Review of "First & Then"

“How's your new brother?"

     In Emma Mills’ First & Then, change is in the air. High school senior Devon Tennyson is perfectly content with her unextraordinary life. She has an amazing best friend/crush, parents who love her, and just enough friends to get by. Then comes Foster. Smart, dorky, and a freshman, Foster is only supposed to stay with the Tennysons until his mom recovers from her addiction. At least, that was the plan. Now he’s living in her house, going to her school, and generally embarrassing her. That is, until the day his stunning kick draws the eye of Ezra, the high school football star, who takes Foster under his wing. As Devon is drawn ever further into Foster’s world, she is forced to reconsider everything she thought she knew about her eccentric cousin, herself, and what she wants out of life. School may be coming to a close, but it’s not too late to make something of herself, if only she has the courage to try.

     There’s a quality to the writing that makes Devon’s narrative instantly compelling. From the first page, when we meet her school counselor and the impending college problem, Mills’ writing sweeps away everything except the words on the page. Devon is incredibly authentic without trying to seem witty or unrealistically sage, and this bleeds through into the narrative. Though she’s occasionally unreliable, this is played off well; the reader is unlikely to see through all of the red herrings and misleading conversations simply because both author and protagonist are wickedly smart. With minds like theirs weaving the web of the story, figuring things out before the characters do isn’t simply difficult. It’s nearly impossible—and satisfyingly so.

     When it comes to these characters, “dynamic” is the name of the game. From Devon and her friend group to the football team and class pretty girl, every last name that appears is backed by a complex personality with its own internal arc of change. Voices are distinct, actions influence each other, and everything and everyone plays its own critical role in the plot. They are a mixed bag of likeable and despicable, with a broad range in between, and it’s this diversity that makes the setting so believable.

     For a high school girl-meets-boy, the level of questionable content is relatively low—as is the cheese factor. The latter is mitigated primarily by Foster, whose sudden appearance in Devon’s only-child life provides plenty of drama on its own. It also helps that Devon takes a no-nonsense approach to romance, recognizing how unlikely it is that Cas likes her back and minimizing as much of her disappointment as possible. There is a little kissing and conversations about more between various characters. Foul language consists primarily of F-bombs, with a small splash vulgarity thrown into the mix here and there.

     I would recommend this book to anyone in their late tweens or older who is looking for a clever YA romance featuring an incredibly sharp protagonist with equally smart love interests. The love triangle is minor and the cast is strong, set against a plot that deeply examines every kind of love. Foster is a wonderful point of conflict and a person in his own right, as fleshed-out as any of the others on the page. Ezra has hidden depths, and Cas is exactly the kind of friend Devon needs. Together, these four create a tale of love, acceptance, and family that is sure to strike a chord in almost any reader. Emma Mills’ First & Then is a stunning debut worth five stars.

Review of "Adrift"

“None of us came back whole, and not all of us came back.”

     For the heroes of Paul Griffin’s YA novel Adrift, there is only so much that can be done against the power of the sea. When seventeen-year-old Matt Halloway and his best friend, John, travel to the tip of Long Island, the only adventure they’re looking for is a summer job and a pocket full of cash. They certainly aren’t looking for romance or adventure. Yet that is what they find when Matt, drawn to a pretty beachgoer, drags John to a party at a nearby mansion. And then, when the girl’s cousin disappears, to the beach. Into the water. Out to sea. Soon the boys are trapped in a tin vessel with three rich kids and a big problem: in their panicked search for the girl’s cousin, they lost sight of the shore. With no food or water and the clock ticking down on the cousin’s life, Matt and John must do everything in their power to bring everyone home—or die trying.

