I think I’ve mentioned before that one of the best things I got out of being a Cybils judge this year is that I read good books I never would have picked up otherwise. Misfit by Jon Skovron is a prime example of this. It’s everything I normally avoid in a book: paranormal, present tense, and…well, that’s usually enough. I’m so glad the Cybils were around to change my mind.

Jael’s mother – many years dead now – was a demoness. She’s known this for years and had to keep it a secret from all the other normal humans. You’d probably expect that being half-demon would mean Jael has all sorts of cool powers, but she doesn’t. She just has to move around a lot, thanks to her paranoid father. Then Jael turns 16, her father gives her a shiny necklace that belonged to her mother, and everything changes. Now she has those cool powers, but it’s brought her to the attention of some very dangerous types. Jael must learn how to harness these powers so she can fight off the bad guys. She has the help of her mother’s brother (a demon himself) and her unwilling father, but really, is that enough when all of Hell wants you dead?

There’s more to it than that. Skovron has created a wonderfully rich mythology, weaving together elements of Christianity with almost every other religion (living or dead) you could think of. And he’s given us a terrific love story between Jael’s parents, which is swoony and romantic and dangerous and badass and completely outshines the love story between Jael and her skater crush.

I’ve mentioned about a hundred thousand times before how important Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy was to me as a tween/teen. Aside from being beautifully written, fantastic stories, I loved how incredibly daring those books were. I don’t mean daring by employing foul language or sex or putting its characters in risky situations or supporting an unpopular social or political stance. I mean daring in its treatment of Christianity. Pullman took one of the most enduring stories of our culture and completely turned it on its head. He plumbed the religion’s richness and color to create a hell of a good story.

Misfit doesn’t go as far as Pullman’s books do. Skovron isn’t trying to re-write the Bible or impart any atheistic message (Pullman certainly was imparting this message, at least in part, and those who deny it cheapen the books, in my opinion). What he does is similar to what Pullman did, though, and that is to use these incredibly powerful stories in a new and interesting way. I think that novelists as a whole tend to stay away from using Christianity as a fictional tool because it might lead their readers to think they believe Christianity is a fiction. (I should point out that there is a big difference between what Skovron does here and what “Christian fiction” writers do.) But there is so much material for really, really good stories there, and Misfit proves that.

I could be all wrong about why we see so few novels that twist Christianity in a really obvious way, but the fact remains that I’m glad to see it when it does appear. Not because of any disrespect towards the religion, but because the religion as a whole really does have so many good stories. Yes, there are books about angels everywhere now, but it’s just not the same as what Skovron has done with Misfit. He’s taken Christianity and treated it all – not just the angels or the demons or one other single aspect – as a mythology to be worked with, just as Riordan does with his books. True, millions of people believe in Christianity and very, very few believe in Zeus. What makes Misfit daring is that Skovron weaves in elements of Christianity with Greek mythology, and so many other religions, past and present, putting them on the same footing. So in that way, he treats them all as equally mythological.

So, I appreciated that Misfit was a little bit daring in this way. (Look out for a review of Pete Hautman’s The Obsidian Blade in a couple months. Daring is an understatement for that title.) I also appreciated Jael’s parents’ story, which we get in past-tense flashbacks and is frequently more engrossing than Jael’s. Other hallmarks of a good book are here too: a protagonist who grows believably over the course of the story; fascinating ancillary characters; an action-packed, albeit brief and a bit slapdash, climax.

Obviously, I was impressed. I’ll be looking for the sequel. There’s no news of one that I could find yet, and the book does have a firm ending (thanks Jon Skovron!), but it’s open enough for many more books. Here’s hoping.

What if God were a teenage boy? That’s the question Meg Rosoff asks in her latest novel for teens, and the results are pretty darn funny. The god of Earth is Bob, a perpetually teenaged boy whose mother won the creation of Earth in a game of cards and decided to give the job to her son. He created Earth in a creative but rather slapdash way, which means there are some truly unique creatures, but none of it works together very well. He also had the appalling self-centeredness to not only make humankind in his own image, but to make them all worship him to boot. 

Bob isn’t necessarily a bad guy, but he’s not exactly good either – selfish, lazy, and short-tempered are all excellent descriptors for him. In order to keep things on Earth somewhat controlled, the administration assigned Mr. B, a middle-aged middle-management type, to assist Bob. Poor, poor Mr. B. Was there ever a more thankless job? Particularly now that Bob has fallen in “love” (again) with a human girl named Lucy, throwing Earth’s weather completely off-kilter.

