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books

Delirium by Lauren Oliver

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I picked up Delirium at BEA and was initially underwhelmed by the premise, which has been done before in many other books.  Lena, our teenage protagonist, lives in a world where love has been eradicated (oh my goodness, how many times have I used that phrase “in a world where” in the past couple of years when talking about YA books?).  When people turn 18, they are taken to have a procedure done on their brains which makes them immune to the “deliria,” their phrase for the disease of love.
I will admit I rolled my eyes more than a few times when I read the synopsis on the back of the book.  It seemed like a knockoff of The Giver, except the futuristic society in Delirium has seized one aspect of human existence to demonize, while the society in The Giver was much more complex.  The book seemed kind of like a really easy (and cheap) way to create star-crossed lovers to appease the multitudes of Twilight fans (star-crossed lovers being as much the rage as vampires).
In Delirium, the deliria is blamed for all society’s ills, and everyone – including those who have not yet had the procedure – agrees that the absence of love makes for a better world.  I could go on about why, buy buy-in is necessary for dystopias, so I’ll just say that I had no problem buying into this premise (especially since I’ve bought into similar ones many times before).  
Lena is very much looking forward to the procedure…until she meets a boy.  Of course.  You know where this is going – she realizes that love is not the culprit of our ills, it’s the reason we choose to live despite the ills, and so on and so forth.  This is nothing new.  I was anticipating this from page 1, and honestly did not expect to read beyond a few pages.
But then I read those first few pages, and I kept reading.  And kept reading.  And got lost in the story and the characters and, above all, the outstanding prose.  Lauren Oliver knows how to tell a story, even if the bare bones of that story have been told before.  She’s got a way with words.  In many other less-polished works, the language is sometimes jarring at times and awkward phrasing can bring the reader out of the story, remind her that she’s reading a book, not experiencing it.  With Delirium, that never happened.  I picked up the book and didn’t notice how far I had read until I paused and realized half the book was gone.
The fantastic writing was not the only reason I was so engrossed in the book.  Oliver managed to avoid two of the pitfalls that other writers (particularly those who have recently written dystopias to capitalize on the trend) have succumbed to: characters who behave in the stereotypical way  merely to advance the plot and a pat, too-easy ending.  The characters in Delirium constantly surprised me, in particular Lena’s friend Hana.  My predictions about Hana were proven wrong at least twice (and I am an old hat with dystopias so I know all the tricks).  By giving her characters depth and the ability to act in surprising yet believable ways, Oliver has pushed her story beyond the usual trendy fare.   
And then there’s that ending.  Obviously I can’t tell you what the ending involves, but I can tell you that it’s not what you think, and it’s also the only ending that works with the story Oliver has told.  It’s both unexpected and completely satisfying.
Dystopia fiction is such a hot sub-genre right now, and so many titles are being published that should have remained in the slush pile.  Delirium rises above these many lesser works.  It shows that a skilled author can take a topic that seems done to death and breathe new life into it.  I was so impressed with Delirium that I actually went on to read Before I Fall and was equally impressed.  (This is a big deal, guys.  I normally stay away from contemporary books and especially stay away from books about mean girls).
But now comes the bad news…this is the first in a series.  Too bad.  The ending was one of the best I’ve read in a long, long time (in any book, not just a dystopia), and it is certainly strong enough to stand on its own.  I wish it were allowed to.
Review copy picked up at BEA (duh). Sidenote: my review copy has this cover. Which one do you like better?

What I’m Reading Now, Twitter-Style

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Welcome to another edition of reviews Twitter-style: a brief description of my current reads in 140 characters or less (sometimes I fudge a few characters, but you can forgive me).

Print Books

StarCrossed
Elizabeth Bunce

By the author of the first Morris winner, so I’m giving this one a shot, even though I didn’t really care for her first book. Magic, complex world-building, and a plucky heroine.

Half the Sky: Turning Oppression Into Opportunity for Women Worldwide
Nicholas D. Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn

Depressing but also eye-opening account of women in the poorest areas and worst situations. I look forward most to the sections on how people like us can help.

Fables Vol. 14: Witches
Bill Willingham

The latest in Willingham’s comic book series doesn’t disappoint, with a focus on a few of the more interesting characters (the witches). A bit too much exposition, but still satisfying.

Red as Blood, or Tales From the Sisters Grimmer
Tanith Lee

A collection of re-told fairy tales from one of my favorite authors. Edgy but not true horror (so far). The source material is sometimes difficult to determine, but I enjoy seeing how Lee re-works the familiar stories.

Wither
Lauren DeStefano

Another dystopia. Another trilogy. Girls die at 20, boys at 25. Girls sold into marriage and forced to pop out babies. Weak world-building and a too passive heroine weaken the tale, but it will satisfy diehard fans of the genre. 

Audiobooks

Before I Fall
Lauren Oliver

Mean girl dies and re-lives the same day over and over again, a la Groundhog Day minus the comedy. Terrific narrator, excellent writing, I’m actually enjoying a contemporary YA!

