"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.

“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.

“Wonder” by R.J. Palacio

When “The One and Only Ivan” won the Newbery Award there was a good deal of chatter that this book, “Wonder,” should have won.  Ironically, “Wonder,” which is a very good book with a plethora of starred reviews and raves, came up empty at award season … not even winning a Schneider Award, which it is aptly suited for.  My take is this:  “Wonder” is terrific.  “The One and Only Ivan” is terrific.  Both pull at your heart-strings a-plenty.  Both humanize protagonists who are ostracized and stared at.  “The One and Only Ivan,” however, is a more literary book, and the Newbery has always been an award about literary quality – and notably not about popularity or even stories that are particularly engaging (I refer to “Criss-Cross” here…among others).  Nonetheless, I agree that this book should have been given some award somehow.  “Wonder” is the story of August, a boy born with tremendous facial deformities.  After a childhood spent in multiple surgeries and lengthy recovery periods, he enters a public school for the first time in the 5^th grade.  As imagined, Auggie’s road is a little rough, given his looks and middle school mentalities.  The book is not a “downer” however, and is very much about perseverance – Auggie’s spirit is indefatigable, and his determination to live his life clearly makes him a “Wonder.”  This could almost be a regular old “school story.”  Auggie’s reflections, and the interactions around him, are not substantially different from the many tales of pre-teens trying to fit in.  Told in short chapters (our reading teacher used it as a read-aloud), the point of view is mostly that of August, but from time to time the POV switches to others around him.  I use the term “around him” very literally.  Like all children with significant health issues, the siblings tend to be ignored.  Auggie’s sister notes that he is the sun, while she and the rest of the family orbit around him.  Each “part” that signals a change in narrator recreates the cover image of a face with one eye – changing the hairstyle or other details to indicate different people.  It visually highlights the fact that each person talking is reflection of Auggie’s world.  The only flaw in the book, IMHO is that there are some minor inconsistencies in these break-out sections and some questions left unanswered.  If judges were picky (they would have to be) this small issue may have kept the book out of medal contention last winter.  Who knows?  Set in New York city, this 11 year-old boy seems more mature than average, but that fits given the setting and the trials he has had to endure.  With tremendously supportive parents, the story  is very warm and fuzzy.  On the whole, it is a feel-good tale.  There is even an amusing appendix, complete with a “precepts” assignment given by one teacher.  The only lasting mystery is R.J. Palacio, who is the author but the name is a pseudonym.  Is it possible that this is the real sister of the fictional “August”?  Possibly.  In any case, the novel is told with love, and that shines through every page.  Enjoy.

“The False Prince” by Jennifer A. Nielsen

Mmm.  Yummy.  This was one I stayed up late at night to finish, and unlike so many of the series books I preview, I am eagerly awaiting a chance to read the next installment.  Classified as a fantasy, it is fairly un-fantasy-like.  Neither a wizard nor a dragon graces these pages … no magic or mythical beasts here.  Instead, count on palace intrigue, action, mystery and a twist or two you may or may not see coming (I did, but it didn’t ruin the story).  Sage is one of four orphans taken by a nobleman to train for a ruse that could topple this medieval kingdom (yeah, it’s not hard to guess at, given the title).  Told heavily in first person, internal narrative, the story is dark but not too dark.  Sage has serious attitude but it isn’t off-putting.  He is clever and quick – I enjoyed his efforts to “play” the adults around him and his refusal to bend to the will of others.  His iron will, not unlike my own, made him a very strong, real character.  The tale moves slowly, but not too slowly, making me ache to read the next chapter.  The writing is good without being overly literary.  Yes, I'm using a lot of qualifiers here -- to be honest it is hard to say exactly why I liked it so much (many student readers do, too).  Showing up on a good number of “recommended” booklists this year, I think the the characters are engaging and the story well-told.  It’s simply “good” with only one flaw in the entire book (IMHO).  The ending, both wrapping up threads from this round and preparing for the next in the series, seemed a little rushed and slightly convenient … but there were lots of hints along the way, so readers shouldn't be surprised.  “Runaway King,” book two of this series, is already out.  I may have to use the public library to get it – I can’t wait to see what happens next. 

