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The Crossover by Kwame Alexander

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Josh Bell, aka Filthy McNasty, is a solid basketball player. His brother, Jordan, isn’t too bad himself. The twin boys, both middle schoolers, have been playing for a long time. Their dad wasn’t too bad a ball player himself back in the day either — in fact, he played professionally and earned some good money and good jewelry. But he quit playing, and when Josh tries to broach the question about why his dad stopped and why his dad doesn’t take up coaching, dad dodges the questions.

On the surface, Kwame Alexander’s verse novel The Crossover looks simple. It’s about a boy and his brother who play basketball. But it’s a much deeper, more complex novel about the challenges that exceptionally “average” characters can have. Josh is a relatable character, with two parents who are happily married. He and his brother get along. They’re passionate about the game.

But things become more complex.

Josh and Jordan make a bet with one another relating to the game, and when Josh loses the bet, his brother has earned the privilege of cutting off one of his beloved locks. A misstep, though, leaves Josh with more than one lock cut, and the resulting look is something his mother isn’t too happy with. She tells him that he’ll have to cut them all off. He’s not thrilled about it, but he goes along with it, and when he’s sent to look for a box in which he can put those cut locks, he stumbles upon a box containing not just one of his father’s precious rings from his time as a ball player, but he uncovers why his father quit the game. This revelation about his father opens up a whole new world to Josh and Jordan about their father and his deep-seeded fears.

As the season progresses, Jordan becomes enamored with a new girl at school. She reciprocates, and the two of them become boyfriend and girlfriend (in the way that middle schoolers are boyfriend and girlfriend — there’s no physical action and nothing happens on page here at all if there is). When this relationship begins to bud, suddenly Josh feels left out. His best friend and twin brother has entered into a new phase of life and a new experience that Josh hasn’t. They spend less time together as a team and more time apart. It’s a huge change for Josh, and at times, it comes across as jealousy and at other times, it comes across as grieving how his relationship with his brother once was.

There’s more though. The little secret about their father’s future in basketball was just the tip of what Josh discovers. As he’s spending more time alone, he’s been keeping an eye on his parents and learns that his dad hasn’t been feeling well. In one instance, he fainted after not feeling well. While his mother keeps telling his dad to see a doctor, since his other father died young of heart disease, his father won’t listen.

He’s afraid of doctors.

Between explosive scenes on the court, rendered visually in the text, are the moments of quiet sadness and fear that linger in Josh’s mind about his dad and the condition his dad may or may not be in. Spoiler: it’s not good condition, and when the basketball season comes to its final game, one that’s tense and important, Josh’s dad’s heart doesn’t stay strong enough for him to witness it. The last few pages of this book are tough to read.

The Crossover makes exceptionally smart use of the verse format, without once feeling overdone or leaving the reader with the feeling a lot was lost because of the style. Alexander plays with the format visually in tense action scenes, and Josh’s voice comes through. He loves rap and he plays around with rap himself, so the poetry and the beat of this story are authentic, natural, and memorable. This is the kind of story you’d read out loud because it lends itself to that. The speed and intensity of the game pair with the rhythm of the text.

The little details of this book stand out because of the format, and those little details tell us so much about Josh and the rest of his family. His mom is the assistant principal at his school, and he feels more pressure for himself and on the court because of that. Of course, dad’s former role as a player doesn’t help that. Both mom and dad are supportive in his and his brother’s lives and in their passion for the game. Josh is also an average student, and even when things start getting tough for him, what’s sacrificed is his behavior, not his intellect or his capacity to do well. Those behavioral changes are done in a way that make you want to hug him and tell him it’s going to be all right. He’s a great kid, with a great head on his shoulders, and passions that are worth pursuing.

Being that this book is about 7th graders, this “it’s going to be all right” sentiment is important because it taps into what so many middle schoolers feel at that age. It’s a rough transition period for even the most “average” kid. People are growing and changing in ways that do and don’t make sense. What seems like a natural thing — Josh’s brother getting a girlfriend — is something much more than that. It’s a crisis of Josh’s identity since he’s no longer half of the Josh and Jordan pair. He’s an entirely independent being, and being jolted into that awareness is tough because it’s new.

