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Forbidden by Tabitha Suzuma

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There are few taboo topics in YA lit. The idea of the taboo itself has been a topic that’s been misunderstood, too, as this article incorrectly suggests abortion in teen lit as one of those topics (I can think of two books off the top of my head that deal with that issue straight on). You know what’s been taboo though? What’s always been taboo: incest.

Back at ALA Midwinter during the Simon and Schuster preview, Forbidden was one that was pitched as an in house favorite. I was eager to read this one, knowing full well the topic at hand. And everything that the publicists suggested about this book is indeed true.

Lochan and Maya are the oldest two children in a family with many siblings. Mom’s a deadbeat, always out for long nights with one guy or another, despite claiming that this one will be the right one. Dad skipped down long ago, moving from England all the way to Australia. He’s never been back and frankly, Lochan and Maya know he won’t be back.

In short: Lochan and Maya have become the surrogate parents to three siblings. But to one another, they’re more than siblings. They’re best friends. Or maybe they’re something more. Is that a line they can cross? Absolutely not. It’s clear that incest is wrong, illegal, disgusting. For these two teens, though, amid surging hormones, a rocky home life, and genuine attraction, it’s hard not to control themselves. There’s a lot of push and pull — they want to follow their guts but their minds tell them not to.

Until, of course, they make the decision that changes the entire course of their lives forever.

As I’ve mentioned a couple times, my educational background is in psychology, and one of the things that you learn in relationship psychology is how situational stress can heighten any emotion. When you’re in an emotionally heightened state, you can transfer those feelings elsewhere as a way to calm those feelings. So, it’s been said that if you’re on a first date, you should do something involving a lot of adrenaline or fear — going on a roller coaster, climbing somewhere very high — rather than going to a movie. You move your fear or anxiety elsewhere, and it can become instead an emotion of investment and attraction to the person you’re with, and vice versa.

I bring this all up not to discredit whatever genuine emotional connection there is between Lochan and Maya, but instead as a way to further inform your reading of the title. The home life that these siblings have is atrocious. They’ve really become makeshift parents to their younger siblings, and the stress and aggravation therein compels the two of them to find some solace, and their solace happens to be with one another. There’s definite frustration, and it’s palpable. And when these two decide to pursue their relationship, the frustration only multiples and intensifies, until they make a decision that literally changes their lives forever.

Forbidden is a fast-paced read, but it is in no way an easy read. Because of the topic at hand, you read carefully, and if you do it well, you go in with an open mind. The challenge, of course, is that our innate sensibilities tell us over and over that what these characters are experiencing is wrong. This is again why I offer a means of thinking about this differently, a way of navigating this tricky story if you can’t emotionally invest in that aspect of the story. I could; I thought Suzuma did something pretty significant in making me buy into their love for one another. Although I was uncomfortable throughout the course of the story — both the moments leading up to their admissions to one another and in the moments where they let their emotions play out — I was able to read it without judging and without letting my own mind mess with the greater arc of the story.

Lochan and Maya are both fully fleshed characters, as is their mother. Despite being in the story very little, she still plays a major role in the story, and we do get to know her pretty well. She’s neglectful, but only to a certain extent (or arguable, she’s only neglectful — that’s something for you to decide when the story concludes). I found myself really liking and sympathizing for both Lochan and Maya in the story, though I latched on a little bit more to Lochan’s story because he’s also earned a reputation at school for never talking. He’s a very attractive guy, but he’s repelled most peers because he doesn’t talk much. I found this to be a part of the story that’s left a bit open throughout, and it was something that could have been filled out a bit more. But with the ending of the story, it almost makes sense we don’t get to see this aspect of his character come full circle.

This book is not shy. That should be fairly obvious from the topic explored, but I want to be clear that it is explicit when it comes to sexual situations. This is not a book to hand to your sensitive readers, nor your younger readers. If you are at all familiar with the VC Andrews classic Flowers in the Attic, you will know this going in. The two stories tread similar worlds, though Suzuma is more successful in crafting a contemporary, believable situation that tugs more at the reader’s emotions, especially in the end.