The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
Sherman Alexie

Yes, it really is as good as everyone says. The story – Indian boy leaves reservation to attend a white school – is a bit slight at times, but the narration (by Alexie himself) is wonderful and it’s full of real humor.

The Scorch Trials by James Dashner

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Solving the Maze was supposed to be the end. No more puzzles. No more variables. And no more running. Thomas was sure that escape meant he and the Gladers would get their lives back. But no one really knew what sort of life they were going back to. In the Maze, life was easy. They had food, and shelter, and safety . . . until Teresa triggered the end. In the world outside the Maze, however, the end was triggered long ago. Burned by sun flares and baked by a new, brutal climate, the earth is a wasteland. Government has disintegrated—and with it, order—and now Cranks, people covered in festering wounds and driven to murderous insanity by the infectious disease known as the Flare, roam the crumbling cities hunting for their next victim . . . and meal. The Gladers are far from finished with running. Instead of freedom, they find themselves faced with another trial. They must cross the Scorch, the most burned-out section of the world, and arrive at a safe haven in two weeks. And WICKED has made sure to adjust the variables and stack the odds against them. Thomas can only wonder—does he hold the secret of freedom somewhere in his mind? Or will he forever be at the mercy of WICKED?

Summary from Amazon.com

Since The Maze Runner was one of my favorite reads of last year, I made the rare step of actually pre-ordering this book (a huge deal for a librarian on a budget). When it arrived, I was in the midst of another book, so I handed it over to my husband to read. When I inquired as to how it was, he responded, “Bad shit happens. Then more bad shit happens.”

In a way, that perfect sums up The Scorch Trials, part two in James Dashner’s planned trilogy. The Scorch Trials deals with the aftermath of the maze, with what happens to the Gladers when they have finally escaped the experiment that they were at the center of. And that’s the key word here: “happens.” This book is action packed, careening from horror to horror as Thomas and his friends navigate their way across the scorched wasteland that the world has become. James Dashner’s imagination is vivid and his writing is incredibly illustrative (almost to the point of gross at times) as he describes the heat of the sun; the melting silver orbs that attack Gladers, encasing their heads in murderous metal; and the crazy Cranks, infected with the Flare, the disease that will soon reach Thomas and his friends if they don’t make it across the Scorch. But in the end, the book almost has too much action. I missed the character and relationship building that featured so strongly in the first book and that is key (for me) to any truly great dystopian novel. The action plain overwhelmed any character progression that could have occurred, until it seemed that no character growth had occurred.

In fact, my favorite parts of The Scorch Trials were when Thomas was regaining his memories, having brief flashbacks to his former life, when he and Theresa were young, co-creators of the maze that had ended up tormenting them. And although we learned a bit more about WICKED and the changed world that these characters now inhabited, it wasn’t enough to satisfy me.

But in the end, it is a middle book in a trilogy, and a journey across a scorched land is part for the course. And in the end, I will most definitely continue reading. James Dashner can write a mean cliffhanger, both at the end of chapters, and at the end of this book. I just hope that I find out more about these characters in the future.

Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness

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The young adult market has been saturated for the past few years with paranormal romances of every possible flavor – vampires, werewolves, ghosts, fallen angels, zombies – but the recent abundance of dystopian and post-apocalyptic stories is giving the paranormal subgenre a run for its money.  Dystopian fiction has been a favorite of mine since before I knew what the word “dystopia” meant, and it can be a bit disheartening to see so many new titles pop up without a single outstanding one among them.

Amid this crowded and too often disappointing field, Patrick Ness has written a gem of a series – three books that make up the Chaos Walking trilogy.  The third and concluding volume, Monsters of Men, was published Tuesday.

This is not to say Chaos Walking doesn’t share anything with the immensely popular and significantly more mediocre books of its kind also targeting teens.  Some of the immediately noticeable aspects of Ness’ story fit right in with the mega trends of today’s young adult fiction market: first person, present tense, series of at least three, some sort of fantasy or science fiction element.  Despite these similarities, Ness has managed to create something unique, and he’s made the more traditional elements fresh again.

If you haven’t heard much about the books yet, I encourage you to check out my review of the first book here, where I provide a description of the premise.  I won’t go into much plot detail in this post since I wrote about it previously; instead I’ll concentrate on other aspects of the books – writing style, themes, and audience.

The first book, The Knife of Never Letting Go, is told entirely with Todd’s voice and ends with a cliffhanger (of course). The second book, The Ask and the Answer, picks up right where the first left off, but adds Viola’s voice to the mix.  In this volume, Todd and Viola are separated, and Todd is taken under the wing of the manipulative mayor while Viola is pulled into a rebel group called the Answer whose goal is to destroy the mayor at any cost.

Meanwhile, another war with the Spackle looms, and Ness leaves his readers on another precipice as the volume ends.

