Review of "Above"

"People Above will hurt you."

     So claims the protagonist in Leah Bobet's debut novel, Above. Matthew is Safe's Teller, the boy who collects his neighbors' stories and carves them into wood so they don't forget their history. He's also Atticus' foster child, which means he grew up in the care of a man with first-hand experience with Safe's old enemies, the Whitecoats. They left him with crab claws for arms, broke a man's lion feet to make them human, and locked up an orphan who can kill with a thought. It was the Whitecoats who broke the spirit of Matthew's love, Ariel--or so he thinks. When Safe's only exile brings an army of shadows to their sanctuary, Matthew and Ariel are forced to flee Above with an old woman and an electric man. There, they will regroup and prepare to fight back. But as time passes, the Teller realizes that with Safe's history dangerously inaccurate, retaking their home isn't enough. To guard their future, the truth must come out...no matter the cost.

     Safe is located in an abandoned stretch of underground tunnel cut off from Above by a thick metal door. It is filled with forty-some Freaks, occasionally called Beasts, who possess unusual features or abilities--gills, for example, or a talent for speaking to ghosts. Everyone is different, so there is a fascinating array of people tucked away beneath Above's bustling streets. The sewers beyond the door are haunted by shadows that hiss questions in the dark. Above isn't much better, according to the people of Safe--it's full of Whitecoats with syringes and drunken parents ready to throw out children who aren't like them. Everything about Matthew's world is beautifully detailed, cast in a unique light through the fearful eyes of a boy from underground. When good things happen, his wariness reflects not only on himself, but on the community that raised him and the city taking him in.

     Matthew is quite unlike any other protagonist I've read about. He narrates with a thick accent that matches his dialogue, inner thoughts about "Passing" and "making Safe" occurring on a regular basis enough basis to show how central they are to his lifestyle. Yet, through magic or sheer talent, Bobet doesn't let this interfere with reader comprehension. As Teller, he dutifully records the stories of his friends, allies, and the occasional enemy. He likes to think of himself as a hero of sorts, with Ariel as his damsel in distress. But while Ariel is certainly vulnerable, she's also strong in her own way. Watching him come to this realization, even as his own actions give him pause, is fascinating to watch.

     The Tale of Matthew's adventures is fairly clean. Although he is in love with Ariel, that is more of a statement than something he pursues, due to their present situation and her emotional instability. Profanity is limited to a few F-bombs and a single slur, which a minor antagonist uses once to insult his companion. The violence is primarily focused on battles against shadows, so most of it isn't noteworthy. However, a battle near the beginning contains a fairly gory death, an antagonist is harshly interrogated, and a one-sided fight ends with a character labeling himself "Killer". Still, the vast majority of fighting isn't terribly graphic.

     I would recommend this book to anyone interested in a well-written adventure set in a world the protagonist fears. The character development is subtle and sure, the premise set up nicely, and the worldbuilding superb. While the story moves rather slowly, this gives Matthew plenty of time to reveal the secrets of Safe to the reader, even as he uncovers Tales he's never heard before. Leah Bobet did a good job with Above, an urban fantasy that easily deserves four stars.

Review of "The Dark Unwinding"

"He finds it extraordinarily difficult to trust another human being."

     In Sharon Cameron's The Dark Unwinding, mental stability isn't the kind of thing that worries a family. In fact, when young Katharine Tulman is sent to ascertain whether her uncle is insane, all her aunt is interested in is stealing his fortune for her son. Katharine doesn't like the burden placed on her shoulders, but what is she to do? The house is in shambles, large sections of the land playing host to entire towns of freed warehouse laborers. Uncle Tully is right in the center of it all, playing with life-sized dolls that move, speak, and play music when activated, and which are painted to look like dead relatives. Despite his childlike demeanor and apparently careless attitude toward finance, however, it quickly becomes obvious that Tully is a mechanical genius. As relations with the staff begin to thaw and she gets to know her uncle, Katharine must choose whose side to take in this battle for the estate, and choose it fast. For her mind appears to be slipping, and if she doesn't make the decision soon, someone else will.

     Katharine is a compelling protagonist with a head for numbers and a spirit that is decidedly ahead of her time. As the primary keeper of her aunt's finance books and the focus of the woman's constant irritation, she is keenly aware of the impact every penny has on her future. Once her cousin inherits, she can spend the remainder of her days in carefully calculated comfort. At least, that's the plan. She certainly isn't planning on growing attached to her queer old uncle or going mad herself, and forget about falling in love! It's fascinating to watch her personality morph, just as it's exciting to see the joy with which Uncle Tully tinkers with his inventions. Everyone in Cameron's tale is complex and dynamic, with the added upside of dark secrets and sinister plots hidden beneath layers of apparent friendliness.

     While Katharine's world is distinctly steampunk, the style isn't as overt as it is in other narratives. Instead of wide-skirted gowns and mechanical arms, the pages are filled with robot fish and mannequin pianists. The prose is simple yet elegant, conveying emotion, action, and mystery with every word. Though her final choice seems obvious, there are some startling plot twists between exposition and denouement that make anything seem possible, even at the extent of a life, mind, or heart. Despite her efforts to remain aloof, Katharine finds herself falling for a young man she thought she disliked--a rare instance of a hate-turned-love that feels natural rather than rushed. Although there is a good deal of violence near the end, the romance is subtle and there is only one instance of mild profanity.

     I would recommend this book to anyone interested in a delicious tale of madness, love, and loyalty. The setting is just steampunk enough to give Uncle Tully's eccentricities an intriguing twist without forcing Katharine into ball gowns, knife-heeled shoes, or steam-powered flying machines. The romance is a sweet thing that doesn't at all interfere with or subtract from the main plot, and there is just enough well-executed action to balance out the slow parts. Overall, Sharon Cameron's The Dark Unwinding is unique, captivating, and well-written, earning it a grand total of five stars.

Review of "The Littles"

"A cat has never been a friend to a Little."