Reading Forbidden reminded me a lot of reading Lucy Christopher’s Stolen (reviewed here). I think it’s going to be a title that’s just as divisive as Christopher’s, too: some readers will be enthralled with the story and engrossed with how such a tricky topic can be tackled and some readers will want nothing to do with the story and be repelled by it. I felt a little bit of both sets of emotions reading it, though in the end I think it’s one that is worth reading. Again, there’s a lot of barriers to remove prior to going in, but it’s worth it. Suzuma’s writing itself is smooth and fluid, and she’s convincing enough to keep you reading. For American readers, some of the Britishisms might be a little challenging, but it’s not insurmountable nor something that will turn off readers entirely.

Know your readers before handing this title over! It’s one you should definitely have in your collection, since there is a readership. Fans of V. C. Andrews, especially her now-ya-branded Flowers in the Attic will want to read this one, as will fans of Stolen or other psychologically-gripping realistic fiction. Those who’ve always wondered about the what ifs will find this an absorbing read. I do think that the young adult audience is the right readership for this sort of book: adult readers can be more close minded, more willing to turn away at the instance of anything that disagrees with their moral/ethical/legal compass, and I think that this story will tap into the curiosity toward the taboo that teens are more willing to explore. That said, I’m pretty positive there will be plenty of adults who have their interests piqued by this one.

Review copy received by the publisher. Forbidden will be released June 28.

Dual Review: Imaginary Girls by Nova Ren Suma

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We’re back with a pair review of Imaginary Girls, a creepy genre-bending novel from Nova Ren Suma, whom we’ll be twitter-viewing tomorrow. Two of the three of us read it and liked it a lot, so we thought we’d offer up our takes on what makes this book one you should read.

Kim Says…

Imaginary Girls is a deceptive book. At first read, it seems so very different from the usual teen fare. When attempting to describe the plot to others, however, it’s difficult for me to explain how it’s different, since many of the plot elements are just like other currently-hot YA novels.

Chloe, our protagonist, is a teenager living in New York. Her older sister Ruby, a by turns threatening and loving presence throughout the novel, dares Chloe to swim across a reservoir one night while her friends watch. Ruby has told everyone a story of a city named Olive that exists beneath the reservoir, and she wants Chloe to bring back a souvenir from the city. While swimming across the reservoir, Chloe discovers the dead body of her classmate floating in a boat in the middle of the body of water. Before the classmate’s body can be explained, Chloe is sent away from her sister and the reservoir to live with her father.

But Ruby misses Chloe and comes to claim her one day. Chloe goes back to New York and the reservoir with her sister, and it’s at this point in the book that we become truly aware of Ruby’s power. It’s a power she has not only over Chloe, but over the entire town in which she resides. She draws men to her easily – and discards them just as easily when she grows tired of them. She’s able to get anyone to do anything for her, by any means she chooses. One day, Ruby decides to give directives via balloon – she writes messages inside helium balloons and sends them up for anyone and everyone to discover. Sure enough, all of her directives are followed by whoever finds the balloons.

Suma writes this aspect of Ruby in such a way that it doesn’t come across as malicious on Ruby’s part, or even really that manipulative. We even grow to love Ruby a little, since we see her through Chloe’s eyes, and Chloe loves her dearly. It’s also clear that Ruby loves Chloe dearly, but it’s a complicated relationship made more complicated by the truth about the city named Olive and the dead classmate in the reservoir.

What ultimately sets this book apart is its writing. Nova Ren Suma has created a deliciously creepy book full of odd happenings all seen through a sort of haze. It’s difficult to get a handle on what’s really going on, because Chloe herself isn’t always sure. That aspect gives the book a feeling of magical realism rather than straight up fantasy or paranormal. And even though Imaginary Girls has elements of the paranormal, which can be found in so many current YA books, you’ll come away from it knowing you’ve really never read anything like it.

Imaginary Girls is being marketed as a book about sisterhood, and that relationship between Chloe and Ruby is the element that drives the story. Ruby has a few secrets that are revealed slowly over the course of the novel, and they impact in a big way how Chloe relates to her. It was refreshing to read a book completely devoid of romance – this book is an exploration of sisterhood and Suma ensures our attention is focused completely on that relationship and no other.

It’s not a fast-paced book. It’s meant to be read slowly, so you can savor the language and let the mood pull you in. That also means it’s not going to be a book for everyone, but for readers looking for something a bit different, this definitely fits the bill.

