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Illegal by Bettina Restrepo

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I read and book talked a book a couple years ago by Will Hobbs called Crossing the Wire which still sticks with me today — it’s one of those books where the story and the character just won’t leave. It’s about 15-year-old Victor who crosses the border from Mexico into the US illegally, in hopes of finding stable work to make money for his family back in Mexico. It’s not an easy story to read, and it’s one where you as a reader must set aside any of your political feelings in order to really grasp at the stakes.

When I heard about Bettina Restrepo’s Illegal — a story of a soon-to-be 15-year-old girl’s decision to cross the border from Mexico into Texas to find her father (and a way to make money to save their struggling farm), I was immediately intrigued. We need more stories like Hobbs’s, and while this story does compare nicely, I think it let me down a bit in execution and development. However — and this is a huge however — I think that Restrepo might be opening up a whole new world to readers and to writers. I think she’s offered up a ton of interesting fodder to work with, and that in and of itself is a huge accomplishment.

When Nora’s father left her family three years ago to find work in Houston, he promised to be back in time for her quincenera. This is a huge deal to Nora, who, along with her mother and grandmother, live in a remote area of Mexico, in a down that dies a little more each day with its poverty. Fortunately, her father’s been good about sending money regularly. That is, until just before her 15th birthday and suddenly, her world is turned upside down. Why did her father stop sending money? Is he coming back like he promised? Or did something much darker happen?

Nora decides she and her mother need to investigate, and she convinces her mom they should pay a coyote to get them across the border, into Houston. And this is where the story begins, as we see these two learn to navigate a new city, a new country, a new language, and a new way of doing things. Not only that, but they’re there to find Nora’s father, and it’s through the underground network of people in their neighborhood they are able to find him — and that’s about all I can say without spoiling the story.

Illegal didn’t really convince me. I thought that the story was good and I liked the plot of it, but the actual execution of the story never came together. There were a lot of elements going into the story, and there was a lot of really interesting fodder to pull from, but it didn’t seem to me a lot of the strings that could have been explored were. There wasn’t enough emotional thrust behind the story — despite knowing what Nora and her mother were doing was incredibly dangerous — to make me connect to them at all. When I read Hobbs’s book, I immediately connected with Victor. I wanted him to succeed and I really cared about what he was doing and why he was doing it. In Illegal, I didn’t. It seemed too convenient that the entire adventure would transpire immediately before her 15th birthday and no time sooner or later. I know why this birthday was so important to her, and I wanted her father to be there with her. But the fact he disappears at that time worked too well for me. Perhaps I would have appreciated it more had the birthday been an incidental, rather than a key plot point in the story. I also didn’t get enough trepidation when Nora and her mother snuck across the border. Rather, I got more of Nora’s anger with the coyote. I wanted to smell and feel the fear, but I couldn’t.

Nora as a character read really young to me, which might have been part of the challenge I had connecting with the story as a whole. She makes a lot of very adult decisions — something I appreciate — but her voice feels very young. In convincing her mother to follow her (much less let HER cross the border), I feel like she should sound older and wiser, but she doesn’t. When she comes to Houston, she again asserts her decisions and power via more fist force than voice. As a reader, I wanted more insider knowledge of Nora, but I’m not given the access. Even though the story’s told in her perspective, I still needed more. It makes sense to me why she is almost 15 in the story (she needs the maturity to rationalize and make these big decisions), but I wanted a voice to match. Part of this had to do with the writing, as well, as the sentences and descriptions came off choppy and uneasy in parts.

I was also a little frustrated by the appearance of another character in the story, as if by magic. As a reader, I was forced to believe in this happening without much back story, and I didn’t. I didn’t want to suspend my belief in this story once because it is based in so much reality and there is such an audience for these books, but I had to do it a little too much.

