Review of "Damsel Distressed"

“No one cares about the stepsisters’ story.”

     So claims the protagonist of Kelsey Macke’s emotional novel Damsel Distressed. When Imogen Keegan’s father announced that he was remarrying, to say she was angry would be an understatement. When he told her she’d be getting a stepsister as part of the union, she was furious. And when said stepsister, Carmella, turned away in scorn during one of the most terrifying moments in Imogen’s life, she knew beyond a doubt which part she would play in Ella’s little fairytale. Now, the day of Carmella’s return has arrived. As the wicked girl begins settling in down the hall, Imogen grows determined to avoid her at all costs. But with eating problems, depression, and a cute best friend who’s totally not into her to worry about, that’s easier said than done. Carmella is here to stay. The question is: what is Imogen going to do about it?

     The cast of this novel is exquisitely crafted. First there’s Carmella Cinder, who goes by “Ella” to play up the princess angle. She’s as wicked as any fairytale villain could hope to be, pulling no punches in her attempts to humiliate her overweight stepsister. Then there’s Grant, Imogen’s best friend and secret crush, who is easy to like and possesses a fully rounded-out personality. Alongside him are Brice and Jonathan, high school sweethearts who are fully devoted to their friends. Together, these friends have spent years working hard to bring Imogen out of the darkest corners of her mind.

     And they are dark corners indeed. Imogen has always had self-image issues, even if she doesn’t always realize that’s what they are, and Carmella’s presence in her life is enough to bring those thoughts back to the surface. While Imogen is well aware of the consequences that arise from giving in to these unhealthy emotions and desires, she also knows that the odds of her ending up with a happy ending are slim to none. She’s the ugly stepsister, after all, no matter what her friends and therapist say. No one cares about her. No one understands. In the end, the only one who controls that blade is her—which means she has to decide whether she wants control or love more desperately. Because unless she gives up one, she can’t have the other, now or ever.

     With a premise as ambitious and internally-focused as this one, it would be easy for the plot to plod along for a great while before it found some sort of life. Not so with this novel. From the beginning, where we’re introduced to Imogen, her therapist, and her problems, it’s clear that there will be plenty of structure to guide this story forward. For one thing, she works the sound booth for the school theater productions. For another, Carmella is determined to make her life miserable. And if that wasn’t enough, something big is about to go wrong in the school play—and only Imogen can fix it. But everything has consequences, even heroics. Only by figuring out who she wants to be and deciding to go for it will she ever truly find happiness.

     Sensitive readers may wish to be careful around this novel, due to the somewhat delicate nature of Imogen’s difficulties. Foremost of these is the manner in which she attempts to regain control of her life; suffice to say she once kept a collection of razor blades close at hand. In recent years, she has learned to curb the habit, but it’s always lurking just under the surface, ready to strike when she’s most vulnerable. Then too there is her trouble with food. For years, Imogen’s instinctive reaction to crises has been to eat as much junk food as she can, though the aftermath of such indulgence repulses her to a point where she almost becomes sick. However, these internal antagonists, as they were, are portrayed honestly and without reserve, making them feel more realistic and less fragile. Readers should also note that Brice and Jonathan are both boys, and play vital roles in the plot.

     I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a teenaged story of love, redemption, and the struggle to find hope in a world full of darkness. Imogen has her problems, yes, but she also has a support system of friends who read as though they’re living, breathing people rather than words on a page. Carmella, her enemy, is rotten to the core, and her attempts to ruin her stepsister’s life are, unlike in many tales, quite wicked. This is a narrative full of deep, complex emotions battling for control of a girl’s life, a struggle sure to capture the hearts and sympathies of the readers who dare peer inside. Be warned: Kelsey Macke’s Damsel Distressed is as heartwarming as it is saddening, with a heroine worth cheering on. It deserves five stars.

Review of "Paper Valentine"

“I am not the kind of person who gets haunted by anything.”