     At first, there seems to be little remarkable about the story of Matt Halloway. Sure, he’s got baggage. Watching someone die will do that to a kid. Aside from that, though, he’s just a boy with dreams of Ivy League graduation and a career somewhere nice and quiet, where the ghosts of his past won’t be able to follow. Then he meets Driana, a stunning girl with beaded dreadlocks and an incredible sense of faith in mankind’s capacity for good. When she invites Matt and John to a party, she has no intention of altering the course of their lives. That, perhaps, is what makes this tale so absorbing. No one except the reader knows about the boat, or the tragedies to come. There is no wise mentor guiding them along their path. There is only sun and sky and the knowledge that some of them might not make it out alive, and that makes anything possible.

     It’s a testament to Griffin’s writing skills that John is such an unlikeable hero. He’s strong, deadly smart, and keeps a cool head in a crisis, all of which should add up to a great leader. In reality, he’s a stone-faced captain with no tact whatsoever. Matt, knowing this, still gives him the reins of leadership. John is the captain; Matt is the medic. The fact that our protagonist is not in charge is astounding, and forces readers to consider the situation from an entirely new angle. And as pieces of their shared history begin to emerge from their hidey-holes, the boys will have to face their demons in order to stay sane. The thing is, neither their friendship nor Matt and Driana’s blossoming romance may be strong enough to withstand such a confrontation.

     For a story about survival, there is surprisingly little questionable content. Cursing is rare, if present at all, and inter-person violence is kept to a minimum. Threats are common, especially as the mental health of some of the characters declines, but far more disturbing is what happens after. It isn’t a spoiler to say that not everyone makes it out of this little escapade alive, and the things that happen to the bodies aren’t always pleasant, true to life though they might be. At one point, someone comes to a somewhat gory end, though we are spared most of the details. A traumatic event from the past is rehashed. The romance does not progress beyond kissing.

     I would recommend this book to teens looking for a straightforward survival tale with a very real sense of danger. Matt, John, and Dri are vastly different people with various levels of relatability and likableness, and their companions only throw more chaos into the mix. When five teens are stranded in a rickety boat with no rescue in sight, Paul Griffin asks: who will pull through? With everything on the line, there is no telling how far these kids will go to ensure their own survival. Chilling, compelling, and unpredictable, Adrift is a great addition to anyone’s To Read pile, deserving four stars.

Review of "Peter Pan"

"All children, except one, grow up."

     In the world of J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan, only one child will not grow up. Wendy Darling has known she would age since she was two, and it has never quite bothered her. She plays at House and Mother and takes great delight in caring for her younger brothers, John and Michael. Their favorite game, though, is to visit the Neverland, where a boy named Peter takes them on the grandest adventures. Mrs. Darling, of course, is suitably concerned, especially when this mythical boy begins tracking dirt and leaves into the nursery. When Peter returns to the Darling house for his missing shadow, he finds Wendy, a girl full of stories and a deep-seated longing to be his mother. Fascinated by her fairy tales, Peter Pan sweeps the Darling children away to Neverland, where they can have a marvelous time and never grow up. But Neverland is a strange place, and if the children aren't careful, they could forget the very thing they love the most: their family.

     There is something innately charming about the simplicity of Wendy's adventures in Neverland. Despite Peter Pan's natural hatred toward parents of any sort, he and his troop of lost boys quickly latch on to Wendy as their mother figure. In this role, it is her duty to cook, clean, mend clothes, and look after her "children"'s health. She takes great delight in this, but what will likely interest readers most is the hijinks of her charges. Led by Peter, the lost boys battle pirates, hunt great beasts, invent bizarre sports, and pick fights with the local Native American tribe. To prevent these from becoming monotonous, Peter always adds a twist, changing the rules mid-game or otherwise turning things on their heads. This makes for great fun for readers and characters alike, and is grounded in Wendy's practical job of playing caretaker to such rambunctious boys.