     In The Littles, author John Peterson turns ordinary difficulties into extraordinary dangers. Meet the Little family: Mr. William T. Little and his wife, Wilma; their children, Lucy and Tom; Uncle Pete and Uncle Nick; Granny and Grandpa; and Baby Betsy. Together, these extraordinary humans live a secret life in another family's house--a task made even more incredible by the fact that, due to their short statures, the clan home is built within the Biggs' walls. When the Biggs go on vacation, they leave the Newcombs to watch over their place. As if living with an unfamiliar family wasn't enough, the Newcombs brought trouble with them. If the Littles can't find a way to deal with the prowling housecat, their days of peaceful coexistence may be over forever.

     The Littles are amazing creatures. They speak and act just like regular people, save for their habits of knitting sweaters out of Henry Biggs' old socks. If it weren't for their sleek, furred tails, they'd even look human. But, human-like or not, these tiny people live in a world completely foreign to us. Scavenging for food is a daily chore that usually includes lightning-quick dashes across the kitchen counter, and rats are a very real danger. Then comes the Newcomb cat, a fearsome beast who strikes terror into the heart of every Little. He turns their bright, exciting world into something sinister, casting a shadow over all things good. The cat is a brilliant antagonist not because he is cunning, but because he doesn't even know how scary he is. Those who take on the challenge of overcoming this obstacle are heroes in the truest sense, fighting for a future they can all share in.

     Tom and Lucy are the primary protagonists in Peterson's little tale. They are treated as almost-equals among the adults, taking part in food runs and contributing to the anti-cat war. It's Tom who comes up with the crazy idea that will either save or doom them, and Lucy manages rescues her clan from some critical situations as well. Due to the briefness of the narrative, the characters aren't exceptionally well-rounded, though they are certainly dynamic. Each Little has a complex personality that manages to shine alone and among the rest. Their strong wills and determination to survive their trials turn this tiny family into a truly courageous bunch young readers can easily admire.

     While Peterson's writing style is perfect for readers without a lot of experience under their belts, it also holds potential appeal to older audiences. Though the vocabulary and sentence structure is relatively simple, the dialogue, action, and themes are mature enough for older children to enjoy as well. While the plot might not be deep enough for an adult, it is definitely well-done for an easy read, and contains absolutely no profanity or romance. There is violence, but it isn't overly intense.

     I would recommend this book to anyone interested in a fun, kid-friendly read full of adventure and excitement. The Littles face many challenges while the Biggs are away, but they persevere admirably. Everyone who appears on-page regularly is dynamic and lovable. The writing style caters to youngsters without the "juvenile" effect that repels older readers. When the Littles stop to think about their problems, they come up with creative solutions sure to spark readers' imaginations. For all these reasons and more, John Peterson's The Littles deserves five stars.

Review of "1984"

"You are outside history, you are nonexistent."

     In George Orwell's famous 1984, conscious thought has become an art in and of itself. Winston Smith has spent years under the watchful eyes of Big Brother, leader of the Party and, hence, all of Oceania. As a worker in the Ministry of Truth, Winston's job consists solely of doctoring records, archived newspaper articles, and other media to give the impression that the Party is always right, and that the standard of living is on the rise. In reality, chocolate rations are shrinking, many proles go barefoot, and the hallways outside Winston's apartment are always filthy. It doesn't do to show his discontent, however, and he has long presented an orthodox personality to the telescreens the Party uses to spy on its members. Still, when a young coworker slips him an illegal note at work, he can't stop himself from meeting her in secret. If they're careful, they'll be safe for a long time yet. But in a world where everyone is a spy, love can't last forever. And Big Brother is always watching.

     Oceania is extraordinary. Spanning Australia, the Americas, and the British Isles--known as "Airstrip One"--it is one of the three remaining countries on the planet. For years, it has been locked in a continuous war with its counterparts, Eastasia and Eurasia. The enemy, though, is always in flux. At one point, Eurasia may be the opponent, with Eastasia as an ally. Thus, Eurasia has never been an ally, just as Eastasia, the enemy of two days ago, has never been anything other than a political partner. Part of Winston's job is to ensure that this is, without a doubt, the case. Of course, should alliances change, he must scramble to rectify the records. This tiny piece of Party government is nothing compared to the rest of their operation, which is astounding in size and terrifying in its possibility.

     Winston is an intriguing character, as is his lover, Julia. He's incredibly adept at hiding his displeasure with the state of the nation, a task Julia is even better at. They hide in plain sight, doing their jobs with as much enthusiasm as they can muster, and they are not alone. Lurking in the shadows is the Brotherhood, a mysterious rebellion committed to bringing the Party down from the inside. As Winston and Julia continue down their unsteady path, they draw closer and closer to this fabled uprising. This brings out facets of their core personalities nothing else could, shaping them into people who are simultaneously admirable and frightening.

     If there is a downside to Orwell's narrative, it is the way he presents the novel's focus. There is quite a bit of explanation at the beginning, which isn't half bad, but much of the second half is spent within the pages of another book, which describes how the Party functions. This amounts to a great deal of infodumping--which, while interesting, detracts from the plot. Julia and Winston's relationship is purely physical, so there isn't much in the way of actual romance to be found; Winston also writes of an encounter with a lady of the night in an illicit diary. Violence is minimal until the story's climax, which involves lots of physical and emotional abuse as a means to an undesirable end. Neither this nor the "romance" is very explicit, though there is no room for doubt as to what is happening.

     I would recommend this book to anyone interested in a full-blown socialist society where no one is trustworthy. While much of the word count is taken up by a character-read treatise on Ingsoc--the Party's "English Socialism" doctrine--and the three-sided war beyond Oceanic borders, the characters and premise are gripping. The whole work is soaked through with a tangible sense of despair that suits the overall plot nicely. The romance is bland, the violence intense but distant, the profanity rare and mild. Really it is the premise that holds the greatest appeal, horrifying as it is, and carries the rest of George Orwell's tale through to the end. Thus, 1984 deserves four stars.

Review of "Pulse"

"He's got a plan; it's just kind of secret is all."