Kelly says…

I’m going to pick up on something Kim talks about: the language. Suma’s book is meant to be savored. It’s a slow build, but it’s an immediate draw, too — this is a literary work, one with lush descriptions that beg to be appreciated for their use as language and for what they do for the setting and story as a whole. In this, we’re tossed into a world that is at once completely familiar to us and one that’s also completely foreign. And it’s by being put into this position through little more than the language and writing itself that we know something strange is amiss. Ruby’s built in this world, and she’s further fleshed through the adoration Chloe has for her.

One element that Kim didn’t talk too much about and the one that really sort of encompassed the entire story for me was London. That’s the girl whose body was pulled from the reservoir. London becomes a symbol for the relationship between Chloe and Ruby, and I think this is where I got a lot of the chills in reading this book. She’s a representation of their relationship, as well as representation for Chloe’s belief in Ruby. This fits in with the legend of Olive, too, another element of the story to which I latched as a reader.

It was very refreshing to read a story that undulates between realistic and fantastic. I think these stories are important and are far too rare; isn’t it true that readers want to have something to grasp (the realistic) and yet want somewhere to escape to, too (the fantastic, the magical, the otherworldly)? This helps develop this creepy world. It’s just real enough but not pushed far enough in the fantastical to be written off as unbelievable.

The relationship building in this story is strong and memorable. I’ve not read many stories that do explore the idea of sisterhood, and certainly nothing that explores it on this kind of level. I’ve never been a sister, though I’ve had sister-like figures in my life, and it’s easy to buy and understand Chloe’s fascination and her desire to do what Ruby says. Ruby’s magnetic. If I were Chloe, it would be hard for me not to want to do what she says, what she asks. I’d want her approval. The relationship here was a little reminiscent — and I emphasize a little — of the one between Grace and Mandarin in Kirsten Hubbard’s Like Mandarin. As a reader, you’re drawn in entirely, and you’re forced to buy into the mindset of the character telling the story. Falling into Chloe’s mind is easy, especially because she builds up this mythically-real person in Ruby. As I was talking to Kim about what exactly it is that makes Imaginary Girls so creepy, I think that this might be part of it. We buy 100% into the devotion Chloe has for Ruby and we’re buying everything Ruby sells to us, even if it seems absurd, strange, surreal. We want to buy in because she’s magical. She makes things happen and not happen and we’re along for the ride right there with Chloe. This, in conjunction with the real-yet-not-real setting and story, conjures chills for me, even thinking about it months after reading the book.

When I finished the book, I couldn’t help but recall the experience I had reading one of my favorite books for the first time, Aimee Bender’s The Girl in the Flammable Skirt. The moments of magic, the moments of sheer insight into the story and character, and the prose that begs to be read aloud really came together. Fans of Bender, who writes for adults, will find this book one they need to pick up (doesn’t hurt she also blurbs it!). I won’t ruin tomorrow’s Twitterview, where we get a little more insight into the story and inspiration, but this book definitely recalled some of the moments I had in reading Laura Kasischke’s Feathered a few years ago. Fans of contemporary lit will definitely appreciate this story, and those who want a story with a little magic or a little horror will find a lot to like in Suma’s book. There is easy crossover appeal for adults with this book, too.

To the totally superficial, totally unrelated to what Suma herself brings to the book: the cover. When I first saw it, I was attracted, but it was after reading the book and picking up on the purpose of each element in the cover made it a hundred times more powerful. Each of the items — the dress, the girl with the red hair, the ribbon — plays a role in the story, and this cover really sells the book aesthetically, but then it also gives readers an opportunity to put together the pieces.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say this will be one of my Printz potential picks this year. It’s different enough with enough appeal for teens to be readable and commercial, but the language and style are so strong, they lift this book to a more literary level, as well. It had a lot of early buzz and press, and it’s my hope that excitement for this title sustains through the year, since it’s one worthy of attention.

Review copies received at ALA and TLA. Imaginary Girls will be released by Penguin Dutton on June 14.

Displacement by Thalia Chaltas

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More than two years ago, I reviewed a little book by then debut author Thalia Chaltas titled Because I am Furniture. It’s one of those books I still think about and one which I still recommend easily to those looking for a read alike to Ellen Hopkins. So when I discovered Chaltas would be releasing her sophomore effort, Displacement, this summer, I was excited to snag a copy at ALA Midwinter and dive in.