     So too is the narrator engaged. As he weaves his story, Barrie passes back and forth between one exploit and the next, keeping audiences on their toes and enjoying himself immensely. This shows in the playfulness of the prose, and the fantastical descriptions of the impossible island known as Neverland. From pet wolves to unfriendly mermaids and a jealous fairy, Neverland is dotted with an endless fountain of people, places, and things plucked straight from the minds of children. Barrie records these with admirable diligence, explaining along the way why things are done the way they are. Even this adds to the lighthearted mood of the overall piece, as the majority of such explanations are quite ridiculous.

     Of Peter himself, we learn quite a bit. He is young, always has been, and carries a sense of pride that is so over-the-top as to be almost endearing. If his friends did not love him, there would be no redeeming him; as it is, he is simply flighty and ever-changing, flitting from one fancy to the next as the mood strikes him. Though his companions change a bit over time, he does not, and since the others tend to follow his lead everyone is generally static. This is combated by the sheer number of daring escapades, the grandest ones revolving around Captain Jas. Hook, Peter's arch-enemy and a brilliant villain. Hook brings out the best and worst in everyone around him, and is the primary reason the climax is so absorbing.

     Since this is a children's story, the level questionable content is extraordinarily low. Tinker Bell, Peter's fairy, has taken to calling him a rude name in jest, which is the extent of the title's swearing. Due to the time period in which it was written and is set, the Native Americans are called by a different name, which is now considered offensive. This was not intended to be rude, as it is simply the terminology common to that era. Also affected by the time period is the everyday vocabulary. Readers, especially those outside of the UK, may have a spot of difficulty with some of the words; however, many editions include bracketed definitions and the rest is easily sorted out by context. There is no romance, though Wendy and Tinker Bell are hinted to share a crush on one of the boys. Violence is simultaneously graphic and clean, free of gore yet described so as to inspire excitement in young audiences.

     I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a thrilling adventure about a boy who refuses to grow up. Wendy is a wonderful protagonist who provides the perfect lens through which to view the tale, and Peter does a marvelous job captaining the lost boys' various escapades. Their feats of derring-do are expertly crafted to catch the eye of grown-ups and children alike. With subtle foreshadowing and a strong narrative voice, J. M. Barrie created a charming novel that will leave an impression on whoever reads it. Thus, Peter Pan deserves five stars.

Review of "The Drowning Girl: A Memoir"

"I don't thing ghost stories should be written in solitude."

     For the protagonist of Caitlín R. Kiernan's The Drowning Girl: A Memoir, nothing, even memory, can be trusted. India Morgan Phelps, known to her friends as "Imp", is the daughter of a woman who took her own life, and the granddaughter of a lady who did the same. Each suffered from the Phelps Family Curse, a hereditary strain of craziness Imp's psychiatrist has labeled paranoid schizophrenia. Whether or not this diagnosis is accurate, Imp prefers the word "crazy" for its straightforward, easy-to-understand nature. What isn't easy to understand is Eva Canning, a woman who appeared on the side of the road in either July or November, she isn't sure which. There are two versions of Eva in her memory, and by setting each to paper Imp hopes to sort out which one is real. But with a disease like hers, even hindsight is unreliable--and the slightest trigger can bring everything to an unsavory end.

     The premise The Drowning Girl is built upon is intriguing: one woman, two versions of the story, and a narrator who may have made everything up. Indeed, there are times when it's uncertain whether anyone in Imp's life is real, let alone Eva Canning. Yet as Imp struggles more and more with her "ghost story", the novelty quickly begins to wear off, replaced with worry and confusion. Kiernan's impressive ability to capture the mind of a madwoman makes a great deal of the prose unintelligible, the rest highly suspect.

     However, there are upsides to this. Because of her condition, Imp notices things most people don't--the never-ending nature of stories, for instance, and the difference between truth and facts. On the other hand, this kind of double-talk makes for a very laid-back writing style that wanders between scenes, memories, and digressions. Tense shifts from past to present and back again, and Imp occasionally refers to herself in the third person. While this is interesting enough, after a while it can become rather frustrating. Still, it makes her voice more authentic and captures perfectly the inner workings of Imp's mind.