     So claims the heroine of Brenna Yovanoff’s Paper Valentine, a YA standalone in which visiting ghosts aren’t the most important event in town. What does matter is the heat, and the virus killing off the birds, and the psychopath who has started picking girls off and littering his crime scenes with cheap plastic toys. When Hannah, guided by her best friend’s morbidly curious ghost, sneaks a peek at the police photos, she is thrown into a world where no one can be trusted. After all, the Valentine Killer could be anyone—even Finny Boone, the neighborhood delinquent who has suddenly caught Hannah’s eye. Torn between caution, her growing feelings for Finny, and an insatiable desire to catch the killer, Hannah must face her own problems before she can save the day. Because while her best friend isn’t the only ghost in town, she’s the only one who can lead her to the closure she so desperately needs.

     The sleepy city of Ludlow provides the perfect backdrop for Hannah’s quest. From a gas station convenience store to the front steps of the school—closed for summer—and the enormous park where the Valentine Killer leaves his victims, every setting is exquisitely tailored to the needs of the story. Add in a dash of record-breaking heat to soak the locals through with lethargy, and the sudden panic that springs up when the bodies begin multiplying becomes nearly comedic. At the same time, though, the dark undercurrent which permeates this tale refuses to fade into the background. The girls who meet their fates are not random strangers to Hannah, nor is her determination to find their killer lacking for motivation. Sensitive to the spirit world thanks to her connection to the six-months-dead Lillian, she begins to see the victims wherever she goes. They want her to avenge them, but seeing their pain only makes her wonder: if ghosts miss the world of the living so much, why did Lillian let herself die?

     Hannah isn’t the only character asking questions. Ariel, her sister, wants to know why Big Sis is so interested in Finny Boone, the boy who spends more time in detention than in a classroom and whose spare time is generally taken up by petty theft. Finny, meanwhile, is dying to find out what a good girl like Hannah could possibly see in him. And Hannah’s group of friends, the coolest of the cool, are asking themselves who they want to be now that Lillian, their ringleader, has passed away. These complex characters lend themselves naturally to dynamic relationships, which easily earn them sympathy and respect as people in their own right.

     Despite the subject matter, there’s surprisingly little questionable content within Yovanoff’s ghost story. For one thing, the romance is clean—although there’s some kissing, the emphasis is on Finny’s reputation as a social outcast rather than his attractiveness, or his helpfulness in pushing the plot forward. This has the unfortunate effect of making him into more of a plot device than a lovable character, thereby lessening the impact he has on the narrative. Only one F-bomb is dropped, along with assorted minor swearing. Readers and pre-readers alike should note that the main characters make use of an Ouija board multiple times during their investigation, and that Lillian suffered from an eating disorder. Crime scene photos are viewed without permission, and described in detail. The final confrontation with the Valentine Killer is somewhat violent, though it doesn’t quite pack the anticipated punch.

     I would recommend this book to teens and tweens looking for a multi-layered tale about ghosts, killers, and the heartbreaking fact that we can’t save everyone. While the final act isn’t all it might have been, the premise and intriguing characters carry this one through to the end. The novel itself takes a look at troubles that plague people from all walks in life, from shaky social standings to poor life choices and dead friends who stick around to make life difficult.  There’s romance, a large array of strong themes, and more than one red herring, making Brenna Yovanoff’s Paper Valentine a good read for anyone in need of a change in pace. All these things work together to weave a strong story worth four stars.

Review of "Bluescreen"

"Can you even do that?"

     This is the question of the day in Bluescreen, the latest novel by Dan Wells. It's 2050, and technology has flipped the world on its head. Virtual reality is accessed through the djinni, a computer surgically implanted into the human brain, complete with a port at the base of the skull. The djinni is Marisa Carneseca's portal to the net, including the Overworld, a sports-and-combat game where her team is rapidly becoming famous. When Anja invites the rest of the team--that is, the members who live in Los Angeles--to her house for a surprise, the Cherry Dogs are happy to comply. That is, until they see what Anja has discovered: a computer virus called Bluescreen, which hijacks the user's djinni and gives them a massive high. More importantly, it takes control of their body, which means that whoever controls the code is about to have access to an army. And it's just been distributed to her neighborhood.