What worked for me though was the use of the underground system. Even though Nora and her mother are dropped off in the middle of Houston, a city where they do not speak the language or know a soul, they’re immediately accepted into a community. They’re given jobs and they’re given insider information for survival. Even though they’re foreign and everything should be horrifying to them (which it is, don’t get me wrong), there is a built-in support system for them in their neighborhood. This is reality, and I think it’s something that’s not explored a whole lot in fiction. In her author’s note, Restrepo thanks some of the people she met at Fiesta (a Texas grocery chain that caters to a Mexican patronage); I love this because it’s clear she’s done her researched and talked to people, and she’s worked to make this as honest and realistic as possible. It’s through this underground system, too, that Nora and her mother learn about her father. It’s also through here that Nora and her mother begin to meet people, and it’s here Nora can pursue some of the things she’s only heard about from the girls she’s met at the local pool, like school.

As I alluded to, though, something Restrepo does with her book is open the doors to future stories like this. She’s opened up a ton of interesting threads for books that I’d love to read — I want to know the immigrant experience that Nora has. I want to see a whole book of her navigating the school system. I want a whole book of her crossing the border. I want a whole book of her learning how to speak English and how she could possibly determine for herself if what she did was the right thing or wrong thing. I want a whole book, too, on what she does when she reaches 18 and realizes she has to figure out how to get a job. These are the stories that happen every single day and yet don’t get much attention. Politics aside, they’re incredibly rich with real emotion and real decision making, and there is a well of potential characters and stories waiting to emerge.

That said, while this book didn’t work for me, it will reach many readers. It’s one I’m glad we have out there, as Nora’s voice and story will resonate with people. I’d hand this to those who liked Hobbs’s story, but I’d also hand it to anyone looking for a good story about contemporary events. The book is appropriate for tweens through older teens, and I think it’s one that can be book talked exceedingly well, particularly to middle school students or early high schoolers. There’s not a lesson to be learned here, and readers will appreciate that they’re not being lectured to while reading the story.

Wither by Lauren DeStefano

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Debut author Lauren DeStefano’s book Wither is getting a lot of buzz.  It’s in that hottest of YA trends – dystopian fiction – and it has many elements of a bestseller.  I was happy to get my hands on a copy.
Sometime in the future, humanity has mastered genetic engineering to a point where disease no longer exists.  The first generation of babies born this way is perfectly healthy and long-lived.  The second generation is healthy to a point – and then they die in a matter of weeks.  Boys live to age 25, and girls to age 20.  People are panicked about the human race dying out, so young girls are kidnapped and sold into polygamous marriages with young boys in order to produce babies.
Rhine Ellery is a sixteen year old child bride who is kidnapped and sold into marriage with Linden, the 21 year old son of a man named Vaughn, who belongs to the first generation of long-lived people.  Vaughn is very wealthy and obsessed with finding a cure for the condition that kills everyone so young.  He conducts experiments on Linden’s wives (three including Rhine) as well as Linden’s children to further his research.
Rhine is not a willing bride.  She wants only to escape her prison mansion and rejoin her twin brother Rowan back home (her parents, also of the first long-lived generation, are already dead).  The novel describes Rhine’s attempts to escape as well as her relationships with Linden, her two sister-wives, Vaughn, and a servant named Gabriel whom she starts to develop romantic feelings for.
