"Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass" by Meg Medina

This year's Pura Belpre winner is a strong but disturbing tale of school bullying.  Piedad Sanchez, aka "Piddy," has problems.  Her best friend has moved out to the suburbs and she finds herself in a brand new school in Brooklyn at the beginning of her tenth grade year.  Without warning, she is told that "Yaqui Delgado," another student she doesn't even know, is out to get her.  Things go from bad to worse as Piddy tries to navigate this violent, inner-city school and accept the changes happening in her life as she grows up.  It's a dark tale, but not a hopeless one.  Piddy has a good group of people around her, people who help her to find herself ... but not until she has sunk very low.  Ms. Medina gets a thumbs up here for making all of the characters rich and complex.  Piddy is a fifteen year-old who is very real ... moody, mercurial, longing and lost.  It was a book I plowed through, because I simply had to see if things turn out okay.  Not surprisingly, the author's end notes indicate that this is based on her own experiences with a high school bully.  A powerful story, well-told, which is infused with the Latin culture of NYC, it makes for a great book which will capture readers after they pick it up for the provocative title (yes, this book has been "picked up" more than any display book I've ever put out ...). Worthy without being preachy, it is definitely deserving of the Award.  Brava, Meg Medina.

“Sex & Violence: A Novel” by Carrie Mesrobian

WARNING – graphic content and spoilers …

An Honor book in this year's Morris Awards (first-time author of a YA novel), I knew this one was likely to garner some controversy, not only for title but for subject matter.  Always working to be ahead of the curve, I decided to read it so that I could answer any questions, should they arise. 

 

Evan Carter is a teen with both mommy and daddy issues who gets out his many frustrations by having a lot of casual sex with girls as he moves from one boarding school to another.  Real or not, Evan embodies the quintessential stereotype of a teenage boy by spending the better part of his waking hours considering how to “get the girl.”  By the end of the first chapter, however, Evan encounters something new – a massive beat-down for sleeping with the wrong girl.  Evan may have been raped – it's certainly intimated, heavily, throughout the rest of the book, but never acknowledged.  Evan's perpetually absent father takes him to their family home, sitting abandoned on a lakeside in Minnesota, so that the young man can heal.  He spends the summer trying to connect to local teens and smoking copious amounts of marijuana.  Try as I might, I didn't love the book.  There are commendable parts, but a lot to criticize.  Evan's use of the “f-word” (on almost every page) and the constant drug use seemed over-the-top.  While it may be realistic in the teen world, I didn't see it as a necessary element of the story.  A lot is left out, or is vague.  The girl Evan hooked up with is also attacked – the most said is that she “got it from two guys at the same time and may not be able to have kids.”  I'm pretty sure that's physiological impossible.  And the story feels unfinished.  If the point of the book is Evan's healing, then it is successful, but that isn't the whole story.  There is repeated mention of the upcoming trial for Evan's attackers but the tale ends before we get there.  One wonders at Evan's significant memory loss – if he is forced to relive the event at court, would he have to address issues which have been buried?  In a book with strong language and frequent sexual misadventures, it seems like being coy about the heart of Evan's assault is unnatural propriety.  On the other hand, this isn't an ABC Afterschool Special.  Mesrobian gets a thumbs-up for making these characters and their relationships complex.  Evan and his father try, and stumble, and try and stumble again as they work to build lines of communication.  And Evan's potty-mouth and constant toking may seem too much to me, but might be right on the nose for the average teen reader.  There is even a question as to whether Evan has learned his lesson.  Near the end of the book he finds himself back in a situation almost identical to where he was in the beginning.  The difference here is not so much Evan's mindset but the fact that he has learned how to make friends.      The best part of the book, IMHO, are Evan's letters to “Collette” – a therapist encouraged practice to examine his feelings and behaviors in a safe way.  They end each chapter and provide most of the insight on Evan's real internal journey.  Props, also, to Carolrhoda books, who created subtle imprints at the beginning and end of each chapter of splashing water and bathroom tile.  The tile, in particular, is very creepy as it evokes a sense of prison bars, making real the sense Evan has of being “trapped” by the demons created in this attack.  It's a book I think teenagers will like as the voices feel authentic … but I'm not sure it has the “merit” necessary to defend it should there be critics who feel it is “too much.”

 

“Flora & Ulysses: The Illuminating Adventures” by Kate DiCamillo, Illustrated by K.G. Campbell

Kate DiCamillo does it again with this year's Newbery Award Winner.  “Flora & Ulysses” is delightful, laugh-out-loud funny, smart, snarky and definitely different.  Flora Belle Buckman is a cynic.  She is also a fan of “Illustrated Adventures” (much to her mother's frustration) and one of those “too wise for her very young years” kids who uses over-the-top vocabulary and yet remains somewhat innocent about the world.  Like Shirley Temple's many roles, this little girl is seemingly wiser than many of the adults around her.  Flora is the child of divorce and discovers a very unusual friend in the opening pages of this adventure. With lots of details that enrich the personalities we encounter, the book is mostly prose but includes selected panel art at some of the more heightened moments. The thing about DiCamillo's work is that it has an edge.  Much like Roald Dahl, her writing can be enjoyed by the very young but has a darker tone that older readers will get.  It is this darker tone that can be disturbing but gives a certain weight to the characters, a weight not typical in a seemingly simple kid's book.  DiCamillo also gets snaps for making Flora a fairly complex character.  She's tomboyish in her looks and dress but doesn't fit into any particular box.  With threads of mystery and romance weaving throughout the tale, it should have broad appeal for many readers.  The story is successfully brought to a conclusion but not in a tight little bow.  Think “homemade sweater” to get a feel for how these plotlines come together.  It's an animal book that will please fans of all sorts of critters and it's a superhero book with a unique hero.  Brava, Ms. DiCamillo.

