Voyages in the Underworld of Orpheus Black by Marcus and Julian Sedgwick, illustrated by Alexis Deacon

I’m always intrigued by illustrated novels for teenagers, but this one – about a conscientious objector in England during World War II – doesn’t quite hit the mark. It’s a sort-of retelling of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, wherein one brother – the conscientious objector – must travel underground to rescue the other brother, a soldier, after a bomb hits London. At least, that’s what the publisher synopsis says the book is about. In reality, it takes quite a number of pages before this journey actually begins, and when it does, it’s difficult to tell what’s going on. Deacon’s illustrations add atmosphere but don’t really help clarify the story, which is told in two voices: the conscientious objector in prose via his diary and the brother in poems separating each chapter. I found myself often confused by what was reality and what was metaphor, and not in the way the authors intended. The story backtracks on itself and treads water often, lingering over certain parts in the plot that slow it down considerably and make it feel like not much actually happens. I wonder if I would have appreciated this book more as a short story.

It’s clear that the Sedgwicks are trying to make a point about war, but the story they’ve crafted does their message no favors. The very beginning and the very end (including the note from the authors) are the most powerful parts of the book, but they don’t make up for the long and muddling middle.

Toxic by Lydia Kang

I was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed this story about a living ship and the group of people that find themselves caught on it as it begins to die. I’ve read and watched a lot of science fiction where living ships are featured, but this is the first story I’ve encountered that focuses on what happens when that ship dies (as living things do). Kang has two protagonists: Hana, a teenage girl whose mother gave birth to her secretly on the ship and has kept her a secret her whole life, and Fenn, a teenage boy who is part of a team sent to study the ship as it dies – and to die along with it, their final payment sent to a family member of their choosing. Hana wakes up one day to find that she’s alone on the ship, ostensibly abandoned by her mother and the rest of the crew, who never knew she existed. Fenn and the rest of the research crew are surprised and disturbed to learn that someone is still on the ship, and they’re even more disturbed when the ship starts dying more and more rapidly, then turning on the remaining people inside it. Kang’s story is surprisingly bloody with a pretty high body count. It’s a mish mash of science fiction, horror, and romance, with Hana and Fenn finding themselves drawn to each other during this crisis.

While there is no big twist that I half-expected by the end of the story, Kang infuses a good amount of suspense into her tale and creates a number of world-building touches that I appreciated, including a creative way for the ship itself to communicate. Hana and Fenn are both human and the other members of the research crew are aliens, and I wish more of the story had focused on them, since they’re pretty fascinating. Hana and Fenn are developed well, and Kang gives Fenn a wrenching motivation for volunteering for this suicide mission that will make readers hurt for him. Give this one to teens who love science fiction set in space.

A great thing about being a panelist or judge for the Cybils award is that you end up reading and enjoying a lot of books you may not have picked up otherwise. Black Wings Beating by Alex London is one of them. It’s about falconry, which I can’t say is a topic that interests me normally, but it’s not really about falconry. It’s a unique fantasy with compelling narrators that does a lot of creative things in terms of both plot and world-building.

In the Six Villages in the country of Uztar, falconry is more than just a sport: the people revere the magnificent birds of prey, and a religion has even developed around their worship. The story is told in not-quite-alternating chapters by teenage twins Brysen and Kylee, who run a falconry business together since their father died a few years ago hunting the Ghost Eagle, a prized bird that would have brought wealth to the family. They don’t miss their father much; he routinely beat Brysen for not being an acceptable son, and Kylee feels insurmountable guilt for not being able to do enough to protect her brother. Kylee hopes to give up falconry once they make enough money; she’s gifted at the sport, but hates it. Brysen loves falconry, and while he has grown good from practice, his natural talent doesn’t match Kylee’s, which causes friction between the siblings.

When Brysen learns that his falconry teacher and sometimes-boyfriend has made a deal with the cruel de facto rulers of the town to capture the Ghost Eagle, Brysen decides to undertake the quest in his place in order to save his life. Kylee eventually follows, and the journey will take them deep into treacherous mountains where the most dangerous thing may not even be the Ghost Eagle itself.

The basic storyline (a quest to find something valuable) will be very familiar to fantasy readers, but the elements the twins encounter on the quest are what sets this book above much of its brethren. The mountain setting is vividly drawn, both its beauty and its hardships. A community of women called the Owl Mothers live within the mountains, and London’s depiction of this matriarchal society – neither traditionally “good” nor “bad” – is creative and thought-provoking. Along the journey, the twins find out more about the night their father died, and learn that each had been keeping secrets from the other. Their relationship is close but not stereotypically “we’re twins so we’re always on each other’s wavelength” close. During one particularly tense argument, London shows how these two people fiercely love each other even while intentionally hurting each other sometimes.

I loved the world London created, which provides many different conflicts that Brysen and Kylee have to tackle. Aside from the Ghost Eagle, the world itself provides additional conflict for the twins. In response to the religion that worships the birds (which their mother belongs to), another sect has arisen that views birds of prey as evil and their worshipers as people to be converted or killed. An occasional chapter is written from one of these people’s perspectives as he marches closer and closer to the Six Villages, intent on violence. Kylee’s natural talents with falconry are magic-based, and she runs into people who want to use her for their own ends. Others who want to capture the Ghost Eagle are on the hunt, too, and there are people within the mountain with nebulous motives who may also do the protagonists harm. London ratchets up the tension so well, I didn’t want to stop listening to the audiobook.

Brysen is gay and open about it, and there’s an interesting and sweet mini-romance between him and another boy they find on the mountain. Queer people seem to be the norm in the Six Villages, with the only prejudice against Brysen’s sexuality coming from his father (who never uses slurs, but indicates that Brysen isn’t “manly enough” when he beats him). There are indications that Kylee is asexual/aromantic, but I can’t be sure from context.

I was especially impressed by the way London wrote his ancillary characters. Brysen and Kylee are deftly characterized with two distinctive voices (expertly performed by Michael Crouch and Brittany Pressley), but so are all the minor characters: Brysen’s love interest, the leader of the Owl Mothers, even the sister of the ruling despot who shows up midway through the novel and has only a few lines. Since we meet everyone through either Brysen or Kylee’s point of view, our opinions of people shift and grow as their perspectives do. What once had seemed like a rescuer turns into a captor, and just when we’ve decided the captor is unredeemable, London provides another facet to them that makes us reassess yet again. Real people are like this, too: motivated by a variety of factors (both selfless and not) that are not apparent upon first acquaintance. This is a deep novel with deep characters and a story that will keep teens on the edge of their seats; the sequel can’t come fast enough.