     Marisa and her team, known best as the Cherry Dogs, are quite the diverse lot. Quicksand and Fang live in different countries, Anja is a local rich girl, and Sahara is a fashionista who streams live video footage of her life to the net forums. Then there's Bao, pickpocket extraordinare and possibly the only human on Earth without a djinni. Meanwhile, Marisa is simply a poor-ish daughter of a restaurant owner in Mirador, one of LA's Mexican neighborhoods. These six complicated individuals joined by their lust for adventure, but Bluescreen is something else. It's a threat few see coming, and one the Cherry Dogs shouldn't be able to defeat. On the other hand, since achieving the impossible online is a regular occurrence for them, doing the same in real life will be easy. Right?

     Wrong. That doesn't stop them from trying, though. Rather, it doesn't stop Marisa from trying, or from dragging her friends along with her. The six-some soon find themselves entangled in more scrapes and near-misses than they care to think about, even as the gang problem in Mirador becomes steadily worse. These subplots bring out extra facets in the characters and settings that really lend an air of believability to the entire work. And when the team breaks open a case of coding or hacking skills, the atmosphere alone is enough to make them easy to swallow. Unfortunately, this doesn't stop the secondary cast from growing static from time to time, a side effect of such an ambitious plot.

     In a world like this one, it wouldn't be a surprise if Marisa was an only child, if not an orphan. As it turns out, she's a middle child wedged between a gangster and two school-aged kids. Her parents run a Mexican restaurant, pay protection money to the local "police", and care a great deal for their progeny. Their continuous interference in her life drives our heroine up the wall, but is just the thing to ground her life in this vast fictional world. It contributes to the plot as well, and not in a minor way: her parents' reaction to her Overworld addiction, coupled with her younger sister's hero-worship, provides a large chunk of twists, cliffhangers, and boosts to the plot.

     The flag-raisers within these pages are few and far between. The cursing is primarily in Spanish, so non-speakers will merely see italicized words that get the point across. What is said in English is minor enough that most parental inspections should approve. Violence is well-placed and hardly graphic, though it certainly isn't G-movie clean. There's no romance, just a wholesome group friendship that want to save the world.

     I would recommend this book to readers interested in a distinctly cyberpunk future in which the core of society is at risk of destruction. The threat to the djinni system is terrifying, never mind the fact Bluescreen is everywhere. Marisa and her friends are fun, compelling, and strong-willed, just the kind of people who might be able to pull this off. They're also teenagers, and their home lives--or Marisa's, at least--play a very real part in the overarching plot. Dan Wells has aimed impossibly high with Bluescreen, and that ambition has paid off with a grand total of four stars.

Review of "Burning Glass"

"My weapon was no saber or pistol; it was the aura of legions."

     In Kathryn Purdie's debut novel Burning Glass, Auraseers don't just observe others' emotions--they absorb them. After years spent hiding her gift from the Riaznin Empire, Sonya Petrova has finally found refuge in a convent where she can learn to master it. When she loses control and accidentally causes dozens of deaths, however, Sonya realizes just how dangerous years on the run have made her become. Before she can begin her penance, a message from the emperor arrives: the sovereign Auraseer is dead, and she is next in line. Against her will, Sonya is pulled into a world of politics and twisted loyalties where she doesn't know who to trust--the emperor, the nobles, or kind Prince Anton. If she runs away, the ones to take her place will be children--and almost certainly dead.

     Many fantasy tales are set in exotic lands with soaring trees and glittering cities. Others take place in a grittier, more urban atmosphere. In the case of Burning Glass, it is the Riaznin Empire, an enormous country with a strong culture and a great deal of Russian influence. Where other titles have horse-drawn carriages, Riaznin has troikas. Instead of flowing silk dresses and priceless jewelry, Sonya is provided with fur robes and a pearl-studded headdress...much to her dismay. Unlike most Auraseers, who experience only the emotions of those they come near or touch, Sonya has the ability to feel the last emotions and sensations of the deceased as well. Ultimately, this power could either drive her mad or set her on a course to save her nation. And with such a richly detailed empire on the line, this threat feels very real.