     The biggest pitfall, though, and the most saddening, is the romance. From Imp's recent breakup stems most of the novel's conflict, as Eva Canning appears at least partly responsible. It's okay that the how and why of this situation are not expounded on for a time, as that is the way storytelling works. However, none of the relationships in Imp's life are extraordinarily believable. There is no emotional buildup, no flirtation or first kiss. One minute they are acquaintances, the next they are dating. As a result, no amount of otherwise realistic interactions can bring a sense of romance to these relationships, let alone love. And considering Imp claims to be in love, that is quite sad.

     There's a lot to watch out for in this piece. Cursing is common and sometimes vulgar; physical interactions between couples is described faithfully, leaving little, if anything, to the imagination. Interested readers should note that Imp is lesbian, her girlfriend transgender. There is a bit of a love triangle, in its own way, which heavily impacts the plot. Violence is rare, but the inspiration for most of the short stories, sculptures, and paintings that show up in Imp's life is generally a tad graphic. Imp's mother was a former Catholic, so there are a couple of blasphemous comparisons tucked between the pages. All in all, this is most certainly not a book for children or--I would add--even teens.

     I would recommend this book to adults interested in a fictional memoir told by a woman whose world is constantly on the verge of collapsing. India Morgan Phelps is a round, complex character with a life of her own, yet the story she tells is so impacted by her schizophrenia that very little makes sense. This messes with plot, pacing, and emotional appeal, lessening the impact of otherwise interesting twists and turns. On the other hand, Caitlín R. Kiernan did such a great job capturing Imp's distinctive personality and frame of mind that the madness feels authentic. The Drowning Girl: A Memoir may have its troubles, but the powerful presence of its protagonist cannot be denied. That's what redeems it, in the end, as much as this novel can be said to have been redeemed. It deserves two stars.

Review of "The Never List"

"Never get in the car."

     In Koethi Zan's The Never List, even the greatest of preparation isn't always enough. As children, best friends Sarah and Jennifer were safety experts. If there was a statistic, news report, or old wives' tale about a potential hazard, they had it memorized. Tacked to their bedroom wall was the Never List, a chart of everything to avoid in order to survive. They had it all figured out--until college, when they broke their number one rule and disappeared for three years. Now in her thirties, Sarah is a neat freak with an extreme fear of physical contact. When a ghost from her past threatens to reemerge from his cell, Sarah sets off on a road trip to put him behind bars for good. Doing so will force her to face again the horrors of her abduction and finally deal with Jennifer's ultimate fate, but the real danger is yet to come. For her old enemy has plans to return, and he is not alone.

     There's something very disturbing about this novel's atmosphere. Even in the beginning, when we know next to nothing about her captivity, the piece is written through a lens of regret, fear, and resignation as Sarah struggles to cope with her new life of freedom. As her journey takes off, details begin slipping through the cracks: the way she and Jennifer were abducted, descriptions of the cellar in which they lived. Something about Zan's writing makes even the smallest snippets of prose frightfully chilling, yet buried beneath it all is a scrap of hope. If she can find Jennifer's body and convict her enemy for good, there is a chance she can move on at last. It is this hope, shining like a candle in the darkness, that makes the plot so compelling.

     Of course, there is also the fact that the characters are so well-rounded. While Sarah and Jennifer were taken together, they were not the only prisoners in that cellar. It is these women Sarah recruits on her quest for answers, and each bears her own set of scars. Perhaps the most striking thing is their wildly diverse methods of coping, each influenced by the way they grew up and what affected them most during their imprisonment. These, combined with their unique personalities and internal arcs, set them apart as individuals, real people with their own issues and solutions--which gives the trials they went through that much more emotional impact.