“Midwinterblood” by Marcus Sedgwick

This year’s Printz winner is a short little read with deep and complex themes.  Seven related stories, told over centuries, in short chapters, makes for a fast-paced, mind-blowing tale.  Beginning in the near-future, reporter Eric Seven arrives at “Blest Island,” presumably somewhere in the Scandinavian region, to report on the rumored longevity of the island’s residents.  As any reader of Sci Fi/Fantasy will tell you, this has the portents of “bad things.”  “Bad things” do indeed happen.  We then begin a journey backwards in time – meeting various incarnations of trapped spirits as they travel through an archeologist, a painter, a mother, a child, and more.  Symbolism abounds – in the various full moons, the hare that presents itself in each tale and in the blood which reigns throughout.  Viking lore heavily plays here but the threads are universal – love and loss, belonging and isolation, and, of course, sacrifice – in all of its meanings.  Sedgwick, an award-winning British author, doesn’t mind sacrificing the “rules,” either.  Sometimes the souls overlap each other, and one tale takes the fantastical far further than any of the others.  But you don’t mind.  As a writer, Sedgwick is demanding, almost as if the reader simply must bend to his will.  He also gets kudos for writing a Young Adult book that doesn’t feature angsty teens.  Characters here range from young to old, male to female, and nothing in the novel screams “adolescent.”  No matter how much you may know (or guess) what is coming, the book is still a surprise and open interpretations are welcome – even for the novel as a whole.  For instance, the story is circular … or is it???  Sedgwick doesn’t confine himself to traditional romance, either, as the love interests morph from the passionate to the parental.  He seems to say that love and his other themes are present in all of us, no matter how they evidence themselves.  Even the element of story is important – the idea that storytelling is an essential part of who we are – so essential that it is a key in what makes us human.  By all means, pick up this creepy, slightly disturbing book and enjoy.  Another big brava/bravo to the Printz committee.  Much like “Going Bovine” this one is a winner.

“A Corner of White” by Jaclyn Moriarty

It’s funny how things work out.  First, I read a book by a UK author that seems to have been “Americanized” (much to my dislike) and the next book I pick up is written by an Australian, set in Cambridge, and about as British as it gets.  “A Corner of White” was completely delightful.  Always great to read a book that makes you really want to pick it up and see what happens next.  Like many of the Australian works gracing YA shelves today, this book was challenging, unexpected, clever, rich, literary and very “fresh.”  I don’t know what it is about the “down under” crowd, but they have a gift at coming up with tales that seem totally new.  In this complex novel, there are two stories.  One is that of Madeleine, a girl thoroughly of the modern world.  Dealing with family issues and a drastically changed life, she sludges through the “grey” of Cambridge, missing her iPad, doing internet research for her homeschooling and struggling with the vagaries of teenage friendships.  In the parallel story there is Elliot Baranski, a citizen of the Kingdom of Cello, trying to solve the mystery of his father’s disappearance and help an ailing town pick itself up.  Cello is an interesting place – having both cars and dragons (supposedly).  Madeleine and Elliot are both a bit lost, desperately needing answers to questions and both seeking something they are unsure of.  Inexplicably, their worlds mesh.  It isn’t about worlds colliding, though – but kind of “bumping up against one another.”  Their interaction, like much of the tale, is gentle and subtle.  The voices of both characters are grippingly real.  You find yourself envisioning them as friends or colleagues.  The story paces and builds well, creating that critical page-turning quotient, but I had to force myself to slow down frequently to get all the little details.  “Deep” doesn’t begin to describe a book with so many threads that you may find yourself flipping back from chapter to chapter in order to be clear on how they connect.  History and Science also weave into the tale in unexpected and wonderful ways.  The first in a trilogy, this novel can stand on its own and has a satisfying resolution, but the next book should be fabulous if it measures up to this one.  My only two beefs (very minor) are the cover art (don’t I always complain about this??), which makes it look like a romance; and the ages of Madeleine and her friends.  They are supposedly 15, but read younger … which is highly unusual for a teen book (typically, it’s the reverse).  They aren’t out of bounds, though.  Fifteen is such a strange age … no longer kids but not quite as savvy as older teens.  It’s an age when parents think you are “grown up enough” to hear some truths, even though hearing them makes one want to curl up with a blankie.  It’s a betwixt and between age, which, I’m guessing, is what the author was going for.  A very satisfying read and one which definitely sated the palate.  Brava.