     In Patrick Carman's Pulse, moving objects with one's mind isn't just unusual--it's an automatic enlistment into a mysterious war. Sixteen-year-old Faith Daniels thinks she's normal. At least, as normal as she can be in the world outside the Western State, the rapidly-expanding territory of gleaming cities and free Tablet movies. The world beyond State borders lies in ruins, its inhabitants forced to become nomads as they drain the malls of food and continue to consolidate school classes to make up for a lack of teachers. When Faith's best friend moves to the Western State, she's left in the unexpected company of an undersized hacker and a boy with a shocking secret. He and Faith share a power few dare dream of. But not everyone who has this power is noble, and if Faith doesn't master her unique skill set quickly, nothing will stand between them and the real end of the world.

     Faith is a protagonist with tons of potential. She's clever, observant, and cares more about the world around her than she cares to admit. Add in a few juicy secrets and a heaping of telekensis, battles and all, and she's prepped to take readers on a journey they will never forget. Then the writing style kicks in, spilling the wrong secrets at the wrong times and saving the unimportant ones for big moments. Thanks to the back cover and some pretty obvious clues, the reader knows she can move physical objects through sheer force of will, and plenty of her peers seem to have caught on as well. Yet Faith continues attending school and searching for the perfect boyfriend, completely oblivious to the incredible ability she possesses. This, coupled with over-explained feelings and actions, brings Faith's realism to a depressingly low level. However, she is very dynamic, which is a definite plus.

     The writing style doesn't stop at the main character. Secondary characters, plots, subplots, epic battles, and ordinary conversations are overanalyzed just as often. Info-dumps are common and quite often ill-timed--such as an explanation of telekentic weaknesses during a showdown, or Faith's most important secret showing up at the very end of the first act. The premise of the novel is exciting, and the plot would be just as enthralling if the pacing wasn't completely off. Still, some of the slower moments give great insight into the characters' minds, and the powers Faith and her mentor possess are diligently recorded in a realistic manner. If the overarching tale would just choose what path it wants to stick with, everything would be that much better.

     Violence isn't a big problem with Pulse. Though there are a handful of deaths and one fight scene that includes flying trees, concrete walls, and a grenade, the details of injuries are kept to a minimum and the focus is anchored securely to what Faith's team and their opponents are going to do next. There is a bit of swearing to watch out for, but nothing super crude or exceptionally insulting is said. The romance is kind of weak, though the fresh spin on the love triangle is quite intriguing. Rather than take modern-day drugs, the underworld deals in Wire Codes, strings of code that somehow enhance users' perception of reality for a time and leave nasty hangovers. These are utilized in the plot without becoming a major part of it, choosing rather to play their part and then drift away to enjoy the show.

     I would recommend this book to teens interested in a simple story about a girl who can move things with her mind. Faith and her friends are well-constructed characters, even if the narrator feels the need to explain the motive behind their every move. The premise is noteworthy as well, although the plot doesn't quite live up to the bar it sets. With a different writing style, Patrick Carman's Pulse could be an amazing YA read. As it is, it deserves two stars.

Review of "The Secret Garden"

"There is nobody left to come."

     Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden tells the classic tale of an unpleasant little girl who uncovers forgotten secrets in her new home and brings them back to life. When Mary Lennox moves from India to England in the wake of her parents' deaths, she is a sour child with a stern expression and a perpetual air of disagreement. She's never known affection from anyone, and is contrary to everyone who expects children to be playful and self-sufficient. Even her Ayah didn't think overmuch of her. So she's shocked when the dusty old mansion, with its endless empty rooms and locked-up garden, piques her interest. After much exploration, she discovers secrets no one is meant to know... secrets with the power to save her childhood, if only she lets them.

     The Secret Garden is beautifully sculpted. Mary is just as unlikable as she's described, unhappy with anything she's given. Her world is described with simple, detailed strokes of color that breathe life into whatever they touch. From the robin in the apple-tree to a boy who charms animals and another who is convinced he is dying, the author splashes a variety of unbelievably real personalities onto the page. Yorkshire, Misselthwaite Manor, and the nearby moor are immersive and almost photographic in their similarities to the actual settings they represent.

     Worldbuilding isn't the only trick up Burnett's sleeves, however. Mary's internal arc is dramatic, her character slowly developing her into someone entirely different than the morose little girl who opens the tale. Though she starts out a grumpy old lady in a young body, fresh moor air and outdoor exercise quickly changes her, inside and out. She lends her newfound energy to Colin, a sickly boy whose outlook on life is pathetically morbid. With the help of a Yorkshire boy named Dickon, the two build each other up, shaping themselves into friendly, interesting people well worth knowing. Nobody emerges from The Secret Garden untouched by this Magic, even the servants, and it is that kind of character crafting that makes Burnett's story so fascinating.

     There is little to look out for in Burnett's novel. The only profanity comes from a grown up who calls gossips a rude name, and the only violence is a reference to Mary's history of slapping servants who displeased her. The conflicts the protagonists face are primarily internal, with just enough external problems to balance out the pacing. There are several racial comments made, few of them unkind and most made out of ignorance. Colin is often likened to an Indian Rajah for his regal manner and tendency to command those around him. As the youngest  of the main characters is ten and the eldest, twelve, it follows that there is no romance whatsoever, and the story is better for it.

     I would recommend this book to anyone, young or old, interested in an outdoor adventure where nature and unpleasant personalities work together to create beautiful things. The character development is great, the arcs even better, everyone fleshed out enough to be mistaken for real people. The settings Mary explores are breathtaking in their complexity, whether they are the creaky hallways of a neglected mansion, a Yorkshire moor fresh with spring growth, or a walled-in garden haunted by years of abandonment. Frances Hodgson Burnett did a fabulous job overall with The Secret Garden, which fully deserves five stars.

Review of "The Kite Runner"

"There is something missing in that boy."

     In The Kite Runner, Khaled Hosseini weaves the tale of two boys: one who is outwardly privileged, and one who is internally good. Meet Ali, son of a wealthy Afghani in Kabul, and his servant's son, Hassan. The boys are thick as thieves, even if Ali refuses to admit it. In their free time, they hike up a hill to sit in the cool shade beneath a pomegranate tree, where Ali reads aloud to his illiterate companion. In winter, they participate in kite fights--Ali cutting down enemy kites with his own, Hassan chasing them down to hang on the wall. They are a team...at least, until Ali stands by as a trio of bullies scars Hassan beyond repair. Overwhelmed by guilt, Ali pushes his friend away, but that won't be enough to soothe his conscience. If he's to win back his peace of mind, he has to do something so big, so out of character, that nobody will have expected it from him. He doesn't have long to accomplish it, either, because the Afghanistan he knows is about to disappear forever.