Alexander’s book falls into a weird area, though. This book is perfectly appropriate for middle grade readers, and it’s also going to have appeal for both young YA readers and more reluctant YA readers. The challenge on that end, though, is that teens who read YA will likely be less willing to read about 7th graders than middle grade readers would be. I suspect The Crossover may fall between the cracks because of this, and I sure hope it doesn’t. Alexander’s book is about this “crossover” period, and it’s going to speak deeply to teens (especially boys and especially black boys who don’t see enough of themselves in realistic fiction) who are in that “crossover” period themselves. This is a book you sell to readers based on their maturity and interest, rather than on the grade or reading level they’re at. The Crossover will make a great bridge to books like Matthew Quick’s Boy21, too, both because of the content and the well-drawn, dynamic, and memorable characters.

You know exactly the kid who needs this book, who will fall in love with this book, and most important, who will see himself in this book. There is a gut punch at the end, but it’s not a story without hope to it.

Pass this book along to those readers.

The Crossover is available now. Review copy picked up from the library. 

Audio Review: Prisoner of Night and Fog by Anne Blankman

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I always think it’s more than a little daring for an author to attempt writing historical fiction featuring real people whose lives are heavily documented. Yet that’s exactly what Anne Blankman does in her novel, Prisoner of Night and Fog, which is also a debut – and all the more impressive for it. Her efforts are resoundingly successful and make for a gripping, devastating audiobook, narrated excellently by Heather Wilds.

The risks in writing this kind of historical novel are many. Because the characters’ lives are so well-known, there could be little room for embellishment or imagination on the part of the author. Yet it’s the embellishment – the filling in of the blanks – that makes historical fiction so enticing to many readers. What can an author do when there aren’t many blanks to fill in? By sticking strictly to the historical record, she tells a story the reader could find by browsing the nonfiction section of the library – and that’s not what historical fiction readers are looking for. But by creating something new, she risks making the story unbelievable for the reader, who would know for a fact that events did not unfold as described.

Blankman’s strategy is to create a wholly fictional character in her protagonist, Gretchen Muller, and surround her with real people from history, most prominently Adolf Hitler. Hitler is not merely a person seen from afar, as happens in many historical novels set in this time and place; he is a vital, terrifying secondary character, one who interacts regularly with Gretchen and helps propel the story forward. To Gretchen, Hitler is her “Uncle Dolf,” a man revered by her whole family. Several years ago, Gretchen’s father died as a martyr to the National Socialists when he jumped in front of a bullet meant for Hitler. Since then, “Uncle Dolf” has looked out for Gretchen and her family, giving them a position of social prominence and a measure of safety in uncertain 1931 Munich.

One day, Gretchen is approached by a young man named Daniel Cohen who tells her that her father’s murder is not what it seems. Initially, Gretchen resists the idea, both because she believes in her father’s sacrifice and because Daniel is a Jew. She is, after all, a good little National Socialist in training.

But her hesitancy doesn’t last long. Gretchen is a sympathetic character, so naturally her aversion to Jewish people erodes until it’s gone completely, and she and Daniel begin a sweet romance that provides a nice subplot to the main story. This puts her in conflict with her “Uncle Dolf” as well as her many friends among the Nazis, but most particularly her older brother, Reinhard, a sadist and sociopath. Reinhart is perhaps even more terrifying than Hitler is, partly because his crimes are more readily apparent (at this point) and partly because he is closer to her. Reinhard’s actions spur Gretchen to learn more about pyschology while investigating her father’s death, and this subplot dovetails nicely with Gretchen’s revelations about her Uncle Dolf.

Other real people make appearances in the story. Eva Braun is Gretchen’s best friend, and Hitler’s real-life niece Geli Raubal is another acquaintance of hers. Hitler’s allies also make frequent appearances and interact with Gretchen, including Ernst Rohm and Rudolf Hess.

This is a dark, moody, and mostly humorless story. It’s frequently terrifying, both overtly when Reinhard commits acts of violence against Jews and against his sister, and less visibly, during Gretchen’s conversations with Hitler, where much is intimated but never spoken plainly. Much of the terror comes from the fact that we as readers know what Gretchen does not: that soon Hitler will conquer much of Europe and act as the catalyst for the massacre of millions of people. Wilds narrates the book’s dialogue with a German accent, which lends authenticity to the story and makes for a truly immersive listening experience.