Which brings us to the third book, Monsters of Men.  In the concluding volume, Ness has added a third voice, that of a Spackle called the Return.  Here is where Ness really shines.  He’s succeeded in bringing us into the Spackle’s mind, a mind that feels both familiar but also very, very alien.  The Return’s sections are poetic and pained and at times hard to decipher, and when we finally do sink far enough into the character’s voice to understand the Return’s story, it is all the more satisfying.  Other authors have tried something similar with varying levels of success.  Philip Pullman’s Mulefa in the Amber Spyglass are brought to mind, but even Pullman couldn’t portray his aliens as effectively as Ness.  While the Return is ultimately a figure we relate to and feel sympathy for, we are also always conscious of his non-humanness.  It’s a terrific feat that Ness is able to pull off. 

There are some heavy themes at work here.  The first major one is gender, in particular what it means to be a man (in a world devoid of women or not).  It’s not a stretch to call the series feminist books for boys, but Ness doesn’t hit us over the head with it.

The other major theme is war, and this comes into play most heavily in the third installment.  Monsters of Men (taken from a character’s statement that “war makes monsters of men”) brings us full-on war with the Spackle from page one.  The mayor and the Answer must decide whether they should keep fighting each other or join forces to beat back the Spackle, and the process is not quick or pretty.  Even when it’s over, there are aftershocks.

These themes make for a very dark story, but Ness provides some balance with a few humorous touches.  Todd’s voice is a big part of what makes the first book such an enjoyable read.  His narration resembles the Noise that surrounds him, so he tells his story in fragments and run-ons and quick parenthetical asides (“Shut up!” he frequently tells the reader after he knows he’s said something not very nice.).  The style is unique and more than a gimmick – it’s necessary to the story Ness needs to tell.

Ness also brings us Todd’s dog Manchee, the best dog in literature ever.  The first line in The Knife of Never Letting Go is “The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don’t got nothing much to say.”  To prove his point, Manchee’s first words are “Need a poo, Todd.”  When you think about it, that is really one of the main things our dogs would say to us, isn’t it?

Comparisons with Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy (which I also love, just not with quite the same fervor) are unavoidable.  You can read my thoughts on Mockingjay at our round-robin review here.  There’s no doubt that Collins has written a heck of a story, a dystopia in first person present-tense (sound familiar?) about a teenager who fights against the odds in a war that tears her world apart.  But when both books are placed side by side, Mockingjay never really stands a chance.  Ness’ story is much more layered with more complex characters and subtler, less heavy-handed messages.  Mockingjay is great, but Monsters of Men is a masterpiece.  

This complexity of character and theme is also what propels Monsters of Men beyond just the teen market.  It’s one of those crossovers that’s fast-paced enough to appeal to even reluctant teen readers, but also layered enough to appeal to adults whose teen years may be far behind them.  In this regard, it’s similar to Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief, another outstanding book marketed to teens but read and appreciated by all ages.  I hope that adult readers who don’t normally read YA won’t let the “young adult” tag mislead them – the book’s protagonists are teens, but its exciting plot and skillful writing are universally appealing.

Not everything about Chaos Walking shines.  The abundance of short fragmentary sentences can sometimes wear, and bad guys have a tendency to come back from the dead so many times that it would break even the most willing suspension of disbelief.  But these are minor quibbles about a story that is one of the best I’ve read this decade.

A common saying among readers and writers alike is “There are no new stories.” Mind-reading has been done before, as has colonization of faraway planets and war and aliens.  But it’s never been done in quite this way, and it’s never been told quite so well.

Dystopia Double Take

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Here’s an interesting double take. Both of the books are dystopias, and their covers are very, very similar to each other.The first book is Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. Never Let Me Go is a dystopia for adults, a book I read for an undergraduate class and fell in love with. It’s set in the 90s in an English school called Hailsham, but of course, the school isn’t your normal school, and the students have a purpose very different from learning writing and math. I think the cover is spectacular. It’s a close-up of a young woman’s face, her eyes gazing somewhere in the distance. While the book was marketed to adults, it’s a book young adults would also enjoy, and it won an Alex award in 2006.

The second book is The Unidentified by Rae Mariz, a dystopia for teens to be published in October. (Apologies for the size, I couldn’t find a larger photo.) This book is also set in a school that is more than what it seems. Despite this parallel with Never Let Me Go and the book’s eerily similar cover, The Unidentified seems to much more closely resemble MT Anderson’s Feed, so much so that I couldn’t help but compare Mariz’s book with Anderson’s as I read the first two chapters of The Unidentified. (Judging from the first two chapters that I have read, I have a feeling Feed will win this battle handily.)

There are probably other covers out there that resemble these two. Do you know of any? Which of the two covers above is more effective? I have not yet finished The Unidentified, but I like the cover for Never Let Me Go better. Despite the flat affect apparent on the woman’s face (which is integral to the book), her eyes are focused on something in the distance and seem to indicate some emotion or depth. The eyes of the cover model are clearly intended to be the focal point for the reader. The cover model’s eyes in The Unidentified are partially obscured by the title text and it’s more distracting than it is arresting. Still, the cover is what led me to pick the book up.