     Hosseini has an easy way with words. Through the rose-colored glass of perspective, his protagonist reflects on his privileged childhood and despairs over mistakes he made with Hassan. He curses a bit, primarily in dialogue, and though it is relatively rare the language he uses isn't pleasant. Still, Ali is a very solid character with a near-tangible presence and a dramatic arc, a well-depicted soul constantly struggling against the guilt he's been carrying for decades. The prose is also neatly crafted, even if the narrator does have the slightly annoying habit of dancing around the points of conflict in order to create tension.

     It's the plot that trips The Kite Runner up. Rather than focusing on the tragedy that befell Ali and Hassan in their youth, he pulls them apart to focus on the years of everyday life afterward. When the Russians invade Kabul, Ali and his father are dragged from unfortunate circumstance to unfortunate circumstance, finally landing in a temporary home safe from any who'd harm them. But their stay there is not as short-lived as they expected, and the focus of the story shifts to minor conflicts that don't appear related to the point of the novel for a long time. When they do finally tie in, it has been so long the sudden return to the source of Ali's guilt is almost jarring.

     Language aside, the mature content in Hosseini's tale is entirely physical. The romance, if one can call it that, is touched on without going into explicit detail, and is ultimately essential to the overarching plot. Religion, specifically Islam, is discussed in a manner that is never preachy, though it has a big impact on certain characters' development. Two potential triggers are present. In one, a secondary character attempts to end his own life. The only other flag-raiser lies in the beginning, when a group of boys takes advantage of another in a way so disgusting, even older readers may find it stomach-churning. While this isn't described overmuch, the scene is described in such a way as to leave no doubt as to what is happening. Violent threats, Taliban example-making, and a somewhat gruesome fight also make their appearances, though not very often.

     I would recommend this books to adults looking for an interesting novel about redemption, set in a world torn apart by tragedy. Khaled Hosseini's writing style is very realistic, making his narrative seem almost like a true memoir rather than a work of fiction. Ali and Hassan are rounded, dynamic characters with their own distinct personalities and flaws. There are a couple potential "trigger" scenes to watch out for, which influence everything that follows, and some instances of foul language. It is, however, quite educational and excellently structured, even if the middle drags itself slowly along the plotline. Islam, though brought up, isn't in-your-face and contributes to character development. For intriguing characters, a good plot, and eloquent prose, The Kite Runner deserves a solid three stars.

Review of "Isle of Swords"

"The ship has four days...a week tops."

     Isle of Swords, Wayne Thomas Batson's heart-pounding YA novel, puts a twist in the traditional pirate story. Captain Declan Ross captains the William Wallace, one of the sea of ships whose crews turned pirate when the British Royal Navy abandoned them to their debt. Unlike his bloodthirsty counterparts, Ross encourages mercy and honor among his men. His goal is to save up enough gold to buy his way out of the business--but with a hotheaded daughter whose greatest dream is to captain her own ship, that fantasy is in constant jeopardy. When the Wallace is forced to careen on a cay belonging to notorious buccaneer Bartholomew Thorne, they know they have to make their repairs fast in order to survive. What they don't know is that Thorne's men are closer than they think, and that the boy they find half-dead on the shoreline may carry the key to making Ross' dream come true...assuming he can remember how.

     Thus begins the treasure-hunting tale everyone's inner child longs for. Our swashbuckling heroes must battle their way across vast oceans in a race to uncover a legendary treasure that could buy their freedom. With the help of Anne, his crew, the boy from the beach, and a mysterious monk, Ross sets out to salvage his future--but he gets more than he bargained for when terrible conflicts throw his character arc in a direction he could never have expected. As he works toward his goal, struggling all the while to keep his family and friends alive, the people in his life evolve alongside him. They butt heads and sharpen each other like blades against whetstones, slowly forming into the men and woman they are destined to be.

     Piracy is a violent trade, and no one is more malicious than Bartholomew Thorne. Armed with a spiked cane he calls his "bleeding stick", Thorne wants nothing more than to plunder the same treasure the Wallace's crew is after. Unaffected by a moral compass, he burns, pillages, and tortures whoever he can reach on his quest for riches. There isn't anything he isn't willing to sacrifice, which is one of the things that makes him such a terrifying villain.

     There is no end of action in Batson's tale. From lightning-fast pistol exchanges to epic sword duels and ship-on-ship firefights, when enemies clash, the resulting chaos is always immensely satisfying. There is some minor gore, especially when Captain Thorne is around, but nothing over-the-top. Anything truly stomach-turning is merely alluded to, not described. There is no romance, and if characters curse at all it is very mild. The prose, though stilted at times, is easy to get swept up in. While it does get preachy on occasion, the Christian themes are mostly subtle; characters pray, priests minister to pirates in the hopes of converting them, and a monk has another character read aloud from the Bible.

     I would recommend this book to teens seeking a thrilling adventure featuring pirates, long-lost treasures, epic battles, and interesting characters. Although the action can get a little intense at times, there is a clear line between good and evil that isn't always present in young adult novels. The Christian aspects are present without being overstated, and are integrated well into the plot. The heroes have dramatic character arcs worth reading about, and the villain is fearsome, deadly, and intriguing. There is some mild gore and a good deal of death, plus a splash of awkward dialogue, but overall the story is sound and tasteful. Thus, Wayne Thomas Batson's Isle of Swords deserves five stars.

Review of "The Stories Julian Tells"

"Catalog cats are strange--but a house you eat for dinner is stranger yet."

     Ann Cameron's The Stories Julian Tells turns ordinary childhood moments into snapshots of pure magic. Julian is a regular kid. He has a regular little brother and two regular parents. What is extraordinary is his imagination. From the catalog cats who tend his garden to his special cavemen teeth, Julian's creative mind  makes something special out of the most insignificant situations. Between these covers are six short stories featuring his whole family and a boatload of trouble--because when telling tales comes this easily, you're bound to tell the wrong ones eventually.