“Samphire Song” by Jill Hucklesby

For once, the cover art is to-the-point on the nature of the book.  This is a novel about a teenage girl and a horse.  Like all books with this theme, it has a girl with some personal issues sinking herself into the world of equines and finding solace there.  The writing is good – lyrical even, if you find the shining of tack and the green grass of a paddock lyrical.  I did like the emotional tone in terms of caring for a difficult, abused animal, having been there myself.  I also liked that the family structure is pretty solid.  Mom and brother are both loving, fun and supportive.  Jodie (our protagonist) is a nice young woman whose only real world is spent with her family or in the stables.  The 16 year-old’s school life barely factors in.  The novel is “okay” without being brilliant.  It’s not a bad book – it pulls at all of your heartstrings as expected -- it’s just hugely predictable and the story structure pretty basic.  The tale doesn’t flow so much as it stops and starts with each chapter.  There were absolutely no surprises, including the pre-requisite horse-race which seemed superfluous to the storyline by the time it finally happened.  I was slightly perplexed by the lack of British-isms, however.  Clearly set in England, the book appears to have been “revised” for American audiences … changing out dollars for pounds, states for districts, etc.  In some ways, this added to the general blandness of this novel by making the setting and character dialogue ambiguous.  In the end, those who love a good horse story will *love* this tale (or is that “tail”?)

"Life After Life" by Kate Atkinson

I read this one because several colleagues remarked that this was "one of their favorite books this year."  It also has outstanding reviews, with many comparing it to "Code Name Verity."  Like many experiences these past few weeks, however, the book was sadly a disappointment.  It's not ~that~ bad, just not “fab,” as I had expected.  The issue may be more about my tastes than the novel itself, but it was not a joy to read.  It is literary with a capital "L.”  Just in case you don’t get the deep meanings and symbolism, nearly every page has a literary or philosophical quote to reinforce the narrative.  You'll find everyone from Shakespeare to Nietzsche here.  The premise is fascinating -- if you could go back in time and repeat your personal history over and over, would you be able to "get it right?"  The problem, in my mind, is the execution.  Among other things, this is a very, very "British" tale.  What does that mean?  It's dry, emotionally muted and Dickensian in description.  It doesn't race, it meanders.  Every random thought is explored, every character’s full history delved into, regardless of the role they play in the tale.  Despite the tremendous stakes (the book begins with an intriguing page in which our heroine, Ursula, points a gun at a young Hitler) little seems to actually happen.  After the brief intro we have some 500 pages with Ursula living and re-living her young life focusing on her quaint country home with foxes, rabbits, tea, roast beef and a great number of puddings.  She dies a few times, is reborn a few times, there are more tales of foxes and rabbits and tea and then she finally starts growing up.  Eventually, there is a good deal of sex ... rape, extramarital affairs, unwanted pregnancies, all related as bloodlessly as everything else, given no more weight or tone than the digging through of rubble and bodies after the London Blitz.  Ursula doesn't feel great passion other than having overwhelming déjà vu, she has little motivation until the end and when the whole thing wraps up it is more with a fizzle than a bang.  I would have put the book down ... I tried, but kept hoping that all the "threads" would come together with some sort of great meaning.  I was left scratching my head, instead, wondering why so many inconsequential plotlines were included -- many of which for no seeming purpose whatsoever.  I thought back to the people who had loved this book so much.  A few things are likely:  a) they are most likely faster readers than me, b) they may enjoy books that meander, rather than careen c) they probably have not read nearly as much Science Fiction as I have.  That last point is important, because it means I have something to compare it to.  Time travel is heavily used in the genre.  Issues of ethics and our role in the greater picture are constantly explored.  In other words, I've seen it done better.  This ain't "Code Name Verity" and for me, anyway, it was a dud.  Patient readers, enjoy.  I'm off to find something a tad more lively.

"far far away" by Tom McNeal

With a lot of chat in professional library circles, this TAB title reminded me of recent reads "Splendor and Glooms" and "A Tangle of Knots."  It isn't a little kids book but there is an innocence to the characters and a level of class and gently literary writing that elevates it beyond much of the current YA fare.  Clever, soft, funny and touching, it is the story of "a girl, a boy and a ghost" in a semi-mythical 1970s era Texas town, called "Never Better."  Much of the tone of the tale comes from the ghost, an omnipresent narrator who draws heavily on the stories and lives of the Brothers Grimm.  It is a great book with eponymously named characters, laughs, a dash of romance, serious undertones, a mystery or two and a villain that you either do or don't see coming (yeah, I did, but it didn't ruin the novel one bit for me).  It was something I looked forward to reading -- a smart page-turner with a very satisfying ending that left me grabbing for a tissue and feeling slightly verklempt.  It's got darkness ... this is, after all, in the style of Grimm ... but there is  beauty, too.  In all, utterly satisfying.  If I can get kids past the "blah" cover, I suspect we will have a winner.

