When Good Ideas Fall Flat: Danielle Rollins’s Burning

Ever wonder what happens when you write a book in which all of your characters are one dimensional? Curious abut whether those incredibly flat characters can be brought to life with some interesting, supernatural-istic events? Well, look no further!

When I read the synopsis of Burning by Danielle Rollins, I was certain I’d stumbled upon a find. A girls’ juvenile detention center in upstate New York? Check. A girl with creepy Firestarter-esque super powers? Check. A lead character who’s in for . . . something that must be bad, because she’s been there for 2 years? Check.

Yet something about this all in reading it just didn’t propel me along in the way I tend towards when the book is super engaging. As in, it wasn’t the kind of read that annoyed me when I had to peel myself away from the book. It wasn’t the kind of listen that made me a headphone using, walking zombie for 8 hours. I did listen to it on Audible, though I didn’t think the narrator was particularly good–she tended to make everyone sound a little boring, a little unexcited, even in the most exciting situations.

The book’s about Angela Davis, a young woman short of her 18th birthday, who’s been in the detention center for over a year. We follow her and her 2 cellmates on their day to day, through the routine of the center, through detailed explanations of what they do and why, how they go about doing it, what the limits and parameters set on them are. There are occasional moments when you get a vague Orange is the New Black vibe, but I mean very occasional.

What I’d been hoping for was a tale actively reflecting the realities of young women in a juvenile detention center. Or a really creepy story. Or both. What I got was none of the above. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still interesting, and I’m still somewhat curious about the next installment (somewhat being the key operative), but it really lacked that spark (ha!) that usually leaves me waiting for more.

Essentially, Angela and her cell mates are going about their lives, waiting for when it’s time to be released. They get in fights, they tell each other stories, they watch each others’ backs, they work in the food hall. And that’s about it.

Until 10 year old Jessica arrives–a tiny wisp of a girl, immediately sent to the segregation wing. And with her appearance, their world turns upside down. A new doctor shows up with fancy technology, money, and a flashy program to lure the girls to submit to her every test and whim. The previous director leaves without a trace. The guards all start acting weird. Cameras appear everywhere. Strange events start occurring around Jessica.

When SciGirls, the doctor’s pet project to help girls succeed, is introduced, magically the entire detention center is turned upside down, with girls all clamoring to study archaic science facts and pass “the test.” Angela and Jessica are maybe the only 2 completely uninterested in it. Angela because she just wants out by her little brother’s birthday, and Jessica because at 10, she’s apparently smarter than all the other girls in the center.

As the mad doctor takes ever-more-constrictive and crazy measures to seek out Jessica’s teddy bear (ahem, yep), and lays down increasing threats on Angela to do so, things only become more complicated.

A Few Thoughts:

1. Well, I liked that there was a highly diverse cast of characters racially; on the toss side, they are in a juvenile detention center, so I’m not sure how I feel about it ultimately. Sadly, the touches that would have made these characters round–like backstories, more detailed development and personalities–was missing. We only see them through Angela’s perspective, and she’s pretty wrapped up in herself.
2. Angela’s awfully self-focused. I mean, there’s an entire SciGirls thing happening, and she can’t be bothered to at least know what others think about it? To try to understand why it’s a deal? To question why Dr. Gruen would single her out for favors and to be Jessica’s buddy? Even in terms of what she did to be sent to the center, it’s almost as if the author’s trying to convince us that it wasn’t that bad–that her acts are excusable because she took the moral high ground in ratting out her ex boyfriend. I dunno–maybe I’m missing something, but I wasn’t impressed.
3. The whole security guard romance? No. Just no.
4. Jessica is probably–no, definitely–the most interesting character in the book, yet we get almost nothing from her. She’s the one with the interesting powers, but somehow no one notices this other than Dr. Gruen and Angela? I don’t buy it–especially if she’s had as much difficulty controlling those powers as is eluded to repeatedly. And why isn’t Jessica speaking? And what has she experienced that would lead her to be constantly terrified? If her home life was bad, it seems she might have developed some coping skills of some sort . . . and if not, why not? This was another character that lacked rounding–she’s basically the young, scared, superpower one, but that’s it.
5. The teddy bear’s a thing, and we do get a really long, kind of boring, monologue by Dr. Gruen about why it’s essentially the most important thing in the world to her that kind of makes sense, but not completely. I’m still not entirely certain I understand Dr. Gruen’s interest in girls like Jessica, especially with the big reveal that (spoiler!) she’s a firestarter, too! Sooo . . . not certain why she feels the desperate need for this stupid bear? And, if it’s so important, why didn’t she just offer Jessica a new one in exchange for the old one?
6. Have you noticed I keep using the word firestarter to refer to Jessica? It’s a classic Stephen King book reference, and one of several seen throughout. Another is the librarian, who keeps pets in the library, like the librarian in “Shawshank Redemption.” There are likely others, but I was struck by these the most.
7. Jessica, from what I can tell, never lies to anyone. She will remain quiet (back to the being scared thing), she will act weird (back to the firestarter thing), and she is a loner, but she never lies. Yet when shit hits the fan, it seems that the assumption by all the girls–including Angela–is that Jessica must be lying, to the point where they’re probably traumatizing the kid. I dunno. Again, like with the teddy bear situation, it sort of seems like there were other ways to handle the situation, but because every character is so flat, they couldn’t imagine it.

Overall:

Meh. It’s ok. At no point was I anxious to get back to the story, and in all honesty, found my mind wandering pretty often. You want a kid who can make fires with their mind? Try Mr. King’s Firestarter. You won’t be disappointed with that one.

Well, It Definitely Ended With a Bang: A Sad Goodbye to Gina Damico’s Croak Series

I’ve said it before and, as I apparently have absolutely zero problem repeating myself, I might as well say it again: I will absolutely miss Gina Damico’s Croak Series, having finally finished the last of the trilogy, Rogue. Why is this such a sad parting? Ms. Damico’s done what I’ve found many YA authors to really, really struggle with (and mostly fail): balance. She had an amazing concept that was unique and interesting; a protagonist who’s out of control wild in some aspects, yet grows through the course of the series to have greater self and social awareness; humor and levity; sarcasm and respect; independence and parenting. The list goes on, but in terms of a wonderful YA series, well, it’s hard to move past this one.

In terms of this, the final installment, I’m not going to say much about the book itself because there’s not much I can really say without essentially ruining the book (and if you’ve not yet started it, the series). But in terms of interesting ideas that are being mixed in this series, there are many worth mentioning!

Though Lex, our protagonist, is not your average teen (pretty much ever, in an of the capacities in which we know her), we see her grow tremendously from the beginning to the end. There’s a clear arc here, and while I (somewhat) shudder to tritely reference this as a (duh!) bildungsroman, it’s certainly one of the best examples that I’ve seen. Lex’s growth from beginning to end is palpable, but it’s believable: she doesn’t overnight magically become a saint, nor does she lose herself in light of the decisions that she’s making. In every sense of the word, though, we see her grow up in this trilogy, which is definitely an aspect that I’ve repeatedly found lacking with many other YA series in which time passes, stuff happens, but there seems to be little or no change or growth in the protagonist.