     The plot is not as simple as it seems, though. Because of the manipulation of others' auras, Sonya can very rarely trust even herself. Despite this, she is determined to do the best she can to protect Emperor Valko as his sovereign Auraseer. Yet when she sees the way he schemes to conquer their neighbors and shuts down his brother's plans to aid the poor and helpless, she cannot help but wonder if he is the leader this empire needs. As he makes advances she doesn't know how to counter and his brother begins disappearing without explanation, she finds herself and her country on the brink of a war only she can stop. The trouble is, she may not want to.

     While Sonya is certainly out of her depth, she fares admirably well in the emperor's court. That is, when she's not drowning in the emotions of those around her or fighting an unhealthy relationship with the emperor himself. Her sanity is held in place by two things: the pain of her headdress's pearls, which steadies her, and Prince Anton's steadfast support. There's a splash of romance that doesn't grow until the perfect moment, even as her relationship with her lord becomes ever more violent. Any cursing is minimal, and while there's fighting it is generally clear of gore. Sonya performs daily penance for her sins--which include fire, a locked door, and a hungry pack of wolves--by absorbing a late friend's final emotions.

     I would recommend this book to anyone interested in one girl's complex journey from untrained Auraseer to her country's last line of defense against evil. Though it features a highly unhealthy relationship, Sonya's story is chock-full of meaning and power. The true romance emerges later on, once all else is established, and progresses beautifully. Add to this an intricate web of political turmoil, an almost magical ability with a high price, and a struggle between brothers that will decide the fate of the empire. Sonya is the key to it all, and a marvelous one at that. For strong characters, a vivid pseudo-Russian culture, and a brilliant sense of pacing, Kathryn Purdie's Burning Glass definitely deserves five golden stars.

Review of "Messenger of Fear"

 "I will atone."

     In Michael Grant's Messenger of Fear, every evil action has a consequence. When Mara wakes up alone in a field, though, stripped of memories and barely clinging to her name, all she can think is that this is a dream. What else could explain the boy in morbid clothes, who calls himself Messenger and claims to hold the key to her past? As it turns out, her imagination could never have conjured up a being like the Messenger of Fear, whose life purpose is to determine guilt and innocence and punish the wicked accordingly. He offers his victims a game and a gamble. If they win, they walk free. Should they lose, they'll face their darkest fear. It's a terrifying job, and as Mara is pulled deeper into Messenger's world, she realizes it's one she's faced before. To uncover the horrifying secrets of her past, Mara will have to accept her role as this strange boy's apprentice--and the next Messenger of Fear.

     Mara is a strange mind to delve into. The way she expresses herself is unique, her thought processes thought-provoking. Her voice is a mix of social outcast and popular girl that should feel unbelievable yet isn't. As she strives to figure out how she came to be here, what Messenger wants from her, and what she's going to do about it, she begins a subtle shift in character that leaves her inner self untouched. Mara is Mara, and that is that. Except the Mara we get to know is not the only one she's been, and it is her discovery of this and the subsequent internal struggle that reveals who she has been all along.

     Interestingly enough, Mara's journey takes place in a setting that can only be described as a kind of dream world. Messenger possesses the ability to take her between eras, locations, and life stories, revealing the most intimate details or glossing over anything he deems unimportant. His fascination with humans is balanced by his occupation, which leads him and his apprentice to several people in need of judgement. Some of these people know they're there, while others are scraps of history used to teach a lesson. These sudden jumps from one time and place to the next are actually quite handy and fit perfectly with the rest of the story.