Something terrible happened in Vera’s life. There’s been a tragedy, and her family has been completely non-supportive of her life choices. She’s at the end of high school and ready to change, ready to get away. No, make that, she knows she needs to get away from it all and figure out who she is and figure out where to go. The only way to get out from rock bottom is to look up.

So she leaves. She hitch hikes and ends up in the middle of a small desert town where she knows no one and no one knows her. She takes to talking to people in town, takes up residence in an abandoned home, and begins to unravel the secrets lurking beneath this desolate place. But the real question is will Vera ever find herself here? Can she be happy here? Or does her happiness reside where she doesn’t believe it ever could?

Displacement, like Chaltas’s first novel, is told in sparse verse form, though I don’t believe this novel is quite as edgy as Because I am Furniture. It’s a steady paced novel, and the verse form helps speed up the pacing a bit in some of the spots where there is little or no action at all. For me, the verse works fine, but that’s because I found this book, on the whole, to be a little hard to connect with.

Vera, for me, has no voice of her own in this story. We know as readers going on that something has happened, and she drops hints at a loss she’s recently experienced. But it never feels quite convincing. There’s not enough of a back story and not enough investment on behalf of the reader to buy into Vera’s running away from the onset to give her a real voice. Instead, she undulates much like the girl on the cover, and it’s difficult to know whether we feel sorry for her or we don’t (the girl is living in a house that doesn’t belong to her in the sake of “finding herself,” for one thing).

I didn’t find myself engaged with Vera’s struggle, and in fact, there were times I felt she wanted to push me the reader away. As a plot device to show how Vera feels, this works, but to the reader, it’s off putting; if Vera doesn’t give some hint of interest in letting us in, then the story can’t go anywhere. Since this book is so driven by character, not finding a reason to care about Vera made it hard to be invested in her outcome. It also had me questioning whether verse really was as effective here as prose would have been. For me, voice is key for buying into a story — especially one that begins by a girl deciding to drop into a desert town to begin a new life — and the flatness of voice here made it weak.

The desert landscape and desolation, though, are palpable. Chaltas does a great job building place in this story, even if I didn’t necessarily buy Vera’s connection to it. The locals are believable, and I thought that they really added to the greater picture of this small desert town. There’s a bit of dialect, but it works fine, and heightens the place building.

Overall, this book didn’t impress me as much as Chaltas’s first title, nor does it necessarily stand out among much of the stronger contemporary YA fiction out there. That said, those who read her first title will want to check this one out, and I think Ellen Hopkins fans may still find quite a bit to like here, especially when it comes to style and structure (and to a lesser extent, content, since there is edgy stuff included, of course). I wanted more of the plot, and I feel had this book given a little more at the beginning of the story, the ending would have been more powerful and Vera’s voice could have been easier to parse from the story.

Displacement will be available June 7. Book picked up at ALA.

Relic Master: The Dark City by Catherine Fisher (plus giveaway!)

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I’d read Incarceron, the much-lauded science fiction novel by Catherine Fisher, a year or so ago and was underwhelmed.  I found it interesting and unique, but also a bit densely-written and slow.  Despite the massive twist at the end of the novel, I never did pick up the sequel and didn’t feel compelled to finish the story.

Nonetheless, when I saw her newest novel, The Dark City, at TLA in April, I thought I would give it a shot.  This book, the first in a quartet called Relic Master, was pitched to me as much faster-paced than Incarceron, which was one of the main faults of that story for me.  There’s also no question that Fisher is a wonderful world-builder, which I did appreciate in Incarceron, and I hoped to find that same skill in evidence in her Relic Master series.
In The Dark City, we are introduced to our teenaged protagonist Raffi, an apprentice to relic master Galen.  (I don’t believe he is any relation to this Raffi.  This is an unfortunate name choice for American readers born in the 80s.)  Galen is a member of the Order, a sect of people who hunt down old relics with mystical, sometimes dangerous, technologically advanced power.  The Order has been outlawed by the Watch, a tyrannical group that rules their world of Anara, so Galen and Raffi are constantly on the run.  That doesn’t stop them from hunting down these relics and ensuring they are kept safe.
One day, they’re approached by a man who tells them he’s found a relic, and he needs their help.  Warily,  they go to where he indicates, and they fall right into a trap.  Rather than securing Galen and Raffi’s assistance with a relic, their captor steals one of their own relics and tells them it will be returned to them as long as they do what he asks.
Having no choice, the two venture out on a quest for the trickster and are soon joined by a girl named Carys, a member of the Watch who pretends to be on their side while secretly gathering intelligence.  Though Galen and Raffi are intent on recovering their stolen relic, they also have another goal in mind: find the Crow, a mythical relic (possibly a man) from long ago who may be able to save Anara.  The book trailer below gives a little teaser.