There is No Dog is more of a gimmick than an actual novel. I don’t think there’s any way to say that without making it sound bad, although that’s not my intent. Character development here is minimal. The jacket copy makes it seem like Bob is the protagonist, but if there is one, it’s Mr. B, the middle-aged consultant. He’s the only one who experiences any growth and the only one we get a real feel for.

It’s mostly for that reason that I hesitate to call There Is No Dog a YA novel. Bob is there, but he’s always played for laughs. He’s your stereotypical teenage boy whose delusions of grandeur are, in fact, not delusions at all. Lucy is 21 and is concerned with her career and falling in love, but in a much more adult way than a teen would be. Mr. B and the Eck (more on him later) are who we really care about, and neither of them are teenagers with teenage concerns. I’m actually quite pleased to have discovered this book. It seems to fit firmly into the 20-something age range, which can be tough to find. Often it seems the shelves overflow with books for teens and middle-aged adults, with not much in between.

This was a tough review for me to write, because I’m concerned that all of those things I mentioned in the two paragraphs above make it seem like I disliked the book. Far from it – I found it delightful and clever and funny and refreshingly different. The lack of character development didn’t bother me. Rosoff’s prose carries a laugh in almost every sentence, which means that this is first and foremost a humor book. (As opposed to simply a funny book. I hope this distinction makes sense.) In a humor book, things like character development and world-building and plot coherence aren’t as important. (And here again, I worry I’m making this book seem bad. I promise you, it’s not. You should read it.)

On a somewhat unrelated note, reading this book was a very interesting exercise in ARC study. Most of the book is written in past tense, but sometimes it jumps to present. There’s no rhyme or reason to the switches. Frequently, it happens mid-page or even mid-paragraph. It makes me think it’s unintentional – perhaps Rosoff originally wrote it in one tense and switched to the other for the final draft. I haven’t been able to locate a finished copy yet, but I certainly plan to. (It should come as no surprise that I prefer the sections in past tense.)

I can’t end this review without mentioning the Eck. Eck is Bob’s pet. He’s a “penguiny” creature, the last of his kind, and all he can say is “Eck.” He is by far the most delightful thing about this book. In fact, he’s the impetus for much of its action, since Bob’s mother loses the Eck in a card game and Bob (and others) attempt to get him back before he’s eaten. Apparently, there’s a rumor floating about that Ecks are delicious. Aside from Mr. B, he’s the creature we get to know best, and the book is all the better for it.

Review copy received from the publisher at ALA Midwinter. There Is No Dog is available now.

I think one of the best things about participating as a judge in the Cybils this year is that I’ve read some good books I would otherwise not have picked up on my own. White Cat is one of those (its sequel, Red Glove, is a Cybils finalist). 

Cassel Sharpe lives in a world where certain people have the ability to perform curses – death workers can kill people, memory workers can erase or modify memories, emotion workers can create false emotions in others, and so on. Curse working is illegal, which has led to the formation of a mafia made up of curse workers. Not all curse workers are bad people, but this mafia certainly does bad things, much like our own world’s magic-free mafia does.

Cassel is the only member of his family who isn’t a curse worker, and he’s of two minds about it. He’d really like to distance himself from his family, almost all of whom work for the Zacharov crime family, but at the same time, he wants to be accepted by them, which he’s sure will never happen.

Cassel’s lack of ability isn’t his biggest problem, though. No, that would be Lila Zacharov, Cassel’s best friend and the daughter of the crime boss. The problem with Lila is that Cassel killed her – on accident, of course. His two older brothers covered for him, but as you can imagine, Cassel is more than a little torn up about it.

So that’s the background, and I feel like you get the gist of what the story is like if you know at least that much, plus the fact that this is, at heart, a story about con artists and their cons. I’ve always loved stories about con jobs and heists and other trickery where the reader roots for the lawbreaker. More than anything else, they are just plain fun, and sometimes that’s just what I need in a book. (Ally Carter’s Heist Society books are great for this.) The characters are untrustworthy, the cons are creative and clever, and the story is fast paced. All three of these things put together means that there’s always a surprise lurking behind the next page.

Combining a con story with magic works well in White Cat. It’s one of those stories where I didn’t feel like the magic was a cheat to get the characters out of scrapes. In many cases, the magic could actually make things worse. One of the most important aspects of curse-working is the blowback:a curse-worker performs a curse, and a part of that power rebounds back at the caster. Magic backlash is certainly not a new concept, but I like how Black implemented it here, particularly with the death workers. (Cassel’s grandfather, a death worker, is missing fingers.)

It reminded me a little bit of All These Things I’ve Done – fictional mafia, a hint of the fantastic, and the teen caught up in it – but White Cat is more overtly a fantasy. The stakes also seem a bit higher in White Cat. Obviously I can’t say too much without giving things away, but I can say that Black is not afraid to let her good characters do bad things, and this includes Cassel. (Her bad characters and her neutral characters do bad things too, naturally.)