“The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making” by Catherynne M. Valent

With a lot of Lewis Carroll, a little L. Frank Baum and clear homages to C.S. Lewis and Tolkien, it is easy to see why so many reviewers are enamored with the literary quality of this little book, but also why it has taken dedicated readers to delve in and enjoy it.  Told in the third person with a narrator who steps out of the action to make arch comments (a la Kate DiCamillo and Lemony Snicket) this is the tale of “September,” a precocious 11 year-old living in Omaha, Nebraska.  Unhappy with the state of things (her father has gone off to war, her mom works in a factory doing mechanical things) she longs for adventure and something different.  By page two of our book, she has been whisked away by the Green Wind and his Leopard to go to “Fairyland” – a place neither here nor there, but very much everywhere.  The adventures are plentiful, with each chapter titled to indicate the struggles of the moment, as in “Chapter II, The Closet Between Worlds … In Which September Passes Between Worlds, Asks Four Questions and Receives Twelve Answers, and Is Inspected by a Customs Officer.”  The book is rich in allusion and symbolism, drawing heavily on the works mentioned above and on philosophy, religion and folklore.  At 247 pages, it should have been a fast read, but it was not.  The vocabulary is not only high-level, but the sentence structures dense, forcing the reader to slow down their reading to fully appreciate the weaving of the story.  There are known mythical creatures and others that seem to be the fanciful creations of the author.  For those with mild OCD, such as myself, it is a challenging book, since almost every inanimate object encountered has a personality, name and story (the opening of the book has a listing of “Dramatis Personae”).  There is even a creature made of bits of leftover soap mashed up together -- that character nearly stole my heart.  I enjoyed this very rich book, but didn’t relish it initially – the unfortunately side-effect of talking “about” September is that it can take a while to warm up to her.  According to the narrator, the girl is a “somewhat heartless” child.  Like all fantasies, however, September makes boon companions of odd folks who cross her path and her loyalty to them ended up endearing her to me a bit.  The ending also had a twist or two I didn’t see coming, which was refreshing.  The artwork, by Ana Juan, is quite delightful, and clearly designed to evoke memories of John Tenniel’s original artwork for “Alice in Wonderland” (more in substance than style).  In any case, the images complement the story well, and heighten the emotional tone of each section.  While the book deserves the chatter it has received, I’m not sure how to market it.  The character is 11 but much like “Alice in Wonderland” this isn’t really a child’s book.  There are bloody battles here and there and a kind of patience required to meander through … a quality not typically present in our current teen population of Millenial Multitaskers.  Even the title is arch.  September doesn’t spend most of the book in a sailboat circling Fairyland, as one would presume; rather, the title uses a chapter or two in the tale as a metaphor for the child's internal journey.  In many ways, the story is a throw-back to a time when delving into a book like this was a whole experience in and of itself.  Hopefully, a sensitive reader or two will seek it out and talk it up to their friends.

“Splendors and Glooms” by Laura Amy Schlitz

People seem to think that the Victorian era was all about wholesomeness and light, given the image of a very “proper” Queen and the proclivity at the time to change the endings of Shakespeare’s tragedies.  As this brilliant novel shows, the Victorian times were really about filth and degradation and darkness and death, and particularly about DRAMA.  There is actually a hilarious exchange, early on, when one character “plays out a scene” with a housekeeper having a fit.  Remember … this was the Industrial Age, replete with shadowy figures like Jack the Ripper, Jekyll and Hyde and a Christmas story which begins with a horrific ghost.  With faint echoes of “Seraphina” by Rachel Hartman and Cornelia Funke’s “Thief Lord” this rich and complex book includes a witch named Cassandra, dying of old age, and perhaps magic (“Magic always comes with a price” – sayeth the producers of OUAT); a puppet master named Grisini, whose very name evokes “greasy”; an orphaned girl named Lizzie Rose; her workhouse companion, Parsefall; and a sad little rich girl, Clara.  Taking the title from the Shelley poem, “Adonais,” the novel weaves storylines in ways you almost never see coming and has writing that is mature and layered.  There are enough description to paint a detailed picture but the narrative is in no way dragged down.  Rather, it sucks you in.  Take this example:  “…the frozen lake reflected the colors in the sky:  gray and lilac, pale rose and flaxen yellow.  The trees on the shore cast deep shadows onto the ice, rimming the lake in black.”  A literary delight, the author employs many devices that other writers are unable to pull off – such as a constantly changing point of view – but is deft and careful with her tale, spinning it out in a way that makes you feel as if you are there.  I did spend much of the book somewhat confounded.  “What is this about, and where is it going?” I wondered, but with a delicious sense of anticipation.  It is one of those rare books where I simply had to know what happened next, but was unwilling to see it end (it is, thankfully, NOT a part of a series).  With little actual blood, there is morality here.  In discussing the loss of one of the villains, Ms. Schlitz writes that the character “was a monster, but she would not deny him the hospitality of a grave.”  Fascinating to read that on the same day as the headlines blare that no cemetery in the U.S. will give the body of suspected terrorist Tamerlan Tsarnaev a place to rest.  It made me think, but then, this is a book that does that.  With a complex vocabulary and a childlike but chilling cover, I’m not sure who might pick it up.  That’s a shame.  This 2013 Newbery Honor was hands down one of the best books I’ve read this year.  Make the time and escape into a truly wonderful story.