The Dark City is both similar to and different from Incarceron.  The excellent world-building is there, and Fisher again reveals a major twist about the world to the reader at the end.  A sharp reader will have picked up the clues long before the reveal, so it doesn’t come out of nowhere and there’s no feeling of trickery.  Instead, the twist helps illuminate the events of the story.  It also makes the book much more science fiction than fantasy – Fisher is in good company in this respect (think Anne McCaffrey).
In contrast to Incarceron, The Dark City moves along at a much faster clip.  There’s less character development, less time dwelling on the intricacies of the plot, and the world-building is accomplished with as few words as possible.  This is a leaner story, at times a bit too lean, but it kept me engaged and interested.  Although it’s the first in a quartet, it has a solid beginning, middle, and end. 
The Dark City isn’t anything earth-shattering, and I think it’s a bit less technically polished than Incarceron.  I would say it’s also a bit more accessible than her other books and can be enjoyed by a younger audience, as well.  It reminds me a lot of the stories I enjoyed as a tween, when I was still a little intimidated by hard science fiction.  The Dark City is science fiction in disguise, and I enjoyed this first installment enough to pick up the second when it’s published in June.  (Installments three and four follow in July and August, so if you really enjoy the series, you don’t have long to wait.)
If I’ve piqued your interest, we have two finished copies to giveaway thanks to Penguin and Big Honcho Media!  All you need to do is enter the information below.  I need at least your first name and email address so I can contact you if you’re a winner.

Review copy obtained at TLA.

Blood Red Road by Moira Young

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It always makes me nervous when a book is pitched to me as “the next Hunger Games” for a few reasons: first, I don’t think any book can ever truly be “the next _____,” no matter what the title; second, my expectations are then set either sky high (if I liked the book in comparison) or quite low (if I didn’t); and finally, it doesn’t let the book stand out for its own qualities. We don’t get a real pitch for the book and what makes it stand out from everything else.

Fortunately, when I was hand-pitched Blood Red Road at Midwinter, I got more than a standard pitch of “the next Hunger Games.” It was sold to me as having the adventure of Collins’s book, but the main character, Saba, was supposed to be a hundred times more kick ass, and the story totally absorbing, different, and addictive. Then there was the added bonus of being told some of the “behind the writing” stuff, too — that Young turned the manuscript in at the end of 2010 and the book would be published in June 2011 (a pace not found in publishing) because the writing was so tight and that this book didn’t follow traditional conventions of punctuation. Okay, so the last part made me a little skeptical, but there was enough to build up this book for me. And then I put it off. And put it off. And put it off.

But then, it met and exceeded my expectations when I did read it.

Saba and Lugh are twins, and they live in an extremely remote place with no one else around except Pa and their younger sister Emmi; there is a guy who lives nearby, but Saba’s always had weird feelings about him, and Pa says it’s best to stay away. Saba feels resentment toward younger sister Emmi and isn’t afraid to voice this; Emmi’s the reason her mother died. Oh, and there’s a crow that Saba’s raised for many years, despite her father’s disapproval. In this remote place, experience a lot of storms — dust storms caused by a lack of rain — and when the book begins, we’re tossed right into a huge storm on the horizon. It’s a storm that they survive, but that doesn’t mean what comes about the corner after is any better: it’s four men on horses here to take Lugh away from the family. Saba can’t stand by and let this happen, and in the midst of a battle, there is death, destruction, pain, and the loss of Saba’s twin brother to these bandits.