I was so looking forward to the author’s note at the end of the book, which I hoped would explain exactly where fact met fiction (so essential in historical fiction featuring real people). Alas, the audiobook version did not include it, though I know the print version does. Sure, I can look the people up on Wikipedia, but that’s no match for the research done by the author, which is more in-depth, interesting, and specific to the story being told than an encyclopedia article could ever be. Audiobook producers: We want the author’s note. There’s no harm in including it; if other readers are bored by it, they’ll simply stop the recording and move on with their lives. But I’m certain that would be rare. Readers who seek out historical fiction – teens included – want that extra information, believe me.

Audiobook borrowed from my local library.

Belzhar by Meg Wolitzer

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I won’t name names, but some adult authors just shouldn’t write books for teens. Thankfully, Meg Wolitzer doesn’t appear to be one of them. Her first YA novel is strong and (almost) never writes down to its audience.

Belzhar is one of the books the people at the TLA Penguin booth talked about in glowing terms, and since I’m a sucker and fall for pitches like that (especially the ones that seem personal like this one did), I gave this one a shot – though it’s not normally up my alley. I’m not a huge fan of magical realism and tend to shy away from the label (usually I think it’s a way to call something fantasy without using that word; just call a spade a spade, please). But I liked this one.

Jam Gallahue has been sent to a special boarding school for highly intelligent, damaged teenagers. Her boyfriend, Reeve, died some months ago, and Jam hasn’t been able to come to terms with her grief and move on with her life. At the school, she discovers she’s been signed up for a class called Special Topics in English. This class only takes a few students each year and it’s known to be more than a bit mysterious – for good reason.

When Jam and her classmates go to the first class, they learn they’ll be studying Sylvia Plath’s writing exclusively. Part of their assignment is to write in a journal each night, but the journals are far from ordinary. Each time Jam writes in hers, she finds herself transported for a short while to a place where Reeve is still alive, giving her the opportunity to experience being with him again in a place where time doesn’t seem to exist. Jam quickly learns that her classmates experience something similar, too – they all travel to a place before their respective traumas. They nickname this place “Belzhar” after Plath’s semi-autobiographical novel The Bell Jar, which they’ve been studying in class.

This is a book about grief, depression, and mental illness in general. It’s about how people – and teenagers specifically – deal with the things life throws at them, and how they heal – or don’t. The book follows Jam’s journey most closely, but through Jam, we also learn about what her classmates have experienced and how these experiences have affected them. The students form bonds with each other, but thankfully it’s never a forced kumbaya moment. Each of the students’ stories are full of pain and grief; they’re all in the class together because they’re battling depression, and sometimes more. Wolitzer’s depiction of the illness is individual to each student and there’s very little moralizing for most of the book.

It’s clear from the beginning that Jam is a slightly unreliable narrator. She’s the last to share her story with her classmates and the story she relates to the reader doesn’t exactly seem right, either. The savvy (and perhaps not so savvy) reader will be able to predict a twist that happens close to the end. It’s not hugely telegraphed, but I did realize most of what was going on. I didn’t feel cheated by it, though. The fact that Jam lies to the reader is tied up with her own mental illness. The story is stronger for the deception because Jam has deceived herself as well.

The metaphor with Plath’s life and writing is obvious, even for teens who haven’t read anything of hers. Wolitzer does take the time to explain a bit about Plath’s life and how it parallels The Bell Jar, but this portion doesn’t feel overly didactic. It’s interesting, actually, particularly for a reader who hasn’t read the source (such as myself). I anticipate it will create a lot of interest in teen readers for Plath and her work.

This is a moving novel that should resonate with sensitive teens – perhaps those who keep journals or write poetry, who know that words are a powerful conduit for self-expression and healing. Wolitzer does falter a bit in the final chapters, writing down just a touch to her audience and misjudging their intelligence, I think, but it doesn’t ruin what is otherwise a nuanced and satisfying story.

Review copy received from the publisher. Belzhar will be available September 30.

Firebug by Lish McBride

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I’ve heard a lot of great things about Lish McBride. Her first book, Hold Me Closer Necromancer, won the Morris Award in 2011, and practically every librarian acquaintance I have raves about her writing (in particular her sense of humor). So naturally, when Firebug showed up at my door, I knew I’d have to give it a shot.

Ava is a firebug, meaning she can start fires with her mind. Cool, right? (When I was a teen I would have thought this was so freaking badass. Now it would terrify me.) It’s actually not that awesome for Ava, since she sometimes has a hard time controlling the power. What’s even less cool is that it brought her to the attention of the Coterie, a mafia-type organization (teens seem to be getting involved with the mob in all sorts of ways in YA lately) that forcibly recruits teens like Ava to work for them – or else.