     The exact nature of what went on in that cellar is not left a mystery forever. Information about that time is doled out in very cautious doses, revealing just enough to get the point across without spilling the whole three years of terror at once. Readers going into this tale with a preconceived notion of what happened will likely be far off the mark--and not in a good way. Violence is a huge part of the psychological mess these women have to deal with, so readers sensitive to such subjects should avoid this altogether. Profanity is limited to a few F-bombs, and romance is nonexistent. There are a couple of surprise twists that feel somewhat cheap, but the overall plot is quite strong and easy to follow.

     I would recommend this book to adults looking for a fictional tribute to people traumatized by kidnapping and other horrors. Sarah and her companions are a mixed bunch from a wide variety of backgrounds, and their search leads them deep into a chapter in their lives they had all hoped would remain forever closed. Though it is full of potential triggers, contains some profanity, and has a plot twist or two that don't quite fit, this is a strong, absorbing story led by a believable cast whose lives will forever be entangled. Grab a flashlight, because Koethi Zan's The Never List is sure to keep readers up late into the night, from fear if nothing else. It deserves four stars.

Review of "Talon"

"Kill every dragon in sight."

     In Julie Kagawa's Talon, the most famous beasts of legend still roam the earth unnoticed. Hatchlings Ember and Dante are sixteen when they're released into human society for "assimilation". They have trained for this day their whole lives, selecting human appearances and learning about the various cultures. Yet they are not, as Talon reminds them, actually mortal. Garret Xavier Sebastian is a soldier in the Order of St. George, the organization dedicated to eradicating the last of the dragons. With the help of the mysterious entity known as Talon, thousands of these beasts still pose a very serious threat. But he gets more than he bargained for when Ember, his next target, proves to be more human than St. George claims is possible. With both teams hiding critical truths, Garret and Ember will have to decide what they value most--and what they are willing to give up to protect it.

     Ember is not human. From the very beginning, this fact is pounded home. She and Dante are clutchmates, an anomaly among their kind, and in their natural forms are enormous fire-breathing beasts with broad wings. Yet there is a stark difference between Ember and the rest of Talon, something even her "twin" doesn't understand. Now that she sees the mortal world, she wants to live in it. Her fascination with relationships, small pleasures, and exciting experiences is beyond what she has been trained to expect, and it throws her entire worldview out of balance. For her, Talon is an oppressor trying to ruin her fun. For readers, it is a mysterious network of dragons whose intentions span from incredibly noble to shady and terrible. And if the few realizations Ember has about them are anything to go on, there is much more to them than meets the eye.

     St. George is equally layered. On the surface, their quest to free mankind from the draconic threat is admirable, almost romantic. However, the war has come a long way from the ancient sword-versus-claw duels in tomes and paintings. Modern weapons are the new go-to, and soldiers like Garret are taught to give no quarter under any circumstances. Even if a dragon is in human form, it is still a threat and must be eliminated. In light of this, it is amazing that someone as caring as Garret managed to survive boot camp, let alone earn the nickname "Perfect Soldier". His journey from blind obedience to free thought and a cause worth fighting for is just as enthralling as Ember's. He isn't simply another love interest. This boy has a life, a presence, and a story all his own, and they are fascinating.

     The world in which this novel takes place is expansive. From crowded beaches to shopping malls and training rooms, Ember, Dante, and Garret may have separate personal quests, but they tie together well, the process of which leads them to every corner of town and the human experience. The question, though, is whether their secrets will come out and, if they do, whether their relationships will survive the collision. Garret's time in St. George has seen him battle ferocious monsters with very little to protect himself, so he knows how to fight. So do Dante and Ember; after all, this feud isn't one-sided. And with a third party stirring the pot at just the right moments, violence is inevitable. It isn't graphic, however, and serves an important role in the plot. Swearing is nonexistent. Romance, on the other hand, is the primary source of conflict and quite a good read. It does not progress beyond kissing.

