Friday, February 24, 2017

Review of "The Way Back to You"

"It was her wish that if she lost her life, she might save others."

     In The Way Back to You, Michelle Andreani and Mindi Scott tell the story of two relative strangers brought together by the same loss. It has been six months since Ashlyn Montiel perished in a bicycle accident, leaving behind an enormous circle of friends and family but also donating her organs to save countless lives. While Cloudy understands this, it doesn't make coping with the loss of her best friend any easier. She can go a month without slipping up, then find herself turning to ask Ashlyn a question--except Ashyln isn't there. Worse off is Kyle, who lost more than his girlfriend when she died. In the months since her passing, he's grown listless and tired, losing interest in everything he once thought he loved. When Cloudy finds the list of Ashlyn's organ recipients, it seems only right that she and Kyle should take a trip to see them. Maybe it'll help them get over last year's terrible mistake and finally heal--or maybe it'll make everything worse.

     Claudia "Cloudy" Marlowe and Kyle Oci have one of the most beautiful relationship arcs in recent young adult fiction. Thanks to a mistake Cloudy made a year ago, the two people who loved Ashlyn most can barely stand to look at each other, but they're willing to try again for her sake. As they journey down the West Coast of the United States, these teens explore the depths of their grief, learn to help each other cope with their pain, and start to come to terms with the implications of Ashlyn's absence. Though this is ostensibly the story of a dead girl's friend and boyfriend working together to heal, beneath the surface it is also the tale of two people with so much shared baggage that fixing their relationship seems nearly impossible.

     As the plot is centered entirely around a grand road trip, the protagonists find themselves in a variety of richly detailed locales, each well-written and incredibly realistic. Whether it's a boardwalk, an empty theme park, or the back of a hippy van, there is always something new and exciting to experience. Of course, with that comes a great deal of trouble. Bad memories, rude friends, spiked sweets, and ghosts from the past all rear their ugly heads over the course of the novel, even as Kyle and Cloudy catch glimpses into the lives of the people Ashlyn saved through her donations. West Coast residents may recognize some of these places, adding fun Easter eggs for readers familiar with the region. Those who live elsewhere, though, will have no trouble picturing them.

     Cautious readers have little to fear going into this tale, with its generally clean language and its lack of violence. The themes are well-balanced, the characters tangible and relatable, the romance subtle and respectful of the context in which it occurs. During a weird interaction with some old friends, one of the characters accidentally consumes spiked food; this is not celebrated, and has a serious impact on the rest of the plot. Throughout the narrative, Kyle toys with the concept of reincarnation, even going so far as to befriend an animal who reminds him of Ashlyn. He also reminisces to the reader about his relationship with Ashlyn. Once, a protagonist is disturbed to find two classmates on a secret rendezvous at the local church.

     I would recommend this book to teenagers and young adults interested in a story about love, loss, grief, and moving on from tragedy. Michelle Andreani and Mindi Scott have a way with words, weaving together estranged classmates, the death of a friend, crushes, nosy family, and an adorable pet to form a road trip of epic proportions. With its strong themes and beautiful romance, this work takes a look at everything from the stages of grief to what it means to grow up. For great worldbuilding, positive messages, and a lovely cast, The Way Back to You deserves five stars.

Friday, February 17, 2017

Review of "The Marked Girl"

"They came for him in the middle of the night, the way that cowards do."

     For the heroes of The Marked Girl by Lindsey Klingele, ordinary life is just a fantasy. Liv Phillips would give up a lot of things if it meant getting out of the foster care system that ruined her life. Come to that, she'd give up a lot to ensure the fire that left her and her estranged siblings orphans had never happened--and not her fault. This is real life, though, and she plans to make the best of it by making the greatest movie she can with a summer film program's equipment, some blood packs, and a realistic plastic sword. That is, until Cedric, Kat, and Meric crash through a portal and onto her set, steal her sword prop, and take off into the busy LA streets. And until she finds them squatting in a public building, hiding from monsters disguised as men. Cedric and his friends need to get home and save their kingdom, and they need Liv's help to do both, but opening another portal will take magic they don't have--and a price they may not be able to afford.

     Liv is the kind of heroine adventure tales adore: orphaned, with an irresponsible foster parent who doesn't keep track of her whereabouts. The only people who care about her are her best friend and her case worker, the latter of which can easily be avoided when she puts her mind to it. Meanwhile, Cedric, Kat, and Meric are also on their own, desperate to return to their kingdom yet trapped in a world of cell phones, airplanes, and infamous Los Angeles traffic. Together, this foursome are a formidable team well-equipped to face down the otherworldly monsters that stand in their way, as well as the monsters' shadowy leader. That is, as long as Cedric remembers swords aren't allowed on public transit.

