Friday, June 24, 2016
Belinda meanwhile struggles with understanding what happened to her and, after some time at home, becomes anxious to return to public life, where she sees Emily and Lucas again. This sets off some awkwardness, but the teens find common ground and develop friendship and mutual understanding. Told in turns by Emily and Belinda, the story explores relationship building through the surprisingly similar views of the two girls.
The most powerful part of the novel for me was the way that McGovern showed how alike the two girls are. While Belinda obviously has more trouble expressing herself and was not always so developmentally mature, there was still much that the girls shared in common, with their same anxieties and desires. The story achieves a sensitive portrayal of developmental disability that is honest and insightful. Emily's and Belinda's strengths and flaws are critically (yet sympathetically) treated and revealed a lot.
I did have trouble accepting that the guilt of the Emily and Lucas was as big of a deal as the story wanted it to be. Part of the problem is that they are such sympathetic protagonists that the story sets them up to be forgivable (McGovern hedges their culpability with a lot of mitigating circumstances). But is also just seemed a stretch to claim that what Emily and Lucas did (or did not) do was such a heinous offense. I wonder if the story might have been stronger without that element which, while central, seemed forced and unnatural.
Nix and her father travel between times and places. But they are far from rootless. Dad is obsessed with getting back to Honolulu in 1868, when Nix's mother was still alive. He could get there if he could find a map of Oahu made in that year. With their ship and her father's talents, all it takes is a map to sail to any place or time, real or imaginary. But getting the right map is tricky.
What seems like a solution at last leaves them tantalizingly close: in Hawai’i, but two decades too late. And instead of finding what they want, and become embroiled in a fantastical plot to destroy the monarchy and force the islands into America’s grasp.
A stunning and novel fantasy that combines motley characters, a small dash of real history, and a great psychological conflict between father and daughter. It doesn’t always make sense and there is little emotional depth, but it is a thrilling adventure with lots of fun moments. A dash of Indiana Jones with a TARDIS thrown in for good measure!
Sunday, June 19, 2016
Life in exile has additional challenges and Beauty and the stable hand of her old home who helped her escape struggle to integrate her into life in the hills with superstitious mountain people. Despite the challenges, they manage and flourish until a day when he is delayed returning home. When he does return, in poor health and bearing a curse, Beauty must ride into an enchanted forest where a terrible and ghastly creature awaits her.
It's a very dark and languorous retelling of Beauty and the Beast (but one where the Beast doesn't even appear until 200 pages in!). Instead, the focus is on Beauty's life before the two encounter each other. Mannering's attempt to subvert the Disneyfication of the story is brilliant, from the early destruction of the candelabra (poor Lumiere!) to the fact that Beauty arrives illiterate. In this world, the enchanted furnishing are sinister and threatening, not inviting us to dance. And themes of jealousy and vengeance predominate.
Mannering's style is fast-paced but also quite busy. Many characters and subplots are introduced, but not all are resolved (lending to future twists in the sequels, one supposes). The writing itself is full of cliches and prone to overstatement. The snow did not merely fall in this world, but instead it "fluttered from the gaping sky like pearly droplets." A character does not walk into a room, but enters "with a sweep of her bejeweled dressing gown." And so on. The words are very pretty, but largely chosen without regard for furthering the meaning of the story. It grows tiresome as we go and one just starts skipping adjectives, adverbs, and empty metaphors.
Saturday, June 18, 2016
I enjoyed Murphy's sophisticated take on body self-image. I also liked the complexity of the relationships in Willowdean's life (whether with Bo, her BFF El, friend Mitch, or her mother). But the story was cluttered with characters and subplots, and it suffered from its ambition. Concepts like Will's love of Dolly Parton or the rather crucial loss of Will's beloved aunt seemed buried amidst so many less-important threads. Thus, this was a near miss -- many wonderful ideas, but imperfectly realized.
When Georges and his family move in to the building, and he's urged by his father to meet some new kids, he’s not sure he wants to make any new friends. But a sign in the basement announcing a “Spy Club” sounds like fun. It turns out to be run by a boy his age named Safer. Safer’s a little strange, spending the day watching the building’s other tenants and spying on them. He convinces Georges that one of the tenants is actually a murderer and recruits Georges to help him uncover the crime.
Meanwhile, Georges struggles at school with bullies, with missing his Mom who’s stuck at the hospital where she works, and the whole relocation. But Safer’s adventures provide him with distraction and escape until Georges learns that things aren't exactly the way safer has presented them.
Liar & Spy is a compact story with a lot of twists (perhaps a few more than were actually necessary). It's a fun read that explores what I'll call the purpose of truth and the value of lies. If that seems an unfairly cryptic summary, it's still the best I can do without providing spoilers. I found it original and fascinating, in a way that Stead's books often are.
Sunday, June 12, 2016
Ava is a whiz with words. She's a perfect speller (acing every test in fifth grade) and fascinated with palindromes, homonyms, metaphors, similes, and everything else word-related. She's also quite a writer. But most of all, she's a loyal sibling. Seeing her older sister Pip struggling to navigate the social minefields of seventh grade, mobilizes Ava to take action. When a new girl in school Bea lures all of Pip's friends away, Ava pens a story that attacks the girl. It seems harmless and cathartic, but when the story gets published, Ava discovers that being nasty to others has a way of coming back to you.