So Ava is under the thumb of the Coterie, led by an evil vampire named Venus. She doesn’t just do petty criminal acts for them; she’s an assassin, and she tries not to think too hard about the people she kills, who are usually not very nice anyway. But then Venus tells her that she has to kill a friend. For no apparent reason. And that’s where Ava draws the line, despite the fact that it means Venus will be after her, despite the fact that it puts her friends in danger, despite the fact that it’s pretty much a death sentence.

Except if it were, we wouldn’t have much of a story. And Ava does have allies – the two boys who work with her in the Coterie who have their own odd powers (one is a werefox and the other is half-dryad), her pseudo-father figure, and a few others who are intent upon bringing Venus down. So perhaps Ava’s refusal isn’t a lost cause after all. Perhaps she and her friends can actually topple the Coterie, ending its threat against herself and other magical beings forever.

I really wanted to like Firebug more than I did. McBride’s writing is very good, as I hoped it would be. There’s a lot of fun repartee between Ava and the other characters. She has a sharp tongue and employs it against friends and enemies alike. Her two closest friends – Ezra the werefox and Lock the half-dryad – were well-drawn and their friendship with Ava was deep and believable. There’s a smattering of romance, too, plus a betrayal that really does tug on the heartstrings, even if you see it coming (I saw it coming and hoped up until the end that I was wrong). And it’s funny, as promised.

So why did I merely like it instead of love it? I wanted more from the plot. Despite how well-developed the characters and their relationships were, the storyline was still very basic. I felt like I had read this story a dozen times before (group of teens with powers take on The Man who has exploited them for years), and no amount of wisecracks would make it fresh for me. There’s a big reveal at the end that was telegraphed too strongly, removing a lot of the tension. The storyline just wasn’t terribly creative.

But hey, I’ve read a heck of a lot of teen fantasy, more of it than most teens (simply because I haven’t been a teen in almost 10 years). I love to champion the stuff that breaks new ground, but there’s definitely space for books that tread the same ground and do it well. This should appeal to teens who like contemporary/urban fantasy and don’t yet feel like they’ve exhausted all the genre has to offer. And there’s something comforting in a familiar story peopled with characters who feel like friends.

Review copy received from the publisher. Firebug is available today!

Two Contemporary Reviews: WILDLIFE by Fiona Wood and DON’T TOUCH by Rachel M. Wilson

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These two books don’t have a common thread to them, except that they both explore themes of friendship, of being the new kid at school, and they’re both books that hit shelves this month. I highly recommend both, as they’re strong, solid additions to the contemporary realistic YA shelves.

Fiona Wood’s novel isn’t her debut, but it’s her first US publication — it’s the second book in a very loose duology, and the first book, Six Impossible Things, will hit shelves next spring here. Rachel M. Wilson’s Don’t Touch is her debut novel.

In Wildlife by Fiona Wood, Sib begins the wilderness term with her classmates, she’s best friends still with Holly, and on the brink of a relationship with Ben, who she kissed at a party. Sib’s gotten a lot of attention lately, thanks to her face being plastered on a billboard. It was a modeling gig she did for a little cash, on the suggestion of her aunt. This stint with “fame” changed how her classmates — and Holly — interact with her, even if it doesn’t change Sib in the least.

Lou is the new girl, tossed into this wilderness term without any immersion with these peers prior. She’s grieving, deeply grieving, and she’s private about what she’s going through. She’s not ready to open up, and even when pushed to the brink, she won’t. 

Until she does with Michael.

It’s through her relationship and opening up with Michael that Lou begins to forge a relationship with Sib and helps Sib realize that people like Holly are energy saps. . . not best friend material. That people like Holly are the reason that Sib may become hurtful herself. 

Wildlife is an excellent book about friendships and peer relationships, as well as about sexuality. Wood uses the words to describe what goes on in sexual experiences, through the voices of Sib and Lou, and it never comes off clinical nor does it come off as being too technical for how a teen girl might think. Even though Sib may not be happy with the choices she makes, she empowers herself with the ability to make those choices. In particular, I was impressed with a scene wherein one of the characters says explicitly that sex did not hurt because she’d educated herself with how her body works and feels. This moment was refreshing to read because it’s such a rarity in YA — usually, we have girls who are scared, worried, and fearful of what their bodies can and do do. This is the kind of scene that many teen girls need to read because it offers a refreshing and realistic alternative to the all-too-common narratives of fear and shame associated with sex, especially debut sexual encounters. 