In terms of story telling tropes, this story in some ways was reminiscent of a fairy tale to me. I don’t say that to suggest that there were fairies or princesses or knights on white horses, but to reference the fact that, from a very formally analytic view, there are a number of fairy tale elements there. I am no fairy tale expert, but I think Lex could easily be seen as a fairy tale lead: a young girl on the cusp of adolescence, seeking to learn about herself and a truth of the world around her, you have an ongoing question of who’s good and who’s not (note that this is modernized to reflect that no one being can be completely one or the other, which is a wonderful modern spin on this concept). Lex has numerous helpers along the way, the whole story is fantastical in concept and occurring in places that are laced with “magic” of one sort or another, and there is a clear conflict that Lex is working to resolve throughout the course of the books (actually, there’s more than one). She spends a good portion of the series on a quest to resolve the issues, aided with a team of friends, who share their many talents (and their lives) to accomplish this goal. We end the series with . . . well, if not a happy ending, then at the very least an ending that provides closure and makes us aware that there are things like greater goods and that sometimes, it’s ok to acknowledge fears, weaknesses and changes.

I really liked that the story included a well-rounded set of elements; we’re not just focused in on romance, on friendship, on fighting the bad guys, etc. It’s a rounded look at a teen coming into herself, and all of the vastly many facets that go along with it.

I’m sure there are probably other types of stories that this is quite similar to, but as I’ve been MIA reading endlessly long books and articles on fairy tales for class, that’s what you all get. 🙂 I’m sad to see this series end, but already have Ms. Damico’s Hellhole cued up on my ipod for when I’m not listening to thousand page classics (again, for class. . . sigh. .  .)

Anyone out there enjoying these?

Nope, Turn Those Lights Right Back On, Then Get Thee Hilary Monahan’s Mary: The Summoning (and never turn the lights off again!)

I was wondering how long it would take. No, not for me to finally have a spare second to post (sorry bout that–I specifically blame “Science Fiction in Victorian Literature.” Seriously–973 page books? Pshaw!) What I really mean is how long it would take for a YA author to get a hold of one of the great many urban legends out there and transform it into something bigger, bolder, grosser and, well, downright more exciting.

And then came Hillary Monahan’s Mary: The Summoning.

But first, a brief intro. Like the fairy tales of old, urban legends warn us off from doing stupid things. Now, you may be thinking that you would never do stupid things and, even if you were going to do stupid things, well, a stupid story would certainly not stop you from doing said stupid things in the first place.

That, my friend, is where you’d be . .. well, stupid. Why? Because *everyone* does stupid things and it is exactly these kinds of stories that are handed down willy-nilly at bedsides, or in classrooms, on school yards or by fireplaces late at night. But of course, to serve as warnings, not all such stories are going to be happy. No, in the realm of urban legends, you ain’t gonna see the princess ride off on the back of the prince’s white steed.

Bloody Mary has been an urban legend for a whiles. Certainly since before my time, and I actually rode a stegosaurus to the tiny one room school house when I was a lass. There are ongoing debates (because, apparently, people have time to debate the origins of a fictional story) as to whom this particular Mary is really supposed to be and, by extension, what she’s supposed to have done to make her a ghost worth summoning. Most theories agree that she was either a woman accused of murdering her own children or else was a mother whose child was stolen from her, leading to her impending insanity and eventual suicide. Or that she was a woman killed in a car accident or she was a witch. So basically, no one has a clue, other than that this ritual continues to be performed by kids.

Yet despite shaky and unknown origins, this particular legend is the basis of numerous websites, it’s nightmare fodder in virtually countless references in books, movies and tv shows, and it continues to be a source of morbid entertainment for kids today. And, really, who hasn’t tried it out–at least once–today? (Or back in the day, depending on how old your trusty dinosaur is?)

This story follows a quartet of teen girls–all long-time best friends–as they agree and participate in a Mary summoning ceremony, led by their Queen B, Jess, at her bequest. The narrator, Shauna, is intrigued by the activity–but that’s really all she sees it as: an activity. The other two girls, Anna and Kitty, are generally uninterested tag alongers on this ghost wooing expedition, uninterested in really investigating the matter and certainly hoping that it will not be in any way successful. But then, none of them–supposedly–expects the summoning to be successful, anyway. It’s just a bored teen girl activity, right?

And that’s where the author really takes liberties with the legend. Mary, in all her gruesome glory, is a fiend. Ms. Monahan does a pretty impressive job, for what it’s worth, of painting her in all the technicolor, modern horror film nastiness possible. She drips bugs, oozes various goos, spider walks, broken limb dangles, popped eyeball spews .  . . and just generally angry ghost haunts the heck out of the girls.

Part of what makes this particular ghoul so scary is her ability to appear anywhere at any time, as long as there’s a shiny surface involved. But not even that’s the main scary here. The biggest issue the girls face in fighting this formidable foe–and fight they do, as she latches on to Shauna–is what the don’t know. And, in my great efforts to not completely ruin the book with spoilers, I’ll leave it there for now.

What I Liked About the Book:

1. This book is creepy. I mean, scary creepy. I am a devout follower of all things horror, but even I had a few moments where I was duly surprised at how well the author treated this book not as a kiddy-hand-holding-before-adult-books, but as a legit horror story. Rock on!

2. LOVE that it’s not all about some unnecessary life-or-death romance. One of the girls does have a romantic interest, but he’s not a key player here at all. The story really focuses on these girls, their friendships, and their families. And the drama of their friendship? Yet another thing that really helps set the tone and pace of the story.

3. Oh, and speaking of their families, they actually have parents. As in, adults who actually parent and take care of them, rather than just allowing them to wander free with no responsibilities or governance. Ms. Monahan even did a fine job of weaving in how the girls responded to different situations based on responsibilities that they have to their families (as opposed to most YA, in which teens all raise themselves, apparently).

4. Ms. Monahan did a great job of creating not 1, not 2, not 3 but 4 separate, unique teen girl personalities and maintaining their momentum throughout the book. I really appreciated this, as too often I feel that characters tend to kind of mesh together–especially when they same-gendered friends in YA Lit. It was also an excellent twist that (at least to me) some of the scariest aspects of this story were directly related to this friendship (no more spoilers!).

5. The use of epistolary communications did an excellent job of blending Mary’s time with that of the girls today, as well as framing the narrative a lot better than simple discovery via google. We get a clearer reference and picture of what really happened to Mary, as well as personifying of the unsightly ghoul haunting the other pages of the book.

6. There are very few things about this book that conflict for me, but even those that do are quite few and far between. Perhaps more so than in any other YA book that I’ve read of late–and especially of those in the revitalized YA Horror/Thriller categories–this one did an outstanding job of covering potential plot holes along it’s way.

What I Didn’t Love About the Book:

1. Where I had some difficulty was with the tone. At multiple points, I found myself almost rolling my eyes, thinking that this story was clearly aimed towards an almost tween crowd (think 13-14). However, the content clearly placed it in the late teen group, especially with the graphically gory descriptions, surprise element and violence. Perhaps it was just me, and perhaps now it’s just me used to reading YA Lit portraying slightly older protagonists, but there were a few clangs in terms of what the story was doing v. how it was being told.

2. Though I loudly laud the presence of parents and family members throughout, I had some difficulty swallowing how Shauna’s mother in one scene is able to see straight through some fairly convincing lies, while in another is completely unaware–even when hugging/rubbing Shauna’s back–of the scratches/bandages there.

3. Similarly, I found it somewhat unconvincing that no parents saw fit to ask why their daughters were carrying around large boxes of salt wherever they went. Maybe it’s just me, but I have a feeling your average mom would notice that.