“Anya’s Ghost” by Vera Brosgol

Anya is an unhappy teen.  Daughter of a Russian immigrant, she prides herself on her lack of an accent, rejects her mother’s home cooking and avoids all contact with another Russian student who is “fresh off the boat.”  She is snarky, angsty, moody, and nearly friendless (her one companion is more frenemy than friend).  Going out for a surreptitious smoke one night she falls into a deep hole – and discovers a ghost.  A strange relationship develops between Anya and the ghost which ranges from barest tolerance to appreciation.  All is not what it seems, however, and the tale took a far darker twist than I ever could have imagined.  In retrospect, this is definitely not a “comic book for little kids.”  It is, in fact, fairly creepy.  The graphic novel has a pleasing purple background behind black and white drawings.  Use of this one muted color palette creates an appropriate feel for the book and fits well with the diverse settings.  Panels scan easily and many are wordless, making for smooth flow and underpinning emotional tones.  Anya and the ghost are the major characters, everyone else – including her family – seem to barely register.  Teenagers are, in fact, very often “in their head” – this book seems to epitomize that.  One odd note is the friend, who is clearly female, but dresses in a masculine manner.  There is no indication of why this is allowed at a private school where girls must wear those hideous plaid skirts.  It was the only element of the story that distracted – not sure what it was or why it was there.  That being said, the “messages” of the book are subtle but healthy.  In the beginning, there is the typical teenage crush.  Anya’s reaction to the reality she then discovers shows her inner moral self.  In the end, how Anya reacts to the horrors she faces gives you a sense of what she might become.  A fast read (in one or two settings) this was a “hand-to-hand” book which a student requested before I got it back on the shelf.  Although it didn’t receive any notable awards this year, it had some buzz.  I can see why.  Neil Gaiman’s quote on the cover is just a hint that this one is worth the look.

“The Last Apprentice, Revenge of the Witch” by Joseph Delaney

Started out “okay,” quickly went to “ehh” and ended as a “blah.”  The first of the ever-growing Wardstone Chronicles, it’s telling that I have no interest in reading the next book in the series.  A boilerplate fantasy, this one is ostensibly placed in a kind of late middle-ages England.  Young Thomas Ward is the seventh son of a seventh son and is tapped to apprentice under a “Spook” whose occupation is the ridding of ghosts, goblins, and ghouls in neighboring villages.  While the pen and ink drawings and large, unique font make it visually engaging, I was less impressed with the storyline and prose.  Maybe it’s a British thing, but the pacing seemed inordinately slow and the overall tone was pedantic and plodding.  Much like the last book I read, the action scenes dragged and I had little interest in turning the page to see “what happens next.”  Thomas is supposed to be 13 but comes off as a flat, too-eager-to-please 11 year-old.  He is naïve and a goody-two-shoes.  There is also a troubling undertone of women being “difficult” which I didn’t care for.  The witches in this book are all of the bad kind and “Spook” warns Thomas off from women in general quite early in the narrative.  Thomas is supposedly his mother’s favored child and he holds her in great esteem, but she reads decidedly non-maternal.  She is depicted as stern, demanding and limited in affection (maybe it’s a “Gibbs” thing??) so the childlike affection he professes seems misplaced.  Lastly, there is gory violence that is far out of spec for this otherwise tame tale.  The “Ranger’s Apprentice” series by Australian John Flanagan began about a year and a half after this book was published and there are tremendous similarities, but, IMHO, Flanagan did it better.  Reviewers have painted this as the next Farthest Shore Trilogy, with deep moral issues to plumb, but personally, I don’t feel the writing here is anywhere as good as in LeGuin’s books.  Boy-friendly, most of the young men who have read it say it is “okay” but haven’t stuck in for the long haul (also, like Ranger’s Apprentice, this series is stretching into double digits).  If a younger reader can stomach the queasier parts (“meat cakes” with a mystery ingredient is one example) then it may appeal.  As for me, I’m off to stronger fantasy fare (when, oh when, will Patrick Rothfuss finish the Kingkiller Chronicles?)

