“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.

“The Unwanteds” by Lisa McMann

A student in my bookclub suggested this one and I couldn’t have been happier.  Advertised as “The Hunger Games Meets Harry Potter” it is a nice little book which echoes Harry Potter (and Percy Jackson) but not so much the death and depression found in “Hunger Games.”  It’s more like “Matched,” “The Giver” and other dystopian worlds which look clean and shiny on the outside and are corrupt and morally bankrupt on the inside.  SPOILER ALERT.  You only spend about five minutes in that ugly world, though, with much of the story focused on a world of magic, color and freedom.  The characterizations are great.  Alex, our lead, is a very typical young boy (having just turned 13).  He is creative, curious, outgoing, moody, shy, angry, thoughtful, and everything in-between.  His companions include a kid he doesn’t get along with, and this creates a nice tension as the two boys try to redefine themselves in their new setting.  Creativity is also present in the blending of human and animal, household objects and war weapons.  Somehow, you just gotta love an Art teacher with eight arms (I won’t say more for fear of spoiling it).  One librarian mentioned her concern about this book being placed in the “kids” section.  Never fear.  It is as G-rated as it is delightful.  And yes, like many teen novels these days, it hints at a sequel, but fortunately wraps things up so nicely it could also be a stand-alone.  (UPDATE:  Yeah, it’s a series – book 2 is out, book 3 is coming).  The writing is consistent, solid and literary, but not overbearing.  Chapters move quickly and chapter headings are both clear and funny.  Artwork and fonts are extremely reminiscent of Harry Potter (intentional, I’m sure) and it is a tale that hits on a real chord for many – being a teen who doesn’t fit in.   In any case, it’s been a while since I was able to tear through a 390 page book so quickly, and it was a complete joy, like Spring on a dark winter day.

"Beautiful Creatures" by Kami Garcia & Margaret Stohl

After reading two very dark depressing books I had to escape a bit.  When I heard a newscaster state that the “Beautiful Creatures” movie was “like Twilight, but good,” I knew I had to read it.  This supernatural romance is, indeed, far better than Twilight in terms of literary merit.  Right from the beginning, I was engaged – it has a male protagonist (very unusual for this type of book), quick pacing, and actual descriptions and sentence structures that lend flow and understanding to the storyline!  As time went on, however, I found myself having a kind of love/hate relationship to the novel.  There is a lot to love:  a complex tale with unexpected turns, a lead character who you want to see succeed, subtle humor and excellent research which gives authenticity to everything from the Civil War themes to the Latin/Welsh translations.  There is herb-lore, a Harry-Potteresque style library and realistic portrayals of what people face when losing a loved one.  All of which make this a deep-level book far more enjoyable (to me, anyway) than some of the other popular titles out there.   That’s the good news.  On the down side, the book is written by two people.  Unlike other books written by a duo (“Will Grayson, Will Grayson” or “Sorcery and Cecelia”) this is a single narrative voice, which means there is some inconsistency in pacing and some “circular” writing – which is why the novel stretches to 563 pages when it really doesn’t have to (it is also one of three books in a series … the next two books are equally as weighty).  Descriptions go from rich to wordy, even Dickensian now and then.  Time is important here, and in one instance a five minute period stretches over 30 plus pages.  There is also the tired and somewhat bigoted supposition that those with Southern accents are ignorant and stupid.  And yes, as readers of my blog know, I’m not a huge fan of romance. I don’t mind the lovey-dovey stuff when incorporated into a larger tale, as this is most of the time, but I have little tolerance for the angsty “I love you but disaster awaits and I can never be with you” stuff.  About a third of the way in, Lena’s character got so whiny I wanted to kill her myself.  She’s not a wimp who needs to be saved all the time, but clearly, there are “issues.”  The book starts well and ends well, however, so some mushiness in the middle isn’t horrible.  I’m told the film is “very different” and have qualms about the fact that the crew was specifically told to “avoid reading the book.”  This is never a good sign.  One reviewer mentioned that the outstanding cast makes it a good movie, but it bears so little resemblance to the novel that it is likely to be unsatisfying to those who have read it.  Fortunately, or not, the masses are increasingly seeing films based on books they have never heard of, so perhaps it isn’t an issue.  If I ever get around to seeing the movie, I’ll write up my take.  In the meantime, it’s back to dark, depressing, “downer” books for me.  For those seeking a new series with romance, magic and a sort-of, kind-of vampire, dig in.

“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.