4. Sadly, while I really enjoyed the Cody story line (previous Mary survivor finally freed), I found her advice to Shauna the least plausible. Really? The best idea in your arsenal is to have the teen abandon her friends, family, and schooling with no explanation and just continue on along her merry way to be haunted and shredded by an angry ghost alone? Hmmm.

5. I have a little trouble following how the three other girls in the quartet could so readily and easily both follow Jess, the fourth member, into the summoning and then (especially as the proverbial poop hits the fan) continue to believe whatever she told them. They suggest later in the story that they might not have grounds to trust her, but this seemed too little too late. It clanged a bit, given the group’s dynamic, that they would all willingly continue to follow what she said and told them to do.

Overall:

In all, though, these are all pretty minor hiccups in my efforts at completely suspending disbelief and, as a result, this book feels like one of the tightest woven narratives I’ve come across. It’s unapologetically gory, violent, scary and interesting. It’s also one of the first moves in the YA Lit field towards retelling an urban legend (though we’ve seen quite a few recent retellings of fairy tales and classics). I assume that there will be more of these to come, to which I say, Bring em on!

Add Some Fava Beans to the Pot, Clarice, You’ve Got Company!: Barry Lyga’s I Hunt Killers

The title pretty much says it all with this book: I Hunt Killers. And Barry Lyga makes sure to remind us that his protagonist, Jasper Dent–self-absorbed high school student/son of famous serial killer William Dent–really, really wants to do that. Over. And over. And Over again. Yet despite this, Mr. Lyga hooks the reader immediately in the complex psychological debates that Jazz finds himself fighting through daily, the compromises that he makes to continue his daily existence and the routines he’s created to make the days less painful.

The story is pretty intriguing on the surface: Jazz is basically raising himself following the arrest and imprisonment of his father, killer of 123(4?) people over his killing lifetime. Big daddy Dent is smart, calculating, cold as ice and just as heartless. But he does have a soft spot for his son, whom he raised to learn the family trade: killing. So, after his father’s arrest by the local sheriff, Jazz is (understandably) a social pariah, hounded by the media, lost and alone (his mother “disappeared” years before) and is left with little by way of a support system, other than his best friend, Howie, and his girlfriend, Connie.

In his spare time, he apparently sneaks into the  sheriff’s office and the morgue and pretty much anywhere else he fancies, using the skills his father taught him for breaking and entering. With a new killer presumably on the loose in the town, Jazz is convinced the murderer’s a serial killer and reaches a near-panicked feverish pitch in his need to assist in catching the murderer.

Now, I can think of quite a few teenage boys who would love nothing more than to take some of their spare time and investigate crimes/murders, but Jazz’s desire to do so reaches an almost feverish pitch. As noted, he’s got more than a few issues that he’s working out, not the least of which being just how much of his genetic/mental/psychological/emotional make up comes thanks to dad.

As a character, Jazz is an interesting one. He’s more intense than Thomas in James Dashner’s The Maze Runner, but in many ways just as smart and willing to put himself out on a limb, eyes on the prize, without thinking twice. However, he’s on constant psychological ice, trying to decide how best to present himself and then questioning what it means that he’s stopping to ask himself that. In some ways, he kind of reminded me of Harry Potter in the later books, when he becomes darker, more inwardly turned and moodier, yet still avidly concerned about his friends. He’s definitely dynamic, which keeps the story moving!

Here’s What I Liked About the Book:
1. Jasper’s a pretty smart dude, and doesn’t need to rely on fart jokes or bodily part references to make himself heard. He’s attentive and loyal to those who are loyal to him, which is a trait that comes across repeatedly as missing in representations of teens boys in YA Lit. Notably, he’s also highly manipulative–and knows it. While I can’t say I particularly enjoy this as a trait in, say, a new friend or co-worker, I can say that I think it’s an interesting plot twist in and of itself.

2. We get *a lot* on Jazz’s inner workings and turmoil over the course of the narrative. I actually think this is a good thing and, again, something that we tend not to see too much of in YA Lit males.

3. Mr. Lyga did his research for this one, clearly. There’s quite a bit of very good and very detailed information out there about serial killers, sociopaths, psychopaths, etc. to dig through, but you have to be willing to do just that: dig through it. He did, and it pays off in spades here.

4. When we talk about the reinvention of the YA Thriller, this, my friends, is what we need to see more of. It’s not the oh-no-we’re-trapped-in-an-abandoned-carnival (a la Laurie Stolarz’s Welcome to the Dark House). Nor is it the oh-woops-I-can’t-remember-what-happened-when-I-was-attached-and-now-don’t-get-my-boyfriend (a la Jennifer Armentrout’s Don’t Look Back). It’s taking the inner workings of an adult thriller and turning them upside down and letting the YA Lit reader enjoy the mystery and emotion that makes classics like Silence of the Lambs classics.

5. Even aside from Jazz, the characters all seemed dynamic and interesting. None of them were truly one-note, and all of them added to the tension and movement of the plot line to both build the drama as well as minimize the craziness of Jazz’s lifestyle.

What I Didn’t Love About It:

1. Ok. NO WAY will the police involve a teen–especially a teen with a history of a sociopathic, serial killer dad that he’s still recovering from–assist in an investigation. Period. Liability being the very least of the relevant related issues with that.

2. NO WAY would Jazz be allowed so many “chances” to stay out of the way, either. Breaking and entering into the morgue? Stealing confidential files? Contaminating crime scenes and evidence? NO WAY.

3. Equally unbelievable is the idea that Jazz would have just stayed where he was after dad’s arrest. Especially with the media zoo he references and the looks/whispers/rumors/etc that he repeatedly notes are floating around about him. What kind of life is that?

4. Nor do I fully buy the idea that he’s been living with senile/mildly dangerous grandma, being visited apparently with some regularity by a social worker, and she doesn’t pick up on just how senile grandma is. Granted, Jazz is a manipulator and we see how he strong arms the social worker into hearing out his case and sympathizing with him, but still. Not buying it.

5.  While Jazz does make for an interesting and sympathetic protagonist, holy crap can he be self absorbed! At multiple points in the story I found myself rolling my eyes over some of the crap he was belaboring–and actually found myself cheering Connie for giving him the verbal smack down (though I have my doubts about her willingness to date him, as well).

6. There are a number of strings left untied, build-ups left open, questions left unanswered. Presumably this is because the author builds the tension in the last third of the book with an eye towards book two in the series, but it feels a little sloppy nonetheless.

Overall:

The story sucks you in at the beginning and largely delivers on what it promises. This is the first book of a series, and it definitely read like it was. There are a number of strange plot holes/missing answers to questions. What you do get by the end, though, is an interestingly twisted tale.

Anyone else out there a fan of thrillers? Interested in this series?

The Red Death Strikes Again: Bethany Griffin’s Masque of the Red Death

One part classic redux. One part steampunk. One part gothic. And a few pinches of new and different in there and you get Bethany Griffin’s Masque of the Red Death, the intriguing spin-off of Edgar Allan Poe’s short story classic of the same name.

After reading (and enjoying!) Griffin’s The Fall, it seemed like a pretty good bet to give her better known and more highly acclaimed book a chance, too. I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but it is quite similar in style to The Fall. Essentially, we see a little more of the characters we meet in Poe’s original tale, but that’s where the similarities end. Indeed, in The Fall there is even a certain amount of closure as a stand-alone read, whereas here, Ms. Griffin’s story was broken into two books, and we don’t really even approach the heart of what makes up Poe’s story until the very end, when we do begin to get some mention of a massive masque ball being hosted by Prince Prospero at his giant gothic castle on the outskirts of a (quite literally) dying city.