“The Ruining” by Anna Collomore

Several librarians expressed concern that this book was not appropriate for the middle school audience it was selected for, given the description.  So, I had to read it.  Based on the comments of those who had read it, I didn’t expect much.  For the first 2/3 of the book, however, I was pleasantly surprised.  The writing was decent, albeit a typo here and there (a “thought” that should have been “though”) and the typical inconsistencies one finds in YA lit these days (in timeline and clothing description from paragraph to paragraph).  I wasn’t wild about the San Francisco descriptions which were clearly second-hand (Marin County is not considered “part” of SF proper and describing the area as “warm and sunny” is more of an LA thing than an “inside the bay area” thing) but I was okay with it as a “preconception” of the character.  The storyline was a bit clichéd and predictable ... nothing horrendous for the Romance genre.  Girl from impoverished inner-city Detroit moves to glorious California to become an au pair for a rich couple living near San Francisco.  Of course, there is a suntanned blonde boy next door who works as a paramedic one day a week (with a huge, cute dog).  The boy is attractive but somewhat irritating – yeah, I knew where it was going.  Or so I thought.  A little past half-way, some darker and confusing notes were threaded into the narrative.  There was the over-used and unnecessary plotline thrown in of evil drunken step-dad coming into Annie’s bedroom at night (back in Detroit).  It seemed contrived and only proved to be an additive needed to make the twisty last part of the book work.  It was also in stark contrast to the first half of the book, where Annie says that her home bedroom door “could not be closed because the room was so small that the dresser stuck out past the door’s threshold.”  The issue of closed doors becomes paramount in her new home.  Annie says she stopped evil step-dad by installing a deadbolt on the door … despite the fact that it didn’t close ???  This book had initial potential but didn’t fulfill it.  There were early themes of misery and how one assumes the “other half” is better off, even when they aren’t, but those were left in the dust as the plot began a migration to places unknown.  The two dimensional characters never fully stepped out to any layers – in particular, Annie.  One librarian complained that Annie didn’t sound like an 18 year-old.  I disagree – it’s just that the author never missed an opportunity to put 75 cent words in her mouth.  This makes sense if Annie is the nerdy bookworm she claims to be but her naivety and innocence is a little hard to take given her supposedly rough upbringing.  Maybe if she had come from a rural setting?  I’m also not sure there are too many 18 year-olds out there who would consider a 20 year-old to be an “older man.”   Bottom line – Annie is just a neurotic wuss – and designed that way so that this specific story could be told.  Let’s just say “Bella, move over” cuz we got a new victimized girl for ya.  These elements combined for a “flight of fantasy” in the last third of the book.  Annie is gaslighted, ending up in very dire circumstances, with murder and madness combining in a weird, yet strangely unsurprising way.  I’m not sure how a story can go completely off-kilter yet be utterly predictable at the same time but somehow this tale manages.  The ending has a “wrapping up the loose ties” section that results in resignation and creepiness that may not have been intended.  Let’s just say I’m not sure our heroine ever gets a backbone.  As a sidelight to the strange undertones, I couldn’t help but feel there was some bizarre lesbian thing going on … don’t think that was intended, either, but a little frustrated that the “big bad” here is portrayed as a subtle sexual predator.  Oh well.  Not a winner, in my mind.  We’ll see what my teen readers think.  With no outright violence, virtually no “language” and mild insinuations, at best, about sex, I’m not worried about it.  One last note?  Check out this cover in comparison to Malinda Lo’s “Adaptation” books:  http://www.amazon.com/Adaptation-Malinda-Lo/dp/B00EBFGUKY/ref=sr_1_6?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1386784871&sr=1-6&keywords=malinda+lo  Not an exact copy, but certainly evokes a very similar feel.  I’m just saying. 

“Mountains Beyond Mountains: The Quest of Dr. Paul Farmer, A Man Who Would Cure the World” by Tracy Kidder, Adapted for Young People by Michael French

In a quest to include more nonfiction on our “TAB Bookclub”cart, this new adaptation of Tracy Kidder’s powerful work was included.  Not sure it will draw in many readers but I will definately be marketing it.  Paul Farmer is a man we should all know about.  Surprisingly, we do not.  A doctor dedicated to the poor and to improving the lives of those in places like Haiti, Farmer has basically reinvented how the world deals with the health needs of the indigent and he has transformed TB care around the globe.  The book begins with an introduction by Kidder, explaining that we should not feel guilty when reading about the work of Paul Farmer.  It is hard not to.  “Tirelessly fighting for those with no voice” is an understatement and I was left with a desire to turn over all my worldly goods to Farmer’s PIH consortium after reading this (but didn't).  It was curious to read it near the holidays, with so many needy causes vying for attention.  The book ends with a postscript which addresses the changes in PIH and Haiti over the last ten years. 
 
The book itself seems to have undergone little or no vocabulary changes as a result of the “adaptation.”  I can only assume that some of the more detailed descriptions of violence in Haiti were left out.  It is a mature read and a technical one, as Farmer’s theories of social inequity being inexorably tied to health issues are explored as well as the epidemiology of disease in places like Haiti’s plateau region.  It is not a page turner, and, IMHO, not the most literary of books (a surprise, given Kidder’s Pulitzer Prize) but a personal story and an engaging one.  It is a biography, in the strictest sense, but not a “typical” biography in any way (yes, I know … librarian filing dilemma).  Kidder has a very intimate take on his subject, having spent nearly a year with Dr. Farmer.  He gushes on about how Farmer impacts him personally and interviews many of those surrounding the man to get a full picture of who he is.  The result is complex and interesting.  While reading it, I spent a lot of time wondering how someone becomes as selfless and dedicated as Farmer (so did Kidder) and thinking about the “big picture” of world poverty and health.  It becomes clear that Farmer is not perfect, but passionate and driven.  And there is a price he pays, I believe, that is more inferred than stated.  You will have to decide for yourself.  Bottom line – this isn’t just a book you should read, it’s one you will enjoy.  Now, it's time for me to hit the internet and make a few donations. 