     Julian is a brilliant character with a sharp mind and a penchant for fibbing. His brother, Huey, is cute but gullible, their parents kind yet strict. Together, they form a complex cast that balances normal family relationships with drama and adventure. Each relative has their own endearing traits and fatal flaws, which interact with each other to weave little conflicts that feel big. Even if Julian doesn't change a lot over the course of the stories, he has enough of a character arc to give the impression of a rounded, dynamic personality.

     The stories themselves are powerful things that exude realism from every word. There is no cursing, romance, or violence, only a child's wild dreams about invisible felines, towering corn, and having a best friend. Most of these are independent of each other, standalone tales that can be read in any order, but there are a couple that are so intertwined it's difficult to tell where one ends and the next begins. Julian is a great narrator painted with an easy-to-read writing style, leaving only one problem: there are only six plots to explore! 

     I would recommend this book to young readers interested in a fresh approach to ordinary life. The Stories Julian Tells features a likable protagonist, conflict with realistic stakes, lovable supporting characters, and much more. Though it's pretty thin, the tales within are larger-than-life thanks to Ann Cameron's simple, yet engaging, prose. It deserves five stars.

Review of "XVI"

"Sixteen's not everything the Media makes it out to be, hon."

     Today we explore XVI, a thought-provoking YA novel by Julia Karr, who isn't afraid to turn today's problems into something big enough to fully grasp. In this chilling future, sixteen is an age most girls dream of--the day they're free to remove their GPS tracker and be with whoever they want. For Nina, her upcoming birthday is nothing to be excited about. She's seen the way the Media has inspired her best friend, Sandy, to dress and act, and wants no part in it. Then a shocking tragedy rocks her world, and for the first time she must depend on a boy to help her uncover the truth about her family's past. If she is to complete her mission, Nina will have to open herself to a life she's never considered with a boy she isn't sure she can trust. Because if she fails, her whole family is in danger of a fate far worse than death.

     Nina and Sandy are complete opposites. While Sandy loves anything boy-, Media-, or clothing-related, her best friend prefers spending time at her grandparents' flat. And while Nina wants to earn a Creative degree, Sandy dreams of escaping her low social cast through FeLs, the Female Liaison Specialist service. Despite their differences, however, the two are incredibly close, a fact that shows through the way Karr paints their casual, lighthearted bickering and quick forgiveness. When they do get into a real argument, it is a major plot point that, like the other troubles in Nina's life, has ripple effects throughout the rest of the novel.

     The worldbuilding in XVI is simultaneously fantastic and minimalistic. Though this 2150 Chicago is not given many moments to show off its appearance, characters use slang, neighborhood names, and unusual similes to provide all the necessary details. It isn't a beautiful future, with the "XVI" tattoo sixteen-year-old girls have to acquire and the sheer quantity of female itemization, but that seems to be the point. By expanding today's issues into something larger-than-life, Karr offers a clear warning about continuing down the paths she discusses. While this can go a little overboard at times, it's usually well-balanced by the overarching conflict.

     There is plenty of controversial content in XVI. Girls aren't just itemized--they strive to be prettier, better-dressed, and more appealing than those around them in order to catch men's attention. This often ends poorly, with the unwitting taken advantage of in dark alleys with no hope of legal retribution. Characters curse fairly often, and at one point the romance grows rather heated. On the other hand, there isn't a whole lot of violence, though what does crop up is somewhat intense, if not gory.

     I would recommend this book to older teens interested in an exciting dystopia with interesting characters, an intriguing plot, and a well-structured world. Nina may not be a black belt or otherwise kick-butt, but she has a big heart and a strong will that makes up for it. Julia Karr manages her themes quite nicely, with very few instances of preachiness. Parents beware: the romance escalates quickly on occasion, making XVI a little mature for young readers, no matter how advanced. It deserves four stars.

Review of "Jackaby"

"I notice things...things that other people don't."

     Jackaby, William Ritter's intriguing murder mystery tale, throws a brilliant detective, a knit Yeti-hair cap, and an observant young woman into a world where fantasy is reality. The year is 1892, and Abigail Rook has just set foot in the small American town of New Fiddleham. Desperate to prove herself to the stifling parents she left behind in England, she applies for a job with a local private detective. But R. F. Jackaby isn't an ordinary sleuth, as Abigail quickly learns. When a man is found dead in his hotel room, Jackaby's first instinct is to search the building for supernatural beings. Though she's tempted to label him crazy, Miss Rook can't help admitting his ramblings make sense. If they're to prevent the killer from striking again, they'll need to examine this case from every possible angle, no matter how absurd. She can only hope his methods don't get them killed.

     At first glance, Mr. Jackaby closely resembles the world-famous Sherlock Holmes. He's witty, clever, and almost too observant. From the house spirit on one's hat he can tell where they are from, and he doesn't waste an opportunity to show off such skills to the skeptical police force. In fact, he's so focused on utilizing and flaunting his gifts with the bizarre that he often overlooks ordinary details that might help him--and that's where Abigail Rook comes in. Armed with a sharp mind and an incredible eye for the things her employer misses, she's determined to live up to her title of "detective's assistant". While this is occasionally helpful, in the end she contributes little to Jackaby's hunt for justice, which is immensely disappointing because she shows such great promise.

      New Fiddleham is riddled with an astounding array of unusual creatures. There are trolls, goblins, and ghosts around every corner, so many that it's a wonder the townsfolk haven't noticed them. These are all beautifully depicted and well-rounded, especially given that so few can see them besides Jackaby. They have lush backstories and multidimensional personalities, more so than the hero himself, who retains a charming mystique throughout the narrative. Abigail Rook is interesting as well, with her history of boyish exploration and longing for adventure. Although she isn't essential to the case, her mind is the perfect lens through which to interpret it, due to her curiosity, daring, and spunk.