And Ms. Griffin’s story really plays up all the Victorian era goodness that one might expect from a tale of this period, and particularly one from gothic master Poe. We see death and destruction, mayhem, violence, a massive divide between the rich and the poor, the reliance on science to create faith and to allow the people to see hope and possibility past the massive wave of disease overtaking (potentially) the world. Indeed, the countersurgence against Prince Prospero’s self-absorbed reign is led by the Reverend Malcontent, who effectively home grows a rebellion throughout the course of the story.

I have to say that I was somewhat surprised by the steampunk element thrown in for good measure. It’s omnipresent in the lifestyle that Araby leads, and effects all of the denizens of the broken city. The horses have died, so only the extremely wealthy get steam carriages to drive them about; the air is filled with contagious disease amoebas or something, so those who can afford one walk around with face masks (and those who don’t apparently stay shut up tight indoors or die pretty quickly); the poor are clearly dangerous, so the wealthiest live in a protective tower; a hot air balloon provides a chance to rendezvous at a non-fatal-to-remove-one’s-mask altitude; a zephyr provides escape.

Our protagonist, Araby, is hell-bent on destroying herself on her way to attaining “oblivion” (the use of the word, for some reason, made me think of John Green’s The Fault in Our Stars, but for no reason other than that that word is used somewhat repeatedly in Mr. Green’s work. And with better reason and purpose). Her father seems to be thrown up as a point of debate: he created the masks that have saved those wealthy enough to buy one, but there’s a suggestion that he may also have been responsible for the disease that caused the need for them. So he’s a generally distracted and distant mess, who’s under the watch and control of Prince Prospero. Her mother is a weak, nervous woman for reasons that Araby doesn’t know nor cares to find out.

Araby, for her part, is annoying. She’s weak, she’s self-absorbed and, to be honest, she ain’t the sharpest tool in the shed. She spends her days, from what the book suggests, living the life of a Victorian era socialite: she lounges about her posh apartment building during the day, reads, stares out the window, then in the evening perks up to go out to the Debauchery District with the Prince’s niece, April, to get wasted (back to that “oblivion” idea). She then proceeds to stay out most of the night before stumbling back home to sleep off the morning and repeat, day after day. Despite the fact that so many people can’t afford masks to keep them alive. Despite the fact that she has wealth, safety and privilege that so many in this society would kill for. Despite her mother’s concern for her and her father’s constant work.

All of this eventually culminates in riots in the city, Araby’s dealings with an awkward love triangle, and the rise of Reverend Malcontent’s thugs in a city-wide uprising.

What I Liked About the Story:

1. It’s very atmospheric, with strong lines drawn between “the haves” and “the have nots.” This is in keeping with writing of Poe’s time, when authors tended to paint a very bleak picture of what it was like to be on the poorer side of life. The author’s pretty good at being consistent with it, too.

2. We don’t have a clear picture of what’s going on in the beginning going into the story, and as a result, you really do turn the pages to understand the full picture (which you still only marginally get, but something’s better than nothing). The relationships between people, peoples’ motivations, etc, are all revealed in bits and pieces, which is preferable over having them all laid out for you.

3. The interplay of science and it’s place in this society is intriguing to me. We see new inventions, new technology, the melding of familiar structures with unfamiliar purposes. I dig it because not only was this a major idea in Poe’s time, but it’s something that I could imagine–in this type of slow disaster scenario–people taking seriously and trying to put all their faith into.

4. Speaking of faith, Ms. Griffin does an equally intriguing job of building the idea of science as a form of religion. In a time when churches generally seem to be defunct and people are still trying to find something to believe in, when people are dying left and right by the hundreds and then (and sometimes even before they’ve died) being fed to the crocodiles, the masses are still trying to locate something worth continuing to have faith about. And science, as we see through Araby’s father’s work, seems to be what they’ve decided to believe in. Seems like a safe bet in this scenario, too, at least until science stops having all the answers and humanity itself becomes more dangerous.

5. But similarly, and so as not to really take sides completely, Ms. Griffin still lets us in on the fallacy of science. We learn about how it was scientists who created the contagion as well as a new strain, the Red Death, which have been unleashed on the people. We learn it was scientists who decided to bring in the crocodiles, yes, but it was also scientists who brought in bats before that, which now attack people on the streets. I guess what I liked was that nothing in this book–and no one–is infallible. There is no one hero, just as there is no one solution.

What I Didn’t Love:

1. Araby is really annoying. Talk about self absorbed! And, really, at 17, she should have developed enough to understand that her actions do have consequences and that they do affect the other people around her. What’s more, she should also be able to realize that her parents are not going to tell her every single thing they think, believe, breath, or experience–but that there’s probably a reason behind why they did what they did.

2. The love triangle is annoying and confusing. Both of Araby’s purported love interests are just . . . awkward. Both with her as their respective interest and, well, in general. And while Araby’s not what one might consider to be gifted in the social graces herself, she’s at least moderately socially aware. Her actions are at once weird and self-absorbed while also self-protective, as she clings to her morbid obsession with her brother’s death years earlier.

3. Araby’s immature response to her brother’s death is inconsistent. One might assume that she’s going to be hurt and scarred by it for the rest of her life, but that doesn’t really mean she has to be a drug addict/alcoholic in doing so. That she blames her parents for it, and respects them less as a result of it, is also unfair. Additionally, her vow–not to experience anything that her brother didn’t have the chance to–is almost laughable in it’s hit-and-miss application in her life. It becomes her go-to excuse for not experiencing any kind of intimacy, but beyond that Araby seems to feel no need to apply it. I’m pretty certain her brother didn’t get a chance to party all night, experiment with drugs, drink, wear extravagant clothes, ride in a steam carriage, etc. But those aren’t concerns for her. One boy trying to hold her hand, though? Enough for a full-on guilt-laden panic attack. Hm.

4. There is a lot happening in the city that’s just blatantly . . . wrong. And while I understand that we’re dealing with a different time in a different place with different laws and expectations, I have a lot of difficulty swallowing that an entire society would just accept what Prospero’s thrust upon them. Especially when it means the death of countless thousands.

5. There are a lot of loose ends, presumably tied up in the second book, but which I’m not sure the purpose of which are. Old men who hang out harassing Araby at the Debauchery Club? The concierge that Araby tries to get a mask for and eventually sends on his way? The diseased-but-not-dead living in the marsh? The sacrifices that Elliot eluded to by the marsh dwellers? The purpose of Will to the story? The wild, rogue bats? The list goes on and on–and I’m not certain that answers are forthcoming, but I suppose I must reserve judgment until I read the next installment.

Overall:

So I guess, after taking more time to really hash through my own thoughts, I’m really not completely sold on this. I really want to love it, but there are a number of annoyances that keep nagging at me. As an avid Poe lover, though, I’ll probably pick up the next book. And if you’re willing to give it a chance–and suspend a lot of disbelief–this is a pretty engaging read.

What do you think? Anyone read this and find Araby more pleasant than I?

Southern Gothic Lovers Rejoice: Martina Boone’s Compulsion is an Exciting Beginning to a New YA Series, Despite Itself!