“45 pounds (more or less)” by K.A. Barson

In a glut of YA books about eating disorders this one stands out.  Take Mackler’s “The Earth, My Butt and Other Big Round Things” and mix it with a little “Modern Family” and you have a thoroughly enjoyable story.  Ann is overweight and not just a by a little.  As a bridesmaid in her aunt’s upcoming wedding, Ann is determined to shed the unwanted weight.  Problem is … eating issues aren’t always about the food.  As Ann discovers, a healthy lifestyle is about a lot of things – including how you think about food and how you think about yourself.  Despite some dark threads this is not a “heavy” novel (pun not intended) and there is a good deal of humor mixed in beautifully with pathos for a heart-warming “dramedy.”  What I like about it is how real it is.  Ann’s path to an improved viewpoint is not simple and none of the characters are perfect.  The grandmother who has the best insight into life is a chain smoker and the thin, beautiful mother who is seemingly in control of all things has her own issues with food and self-image.  The family dynamic is complex and contemporary with layers that make it feel genuine.  As someone who has also struggled with food issues I really related to Ann, even when she got a little whiney.  There are also a few parallels that were achingly familiar:  a philandering biological father, an insightful and gentle step-dad and a controlling mom who internalizes anger and lives on salad.  The fact that I could see myself in the book is part of why it struck a chord with me.  The writing is also clean, direct and accessible.  The lessons learned aren’t preachy but do make an impact.  One of the biggest ones is something I figured out a few years back … eating issues are eating issues, no matter what your size is.  Just a great book throughout.

“MILA 2.0” by Debra Driza

If I were the type of person to stop reading a book I didn’t like, this would have been it.  I wish I were that kind of person, as I slogged through this whole thing more and more regretful with every page that I just couldn’t walk away.  It started out “okay” and quickly became lame, followed by ridiculous.  ***SPOILER ALERT***  The premise isn’t that bad.  Teenage girl discovers she isn’t really a teenage girl, but an android, created by the military and then “taken” by a researcher who wants her to have a chance at a real life.  There are echoes of “Cinder” here  (Marissa Meyer has a comment on the back) with the whole human/not human thing and a drop-off ending whose only purpose is to set up the sequel, but the difference is stark … “Cinder” has real literary quality.  This book does not.  “MILA 2.0” falls into every YA book trap I hate.  1)  It’s poorly written.  Sentence structure is weak and repetitive, with the kind of prose I see from students who are just starting out in their high-school level writing.  2)  It’s very poorly edited.  Typos and grammar issues abound throughout.  Incorrect words are sometimes in place, there are sentences which aren’t sentences and at one point, a character’s name is simply truncated, with the end left off.  Did no one notice?  3)  The cover art, as usual, does not match the character.  Described as a “stocky” 16 year-old girl with brown hair and eyes (“like her father”) on page 10, she suddenly has green eyes by page 95.  Then, she dyes her hair black and cuts it short and “spiky” later in the tale … but never, in my imagination, looks similar to the ballerina-like portrait of a young woman with porcelain skin on the cover.  4)  The structure is poor.  Chapter breaks seem to be dictated by length rather than need and the four section breaks don’t seem to have any reason at all.  Each new section picks up seconds after the old one with no significant change or break in the narrative.  The story is a paradox … it is simultaneously all over the place and goes nowhere.  Mila falls for every young man she meets (two of them) within five minutes, but the romance aspect just seems stuffed into the story to make the tale appeal to teens.  Mila’s “big dilemma” in the novel is to reconcile who she is with, well, who she is.  But it takes 470 pages.  And near the end, she is still as whiney and un-accepting of her “new reality” as she was on page 50.  Ms. Driza also gets caught up in her own compulsion for details.  She describes two bullets entering (someone’s) body.  “Both bullets entered the left side” but inexplicably, one hits the liver … which is on the right side.  As a casual viewer of TV medical shows like “Grey’s Anatomy,” even I know that.  When describing a car chase around DC, the description of roads used was so ridiculous that I started laughing out loud (not the heart-pounding exhilaration I was supposed to be feeling, methinks?)  As a resident of this area, I’m used to media getting it wrong, but in books, I expect better research.  There obviously was some … Driza mentions the “Kutz” bridge, which she pretty much would have had to look up – but describes it as “looming over the Potomac” when it is, in fact, a small causeway that lives a scant three feet above the Tidal Basin.  Most people who drive on it would not even consider it a “bridge.”  It was this kind of consistent sloppiness that made the book distracting and silly.  Obviously, not a fan and not waiting for the “next” book in the series.  Sorry.