     However, no amount of preparation can protect these daring teenagers from the terrible injustices thrown their way by the prose which shapes them. Within these pages, Liv and her compatriots face disasters such as slow pacing, a forced romance, stale character arcs, bland worldbuilding, and poorly foreshadowed plot twists. The adults who crop up are intelligent and engaging, though most are also neglectful, unkind, or downright evil. The villain remains cloaked in mystery until the climax, as befits the plot, and readers who don't read too much into early conversations may easily find themselves shocked when they discover who has it out for this little band of heroes. Pay enough attention, though, and many of the plot twists will come as less of a surprise.

     Despite these setbacks, the premise supporting this story is extremely intriguing and its contents generally suitable for consumption by young audiences. The only thing that might raise eyebrows is a particularly heavy scene between two of the protagonists, which features a lot of kissing and the timely interruption of an elegant piece of jewelry. Pre-readers should note that one of the romantic partners is already betrothed to another character, setting the stage for a strange and highly confusing love triangle. Violence is straightforward and just as free of graphic content as the language used, which is to say quite. The monsters the kind of scary that gives one chills without threatening to keep one up at night, suiting this novel extremely well.

     I would recommend this book to teenagers looking for a simple story about an ordinary girl who must save a group of strangers by sending them to another world. There's action, romance, and an unusual sort of magic, all set to the tune of Los Angeles' busy urban atmosphere. Unfortunately, the writing style is less than ideal, the characters barely change over time, and the romance is less than swoon-worthy. On the other hand, the plot is interesting and there is a very real chance these people may never make it home, so there are still plenty of reasons to read on until the end. For twists, turns, high stakes, and daring to bring a fantasy world into our own, Lindsey Klingele's The Marked Girl deserves a solid three stars.

Friday, February 10, 2017

Review of "The Host"

"They've never seen a grown human before."

     In Stephanie Meyer's The Host, the near-extinction of the human race doesn't stop people from going about their daily lives. In fact, after a soul has inserted into their new human body they are often known to continue on as though they were the host. The only difference is that conflict no longer exists: there are no wars, no arguments. Not even the human minds fight back, though their memories remain. At least, that is how things are supposed to go. For Wanderer, a nomadic soul with a long list of planets under her belt, inserting into Melanie Stryder's body shouldn't be a problem. Searching Melanie's memories for information on the few surviving human insurgents should be simple, because Melanie is gone. Dead, faded, whatever. Which begs the question: if Melanie is gone, who is trapped inside her head? And why is Wanderer suddenly in love with a man she's never met?

     There's something strangely beautiful about the relationship between Wanderer and Melanie and the way it transforms over time. Though they share a body, they have extraordinarily distinct personalities and ways of looking at the world, and those worldviews clash often. Wanderer is a pacifistic parasite; Melanie is a fierce woman willing to fight for the people she cares about, even when she's supposed to be dead. Melanie is strong enough that Wanderer cannot access the information she needs, creating tension between them, and between Wanderer and the other souls, that is ripe for conflict. This is only amplified when Melanie's strong attachment to her family and boyfriend begin to rub off on Wanderer, creating the most bizarre love triangle in history.

     Despite this ideal setting for drama, there is one thing working against the plot: the souls themselves. Disturbingly friendly and altruistic to a fault, these nomadic aliens abhor confrontation and violence--a trait which sets Melanie on edge even as she works to convince Wanderer to abandon the souls and save her family. Only one soul is tenacious enough to count as a true antagonist, and even she is not as menacing as she's meant to be. Thus it falls on the underground human community where Melanie's loved ones live to provide the main conflict. And while there are some problems--fits of frantic action and resentful distrust--the hunt for and entanglement with these people is dulled by Wanderer's relentless pacifism and passive narrative voice.

     Slow pacing and unfortunate lack of gripping plot aside, there are a few pluses to this unusual novel. For one thing, the relationship between Wanderer, Melanie, and the humans is at the least intriguing and at most fascinating. The girls go through an internal arc of change that's encouraging to behold, which is mirrored somewhat by the people with whom they surround themselves. There is little violence and even less gore, save one scene in involving souls and in which no humans are harmed.Add in a clean vocabulary and this is one story pre-readers shouldn't have a problem with. However, Melanie's relationship with her boyfriend has a few intense moments, and while nothing beyond kissing takes place this places Wanderer in a rather awkward predicament...especially when she picks up an admirer of her own.