Honestly, I didn’t think I was actually going to like this book. I say that from a place of YA love in my heart, though not necessarily a place of southern drama/moody/gothic-y love. When I read the synopsis, particularly the hook lines about curses, wishes, etc, I still wasn’t particularly interested. AND in getting an eyeful of the cover, I was very much still not interested.

So I did what tends, somewhat counter-intuitively to happen in my household when I’m dead set on the idea that I’m going to dislike a book: I started reading it. Not because I secretly thought there was a redeeming aspect to it, but because I figured I’d give it a few pages to righteously confirm my suspicions and then I’d set it down and feel contented knowing that I gave it a chance.

Could I have been farther from the truth? There’s a small chance, but probably not. Within the first few pages, I was without a doubt hooked into this strange, oddly secretive and interwoven set of families. Yes, they are weird. Yes, they are set in their (somewhat stereotypically) southern ways. But more to the point: Ms. Boone weaves lives, people, times, experiences, secrets, hopes, wishes, dreams and insanity together in a way that at once allows you to see the intricate patterns as well as the overall picture.

I’m not going to lie: there are times when I cringed a bit at the characters. We follow Barrie, a 17-year-old orphan, whose mother’s recent death and her former guardian’s losing battle to cancer leave her essentially hoisted upon an aunt she’s never met from a family she’s never known on the opposite coast of a continent she has never explored to experience a life she never imagined that she could. There, she’s introduced to her Aunt Pru, her mother’s sister; Eight, the apparently requisite YA love interest; an extended family she never knew she had, and a town filled with busybodies who never knew Barrie even existed until she showed up. As Barrie attempts to settle into this new life and decide how much of it she actually wants to commit to, she learns about her family’s special “gift”–something she’s experienced her whole life, but always thought of as just a strange personal quirk–and discovers that there’s a whole lot more behind why her mother left Watson’s Landing than Barrie could ever have imagined.

For those of you interested in comparisons, I actually found Barrie to be very similar in personality to Luce in Lauren Kate’s Fallen series. The book has been compared to Beautiful Creatures, but I found it largely unrelated in virtually any manner other than, perhaps, being set in the south. Also, Eight–Barrie’s love interest–strikes me as an interesting cross between Garcia and Stohls’s Ethan and his best friend, Link, though a good deal smarter than both of them.

What I Liked About the Book:

1. The author had me at Mark, Barrie’s black, cross-dressing, transgender(?) guardian. His character is bright, interesting and, even though he’s struggling with his cancer, lends color and emotion to a book that might otherwise be lacking without him. At the same time, there are a few lines Ms. Boone gives him that lean towards trite, but generally speaking, he adds color to the story.

2. The setting is fascinating. Three plantations, three founding families, all hiding a wealth of secrets between them. These are every bit the crazy, hidden-passages-behind-walls, secret-stairs-behind-panels, forgotten-tunnels-in-basements kinds of plantations. The setting alone is ripe with mystery and the unknown, leaving us (the hapless readers) at the mercy of Ms. Boone’s whims to take the story in what ever kind of direction she chooses.

3. Bet you won’t guess where this story’s going! There’s way too many elements you won’t even realize are important until the tale starts to wind it’s way to the end. . .

4. Saying “that’s crazy” or “you’re crazy” isn’t an endgame here. It seems like in a lot of YA Lit, these phrases are enough to conclude any interest in a strange idea, theory or notion. Not so here, where we see a number of such potential moments, but no takers on that conclusion–including the adult characters, who seem to be rather easily put off in YA Lit by such proclamations.

5. There are secrets upon secrets upon secrets, and while I found these frustrating at times, they also lend themselves to making the story itself all the more interesting, with all the more mystery to it.

What I Didn’t Care For:

1. My, my, but we have some inconsistent characters! One minute they’re best friends, the next they hate each other. One minute they dislike each other, the next they’re making out and in love. I particularly found it baffling how quickly Barrie would get pissed at Eight, who really didn’t seem to be doing anything particularly rude or pretentious. Perhaps if Barrie had been built up as having been a highly independent, feminist type character, then some of Eight’s acts would have been more understandably irritating to her. As it stands, Barrie’s little outbursts just came off as being fussy, annoying and immature.

2. Along those same lines, our protagonist is, at the very best, minimally complex. There’s a lot going on with her, but this is one area wherein I felt that the author could have done a slightly better job weaving together her interests, hobbies, passions and personality a bit more clearly. The way it’s done here just feels a bit too passive: we get a brief mention of Barrie’s interest in art, but nothing really about it until Mark finds and mails her her mother’s sketch book. We hear about Barrie’s fitting in as an average person in school with zero experience with boys, then later we have hints dropped about how she looks just like her mom, a multi-beauty pageant winner. Barrie doesn’t seem to spend any time in the kitchen, but mentions she and Mark watched a lot of the cooking channel, then suddenly she’s proposing opening a restaurant? She claims herself to be a boring average girl, with no real-world, leaving-the-house experiences, yet she’s willing to start a dance party at a cook out with complete strangers? She’s never really had any extended family members per se, but now she’s going out of her way and ignoring every single warning she’s given about them in her haste to make them her buddies? Hm.

3. Why does no one seem to think that they should tell Barrie anything? Mark’s keeping secrets; Barrie’s mother kept tons of secrets; Pru keeps secrets; even Eight and Barrie’s cousin, Cassie, keep secrets. By the end of the tale, it’s sort of the one consistent theme: Barrie’s being faced with both real and paranormal danger, yet everyone’s still hanging back, apparently afraid she might . . . I don’t even know what, because she’s proven herself to be fairly resilient and trustworthy, but no one wants to tell her those things that might actually help save her life and allow her to better understand the events occurring around her.

4. There are also a number of strings left undone. For example, Barrie decides to have Mark ship all of her mother’s belongings to Watson’s Landing, yet after the decision is made–and after her heartache at having to confess this decision to Aunt Pru–we never hear another word of them, nor do they appear. There seemed to be many small examples of this throughout the book, and while I assume that these inconsistencies will be addressed in the next books in the series, I found the sheer number of them to be highly distracting.

5. So let me get this straight: you have ghosts running the halls, somewhat mischievous yunwi spirits following people around, and a spooky and wordless Fire Carrier roaming the property at night and Barrie’s just totally, no questions asked, no goosebumps in the night, ok with this? I could imagine Aunt Pru being ok with this, in light of the fact that she’s grown up with it all, but Barrie isn’t even given a warning. Or an explanation. (Back to that everyone keeps tons of secrets).

6. There is a feeling here of throwing in everything, including the kitchen sink. There’s a LOT going on, and while I think that Ms. Boone manages to just juggle it all, I thought she could easily have cut one or two elements and the story still been ok with it.

Overall:

This really is a fun read, and while it’s real easy for me to sit here with a warm coffee in my hand and slippers on my feet and play armchair warrior at it, this is one of those books you can easily lose yourself in. Although I did find myself occasionally annoyed at the characters and/or their inconsistencies, the plot was interesting and fast paced, weaving together just the right amount of action, mystery, romance and intrigue to keep those pages turning.

Anyone else out there taken a glance at this one? Any interest?