     There is romance in Abigail's tale, but it isn't with Jackaby. It's more of a schoolyard crush than anything else, packed with lingering glances and stomach-confined butterflies. Considering the shortness of the story's timeline, this comes as quite the relief. There is a fair amount of blood, however, and violence that, though sparse, can be rather intense. The only major downside is the language--not the three instances of minor profanity, but New Fiddleham's apparent taste in British accents. Everyone speaks in a similar fashion to the world Miss Rook so recently abandoned, despite their American surroundings, which chips away a bit at the realism of the piece.

     I would recommend this book to older teens and adults looking for a charming narrative about a clever girl, a genius detective, and ancient mythological figures. William Ritter's writing style perfectly captures Abigail Rook, R. F. Jackaby, and the murder case that sweeps them up in a whirlwind of continuous action. Even though Mr. Jackaby's personality bears a perhaps-too-strong resemblance to Sherlock Holmes, he is a fun character to read about, especially from a sidekick's perspective. If only the town they live in wasn't populated by Americans with British accents. For wit, an intriguing plot, and a solid premise, Jackaby deserves four stars.

Review of "Gregor the Overlander"

"Believe me, boy, by this time, every creature in the Underland knows you are here."

     When it comes to big bugs and even bigger adventures, Suzanne Collins' Gregor the Overlander doesn't hesitate to impress. Gregor doesn't know what to do when he watches his sister, Lizzie, board the bus for summer camp. Instead of spending the months between school years having fun with his friends, he's stuck at home with his grandma and his baby sister, Boots, doing chores while his mom works. Nothing has been right since his dad disappeared. When Boots tumbles down a laundry chute, they both end up in the Underland, a mysterious, sunless world where humans and oversized bugs live in peace. The humans think Gregor is the Overland warrior foretold by a prophecy etched into their walls, which predicts a quest that will bring them light. If he is to get home, Gregor must do whatever he can to help them. But being a hero is no easy task, and saving the Underland will change him forever.

     Gregor is, at eleven, admittedly young to be a hero. He isn't big, strong, or brave. All he wants is to get himself and his sister home before their mom gets home and finds them missing, like she found his father missing. Then he meets the crawlers, giant cockroaches who practically worship Boots, and Luxa, the soon-to-be Underland queen. From them he learns an earth-shattering truth that turns his world on its head. Filled with a newfound purpose, Gregor embarks on a quest to rescue a long-lost Overlander in rat custody. This adventure does not only bring him hope for the future; it uses that hope to overcome his fears and shape him into a person worth reading about. His character arc is simultaneously subtle and dramatic, giving readers something personal to cheer on as his journey advances.

     The plot of Gregor's little tale is fairly straightforward. Though it takes a while for him to come around to the idea of fulfilling the prophecy set before him, once he starts there is no stopping him. Using the prophecy as a road map, they visit each major species in the Underland in order to collect everyone they'll need, refusing to move forward until they have the right number of people. It's actually kind of funny to see how devoted the questers are to getting things right, though that chips away at the realism of the whole piece. The prose is also bland enough to drain some of the excitement from the plot. Still, not everyone is willing to come quietly, and not everyone gets along--a fact that adds much-needed tension and character development to the restful scenes between battles.

     There isn't much to warn about in Gregor the Overlander. Gregor and Luxa, both well-rounded characters with fleshed-out backgrounds and personalities, must battle hoards of rats and spiders if they're to achieve their goal. Despite their difference in gender, there is no romance. No one curses or stops to ponder gore; every death occurs for a purpose and impacts the quest party greatly. The themes are hidden but powerful, a good combination for a children's book.

     I would recommend this book to young readers interested in a world where the fantastical is everyday. There are big bugs, talking bats, and some truly well-crafted characters to be had in the Underland, from a snotty queen to a curious baby to a boy who refuses to give up on hope. Even though the heroes spend a ludicrous amount of time trying to fulfill every last letter of the prophecy guiding them, Suzanne Collins managed to add some powerful, uplifting themes to the narrative. For adventure, an intriguing premise, and an interesting plot, Gregor the Overlander deserves three stars.

Review of "Incarnate"

"I wasn't reborn."

     In Jodi Meadows' Incarnate, meeting someone you haven't met is next to impossible. There are exactly one million souls in Range--one million humans who've died countless times, returning a handful of years later with a different face and, sometimes, a different gender. But when Ciana, a noted citizen of Range's capital, Heart, dies without coming back, everything becomes uncertain. Enter Ana, the first newsoul to appear in five thousand years. Ana's mother has scorned her as soulless, a "nosoul", treating her harshly from the moment she was born. Now eighteen, this "nosoul" is off to Heart on a quest to discover why she was born. With the help of the startlingly compassionate Sam, she begins digging into the history of Range. Meanwhile, fear is spreading across the city. If Ciana didn't come back, there is no telling whether anyone else will--and the problems in Heart are about to turn deadly.

     Ana is an amazing protagonist. From the beginning, she comes off as self-depreciative and vulnerable, but she's also full of potential. With spunk, a big heart, an ear for music, and a desire to prove she's more than just a nosoul, she quickly sets herself up for a dramatic character arc that does not disappoint. Sam is intriguing as well, constructed with wonderful attributes, ghosts, and internal conflicts of his own. These two have the "spark" many fictional couples lack, lending their romance a flavor of sweet realism.

     Incarnate is set in a beautiful world. Range is speckled with towering forests, lush hillsides, glittering lakes, mountains, and lonely cabins where reclusive souls spend their days in the company of nature. Then there's Heart, a bustling city carved from living stone that pulses out a heartbeat like a great organ. Beyond Heart's walls are dragons and sylpth, deadly creatures of fiery shadow that scald everyone they touch. Inside is the Temple of Janan, a looming structure of impenetrable mystery that appears to glow of its own accord. All this and more greets Ana when she sets foot outside her mother's cottage, sweeping her up in a powerful journey of self-discovery embellished with lovely settings that cloak sinister subplots.

     The trouble Incarnate runs into is genre. It can't seem to decide whether it is a self-discovery novel with fantasy elements, science fiction, or a full-blown romance. While a romantic subplot would fit nicely into the overarching story, Ana and Sam's relationship is much too powerful to lurk in the sidelines. Then again, Ana's desire to learn why she exists is strong as well, leading her from discovery to shocking discovery that will change her life forever. This category crisis isn't helped by Heart's arsenal of flying drones and laser guns, which are used to fight off the dragons. There's a good deal of action, a pinch of gore, and much romantic tension to be had. Some of this tension is interrupted by well-timed plot twists, but there are scenes that, while not explicit, go a bit beyond kissing.