“A Tangle of Knots” by Lisa Graff

Best book ever.  Unlike the dark, depressing, dystopian novels dominating the landscape these days, this one harkens back to an earlier era of children’s books by being delightful, clever, smart and fun.  In a world not too different from our own, most people have a “Talent.”  This can be anything from spitting to knitting, baking cakes to playing an oboe.  The tales of ten people interweave in this mysterious yarn (yes, all puns intended, in honor of our author’s great writing style) to show us that we are all part of something greater.  A mysterious man in gray has a talent for tying knots.  He travels through this world with echoes of L. Frank Baum’s “Wizard of Oz” helping each character make connections with their past and with each other.  The chapters are short and jump from one person’s point of view to the other (much like Fleischman’s "Seedfolks").  There is a palpable sense to the story – made even stronger by repeated “sounds” articulated in the text.  As a reader, I loved the many moments where I exclaimed “Oh!” because another facet of the story was becoming clear.  The characters, ranging from four young people to their parents and the adults around them, are nicely realistic and a good mix of hopeful and flawed.  There isn’t great drama here, just enough of life to draw you in with a sense of cozy familiarity.  Recipes for the most delicious cakes are sprinkled throughout the book and I simply had to copy them for future baking efforts.  The only downside to this book is that I really wanted to read it in one or two sittings.  Since my reading tends to be fairly fractured I had to really focus on the storyline each time I started to read it or run the risk of being mightily confused.  No fear.  Within minutes of picking it up I was drawn in.  This book is “highly” relatable … which of us doesn’t dream of having that one thing that helps us stand out in the world?  Brava to Ms. Graff for writing something I looked forward to reading and something that didn’t leave me reaching for a Rom/Com DVD after finishing it because I had to lift my mood.  (Without too much of a spoiler, I’m happy to report that the pet does NOT die!  In fact, no one dies!)  If you are looking for something fresh, amusing and "just right" check out this book.

“Peanut” by Ayun Halliday & Paul Hoppe

This is another one of those “okay” books that didn’t rock my world, and another fictional book that sounds so much like a memoir that I have to think there is a grain of truth in there.  Sadie, a nerdy little Freshman with no friends, transfers to a new school her Sophomore year and wants to reinvent herself.  So, she pretends she has a peanut allergy, which kinda-sorta ingratiates her into a club of cool kids.  As one of my teen readers said, the plot is just weak (or, in her words, “lame and stupid”).  It’s the great failing of this graphic novel, which portrays teen life fairly accurately but doesn’t have any oomph.  The mean girls are overly mean, the awful teacher is truly awful.  Characters are pretty black and white (no pun intended) with the exception of Sadie’s mom, the school nurse, and Sadie’s boyfriend “Zoo” who is nothing if not unique.  The artwork is “okay” as well.  Done mostly in pen and ink, with gray shadings and a burst of red for Sadie’s shirt, the drawings are good without adding much to the tale.  One colleague who read the book objected to the dialog of the mean girls, who harp on everything and everyone, including the idea that a kid who killed himself was trying auto asphyxiation (it’s never stated as such, but inferred).  This book isn’t awful, but it’s not “good enough to defend” in the parlance of my profession.  Short enough to be read in one sitting, it will likely entertain a number of teen readers, but is unlikely to challenge their ideas regarding the price of popularity.  Bottom line:  The book is on a cart for Middle School students but might be more appropriate to High School kids as the dialog is real, if distasteful.  Since this is the second “ehh” book I’ve read in the last few weeks, I’m looking forward to my next choice. 

“Tiger Lily” by Jodi Lynn Anderson

Have you ever seen one of those hotel art show sales?  The pictures are lovely – the brushstrokes are all in the correct place.  But the paintings don’t move you.  They are pretty to look at, but that is about it.  That’s because art needs to transcend the medium.  It can’t just be “well done.”  It has to make you think, challenge you, engage you.  So it is with this book, which is perfectly well written, with nary a flaw, but not fabulous.  Ironically, I read this at a time when the third season of “Once Upon a Time” (OUAT) premiered and both the book and TV show have plots revolving around re-envisioning the Peter Pan story.  OUAT does it better.  In Anderson’s book, magic is virtually wiped out with the minor exception of “Tink,” a faerie who is the narrator of the story, and the odd fact that people who live on the island of Neverland don’t age past a certain point in their lives.  There is irony, too, in the narration given that faeries in this world are mute.  Tinkerbell weaves a love story between Tiger Lily and Peter, but it is a doomed tale, as we all know of one critical missing element there.  The novel is dark.  Hook is an old, weakened alcoholic; Smee is a serial killer; Tiger Lily’s intended husband is a rapist … etc.  I found myself aching for the book to simply be over.  With the magic and cheeriness and hope removed from it, this famous story is nothing but ugliness and despair.  There is also the question of whose story this is and what the book is really about.  From the eponymous title, one assumes that it is a familiar story told from Tiger Lily’s point of view.  But it is also is Tink’s tale.  Both characters fall in love, and both grow and change throughout the book – and don’t change to some degree, which leaves them in Neverland as others move on.  But it’s not a love story, either.  It’s mostly a diatribe describing the European subjugation of native peoples.  The whole thing is simply bleak.  By way of contrast, OUAT has made the Peter Pan story very dark (Peter is an absolute terror) but retains a heart of belief … the more you believe in magic, the more good is on your side and triumph is possible.  The one outstanding part of “Tiger Lily” is the prominent role of a transgender character … but, of course, that doesn’t end well, either.  Sorry for the fans out there, but I give this one a big “two thumbs down.”  In my quest to find any kind of faerie story I like, the score is now four-zip.  Anyone out there who has read a worthy tale of the little ones, do let me know.