I like my dystopias to be able to give meaning to our world today.  Hunger Games does that.  Delirium does that.  XVI (another book concerned largely with sex) does that.  Handmaid’s Tale (which this book is being compared to ad nauseam) does that.  Wither doesn’t, and I don’t even think it tries.  It has the potential to say a lot about how we view marriage and procreation in our own society, but this potential is never realized.  It says a little about the danger of messing with the genetic makeup of embryos, since that’s what caused the early deaths in the first place, but this is only part of the plot’s setup and is not explored further.  Social or political or cultural commentary, done in a subtle way, is what gives a dystopia meaning.  Without it, the book is just a series of events.
I had a number of other problems as well.  Some of the premise just doesn’t make sense – namely, I don’t see the reason for the polygamous marriages.  If people are so interested in finding a cure for the disease that kills everyone at such a young age and they need babies for experiments as well as to carry on the human race, why are polygamous marriages the solution?  Why not concubines?  I understand that marriage is socially accepted in our society, but polygamous marriages are not, and haven’t been for quite some time.  It would make a lot more sense to just accumulate a horde of concubines and impregnate as many as possible.
Moreover, this could be done more quickly and efficiently via in vitro – they have the technology.  (The explanation given is that such technology caused the problem in the first place, but this explanation is cheap.  Engineering the embryos is what caused the problem, not just impregnation via a petri dish.)  It seems like the polygamous marriages were an attempt to make the book seedy.  It succeeds in that regard, but the consequence is I cannot buy into the premise.  That’s a huge strike against a dystopia.
Additionally, a major plot point is that the young girls who are kidnapped but then not chosen to be wives are killed.  What, why???  When the motivation of these kidnappings, marriages, and rapes are to produce as many offspring as possible, why on earth are viable girls (and they are girls, not women) killed?  Couldn’t they use as many of them as possible?  It doesn’t make sense.  Actually, there are so many things about Wither that don’t make sense, I can’t possibly cover them all in a single review without trying our readers’ patience.
 A few other things that bothered me:
  • Why do boys live five years longer?  This book is, of course, the first in a series, so I can assume that an explanation is forthcoming in future books.  This explanation needs to happen and not just become an unanswered question.
  • Rhine refers quite a bit to how her twin brother, Rowan, protected her before she was kidnapped.  Why didn’t she learn how to protect herself, instead of relying on her brother, who is the same age as her and therefore not necessarily better equipped to care for them?  It would have been awesome if the roles were reversed and Rhine was the protector – then she’d have even more reason to want to escape and reunite with Rowan.  I understand that not all female protagonists can be kick-butt girls, so this is my own personal preference rather than a criticism.
  • This is not a complete story.  Obviously I won’t give away the ending, but if someone had spoiled the ending for me after I had read about half of the book, my reaction would have been “And…?  That’s it?”  Sequels.  I loathe them sometimes.  But even books with sequels should tell a complete story.  (That’s beginning to be a motto for me.)
I’ve given you a laundry list of complaints about Wither, but I don’t mean to say it’s a bad book.  It’s just a mediocre one.  I thought the writing was solid and most of the characters well-drawn.  I finished the book and didn’t feel like it was a waste of my time, and I was rarely bored.  DeStefano can definitely produce an interesting story.  But that doesn’t make the book good. 
There are plenty of people who disagree with me, and that’s fine.  The book currently holds a 4.17 out of 5 rating on goodreads.  Even by goodreads standards, where book ratings tend be rather inflated, that’s an impressive score.  I’m sure many readers don’t really care about any sort of social commentary and can forgive a lot of nonsensical world-building, so Wither would suit them well.  But when a niche genre such as this is flooded with so very many books, readers can and should demand better stuff – stuff that is not only written well, but has a believable premise and something more to say beyond just “This book is trendy.”
Wither will be released March 22.  Review copy received from the publisher in exchange for my honest opinion.