     I would recommend this book to teens and young adults looking for an adventuresome romance set in a world where death is only temporary. The worldbuilding is fantastic, the characters rounded and well-structured. If not for Incarnate's indecisiveness over what genre to stick with, Jodi Meadows' novel little tale would be a perfect choice for all fantasy-romance lovers. As it is, it's a good fit for those desiring a taste of science fiction, as well. It deserves four shining stars.

Review of "Thirteen Reasons Why"

"I hope you're ready, because I'm about to tell you the story of my life."

     Thirteen Reasons Why, a young adult novel by debut author Jay Asher, is all about suicide. When his classmate and long-time crush, Hannah Baker, takes her own life, Clay Jensen is heartbroken. He's trapped in a world turned upside-down, memories of their single kiss haunting his every step. As time passes, he can't help but wonder whether there were warning signs he ignored, hints at the darkness stirring within her. So when a box of audiotapes filled with Hannah's voice appears on his doorstep, it's impossible for him to stop listening. Throughout the night, Clay listens to tape after tape, following a map to the sites of all of the tragedies leading up to her fatal decision. Each tape is aimed at a single person, unraveling their facade before his very eyes. Somewhere in those tapes is his name--which means that, without realizing it, he contributed to her death. And he's terrified to find out how.

     Asher has a beautiful writing style. Clay and Hannah have distinct voices soaked through with emotion and realism, marking them as unique individuals with their own lives and histories. Hannah's voice follows Clay everywhere, from the cassette player in his garage, to his friend's house, to the playground where she had her first kiss. Every once in a while Clay will pause the tape, a transition signaled by the appearance of the "pause" button on the paper. This also occurs with the "play" button. Rather than interfering with the narrative's natural flow, adding these symbols evens out the pacing and smooths the otherwise ungainly transitions.

     There is, however, a downside to Asher's method of telling Hannah's tale. While Hannah Baker is a tragic figure--and, debatably, the true protagonist--we don't get to know her very well as she lays out her story. She tells Clay how she started on the road to depression, who contributed to it, and why she finally decided to put an end to it all. He, in turn, reacts with various levels of horror, anger, and despair. But we never watch her argue with her parents, read a book, or interact with her boss when she works in the school office.The pacing is maintained with breaks in Hannah's narration rather than lighthearted moments unaffected by the looming finale.

     Thirteen Reasons Why deals with some heavy subjects, and it follows that there are more than a few potential triggers between its covers, not all of them relating to depression and Hannah's fate. Through listening to the tapes, Clay learns about horrible events in his community, from guys taking advantage of girls to an accident leading to a neighbor's death. There's a moderate amount of profanity, plus a strong emphasis on the consequences of rudeness and inaction that runs through the entire work.

     I would recommend this book to older teens looking for a well-written novel about understanding a girl who gave up on life. Jay Asher crafts the setting and plot quite nicely, filling in little details that make the scenes stand out. The underlying themes are also very well-done. However, his debut is littered with scenarios the trigger-sensitive may wish to avoid, and the loss of Hannah Baker is somewhat diminished by the distinct absence of her pre-depression personality. Add this up and you've got a good book that, though lacking in the uplifting-messages department, is difficult to put down. Therefore, I grant Thirteen Reasons Why three stars out of five.

Review of "The School for Good and Evil"

“What happens when Good becomes Evil?”

     Today’s title, Soman Chainani’s The School for Good and Evil, takes a look at the true nature of Good and Evil. When twelve-year-olds Sophie and Agatha are kidnapped from the little town of Gavaldon, they know exactly where they are headed: Sophie for the School of Good, where she’ll become a fairy tale princess, and Agatha for the School for Evil, where she’ll learn potions and spells that will turn her into a fairy tale villain. When Sophie ends up in Evil’s moat and Agatha is thrust into a pink pinafore, they are determined to set things right. But there is more to this school than meets the eye, and if the girls aren’t careful they could be expelled—or worse. Now Sophie must decide how far she is willing to go to obtain her Happily Ever After, while Agatha determines just how much she’s willing to give up to help her.

     The School for Good and Evil is a beautifully written book. With grand landscapes, a sweeping plot, and original, complex characters, Chainani’s little tale is stuffed to the brim with greatness. Sophie is fascinating to read about, with her pretty pink dresses, desire to be Good, and determination to do whatever it takes to become a princess. Agatha stands as a sharp contrast, not because she hates princes or lives with a potion-loving mother but because she stands tall despite her circumstances. Their friendship may have a rocky road ahead of it, but they are dead-set on maintaining it. The love these children possess for their best friend is not only admirable—it ties the story together. When that love is put to the test, the conflict that ensues practically guarantees the pages will keep turning, no matter the hour.

     Chainani inspects both sides of his mythical school with incredible depth. Over the years, the School for Good and Evil has gradually degraded. Although the princes- and princesses-to-be have become more vain and selfish, they always manage to win school-wide competitions. Evil students, resentful of Good’s continual triumph, put little effort into dominating that side of the school. Meanwhile, the teachers struggle to maintain balance between the two sides. Nothing is as it should be, so when Sophie and Agatha are assigned to the wrong schools, everyone begins questioning the School Master’s judgement. If they are to switch schools—or, as Agatha desires, go home—they must prove beyond doubt that they do not belong. But as the situation grows worse, the girls begin to wonder if the School Master was right after all.

     There is plenty of action to be had at the School for Good and Evil. In the School for Evil, wicked classmates plot the demise of a fellow student even as they turn rat leavings into candy. In the School for Good, a morose little girl has to figure out a way to return home without getting killed by gargoyles. And in the class where both sides mix, everyone must work together to learn how to survive the predator-infested forests of their future fairy tales. While there’s no cursing or explicit content, Sophie’s quest for Goodness involves some heart-pounding scrapes with death, ridiculous self-help lessons, and rhinestone-studded uniforms designed to attract princes. Throw in a dash of irony, a handful of exciting plot twists, and a sprinkle of dramatic character arcs, and you’ve got a narrative that is quite impossible to put down.