     I would recommend this book to anyone looking for a daring fantasy full of twists, turns, and a romance that is vital to the plot. The dragons are portrayed well, with exactly the kind of personalities one might expect of such creatures. St. George is just as bent on their destruction as they should be, going to extraordinary lengths to wipe out their foes before dragons can rise again. Caught in the middle are a soldier with a sharp mind and two hatchlings exploring the world for the first time. Ember and Garret are larger-than-life characters living in a realistic world where everything and everyone is just a breath short of leaping off the page. Every obstacle they face is just enough to inspire more conflict, more tension, and more fire to the story. Julie Kagawa's Talon is a brilliant start to a series sure to be just as awesome, and fully deserves five stars.

Review of "Glory O'Brien's History of the Future"

“We could see everything.”

     When it comes to predictions of doom, Glory O’Brien’s History of the Future by A.S. King takes the cake. High school senior Glory O’Brien is probably the only person in her graduating class who doesn’t know what to do next. Other than Ellie, of course. All Ellie wants is to get as far away from her hippie parents, their commune, and the homeschool system as she possibly can. When they find a petrified bat on Ellie's commune, they decide to toast to their messed-up lives by drinking it. After all, it's not like things can get much worse. That is, until they wake up with the ability to see the past and future of everyone they meet. Suddenly, every decision they make has visible consequences, and Glory is determined to record what she sees for posterity. Even if none of the futures she sees includes her.

     Glory is in a very unique situation. An only child, she lives with her father in a quiet house with a locked-up darkroom and a hole where the oven should be. Her father, a former painter, spends most of his time eating or fixing other people’s software bugs, and together they work toward one purpose: pretending Letter N Day never happened. At the very least, they want to find a sense of closure. But losing a mother is hard enough when she isn’t the one who pulled the trigger—or, in this case, turned on the gas—and neither O’Brien has been able to move on. Through her visions of the future, Glory may be able to fix their relationship, if only she can find enough courage. Yet it is he who holds the power to changer her life, assuming she finds the strength to let him in.

    As she searches for meaning in her life, Glory encounters a variety of troubles. For one thing, there’s her dad’s worry about spending too much time in the darkroom, and her own fears that her late mother’s condition is hereditary. For another, there’s Ellie: annoying, selfish, and her only friend. When secrets about Ellie’s family find their way to the spotlight, Glory must come to terms with a broken relationship from the past and decide how it will affect her present. And as she discovers more about the future to come, it is her duty to sort through the mess, no matter how terrible it may be. It doesn’t help that she only sees evil and tragedy, making her wonder why people bother working toward good if it is going to blow up in their faces. While there isn’t much of an external conflict, Glory’s inner turmoil does a good job keeping the plot going and sparking questions within a reader’s mind.

     Surprisingly enough, most of this novel is dedicated to Glory's relationship troubles than seeing the future. However, the future King imagines is quite horrible: a Second Civil War, an anti-feminist madman tearing the United States in two, and human trafficking all make multiple appearances. Meanwhile, Glory and Ellie struggle to make sense of their new gift even as they deal with Ellie’s possibly-cheating boyfriend, lice in highly inconvenient places, and the truth behind Mrs. O’Brien’s death. This includes a lot of swearing, crude language, and wandering around the mall. The girls wonder about physical relations with boys, and once Glory walks into the middle of a related conversation between a pair of dating teens. When they drink the bat, they refer to it as God and joke that, by drinking it, they are becoming God. The only violence takes place in the future and is not described in detail.

     I would recommend this book to teenagers interested in a well-thought-out story about an only child with a dark past, no real friends, and the ability to everyone’s future but her own. There isn't a lot of plot, and the little we do see of the future is rather depressing. However, Ellie is a great twist on the traditional best-friend-across-the-street and the story's premise is very intriguing. With a little less swearing and crude language, and fewer depressing trains of thought, A.S. King's Glory O'Brien's History of the Future could be fantastic. As it is, it is a strong tale with very solid themes and interesting characters, and deserves three stars.