I wouldn’t call the writing outstanding, but it does the job of telling the story and gives Cassel a good voice – I believed him as a teenager in that position, and I appreciated his self-deprecating, gallows-esque sense of humor.

There’s a pretty big worldbuilding hole that another reader pointed out to me after I had read the book. I can’t share it without spoiling a major plot point, but I will say I was completely oblivious to it until I was told about it. Which is not to say it’s unimportant; worldbuilding is always important in a fantasy novel. But it certainly doesn’t ruin the enjoyment.

I did a previous installment of this a week ago, and I found it such a great way to pinpoint what my exact problems were with certain books that I’ve decided to make it an irregular feature. Below are three short reviews of books I’ve read recently that just didn’t work for me and why.

What it’s about: Amy Goodnight comes from a long line of witches, but she’s always tried to play it down, unlike her older sister, Phin, who embraces it. Amy and Phin are ranch-sitting for their kooky aunt for the summer in Texas when strange things start happening. Amy is feeling a sinister presence and seeing a ghostly apparition, and it might have something to do with the bones that were discovered buried near their neighbors’ land. Speaking of neighbors, the one living next door is pretty hot, and he and Amy develop a crackling romance, despite the fact that his family and the Goodnights don’t get along.

Why it didn’t work for me: I mostly found the story boring. A well-told ghost story can still manage to grip me, despite the fact that my interest in them has waned since I was a kid, but the pace here was too slow and the ghostly aspects dull. The mystery was too predictable as well. (I’m really not a good guesser when it comes to mysteries, so when I see the answer coming a mile away, that’s not a good sign.)

Who might enjoy it: The romance between Amy and Ben is awfully cute, so people who like their supernatural stories with a dash of romance – and even a little steam! – will dig it. Big fans of ghost stories will find plenty to enjoy here, but it’s not for the casual ghost story reader.

What it’s about: Willa lives with her mother, stepfather, and two stepsisters. Her father, whom she has not seen in a long time, has just killed his new wife and children, and the police are worried that he may be on his way to attack Willa and her mother as well. Contrary to the jacket copy, this is not a thriller. The events concerning Willa’s father are resolved very early on, and the rest of the book is about Willa dealing with latent problems concerning her mother, stepfather, and stepsiblings, as well as problems of her own.

Why it didn’t work for me: I picked this up because I thought it would be a thriller, and it wasn’t. But even when I reassessed it as a family drama, the book still failed. I’ve seen other readers mention they thought the writing here was strong, but I felt it was pretty weak. It was mostly tell and almost no show, so despite the short length, I slogged through it. Because of this, I never felt the suspense near the beginning, and I never felt that anything was at stake in the rest of the book. All subplots felt underdeveloped and I didn’t get a feel for any of the characters beyond “She’s the nice one,” “She’s the selfish one,” and so on.

Who might enjoy it: I’ll be honest and admit that family dramas are really not my thing. Readers interested in the unique problems blended families face may enjoy this one, but they’ll have to get past the poor execution.

What it’s about: Felicita is a High-Lammer, a noble from a powerful house. Her best friend, Ilven, has just become engaged to a noble from another house. Ilven is so distraught over the prospect of marrying a stranger and the changes it will cause in her life that she commits suicide – she jumps off a cliff into the sea. Soon, Felicita is faced with the same prospect, but rather than kill herself, she fakes her death and runs away. She falls in with a group of lower-class Hobs and becomes entangled with their leader, Dash. Dash has plans for the city – and it involves dangerous magic called up from the sea, magic somehow caused by Ilven’s death.

Why it didn’t work for me: I thought the world-building was too confusing. What are Hobs? What are Lammers? Why are they called that? What exactly do the houses do? How does magic work, and how exactly was the magic from the sea called? I could tell that Hellisen was really trying to create a unique world, but I mostly felt left in the dark. Aside from that, I had problems with Felicita. She makes the decision to run away from home, but after that she’s very passive. Most of the book involves her simply observing others or being coerced into going places. Near the end, she makes an active decision, but it doesn’t have motive. This is also a book I firmly feel should have been written in past tense instead of present tense.

Who might enjoy it: The writing is often lovely, and it makes for a spooky, atmospheric read. Readers who are drawn to that sort of tone may enjoy this one. I’d also recommend it to readers looking for a unique fantasy world, as long as they don’t mind not understanding a lot of it. 

 

Review copies of Blood Wounds and When the Sea is Rising Red received from the publishers. Texas Gothic borrowed from my local library. Texas Gothic and Blood Wounds are available now, and When the Sea is Rising Red will be released February 2012.