     One of the things Messenger tries to teach Mara is to examine every side of the story. When he shows her the downfall of a girl named Samantha, there is more to the end of a life than mere bullying. Mental illness is in play, and there is the bully to consider. What about her story? What about her family troubles? This novel plays with questions about morality and justice without losing any grip on its plot or premise, balancing them with ease.

     Due to the nature of the Messenger of Fear's job, there are more than a few flag-raisers within these pages. Messenger is known to force those he deems wicked to face the things they fear most, no matter how terrible. Those who lose his game don't always make it out with both life and sanity intact. The scenes detailing these losses are rather graphic, and not recommended for readers with sensitive constitutions. And he is not alone. Two coworkers appear here and there throughout the narrative, one of which is quite proud of her likely magical physical allure. While there's no romance, Mara is easily caught up within her spell. There's surprisingly little cursing, though quite a bit of violence. A girl plagued by bullies takes her own life. Messenger toils in service to a theological heptarchy.

     I would recommend this book to teenagers looking for a complex morality tale that considers everything that contributes to evil. From bullies to killers to an author with OCD, Mara gets to know the minds of people from all walks of life. She learns about what they've done, why they've done it, and what kind of impact it will leave on the world. In time, the decision about punishments will be left in her hands, as it is in Messenger's now. Mara's depth of character is drawn out by those around her, and vice versa. The setting suits the piece marvelously. However, the violence and lived-through fears are disturbing in their level of detail. Thus Michael Grant's Messenger of Fear deserves four stars.

Review of "The Season"

“Now you’re ready to make your appearance as the Stafford you are.”

     In Sarah MacLean’s dramatic YA novel The Season, the Victorian era’s famous matchmaking event is about to take off. Lady Alexandra Stafford and her friends Vivi and Ella are about to be presented to the ton, London society’s elite, for the first time. Unfortunately for Alex, courtship and marriage are simply abhorrent to her—until Gavin, her childhood friend and surrogate brother, emerges from mourning a stunningly handsome earl. Torn between her once-staunch determination to remain single for life and her new, ever-growing feelings for Lord Blackmoor, Alex will have to tiptoe carefully through her first Season if she’s to remain on the market—and alive. After all, her mother doesn’t know about Gavin. And Gavin doesn’t know about the man trying to kill him.

     While this tale likes to pretend it’s a murder mystery, it really is a romance at heart. Lord Blackmoor may have lost his father in a suspicious riding accident recently, and Alex and her friends may be convinced they can prevent another tragedy, but center stage goes to their swoon-worthy love story. They’ve known each other quite a while before the plot begins, so the sudden feelings between them can’t be called insta-love. And their words and actions strike sincerely enough that their inability to be cross at each other for more than a chapter is mostly forgivable. Between this and the splendid knots tying life-threatening drama to the romantic side of things, everything that happens between these covers is more than relevant. It’s vitally essential to the narrative.

     Aside from her shift in personal beliefs, Alex doesn’t change much over the course of this novel. Neither do her friends and family, or even Blackmoor. This simplicity lends a rather refreshing air to the whole thing, making it easier to concentrate on the romance and plot without becoming distracted by terrible secrets, hidden allegiances, and tragic backstories. Much of the crises Alex finds herself trapped in take place at social gatherings such as dances and dinner parties, increasing their impact tenfold. That being said, a little more expansion on Vivi’s and Ella’s histories wouldn’t be amiss—the two are darling friends and lovely secondary heroes, but sadly receive hardly any spotlight despite their unwavering support of their best friend.

     It should be noted that the author of this review is no expert of 1800’s etiquette. However, there seemed to be a few minor inaccuracies throughout this otherwise fantastic piece, such as those of decidedly lower class attending dinner parties hosted by those of the uppermost crust. History buffs, then, may want to avoid this particular tale. On the other hand, social norms and fear of ruination keep the language fairly clean and the romance strictly PG, so prereaders have nothing to worry about. Violence is minimal, as well. And the three plucky females who head this work are sure to turn the heads of any reader who passes by.