“Delirium” by Lauren Oliver

If “The Unwanteds” was “Hunger Games” for the younger set, and “Matched” was “Hunger Games” for those interested in less gore, then “Delirium” is “Matched” for upper-level readers.  Which is all to say that the plot elements here are achingly familiar:  In a dystopian America, citizens are pacified into a uniform existence – one where dissention from the autocratic rules can result in torture and death.  Each member of this society is essentially lobotomized when they turn 18, so that they will not feel the effects of “love.”  They are then assigned a career path and life partner.  Lena looks forward to this day, as she fears the chaos of emotion that threatens to rise up inside of her.  But then she meets Alex and becomes “infected.”  Needless to say, there is a resistance movement in “the Wilds” which becomes the focus of the next book in the series.  Despite hugely predictable turns, Oliver should be congratulated for this first book in a trilogy, as the characters are real and engaging and the writing superior.  It’s not a fast-mover but still I felt drawn in and compelled to see “what happens next.”  There were repeated times when I looked up from my reading wanting to share a passage with someone – sometimes for the literary merit, sometimes for the way in which Lena is a highly relatable figure.  Not only is the book in first person, it is very internal.  Most of it is Lena’s wishes, desires and fears.  When she answers “Gray” as her favorite color at the mandated exams (the expected answer is “Blue”) she muses:  “Sometimes I feel as though there are two me’s, one coasting directly on top of the other:  the superficial me, who nods when she’s supposed to nod and says what she’s supposed to say, and some other, deeper part, the part that worries and dreams and says ‘Gray.’  Most of the time they move along in sync and I hardly notice the split, but sometimes it feels as though I’m two whole different people and I could rip apart any second.”  Certainly, something we have all felt from time-to-time, particularly in our teen years.  If you aren’t totally sick of this genre, I recommend giving this series a try.  It is definitely one of those “can’t wait to read the sequel” books.  The version I read also had an insightful interview with the author and a preview of “Pandemonium.”

“Stupid Fast” by Geoff Herbach

Wow, this is one was not what I expected – and that’s a good thing.  Cover art being what it is (the character apparently has a “jew-fro” which is not evident with the kid in the picture), I assumed this was one of those “hi/lo” books I could read really fast ‘cuz it would be about football games, which I don’t understand, so I could skip all those blow-by-blow sections.  Wrong.  It’s an unexpected, layered, and surprisingly sports-free book about a young man named Felton Reinstein, who is the kind of protagonist that most teen boys will be able to relate to.  Think more like Chris Crutcher with this, and less “Orca Soundings.’  Felton is having a bad summer … or is he?  Trapped in that Neverland between being a geeky awkward kid and turning into an adult, he faces his 16^th birthday with few friends and a body that is betraying him.  He’s grown seven inches and gained 42 pounds in the previous year.  None of his clothes fit, he has hair “everywhere” and he is a bit sensitive to the various smells that now surround him.  Family issues converge with the attention of the high school athletics coaches to make his summer a surreal mix of drama and training.  In short, his life becomes something extremely different in these few months, and he wants to tell the reader about it.  Told in first-person narrative, as if the reader is his confidant, the entire tale is told rapid-fire, in short chapters, over a single night.  It is almost stream of consciousness, and that is what makes it so engaging.  Felton’s voice is absolutely real and his randomness (timelines are kind of all over the place) is semi-adorable.  It’s a bit of a ride but since I bought into Felton’s character quickly, it was easy to buy into the other premises, which include a rural town in Wisconsin populated by a Jewish kid, a Venezuelan kid, an Asian kid, and an African American girl – who just happens to be a piano phenom.  Felton has tremendous struggles, more than he even perceives, at first; but his spirit is indomitable.  A big “Bravo” for this one.

“My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece” by Annabel Pitcher

It’s easy to see why this 2010 book from the UK has won so many awards.  Touching and real, it will pull at your heartstrings.  Jamie is a ten year-old boy with issues.  Five years ago, one of his older twin sisters was killed in a terrorist bombing in London.  His devastated parents live every day in memory of their lost child – forgetting the children they have.  Mom up and leaves, dad dives into a bottle.  Starting over in a small town up north, Jamie only has his sister, Jasmine, and his orange tabby cat, Roger, to cling to.  It’s not nearly as depressing as it sounds.  Jamie doesn’t remember his sister, much less her death, and is simply trying to live his life and make it all work out the way that ten year-old boys do.  Of all of the books I have read, Jamie’s voice is one of the most authentic I’ve seen for a child of this age.  Ms. Pitcher deserves kudos for making him absolutely real.  It is only as an adult, reading the book, that your stomach ties itself in knots.  I definitely wanted to reach through the pages and throttle the parents, Jamie’s teacher, the bully, and very occasionally, Jamie.  He is ten, and the author makes no apologies.  In trying to figure out the rules of the world he makes some huge mistakes, and hurts people who try to help.  He learns a lot, though, and his growth throughout the book makes sense.  The only thing I didn’t like was one of those “inevitable” losses so prevalent in YA books.  You will know what I mean when you read it … and I saw it coming from the first pages.  While the event is critical in helping Jamie understand the complexities of grief, I do wish that authors could come up with some other way of moving their young protagonists forward.  In any case, the book struck a very strong chord with me and will resonate for some time to come.  Grab some Kleenex and curl up with it.