I grew a bit weary of the wordplay, but younger readers will probably find much of it to be giggle-worthy. What I did like was the close relationship of Ava and Pip, and the honest and open communication between the maligned Bea and Ava. In fact, pretty much all of the human interactions in the book felt honest and real. After reading so many books for teens where the drama usually centers around people not communicating, it's nice to see children and adults being intelligent and responsible, even when they are also flawed. It would have been so easy to blow up the conflicts in this book, but Weston lets everyone just work things out. The overall result is a gentle story about kids learning communication and social navigation skills.
Saturday, June 11, 2016
Two interesting protagonists with a painfully obvious solution in front of them. I'll agree it isn't easy to make the right decisions even when they are blatantly obvious. However, it is a strain on the reader to maintain interest in a story line that relies upon keeping the characters stubborn as long as is feasibly possible. That can feel a bit artificial. Especially so, when resolving the drama is achieved by simply having the characters change their minds. And while I get how events pushed Kate into cleaning up her life, I'm less convinced by Aidan's eventual coming round.
Friday, June 10, 2016
Witty and humorous, this is a fluffy book. I didn't really find Riley's tales of conquest all that interesting and Reid's ethically-suspect romantic pursuit strategies (involving pretending to adopt a pet) didn't click for me. More than usual, this is a book for a different demographic that takes the story in the casual way for which it was intended. At least it's a fast read!
When Lexi’s mother finds her secret portfolio of drawings, Mom freaks out at their homoerotic content. Mom’s been unstable since Dad passed away and Lexi is terrified that this incident will push her over the edge. So, when her mother demands that Lexi enroll at a treatment facility to get cured of her “disease,” Lexi feels powerless to resist. Even though she knows that her sexual attraction to girls is unlikely to change.
Lexi is sent to the New Horizons program, a residential program of brainwashing and indoctrination to learn how to “de-gay” herself. Much of the process seems to involve being coerced into traditional gender roles as well as adopting heterosexual behavior. With her mother’s sanity on the line, Lexi is desperate to somehow straighten her life out. But the program and her new friends there have the opposite effect.
It’s hard to ignore the offensiveness of the religious stereotyping that goes on in the novel. At the very least, there are a lot of cheap shots as the obviously hypocritical adults spout off soundbites culled from an urban liberal's idea of what conservative Christians believe. At best, Verdi is just being a lazy writer (and not a bigot!), but it soured me on the book. And by the time that the “exorcist” showed up, Verdi basically flew into absurdity, dragging out every stupid and offensive stereotype about organized religion she could find.
Moving beyond the offensive stuff, Lexi's journey is enjoyable to follow. From starry-eyed romantic to a young woman willing to commit her life to another person, Lexi’s growth as a person (and maturing of her sexual orientation) is dramatic and stunning. She’s helped along the way by strong and complex characters like Matthew (who talks tough yet carries secret fears), the beautiful Caroline (who submits to brainwashing and painful interrogations because she can’t come to terms with herself), and Daniel’s fear-driven Judas act.
So, I liked the characters and much of the story, but for a much more compelling and nuanced story about reparative therapy, see Emily Danforth's The Miseducation of Cameron Post (reviewed on May 19, 2012). It contains much of what I liked here and skips the unnecessary digs against religion.
Saturday, June 04, 2016
This is the novel I thought Proof of Forever (reviewed a month ago) was going to be (and it would have been albeit for it's weird fantasy twist) -- a story of childhood friendships revisited and infantile relationships matured. There's a tremendous potential emotional punch here as the girls strip each other bare through sheer familiarity. However, LaMarche has trouble delivering that punch. The first 250 pages of this novel dragged for me as we traveled through rising tensions and unrevealing flashbacks. In the last 100 pages, the book starts to pay off and the actual climactic blow up is gripping, but it deflated fast afterwards.
I liked the girls and their quirks and differences were well-portrayed. The setting felt authentic and sent me back on a nostalgic trip through my own experiences with sleep-over camp in New England. But the story just dragged and then, just as it was getting interesting, came to a screeching halt. Unlike her more compelling sophomore effort (Like No Other), this first novel doesn't stand out.
Friday, June 03, 2016
An entertaining story of high improbability that explores some of the more irrational elements of romantic obsession. I found Eva herself to be grating and melodramatic. Ironically, this makes her funny at times, but there's no getting away from how self-absorbed she is. Most of the rest of the characters are stereotypes (some of them -- like the cowboys in Texas -- are lazy and borderline offensive). But I don't think that depicting great characters was the point! Somewhat more crucial is the dearth of actual romance in this tribute to love. Despite the book's title, there doesn't really seem to be that much kissing going on across the country!
I found the storytelling pedantic at times, like Verdi was lecturing us, and Lucy's character was uneven and inconsistent. But overall, there are so many wonderful scenes in this novel that I can forgive the rough spots along the way. The story's crowded and cluttered plot became surprisingly organic and the author seemed quite comfortable with complicated and fitting together initially unrelated characters. I liked the story's overall message that life truly does go on, even if you're struggling with a terminal illness. Finally, there's something to be said for bringing out an HIV story in this day and age. I haven't seen one in a long time and it isn't a bad thing to dust it off and remind younger readers that AIDS still kills even if it's not in the headlines much anymore.