still unable to grab the first book in the “Uglies” series (it rarely sees the bookshelf here), I picked up his stand-alone “Peeps” which is his take on Vampirism.  Written in 2005, it was long before the whole “Twilight” craze and is a mature, very *different* kind of tale.  Setting:  modern day New York city.  Twist:  Vampirism is actually a parasite-based sexually transmitted disease, with all that “turning into bats, can’t see yourself in the mirror” stuff just myth – built up around various aspects of the infection.  Cal is a 19 year-old parasite positive carrier, who works for a mysterious underground society which monitors and controls infection outbreaks of the disease.  As dark as it sounds (and it is dark) there are lighter moments.  Cal is your typical 19 year-old, and has his various urges.  There is an ongoing joke about the price of New York apartments, which is funny to those of us who have faced that intimidating marketplace.  And there are terribly rich descriptions, like this one: “I gazed out onto the river.  On either side of me, the timbers of abandoned piers rose up from the water like rotting black teeth.  More pieces of my memory were falling into place, like a blurry picture downloading in waves, gradually becoming clearer.”  Did you catch how the memories come like “waves” while he is describing a scene of the river?  How cool is that?  Despite the staccato nature of having to read this book one chapter at a time, it is obvious that Westerfeld’s strong writing technique is what draws students to his work.  I continue to maintain that young people will read any kind of story so long as the characters are real and the tale well-told.  That is certainly the case here.  One note:  This was, perhaps, the grossest book I have ever read.  Interspersed between each chapter are short “lessons” on the parasites of the world.  Described in great detail, the icky glory of this myriad of critters does not make for a good reading during mealtimes (as I quickly determined).  Save this one for before you eat … you may lose weight in the process!  A great read which students will enjoy, maybe even some of those rabid Twilight fans.

"The Tequila Worm" by Viola Canales

The second book I read this summer was about Sophia (didn't seem to have a last name??), the bright child of Mexican immigrants living in a bordertown in the southwest.  “The Tequila Worm” by Viola Canales has been on my list for quite some time, as it is both an award-winner (Pura Belpre) and another new voice in the growing field of Hispanic literature for teens.  Unfortunately, I struggled with this book in an almost identical way as I did with the Jack Gantos book, “Dead End in Norvelt.”  Both stories are essentially memoirs that have been fictionalized.  I’m not a fan of the style.  I kind of think that if you are going to write a memoir, you write a memoir.  Trying to make a personal story into a fiction novel leads to many issues which don’t make for strong writing.  First and foremost, both Norvelt and this book have very weak storylines.  There is a general theme of “growing up” but meaning is gathered – and sometimes stretched – from one disconnected event to another.  The tale begins when Sophia is six (?) and visited by the neighborhood storyteller.  Using a variety of props, she tells Sophia who she is and presents a tequila worm … the significance of which I never fully figured out (despite its presence throughout).  The book careens through other moments in Sophia’s life, highlighting struggles that help define her character.  This is another problem with these books.  Because the focus is on “their life” the main character is often defined by others.  The characters around Sophia are clear, but I couldn’t always see her, only how others reacted to her.  It’s as if the author is so much in her own head that she forgets the reader needs to have the main character as fully developed as the colorful people who drop in along the way.  My additional beefs are minor, but indicative of the kind of odd focus of these kinds of books.  Bad things are sometimes “smoothed over” and arguments disappear quickly.  Sophia and her mom have a disagreement near the end of the book which is resolved in a single paragraph.  (Tell me the last time that ever happened between a mother and daughter!)  There is an over-emphasis on food, with nearly every snack described in detail.  This might be representative of the culture, but it did make me wonder if Mexican-Americans suffer from diabetes much.  My one take-away was the “Canicula” – a Mexican-American version of dog days which explains everything going wrong in the dead of summer.  I have thought of it often in these last few weeks (did I mention a massive tree branch crashed down outside my window today???)  I continue to seek out Hispanic literature for my students, and this book, with its specific Mexican-American focus (it also helps to know a little something about Catholicism), may not suffice.  I’ve noticed that these stories tend to focus on the Hispanic experience of the Southwest.  People of California and Texas may relate to the tales of Francisco Jimenez, Benjamin Saenz and Canales, but those of us on the east coast need something different.  Most of our kids hail from El Salvador, Colombia, and other nations in central and South America and they tend to connect with stories that stress urban settings over intact cultural family institutions that you might find along the border.  I think that the works of Judith Ortiz Cofer and E.R. Frank, for example, are more likely to appeal to my immigrant students than this story.  Sorry, this award-winner wasn’t for me.  

“The Red Blazer Girls: The Ring of Rocamadour” by Michael D. Beil

Well, I didn’t read as much as I would have liked this summer.  Oddly, two of the books I did read had main characters with very similar names.  The first was Sophie St. Pierre in Michael Beil’s “The Ring of Rocamadour.”  A newer series, it hasn’t been discovered yet by my students, and that is a shame.  Heralding back to teen mystery series of the past, it’s like a contemporary Nancy Drew with superior writing and characterizations.  Fans of “The Westing Game” will finally be able to find solace in an equally strong story that moves quickly and has nice little puzzles to solve.  Older students may not be interested in the book because Sophie is only a 7th grader, but she is a New Yorker, and feels a tad more sophisticated than your average 12 or 13 year-old.  It is the Sophie character that makes the story so engaging to me.  Unlike Nancy Drew, Sophie is not the smartest, most bold or most suave of her friends.  She is appealingly flawed, and owns up to her mistakes as well as her successes.  It is her narrative voice, which speaks directly to the reader, that brings a real element of fun to this tale.  At one point in the book, she insists that the reader stop and solve the puzzle – rather forcefully!  Each of the short chapters is titled with an amusing self-effacing reflection by Sophie.  Despite the overwhelming odds/girl detective thing, the characters come off as real and I had to check the author’s bio several times to remind me that he was, in fact, a male.  No doubt he is able to draw from his students’ experiences in creating this series.  Authentic, accessible and well-wrought.  Bravo, Mr. Beil.  I look forward to reading the next one.

"Matched" by Ally Condie

For fans of "Hunger Games" this series provides a less gruesome alternative (at least, initially...).  Unlike Katniss, Cassia lives in a district that is clean and orderly and perfect.  Like most stories of this kind, too perfect.  Mix in a dash of Gattaca and 1984 and you have yet another tale of a world were everything works because uniformity is enforced.  Cassia is not your typical rebel.  She doesn't question the dictates of this totalitarian regime until small inconsistencies begin to crop up.  The book isn't about fighting back, but about becoming a fighter.  The characters are diverse, well-drawn and engaging.  Subtle rebellions are portrayed nicely, making even the reader question what really is occurring at times.  An avid Sci-Fi reader, I saw a number of plot devices coming, but not all.  Use of images, colors and lyric phrasing helps set the differences in the pallet of the drones versus those who would see their world for what it truly is.  There are reminders of the human past that evoke a sense of both nostalgia and irony.  The romance aspect here is much more of a driving plot-line than it is in "Hunger Games" and the "elevated tone," particularly at the end of this first book, gets to be a bit much, but it was good enough overall for me to seek out the second and third titles.  So far, it is dystopian fiction which is far less dark than some of the other tomes I've read of late.  In itself, that makes it worth it.  Add in decent writing and a page-turning factor and it is easy to see the popularity of this series.