     I would recommend this book to anyone interested in a lighthearted romance about a headstrong girl who falls in love against her will with a man whose life is in danger. There’s mystique, adventure, and quite a bit of flirtation, all set against a solid background of the Victorian “Season”. While experts on those times may find a couple of details confusing, for most others the setting is the perfect backdrop for Lady Alexandra’s little dilemma. Strong characters and a straightforward endgame make the plot of Sarah MacLean’s The Season easy to follow and surprisingly absorbing, earning the title a grand total of four stars.

Review of "She Is Not Invisible"

"One final time I told myself I wasn't abducting my little brother."

     So begins Marcus Sedgwick's She Is Not Invisible. Laureth Peak is sixteen years old when her father goes missing. Although her mother doesn't seem to be worried, it's not in Dad's nature to ignore her phone calls while she's out of town. More importantly, his author notebook has been found in New York City--a far cry from Switzerland, where he said he'd be going. Panicked, Laureth does the only reasonable think she can think of: she whisks her brother off to America, where they'll attempt to track down their father on their own. The only catch? Laureth is blind, which means she's going to need more than a seven-year-old and his stuffed bird on her team if she's going to navigate the concrete jungle and find her dad. And in an unfamiliar land like New York, she isn't sure who she can trust. Assuming she can trust anyone at all.

     Laureth is a very intriguing character. She walks with a confidence that belies the unease that haunts her every step. Not because she's blind, though that is a factor, but because she's in over her head and knows it. New York is a big, and occasionally dangerous, place, and she has only one lead to go off of. Her strength, self-awareness, and relentless determination has forged her into a protagonist firmly grounded in believability, all the while leaving room for doubt and worry when dead ends and confusing leads begin hinting at terrible things happening to her dad. She's flawed, to be sure, yet this combines with her strengths to give her a delicious internal arc.

     Then there's Benjamin. Laureth's brother is a cute kid with a stuffed raven toy and a habit of making technology go haywire. Though simple enough on the personality front, Benjamin has a knack for lightening the mood of a scene just by showing up. He treats helping his sister navigate their strange new surroundings as an adventure, and is all around a good person. If it weren't for Benjamin, this story would be over before it'd begun--and not just because he helps Laureth get around. He's the glue that holds everything together, and does a great job doing it.

     The plot, on the other hand, never seems quite certain where to go. From tracking down the notebook that holds Dad's story concepts to searching it for clues, it's fairly obvious that if this lead doesn't work out, the entire operation is doomed. However, the deeper they dive into his head, the more they realize how obsessed he is with coincidences--and begin seeing them themselves. Thus a sense of madness takes hold partway through the narrative, casting suspicion on even the most innocent of actions. While coming from the right place, this gives the work an air of trying too hard. Laureth's story is interesting enough without deep, slightly unhinged discussions about coincidences and the universe thrown into the mix.

     Though this novel isn't primarily about visual impairment, it isn't not about that, either. Laureth's blindness gives her other senses a boost, sometimes realistic and occasionally not. Her inability to see leads to plenty of trouble, but it also grants her a deeper insight into human nature, as well as social issues such as racism. There's a bit of violence, though nothing too extreme, and it isn't unheard of for characters to swear a bit. However, foul language is kept simple enough. While some older fellows send uncalled-for comments Laureth's way, they aren't exceptionally crude. Unfortunately, there's a bit of a letdown near the end, but the journey to it is generally worth the read.

     I would recommend this book to anyone looking for an interesting tale led by a girl who cannot see. Though digressions into the science of coincidence make things a tad confusing further in, Marcus Sedgwick seems to have done a solid job describing the experiences of a blind teen as honestly as possible. In the end, Laureth is the biggest appeal this novel has to offer, which no one can claim is a bad thing. And, of course, there's Benjamin, whose stuffed bird and mysterious superpower are sure to draw readers in. For adventure, mystery, and a believable glimpse into the mind of a blind girl, She Is Not Invisible is definitely worth three stars.