I Am Seriously Going to Be Super Bummed When I Finish This Trilogy: Gina Damico’s Scorch (Croak Trilogy)

And so it continues–and at the same breathless, break-neck pace as before! Gina Damico’s Scorch–book 2 of her Croak trilogy, following Lex in her becoming a Grim Reaper–continues the wild events with the same riveting cast of characters. Indeed, I would argue that book 2 of the series not only picks up right where the last book left off, but it’s more interesting and (dare I say it?) better written, with more inflection on the part of Lex, more balance between the characters, more conflict to increase the tension and more generally at stake than in the first book.

What I Liked About the Book:

1. Lex is still a pain in the butt, but man, by the time you reach the end of this book, you are hit with the sudden realization that she’s (over the course of the book) been maturing and growing into a complex, hot-headed, but far more rational young adult. (No, that’s not perfectly across the board–we get some surprises at the end that certainly suggest that she’s still the selfish teen she was, but at least she seems to be realizing now that there are both causes and effects and that her actions do have consequences).

2. We get more development of the town, more “rules” about the world that Ms. Damico has been building and more background on some of the characters. I think that this was all very lightly alluded to in the first book, and it’s important enough information to warrant some deeper thought about.

3. Lex finally catches on that she’s not getting the full story, either. While she had some idea before, she seemed to believe that the primary way to get answers was to literally wrestle them out of the people around her, then accept what they offered as truthful. Whereas here, we get the idea that there are more complex relationships, more complex thoughts, more complex ideas.

4. We finally see another town in the Grimosphere. Finally! And it’s pretty . . . fake. But it’s at least another point of comparison, to see how Croak compares to it’s competition.

5. Ah, the humor. Again, I enjoyed this sequel on Audible, was again thrilled at the narrator, and was once again pleasantly surprised to find myself laughing out loud like I had a few marbles loose myself.All in all, though, it was totally worthwhile. 🙂

What I Didn’t Love About the Book:

1. I don’t think it’s fair that Mort and the townspeople all generally expect Lex and the other Juniors to act like adults and to take on adult responsibilities, yet insist on treating them like children. I think this might have been a general point of hypocrisy that Ms. Damico was making, and if that’s the case, well, I hear ya loud and clear! If not, then the point still stands: this feels like unfair treatment and a highly hypocritical set of expectations.

2. I’m not sure I understand how Lex could have continued damning behind Mort’s back.  .. not only does it seem obnoxiously selfish in light of the risks that she’s already been made aware of, but it also feels like she just doesn’t stop to think about how her actions are affecting everyone else around her. I’m not sure if this is Mort’s fault for failing to make clear to her what shortcomings her choices were reflecting or if this was simply the result of someone not caring, but either way it felt like there was something that could have been done to more clearly communicate this to Lex in a way that she’d get.

3. Not sure I fully understand Lex’s dread at seeing her parents. Weird interlude for sure, but she has to know that it will be, all things considered. One of the things that I really liked about the first book was the fact that parents were, in fact, an active part of Lex’s life and, though Uncle Mort, continued to be throughout the tale. In this book, we see Lex’s parents taking an even lesser role in her life and Uncle Mort failing to act in a parenting capacity, as well. While I understand that one of the great hurtles of YA Lit/life in general is moving from child-cared-for-by-parent into young adult, independent and mature, Lex certainly isn’t there yet. And her decisions show this.

4. I’m not sure I needed the white tux clad character at all to keep the story moving. I understand that he adds another layer of depth to the tension being set, but I still found the character kind of unnecessary.

Overall:

Can’t wait to get book 3. Seriously. Am downloading tonight. 🙂

What do you all think? Any readers of the series out there?

A Disappointing End of an Era: Michelle Hodkin’s The Retribution of Mara Dyer

It’s been years since I began reading Michelle Hodkin’s Mara Dyer Trilogy. I remember cuddling up to the first book while on a long trip through India and not being able to wait for the second book. I remember finally getting my hands on the second book in the series and devouring it, disappointed only by not having the third one to immediately turn to, especially following that cliffhanger ending. So finishing book three left me . . . well, mildly disappointed may be the best descriptor there.

That’s not to say that there aren’t some wild twists and turns, or that the trilogy doesn’t do a fair job of keeping the audience engaged with the characters and wondering what’s to come. Is Noah still alive? Did the voodoo guy really live a double life as a professor? Are the parents of these teens all seriously going to just believe them? 

No, it’s not a terrible ending to the trilogy, it’s just that it’s sort of a ho-hum kind of ending. Yes, there’s a revelation about Mara and Noah and Jamie, but I actually found that, by the time it was made, I didn’t really care. And yes, the lovers are reunited, but they’re each of them maybe all of 17. And Mara’s (seriously–I couldn’t make this up!) a pretty unremorseful serial killer. And her apparently best friend, Jamie? He’s using Jedi mind powers to control others, though it’s a bit unclear what the long-term implications will be for him (throughout the story there are suggestions that he could be hurting himself, or might possibly lose control of these powers, or could possibly even lead to his undoing). Noah’s apparently suicidal, and has been all his life. His dad’s . . . well, I’ll just leave good spoilers where they lie.

In trying myself to write a book, I can’t begin to fathom the challenge that a writer must face in creating a series out of a book. On the one hand, it has to be exhilarating: you’ve created a world, a cast of characters, a series of events that your readership relies on you alone to explain and make clear. But then you get the not-so-great, too: trying to create 1000+ pages that are intriguing, convincing, true to each character and real enough to keep readers reading. These challenges are where I felt that this book tripped up–there are just way too many unanswered questions/ inconsistencies/weirdly nonsensical plot twists, and the whole thing just sort of ended with what sounded (in my head) like a whoopie cushion deflating.

What I Liked About It:

1.     Specifically, this book certainly kept the surprises coming! There’s not a chance of predicting even half of the things that occur in it, and I felt like that was a breath of fresh air from some of the far more predictable reads I’ve been wading through lately.

2.     It’s partially set in New York City. 🙂

3.     We get more of Jamie in it, and I think that’s a plus. He’s largely been treated as a side character throughout the series, but he’s probably the most interesting personality that the author created. Also, Mara actually has a female friend she interacts with, kind of, which is nice. Until it’s not.

4.     We are provided, at the very least, moderate closure on Mara’s situation and, through a series of narrative flashbacks, we get a (somewhat) clearer picture of the genealogical why and how Mara ended up the way she did, and in the position she’s in.

5.     The author does provide some hints as to what might happen with this cast of characters going forward.

What I Didn’t Particularly Like: (Warning–spoilers)

1.     I listened to the Audible version of this book and found myself repeatedly tuning out. That in itself might not be a huge problem (could be my fault, after all!), but I had to keep going back and relistening not just because I’d realize after the fact that I’d just missed a chunk and had no idea what the characters were, but because I had no clue how they got there. And, even after I did relisten, I still often found myself lost.

2.     Although the series itself has dealt with a number of unbelievable/semi-believable events, characters, histories, etc, I really found this last book just too far out there. I’m fairly certain my reading list–even just that on this blog!–supports me when I say that I really don’t have a problem suspending disbelief, generally speaking. I do, however, have to feel some tendril of reality in what I’m reading, and there were points in this story when I was ready to just turn the book off altogether as a result of it’s seemingly ridiculously far-fetched nature.

3.     While previously in the series I had found myself very much rooting for Mara and Noah, I found their romance strange, dark, and sad in this book. (And really, really, really overdone–holy crap, WHY is Mara’s only concern, while trying to break herself and her friends out of a mental hospital, learning whether Noah’s alive or not??? I get that he was very important to her, but the whole firsg half of the book took things from a somewhat mature and loving relationship to obsessive scary weirdness!) Indeed, by the end, I found myself hoping–for both their sakes–that they wouldn’t end up together; I hoped instead that they would each be able to move on with their individual lives and find better matches, respectively.