She’s not going to let this be the end of him, though, and she promises Lugh she will rescue him; little does she know how much work this will be, especially when younger sister Emmi has to tag along with her. Saba knows where Lugh’s been taken, though she knows nothing about Hopetown. That is, until she herself becomes a victim of kidnapping and quickly learns that Hopetown is nothing like the name may promise. Saba’s been sold into a fighting ring (think Hunger Games here) as a way for her captors to make money, which buys them more drugs. Hopetown, it turns out, is a mega drug town, and people will do anything for another fix, including pillage and steal and sell innocent people into battle. It is here Lugh’s been taken, too, as the chosen boy to be sacrificed by the King. And Saba’s not going to let this happen. No way.

This is what happens in the first 150 pages of the 500 page book.

Blood Red Road is an incredibly fast paced book, and it begs to be read in one sitting. Saba is a killer character, and she’s not necessarily that way because she’s the smartest. In fact, I think Saba’s a bit of a dumb character, and she needs to be that way — if she were more intelligent, she wouldn’t have followed her brother, wouldn’t have fought with the raw power inside her, and she wouldn’t have been so open about her resentment toward Emmi. That last part is important, since it plays a huge role in the structure of the story and the pacing, as well. I believed Saba from the beginning, and I knew she had something inside her that would drive her to achieve a lot despite her upbringing. But as the story progressed, it was wonderful to see Saba begin to believe in herself and begin to understand the raw power within her to do good things and to make things happen herself. She’s not reliant upon a male to be powerful; she relies upon herself, which is something there isn’t enough of in YA lit.

In fact, one of the things I appreciated about Young’s book is that there is virtually no romance. Jack, a guy Saba saves following an incident in the arena, is absolutely in love with Saba from the beginning of their time together. But Saba’s both a little ignorant of the fact and a little bit frustrated by it. She knows he’s interested, but she doesn’t know how interested, but even that slight interest is infuriating. Yes, there will be a kiss, but Saba will not linger on it. She’s got bigger dragons to slay, and even when those beasts have been slayed, well, Jack’s a secondary thought.

There’s a lot of symbolism piled up in the story, and it’s easy to latch onto. The world Young’s created is believable, and it’s easy to picture, as well. It’s desolate and deserted and red. It feels a bit like a story that could be set in the Great Depression, but it’s futuristic, rather than historical. With some of the clues dropped in the story, it felt like it may take place in Europe, though the location really isn’t that important. What is important is how important the setting is to the story, and how scary believable it is because there are places similar to Hopetown existing in our world.

To the writing — this is a book written in a dialect. It’s not standard English, and some of the words dropped aren’t necessarily in English either. That was part of what made me believe this book may be set in Europe. Unlike many books written in a dialect, the use of it in Young’s book is well-placed. It really gives a strong character to both the setting and to Saba, and it enhances our knowledge of who she is and what makes her such a powerful character. As a reader, I had no problem diving into it, and even found myself believing it made the story read faster. I think if it had been done without the dialect, much of the story would be lost. Likewise, I had no problems with the lack of punctuation in dialog, as it made the story read more naturally. Teens and adults will certainly have no problem with this, either.

Perhaps my favorite part of the book is that fact that it can stand alone. Don’t get me wrong: this isn’t a stand alone book, but rather the first in a series. But the story line and characters are completely developed and come to full resolutions at the conclusion of the book, meaning readers can walk away entirely satisfied having read just this volume. I would absolutely read the second volume of this book because I think that this one was engaging and exciting enough I want to know what else Young can come up with, but it makes me thrilled to know I can hand this to a reader and let them know it can be read all on its own and they don’t have to wait a year to find out what happens. It all happens right here.

Hand Blood Red Road to your fans of fast paced, action packed dystopians, including The Hunger Games and Veronica Roth’s Divergent. Readers of post-apocalyptic stories will eat this one up, as well. Thriller fans, too, will fall into this world without problem. This has wide appeal to males and females, and I think it certainly deserves attention. Will I call it “the next Hunger Games?” No. But I will say it appeals to that fan base, and that it’s a book for readers looking for adventure, high stakes, and a powerful main character who refuses to take crap from anyone who gets in her way.

Bound manuscript handed to me at ALA midwinter. Blood Red Road will be published by Simon & Schuster June 7 — just in time for summer reading!