     I would recommend this book to patient audiences looking for a fresh perspective on alien invasions. Not only are the alien "souls" wildly different than all other interpretations, but the main character--a soul herself--is quickly thrown into a complex world of love, friendship, betrayal, resistance, and a desperate struggle for peace. While Wanderer's clumsy navigation of the human world is slow-paced and narrated in a deceptively passive tone, her unpredictable journey and unexpected connection to her human host make this a tale to remember. For beautiful aliens, an original cast, and a fresh exploration of what it means to be human, The Host by Stephanie Meyer deserves three stars.

Friday, February 3, 2017

Review of "Carve the Mark"

"I guess he hadn't known his fate."

     For the heroes of Veronica Roth's Carve the Mark, fate is the one thing in the galaxy a person can never escape. No one knows this better than Akos, whose mother is an oracle capable of seeing every possible future. She knows the places where these possibilities overlap, situations that cannot be avoided no matter what else is changed. Which means she knows Akos is destined to die in service to the family Noavek, who rule the brutal Shotet nation beyond the field of feathergrass. It also means she knew the Noaveks would have him and his brother kidnapped--and that she did nothing to stop it. Two seasons after his capture, Akos's currentgift lands him a job soothing Cyra Noavek's pain, a side effect of her own brutal currentgift. He wants nothing more to get his brother out of Shotet--but the longer they remain, the more dangerous escaping becomes. Not because his fate, job, or currentgift make him a target, but because Cyra has plans of her own.

     Cyra and Akos are polar opposites whose circumstances force them to become similar. Akos, for example, loves peace and living in harmony with his neighbors. His currentgift--which, like everyone's currentgift, formed as an extension of his personality--allows him to bring a fraction of that peace to the most pained young woman on the planet. However, the warrior-culture of Shotet has no tolerance for such a lifestyle, forging him instead into an impressive fighting machine. Meanwhile, Cyra has lived with pain her entire life: first from strained familial relations, and later from her currentgift, which allows her to hurt others but which wracks her body with continuous agony. Cyra is a warrior by nature, a blade honed to a wicked edge, yet Akos may show her that war is not always the wisest path to take.

     There is no one word to sum up this tale. It is at once fast-paced and patiently slow, a story of rebellion and of mending bridges, a romance and a desperate choice between family and justice. Cyra is not the good guy; however, she walks a fine line between good and evil, longing to learn the difference so she can make the right choice. As she and Akos become gradually more aware of each other's culture, both the ups and the downs, they come to question everything they were taught about their planet and the galaxy as a whole. And as each plot line gives way to the next, rising and crashing like waves against a shore, our heroes come to realize that while fate can't be avoided, they are responsible for how they reach it. Through sojourning to other planets, partaking in rich cultural rituals and terrifying arena duels, and facing a wicked dictator, these two unlikely companions must breach a web of deception to stand up for the people they love--no matter the cost.

     As with most good stories, this work contains a few details that may concern certain audiences. What for Cyra and Akos begins as a platonic master-servant relationship quickly escalates into a friendship between equals, though this encourages eager gossips to speculate on whether there is more going on behind the scenes. Although there are a few instances where one protagonist is exposed more than they'd like to the other, neither presses an advantage and the relationship remains strong, healthy, and respectful. The romance goes no further than kisses. More worthy of caution is the violence, as fights within the Shotet's gladiatorial-style arena can be quite brutal, though not graphic. Shotet also mark their arms to honor people they've lost, a tradition some readers may find alarming despite its honorable intention. At one point, a character is painfully disfigured. While everyone has a gift derived from the galaxy-spanning "current", there is no magic.

     I would recommend this book to teenagers and adults looking for a delicious, insightful read about sworn enemies whose partnership changes the way they see the galaxy. Veronica Roth has created a delightfully vivid world of intrigue, shifting alliances, space travel, and understated superpowers unlike any that have come before. Set against this stunning backdrop, Akos's struggle to save his brother and Cyra's hunt for morality take on a weight worthy of their tasks, yet that weight is insignificant next to each's fierce dedication to seeing the other succeed. While a couple of Shotet traditions may shock sensitive readers, the heart of this novel is beautiful to behold. For a gorgeously detailed setting, deliciously complex characters, and a plot that grabs the imagination and refuses to let go, Carve the Mark deserves five stars.