4.     Did I mention that Mara’s a pretty scary serial killer? I know she’s our protagonist and all, and that she’s dealing with some pretty messed up stuff, but I’m still having some difficulty wanting to root for someone who’s demonstrating pretty textbook sociopathic/psychopathic tendencies. Also, she cuts out an eyeball and carries it around. Just saying.

5.     Whatever happened to Stella? I kept kind of expecting her to show up again towards the end, but basically she just peaces out about 2/3 of the way through the book and that’s it.

6.     I understand that Jamie used his mind tricks to convince the three teens’ parents to allow them to take off on their “adventure camp” excuse. However, I had a tremendous amount of difficulty understanding how Mara’s very protective, very involved and very active parents would just happen to allow Danny, Mara’s slightly older brother, to take off to another part of the country by himself for an unspecified period of time with an unclear series of schools to visit without checking in on him regularly and without at least one of them chaperoning him. Especially with all their concern about Mara (who they now believe to be safely locked away in a mental treatment facility), one would think they’d be extra concerned about their other kids. Apparently not.

7.     The implication of the story and it’s events seem to shift and morph over the course of the three books. While the first and even the second books seemed to place a paranormal/supernatural emphasis on the events in Mara’s life, they also really pushed the idea of how Mara was repeatedly framed for the horrific events she was tied to. (Suicide? Not her! Murder? No way! Obviously she was framed!) However, this book ups the ante of horrific Mara acts, though she seems completely unwilling to even consider that her actions were beyond what was appropriate; indeed, even beyond what could be argued as necessary. And then we get the big twist, which Mara herself confirms several times at the end of the book: they’re teens with super powers. Hmmm. I really didn’t see the ability to kill at will to be a super power (just ask any serial murderer. . . .) but even beyond that definitional technicality, methinks Ms. Hodkins was reading too much Divergent, Hunger Games and Harry Potter (all three of which are referenced in the book) and allowed these too much influence over her own series. In other words, I felt like we lost our way part way through the woods.

8.     The love scene between Mara and Noah is, um, far fetched, to say the least? I mean, really?

9.     In the beginning of the series, I actually felt that this was a great step forward in addressing mental health in YA Lit–not because it was completely realistic, but because it brought it into the conversational forefront. By the end of this book, I actually felt that it was a set back. What a lesson to teach: if you act messed up and mentally ill and someone concerned about you calls you out on it, clearly it must be that you’re a teen with latent superpowers that are causing deaths and injuries left and right. Which would then make it unreasonable for you to be secured away from the general public . . . right?

10.     There are three or four minors involved in a legal altercation involving police questioning and requiring Jamie to call on his incredibly convenient lawyer cousin to help them. . . but no parents are to be called and notified as to what’s happening to their mental hospital escapee kids? Really?

11.     I must be stupid, but even after hearing the explanation about why Mara must die, why Noah wants to die, and who they are, etc, etc, I still have no idea what caused it. Supposedly their conditions are based on a genetic anomaly, but then I don’t see the connection of how killing one would affect the genetics of the other? I don’t know. I listened to this explanation a couple of times and couldn’t figure it out.

12.     Why is the entire first 2/3 of the book Mara, Jamie and Stella driving around? What purpose did that really serve? Why wasn’t there more information/answers that they acquired in the Horizons holding facility? (And what the heck was the point of Mara getting Jude’s watch????)

13.     So if Mara’s not her real name, what is her real name? And why aren’t we told? And why does it even matter?

14.     I thought Noah was amazing in the first two books. In this book, he became an annoyingly self-absorbed frustration. I’m not sure what was even to be gained from him as a character. And, if not choosing Mara would potentially save the world, I have some difficulty feeling the romance here. That’s quite a large expense–the cost of the entire world–to stay with her, and it seems insurmountably selfish.

15.     I kept waiting for some clear connection between the narrative flashbacks to Mara’s grandmother’s life and Mara’s life presently, but I felt that this was a place where the author really failed to rise to the challenge. A clear connection would have underlined the genetic cycle theme that seemed to be sweeping throughout the story, but this just added to the confusion.

16.     I was super excited that action was occurring in the NYC subway tunnels!. . . that is, until the only “action” was Noah’s creepy dad “explaining” shit that didn’t make any sense. I still have no real idea why Mara was being held/possibly killed if the treatments were working; I have no clue why Noah’s dad made this big deal about keeping Mara and Noah away from each other, then bringing them together. . . in a subway tunnel, for some reason?; I am still quite unclear as to why Jude was there; I have no clue how both Noah and Mara came back from the dead, and kind of think the story would have been better if at least one of them would have remained dead.

Overall:

The series is decent, but the first book’s the real kicker. The second book starts heading off in new and different directions, but is still pretty engaging. This last book? Hm. I’d be tempted to skip it and just read the Wikipedia summary.

Anyone else out there have a chance to read this series? Thoughts?

Emmy Laybourne’s Monument 14 Sure Ain’t Your Usual Breakfast Club Meets Lord of the Flies Post-Apocalyptic YA Book–AND THAT’S A GOOD THING!

Recently, I feel like there have been a spate of releases in the YA market about end of the world disasters with a very Lord of the Flies/The Stand/The Breakfast Club blend to them. I’m not sure why all of these seem to retain an element of The Breakfast Club in them, though I assume that that’s at least partially due to the fact that there are so many well-trodden paths of social stratification in high school that it’s assumed that these groupings couldn’t be avoided

Whatever the case, I tend to be somewhat disappointed in them. While the proper elements for a page-turning, intriguing read are all present, it’s like that’s supposed to be enough with no further push in any direction to make the read engaging, or even just something that one might wish to continue reading. I can get myself pretty good and worked up about this (and no, I’m not a Breakfast Club hater–I sort of love the movie–but I *am* a staunch lover of unique storytelling and well-written books, which there seems to be a recent paucity of in this category.) Enter Emmy Laybourne’s Monument 14.

Monument 14 hits the perfect balance of potentially post-apocalyptic without being annoyingly over the time, stupidly redundant or absurdly organized. The characters are at once understandable, reasonable, well-written and believable. Not just believable as characters, but believable as sentient people. But here’s where they start to really take a turn of particularly interesting: these characters are of all different ages and backgrounds, ranging from elementary school to high school, with a few crazy adults mixed in for good measure. To put it another way, if Monument 14 were a dinner recipe, I’d love to have a taste.

In the story, we primarily follow Dean, a dorky high school kid who hops on the school bus along with his younger brother on a normal, average day preparing to head to school. Immediately we’re pulled into the story: the high school/junior high bus is attacked by a freak hail storm, along with the elementary school bus. The bus drivers barely manage to careen the buses into the largest parking lot in the area to get off the road: a superstore parking lot (essentially a giant Wal-Mart). Some kids are killed in the ensuing accidents, some are injured, and all are terrified. One bus driver dies, and the other bus driver barely manages to evacuate the kids from the older student bus before it explodes. With hail big enough to brain someone, all 14 survivors are holed up in the store for an unpredictable period of time.