"Heat Rises" by Richard Castle

If anything proves that these books, produced by ABC in conjunction with the “Castle” TV show, are written by a variety of authors, this third novel in this series is it.  While still good, it is very clearly written by a different author from the first two titles.  All of the books are stories within stories to a degree … the characters in the books are extrapolations of the characters on the TV show.  On the show, writer Richard Castle follows around Detective Kate Beckett and her cohorts, Esposito and Ryan.  In the books, these characters become writer Jameson Rook, Detective Nikki Heat and sidekicks Ochoa and Raley.  The books often use snippets of storylines found in the show, but they weave new tales.  The novels go further than the TV show with somewhat steamier, more violent content appropriate to the hard-boiled detective novel genre.  This particular book has a priest murdered in an S&M studio, a Latin civil rights organization that may or may not be fronting for drugs and weapons smuggling, a political minefield at Police Headquarters, an old case surrounding a celebrity’s spiral into drugs, a military hit squad that may or may not be connected to a private black ops group, and enough bad leads and suspects to make your head spin.  Whoever wrote this book was consistent – the characters remain the same, with language and flow nearly identical to the first two books.  This author, however, is different in the level of detail and specificity he brings to the writing.  Every single instant is explored.  While this sometimes gives a strong image (so important to figure out all those clues!) it also drags down action sequences a bit.  The two “big” battles in the book seem to go on forever (IMHO).  The detailed prose is evident in the length of the book, which is a full hundred pages longer than the first in the series.  There are plusses to this new writer, however – more humor, for one; and at least two Firefly references that I was able to catch.  Whoever wrote it clearly did his homework – watching the show and probably reading the first two titles (“Heat Wave” and “Naked Heat”).  Fans of the show will find lots of little Easter Eggs here to smile at, including the Castle character’s self-congratulatory preen in the first season of the TV show, stating “I am ruggedly handsome, aren’t I?” as well as a subtle homage to Stephen J. Cannell’s “21 Jump Street.”  In any case, like the first two books, this one is selling well and rose to #1 on the New York Times Bestseller list in its debut week.

So, who wrote them?  And why am I calling the writer a “he?”  Well, I enjoy being a bit of a detective myself, and have surmised that Stephen J. Cannell wrote the first, and most likely second books (Cannell sadly passed away from  Melanoma in 2010).  I’m familiar with his extensive body of work, and the books just “read like him."  Also, under the author picture of Nathan Fillion aka “Castle” on the back of those two books, there is a quote attributed to Cannell praising the writing.  This newest book has no quote under the photo, but all of the books have congratulatory quotes on the front – the first is James Patterson, the second is Mitch Connelly and the third is Dennis Lehane.  All three have appeared as guests on the TV show and ABC producers shyly hint that the author is, in fact, someone who has been "seen on the show.”  I’m betting on Lehane.  I’ve read Patterson, and don’t feel the specificity in this book is his style.  I haven’t read Connelly or Lehane, but Mr. Lehane's bio reads as the kind of “writer’s writer” that might have produced this piece of work.  We’ll see.  Likely, we will not know for sure until long after the TV show has left the air – which will probably not happen anytime soon, as the ratings continue to soar for the alphabet network.  In the meantime, happy reading.  And TV watching.

"One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies" by Sonya Sones

Poetry novels, a growing trend in recent years, have really hit their stride. An excellent example is this clever book by Sonya Sones. Yes, the book is told in poems and yes, the mother is dead. Like most of the good poetry novels, I found myself sucked in from the beginning, as our lead character Ruby begins her huge transition to a very different life. Ruby’s voice is that of a really interesting and witty young woman. The writing isn’t overly deep, but it is engaging, and the characters feel real (a nicely unexpected turn, given the Hollywood setting). A clean and simple story, the details really “make it”. Page graphics start as planes and become palm trees, showing the transition for Ruby, and the subtle notes are the ones that make you smile as you read this. The surprises are interesting but expected – I knew two of them long before they happened, but it is the warm and fuzzy feeling I got with this book that makes it one of the more enjoyable I’ve read of late.