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.