At first, there’s the awkward what do we do nows? and who’s responsible for us? and how do we get ahold of our parents? As the reality of the situation begins to more clearly dawn on them (and as they come to realize that leaving isn’t going to be an option any time soon–but no spoilers on that one) they make a home of the superstore and try to logically make their way through each day in a logical manner. We see social strains, homesickness, revelations, temper tantrums (both of younger and older kids) and eventually we see new confidence and maturity that was certainly not there at the beginning of the ordeal.

What we don’t see throughout the tale is the ridiculous social stratification we get in, say, Quarantine. Nor do we see a “call of the wild” that fully mimics The Lord of the Flies. In many ways, the book that most comes to mind to compare this to is Stephen King’s The Stand, except with kids and only in a Wal-Mart equivalent and with no clear “Walking Dude.” They have their own demons to wrestle with, for sure, but they’re (for the most part) far less tangible ones.

The story itself is a fast-paced, page-turning event, which does a remarkable job of blending plot and dialogue, action with consequence, hope with disappointment. And all of these elements are indeed rather important here, particularly as there are so many characters involved. By the time I hit the end of the book, I was already looking up where I might go to get the next one–always a good sign.

The main character, Dean, is also a likable kid. He’s not as emotionally cool and yet attached as, say, Park of Rainbow Rowell’s Eleanor and Park, but he’s also not as annoying as either of the boys in Smith’s Grasshopper Jungle. Indeed, in many ways he reminds me of Peeta from Collins’s The Hunger Games, except dorkier.

Notably, there is some sexual conflict that occurs in the book and, as I’ve vaguely perused complaints with the book, there seems to be some concern with the character Sahalia, a 13-year-old who ends up being put in a very difficult assault position by one of the adults who stays briefly at the Safeway. This does lead to a troublesome scene, which is at once tense and understandably difficult for the characters.

However, what I’m reading from others suggests that people either a) didn’t read the book, b) didn’t pay attention to the context in which her scenes arose in the book or c) are looking for a fight, any or all of which may be true. Sahalia, for the record, is never raped in this book. Indeed, there are no rapes or sex scenes in this book, though truth be told, we have an end-of-the-world scenario, no parents or chaperones, and everyone staying together in a giant store. Maybe I’m the only one, but I find it completely believable–indeed, expected–that teens would be up to some sexual shenanigans in this situation. A couple of reviewers seem to have even gone so far as to suggest that Sahalia was “slut shamed,” though again, I find that wildly difficult to believe unless those people reviewing haven’t actually read the book, as the acts/words/events of the plot do not support this.

Essentially, she wants to be recognized by the guys as special. The guys are all either uninterested, too old or too young. So she takes to dressing fairly scantily and very impractically to attract attention. This isn’t a shaming when people call her out on it; it’s a one time request that she actually put on clothes, rather than hop around a group of kids partially nude specifically to attract attention. In all, I thought that Sahalia was a highly realistic young character, but I also thought that the way she was addressed by her peers was quite realistic as well. We can all attack characters, but at the end of the day, people are people are characters, too. Unless you’re incredibly sensitive, I can’t see any of the characters or scenes in this book being problematic.

Sooo. . .. anyone else out there read this? Any thoughts about the book? The characters?

Scary Light (yawn): Kendare Blake’s Girl of Nightmares

Hello, again, all you YA Lit readers out in the stratosphere! My grad school classes temporarily lightened enough for me to (finally) finish one of the books I’ve been reading: Girl of Nightmares by Kendare Blake, sequel to the super chilling Anna Dressed in Blood.

I finished it earlier today, but there are still so many questions and unresolved issues swirling around about this!

First, is this really the ending to the Anna saga??? I left it feeling like Cas, our ghost-fighter/wooer extraordinaire, was simply on his way to continue fighting ghosts, as soon as he was feeling a bit better. And especially with the introduction of Jestine, another ghost fighter who apparently is about to get her own athame, it seemed as though Ms. Blake was setting them up for some kind of romance/showdown of ghost-hunting skills or something.

But I suppose that the question itself is actually beside the point. After reading Anna Dressed in Blood (obsessedly absorbed by micro-book light, on my Kindle, on a trip through India, while my fiance was trying to sleep), I was hooked! And while neither Ms. Blake nor Anna are quite at Stephen King levels, in Anna, Ms. Blake does seem several steps ahead of most other writers in creating interesting dynamics and character development that cleanly weaves together a page-turning plot with thrills and chills. And while my memory’s not serving me perfectly on all the details of Anna, what I remember most from it was the atmosphere: creepy, gruesome ghost monsters, waiting to rip at flesh and trip up Cas as he sends them to wherever they were meant to go.

The first Anna hooked me, big time: ghosts, ghosts, and more ghosts!–plus interesting high schooler dynamics, a ghost hunter, his witch-y best friend, and a generally great ensemble cast working to eradicate ghostly ne’er do wells from the realm of the living.

This time around, Girl of Nightmares had a notably less exciting feel. Don’t get me wrong–there’s still ghosts all over, there’s still a pretty epic showdown at the end, there’s still amusing high school drama antics interspersed throughout, but I found myself (and I hate to say this) actually bored at several points throughout. As in, my eyes were moving over words, but I didn’t really find myself committing to the meaning of them enough to take anything away with them. Also, Cas got all mopey-emo since the first book.

Girl of Nightmares is dark, but it’s a responsive dark: the response of Cas realizing that his “girlfriend” Anna (yes, I’d like to know when that happened, too) has succeeded in dragging the horrible Obeahman to hell, but is stuck there herself now, facing an eternity of being tortured over and over by him. Cas, still in the land of the living, pines and mopes and acts heartsick, but quickly realizes he can’t–that, indeed, he won’t–move on, as he’s convinced Anna’s being tortured and is in pain because of her sacrifice.

Noble? Yes. And if the solution was somewhat easily found and the journey to rescue her the true focus of the story, then it would be page-turning, too. And dark and gruesome, in the same vain as the first Anna. Unfortunately, instead  we end up with a book about how Cas learns that Carmel doesn’t want to hunt ghosts, that his athame came from a very old group of people who have athames that look like his athame, that his mother doesn’t approve, that Morfran’s dog likes peanut butter cookies, etc, etc. Not to say that character development and twists to the plot aren’t important, but just to say that there could be a little more excitement prior to the last, oh, four chapters or so. And that there may be more exciting ways to present character development also.

By the end, I found myself feeling very meh. The ending feels more beginning-ish than actually ending-ish, and along the way there really isn’t any clear suggestion as to what, exactly Cas’s end game is. Rescue Anna from hell and then what? Drag her back over the ocean from England (where he enters) to the US? To a house that no longer exists? Or is he going to stay in hell with her? Or hope that both of them are sent to heaven? Even Cas admits that he doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he feels he can’t just leave her. Which is understandable, considering her sacrifice, but still does not make for the most exciting read.

By the end, Anna (we think?) has been freed from the Obeahman’s control, as have others. Cas is still alive, his friends and mother still support him, and the athame is still his. He’s risked the lives of basically everyone he knows, but the ghost (already dead) has been saved. There just still seem to be so many unanswered questions swirling about.

Over all, this book was ok, but I assume it must be book two of a trilogy. I can’t imagine the author leaving these characters dangling the way they are, with so many loose ends. I’m not sure where she’s going to take it, but until we know for sure whether there’s another piece of this puzzle, there are likely better options out there to pick up. Like Anna Dressed in Blood–a really, really good scary book!