     I would recommend this book to anyone, young or old, who wonders if heroes and villains always deserve their respective roles. Sophie and Agatha are wonderful characters with plenty of heart, spunk, and willpower. The worldbuilding is fantastic, as is their mission to escape the confines of their predetermined roles. With its action, conspiracies, and unpredictable plot, Soman Chainani’s The School for Good and Evil is irresistibly spellbinding. It deserves five stars and a place on every reader’s bookshelf.

Review of "What's Left of Me"

"No one used my name anymore."

     Kat Zhang's What's Left of Me considers a thought-provoking question: what happens if two girls lived in the same head? Being a hybrid is dangerous, as Addie and Eva well know. If someone hasn't settled by the age of five--if their recessive soul hasn't disappeared forever--doctors, counselors, and specialists are called in. For years, Addie has lived a normal life, keeping Eva's continued existence a secret while her twin soul watches through her eyes, haunted by a life she can no longer touch. So when Hally and Lissa, a hybrid girl from their new school, tell Eva they can teach her to regain control of her body, Eva is ecstatic. Determined to give her sister a second chance at life, Addie does all she can to help. But when the world says hybrids can't live among them, they mean it. If Addie and Eva are to survive, they must befriend the very people they once scorned and embrace a part of themselves long left untouched.

 

     Eva's tale is fascinating. Trapped inside her own head for four years, she's had time to learn the difference between children's souls and contemplate everything she's lost. When she finally gets the opportunity to live her own life, she changes dramatically, finding a voice for herself and making her own decisions. Not all her choices are good, but they all shape her personality and fate into things worth reading about. Addie's character arc is fascinating as well, as she struggles alongside her sister even as she adjusts to the sudden shift in her reality. Though they share a body, the girls are completely different individuals, adding another great dynamic to the plot and premise.

     What's Left of Me has a very distinctive style of prose. Eva refers to parts of her body as "ours", and takes Addie into account for nearly everything. Although the world around her is not described with a great deal of color, this alternate America is quickly shaped into a realistic environment. The villains are intriguing because they are a mix of "misguided" and "evil", cementing their realism and rounding them out. Plenty of supporting characters are flat or static, but not enough to impede the plot. Despite everything they go through and all the horrors they face--from threats against their brother to unpleasant institution heads--Eva and Addie manage to cling to their morals from page to page. They also refrain from cursing and, for the most part, resorting to violence, a fact that is portrayed quite well. There is a slight romantic touch, but it is very light.

     I would recommend this book to anyone who wants a story about two girls sharing a mind, a body, and an intimidating enemy. Addie and Eva's quest for a full life is exciting, a three-hundred-odd-paged adventure soaked through with emotion, power, and hope. Between the world and the love these sisters obviously have for each other, Kat Zhang has captured a brilliant premise that fits neatly with the plot. She may not describe the settings much, but what she does describe is worth it. What's Left of Me is a great book heading a strong, well-written trilogy and deserves four stars.

Review of "The Young World"

"For the most part, people had done their dying inside."

     In Chris Weitz's The Young World, only teenagers survived the apocalypse. When the Sickness swept across the planet, adults and children alike fell, leaving their siblings and children to fend for themselves. The Sickness isn't gone, though. When someone turns eighteen, or gets close to it, they come down with a terrible cough and soon find themselves dead. Jefferson's brother, Washington, leads a small tribe living in New York City's Washington Square. But Wash is almost eighteen, and when he passes Jefferson knows he'll be expected to take control. So when his friend Brainbox decides to visit a distant library branch to hunt down a lead on what caused the Sickness, Jefferson jumps to accompany him. Accompanied by Donna, the girl he loves, and two other oddball teens, he and Brainbox embark on a journey that may end up saving the human race. Assuming, of course, they survive the first couple of blocks.

     Donna and Jefferson are complete opposites. She's habitual and cautious; he's thoughtful but daring. Though Jefferson's love for Donna appears at first to be a subplot, it quickly grows until it has taken over more than its fair share of the plot. Yet there is something likable about Jefferson. He thinks and acts so deliberately, considering his words and his circumstances before he speaks. Though he does make some incredible mistakes, he is relatable enough that it isn't extremely difficult to forgive him. Donna is a different matter. She pretends she is only tagging along to keep her friends safe, and has no interest in saving the world. In reality, she has much deeper motivations, but by the time they are revealed--or not revealed, as the case may be--she is already so angsty, annoying, and generally unlikable that readers' care-o-meters may have run frightfully low.

     Plot-wise, this tale has little to go on. These Washington Square tribesmen set out on a hunt for a scientific article and end up running from shooters attacking them for the fun of it, battling bloodthirsty zoo escapees, and fleeing from cannibals. There isn't a lot of rhyme or reason to the foes they face, but their journey is definitely well-paced and nowhere near short on action. Everything happens for a reason; there are no superfluous scenes. Still, it would have been nice if the characters had started out with a plan, even if they ended up abandoning it.

     Though there are a great many gunfights and a few fistfights, there isn't a whole lot of gore in The Young World. Aside from a bit of blood and a few broken bones, most characters escape trouble with little more than a few scrapes and bruises. However, the profanity is cringe-worthy, and the protagonists have several run-ins with a large group of adolescents that take advantage of whatever girls they find, even going so far as to purchase more from other tribes. Readers should also note that Weitz's story is open-minded, incorporating a variety of faiths, lifestyles, ethnicities, and sexualities, dealing with them openly rather than skirting around the topics.

     I would recommend this book to teenagers interested in a world where survival is uncertain, hope is scarce, and the future of humanity depends on the uncertain shoulders of five determined teenagers. There's action, romance, and strong world-building galore. What there isn't is a likable love interest and a structured plot--the Washington Square tribesmen wander in the general direction of their destination, unsure what, exactly, they will do when they arrive. Coupled with the language and the antagonists' inexplicit but obvious female-objectification, this knocks Chris Weitz's novel down a points. However, The Young World is built on an interesting premise and hosts a cast of overall fun characters, earning it three stars out of five.