More, I loved the friendship aspects of Wildlife. Wood offers girls who see friendship in very different ways, and it’s through these diverging perspectives that there’s an opportunity for one girl to see how her “friend” was far from that toward her. The perspective of female friendship as toxic and female friendship as supportive, caring, and loving butting against one another offer up something we don’t see enough of in YA. Because it’s told through two points of view, we get to see these relationships from the inside and from the outside. 

This is a story about coming into yourself and acting and reacting for yourself, rather than putting on a face or a performance for those around you. This is easily one of the best YA titles published this year in contemporary YA, and it’ll appeal to fans of Sarah Dessen, Siobhan Vivian, and perhaps even more so to fans of Melina Marchetta and Sara Zarr. It’s literary, with depth, heart, and tremendous respect for the complexities of being a teen girl dealing with teen girl challenges.  

Rachel M. Wilson’s debut Don’t Touch may be one of the best explorations of OCD I’ve read in YA. 

Caddie has always wanted to attend Birmingham’s high school for artists, but she’s never pursued it for a number of family-related reasons. But when her mom gives her the go-ahead and she is accepted, things around her begin to fall apart. Her dad and mom separate, and Caddie begins to think that her actions — in trying out and getting into the school, in touching or not touching other people — would change the situation. When those thoughts begin racing, her mind begins to make deals with herself as a means of coping with the stress and change in her situation. And her mind begins to deceive her, convincing her that were she to touch anyone skin-to-skin, things would just get worse. 

On the first day at the academy, Caddie reunited with an old best friend, who convinces her to try out for the school play. They’re doing Hamlet, and Caddie’s always wanted to play Ophelia. Both girls try out for the part, and it’s Caddie who scores it. The problem, of course, is that when she’s paired opposite Peter, playing Hamlet, those scenes where the characters may have to touch send her into a state of panic. She can’t touch him and she can’t let herself touch him. 

It becomes more complex when Peter and Caddie begin to fall for one another romantically. 

Don’t Touch renders a side of OCD that’s realistic to the illness, rather than what we’re shown too frequently in the media. This isn’t about overt rituals, though those periodically emerge. This is about what happens internally and the anxiety that irrational thoughts can cause an individual and how that individual has to rationalize those irrational thoughts in a way that allows them to function. Caddie knows her “don’t touch” mentality is wrong and that nothing bad will happen if she touches another person. The problem is, her brain doesn’t know this and won’t shut up unless she listens. Caddie is resistant to telling either Peter or her best friend Mandy about it. She’s terrified that by sharing what’s going on and naming the illness, she’ll lose those connections; anxiety fuels further anxiety which fuels even further anxiety. So rather than tell them, she withdraws when the anxiety becomes overwhelming. That withdrawal concerns both of them, as they think it’s a reaction to them or things they’ve said or done — and in Peter’s case, touching her in a way that shows his sincere affections for her. It’s a back-and-forth tug that leaves all parties uncomfortable in a way that’s painful and honest. 

There comes a turnaround point in the story, and that may have been where I found Wilson’s writing a character with OCD to be the most solid. Caddie does not recover immediately, and in fact, she’s not fully recovered in the end. But she learns methods of coping with her illness, and through those tools, she’s better able to talk about what’s going on with those who love and care about her. She has to face her fears and anxieties and know that doing so may not rid her of the anxiety, but it’s a big part of better compartmentalizing it. Through this, she’s able to really solidify those relationships that are good to her and good for her. That includes the sweet, budding relationship with Peter.

Don’t Touch is the kind of YA novel you can hand to YA readers anywhere along the teen spectrum. This is a longer book, but it never reads long or feels overdone. This would work for those 12-13 year olds ready to wade in, and readers who love stories about theater and art kids will find much to enjoy here, as Wilson brings Shakespeare and acting alive. Readers who love Laurie Halse Anderson’s Impossible Knife of Memory will want to pick up this book. 

Both Wildlife and Don’t Touch are available now. Wildlife was sent from a friend, and Don’t Touch was sent for review from the publisher.