"A Game for Swallows: To Die, To Leave, To Return" by Zeina Abirached

Zeina Abirached is an artist, and it shows.  In all graphic novels, you want the text and images to blend into a dynamic partnership with each element enhancing the overall story-telling.  In this case, the story is good, but the artwork is spectacular.  Done in black and white ink, the tale is of a child's viewpoint during the Lebanese civil war in the late 1970s/early 1980s.  It is easy to see how this book garnered a Batchelder Honor this past year.  With tremendous similarities to "Persepolis" this is another story of a young person's perception of the world around them being wholly and irrevokably changed by growing up in a war-zone.  Where "Persepolis" succeeds on a personal level (you learn to love Marjane Satrapi's snarky alter-ego) this one is more subtle.  The entire tale takes place during a single blackout.  Two children are awaiting their parents' arrival from the "other side" of the demarcation zone.  The bombing prevents the parents from travelling, so neighbors in the small apartment building gather together in the building foyer to pass the time and calm the children.  Unlike "Persepolis" the narrator is somewhat de-personalized in this tale, as most of the points of view -- image-wise, are the neighbors.  For more than half of the book, the children do not even appear in the frames.  The story focuses on the neighbors, an eclectic and colorful group who represent the many ways that the citizens of Lebanon were impacted by the war.  Backgrounds are almost universally black, with occasional white spots to single out a specific figure.  The artwork doesn't just set the tone, it tells much of the story, with the opening pages zooming in on the streets of Beirut -- only after staring at them for a moment do you realize the number of bullet-holes pockmarking the various surfaces.  A few pages later there is a map of the city that is whited out in the center, showing how little of the area was actually navigable.  The memories (and these are memories) are those of children, with the focus on the games and smoking of the adults, make-believe dragons and the sort.  The deeply sad emotional threads in the story are undercurrents, and are often portrayed simply -- such as the time when a rattling chandalier is bordered by small images of a frightened older woman praying with her rosary beads.  In another scene, several pages are devoted to waiting -- with little happening other than increased puffs of smoke and the clicking of tiles as one person plays a Scrabble-like game.  It is a book that is simplicity, but due to the excellent art and story-telling, one that is rich in culture and history.  It is no small coincidence that the book is created with thick, high-quality paper, making it weigh much more than most books its size ... as if to say that it might be small, but there is much meat here to absorb.  Another short read that will enlarge your understanding of the world, a big thumbs up.

"The Book of Blood and Shadow" by Robin Wasserman

Whoa.  And my-oh-my.  Combine "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade" with "The Da Vinci Code," add in seriously strong literary merit, and you have a very very complex book with a predictable and yet fully engaging story.  "The Book of Blood and Shadow" not only exceeds 400 pages, but uses words like "miasma" and has paragraph-long sentences -- which is to say, it's not a short read.  But it shouldn't be.  Drawing the plot through time and place, touching on alchemy, astronomy, religion and mysticism, Wasserman's tale takes us from a real-life poetess of thirteenth century Czechoslovakia to modern day New England; from Rabbi Judah Loew's Golem to the mysterious and untranslatable Voynich manuscript ... even Johannes Kepler makes a guest appearance.  This book is not for the faint of heart or the uncommitted, but I found myself inexorably drawn in.  Nora, a high school student in an unusual friendship with a couple at her upscale prep school, works on a college campus with an eccentric professor trying to find the "Lumen Dei" -- the Light of God.  Think of it as a modern-day cell-phone call to the Almighty, who would then answer all of your questions.  There is murder and madness and a clue or two buried in letters written in Latin.  Nora translates them, finding a soul-mate in a woman long gone, and uncovers her possible connection to a questionable invention lost in the dust.  Along the way, she reflects a good deal on the weirdness of the world around her -- longing to be part of it but recognizing inherent separateness.  Those familiar with this kind of tale will know that there are secrets within secrets and quite a number of fanatical religious soldiers intent on fulfilling or stopping a centuries-old prophecy so most of the "surprises" were of little surprise to me.  It didn't matter.  This was a book that had me stopping early, at pages 10, then 13, and so-on and so-on, to re-read passages that required the reader to really think about what was being said.  The word "layers" simply does not do it justice.  Highly satisfying, with only one glaring boo-boo (they leave one city with no luggage, only to find their luggage "ripped apart" in the hotel room of the next city), this one is worth spending the time with.  I'd say "enjoy," but it's a little dark for that -- let's just say it is totally worth the visit.