Audiosynced: Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli

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In the small Arizona school of Mica High, the social structure is about to undergo a major upheaval: Stargirl Caraway has enrolled.  Previously homeschooled, Stargirl enters Mica High in a sort of whirlwind of oddness.  Her clothes are way out there, she carries around a ukulele and serenades people at lunch on their birthdays, and, of course, her name is Stargirl.  What’s more, she doesn’t seem to care that she is so different from all of the other students.  She just is.
Ridiculed at first, she soon gains a following.  Kids start dressing in really unique ways, they dye their hair different colors, and they start bringing ukuleles to school.  Her biggest fan is 11th grader Leo Borlock, our narrator, who falls in love with her almost immediately.  Stargirl’s popularity grows, and Leo asks her to be interviewed on his school’s television show for a segment called The Hot Seat which he produces. 
Somewhere between her agreement to be interviewed and the interview itself, Stargirl’s popularity takes a nosedive.  For the first time in forever, Mica High has a good basketball team, and it looks like they might be tournament-worthy.  Stargirl is a cheerleader, but she cheers for both teams.  To the students at Mica High, this is traitorous.  Undeterred by the students’ growing antipathy for her actions, Stargirl continues to cheer for Mica High as well as their opponent.  And then she gets a tomato in the face.  When she goes on the Hot Seat, the other students’ interview questions are malicious and incredibly mean-spirited.  Stargirl is flabbergasted.
Somehow, Leo convinces Stargirl to start acting more normal (and consequently, less like herself).  She starts going by her given name, Susan, and dresses like everyone else.  She buys into the idea that it’s important to be popular, spurred on by Leo, whose own popularity is at stake (he is dating her at the time).  But it doesn’t work – Susan doesn’t regain her popularity.  So she decides to be Stargirl again.
It’s easy to be cynical about a character like Stargirl, especially as a teen.  There were plenty of kids in my high school who (it seemed to me at the time) were weird just for the sake of being weird.  But I never got that impression from Stargirl.  She always comes across as genuine, particularly in the conversation where Leo convinces her to start acting more normally.  Leo tries to explain that she can be accepted by just trying to act like everyone else, and Stargirl comments on how difficult and exhausting that must be.  Of course, she’s right.  It’s a completely foreign concept to her.  Seen through Stargirl’s eyes, it’s so much easier to be yourself, it’s amazing more people don’t do it.
What makes Stargirl such a great character isn’t just her overall oddness and her resolution to not be swayed by social pressure (aside from the brief period where she reverts to Susan).  She’s also a genuinely nice person.  She nice to the nth degree.  It’s not an air or an affectation; she doesn’t do it to be recognized or for a thrill.  She’s nice to be nice.  She sends cards to strangers who post on bulletin boards (will mow your lawn for cash; elderly woman needs companion; etc.).  She reads the filler stories in the local newspaper so she knows if someone is in need and she can help them.  She drops coins on the ground for children to find.    You might think that this is all just too much (or too creepy), but trust me when I tell you that it’s not.  It’s heartwarming without being cloying.  It’s moving but also practical.
The epilogue of this book is one of the best I’ve ever read.  I can’t say too much about it without major spoilage, but I will say that it made me choke up.  It’s the perfect ending.
John Ritter narrates the audiobook, and he is wonderful.  He’s the perfect Leo – he manages to imbue Leo’s voice with just the right amount of shyness, selfishness, and uncertainty.  He makes Leo likable even when he is pressuring Stargirl relentlessly to conform, to change from the person he fell in love with.  We’ve all been there – we’ve felt the pressure to conform, and we know what it’s like to see the people we love ridiculed.  We also all know what it’s like to be embarrassed by the odd behavior of these loved ones.  It’s a testament to Ritter’s skill that Leo still emerges as a three-dimensional character we feel for even as we condemn his actions.  Ritter’s narration is particularly poignant considering the fact that Ritter passed away in 2003.
This is one of those classic young adult books that I didn’t read as a teen, even though I was a teen when it was published.  Then as now, I avoided contemporary books like the plague, but this one is universal.  I’d recommend it to anyone.

Recovery Road by Blake Nelson

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When we meet Maddie, she’s just in the beginning of her time at the transitional halfway house located at the treatment facility she’s been sent to. Maddie is was a party girl, into drinking and drugs and hard. She made it through the detox portion of her stay and now, she’s got the opportunity to try navigating life in “the real world.” Of course, her activities are highly monitored and she’s got a set of rules she needs to follow strictly, but this is her chance to begin rebuilding her life. She’s also seeing her counselor, who tells her she needs to work hard at starting something new. This is perhaps her only opportunity to begin completely fresh.

It’s here in this transitional home she meets Trish. Trish is the first girl Maddie feels any sort of connection with. The two of them go together to the weekly movie in town, and they form a good bond. But Trish has been in the half way house longer, which means she’s sent home before Maddie — weeks before her, even — which means that Maddie is once again on her own.

Enter Stewart.

Immediately, Stew and Maddie hit it off. Even though opposite sex relations are forbidden here in Spring Meadows, the two of them elect to pursue a relationship anyway. They have a chemistry and a real connection. It’s cut short, though, when Maddie is able to leave the facility and Stewart still has time to spend. But when Maddie leaves, he gives her his grandmother’s ring as a promise to her that they will be together again, and that they can make it through this recovery together.

Recovery Road really begins here: now that Maddie has left Spring Meadows, she’s able to reconnect again with Trish. She’s also thrust back into school and with school comes the people she hung out with in her pre-rehab life. Maddie has to work hard to avoid these people seek out new friends. She’s lucky, though — she stumbles upon a friend in the library who ends up being key to her figuring herself out. I won’t linger on this much because it’s a smaller piece in the bigger puzzle of the story. Needless to say, her transition back to school isn’t as painful as she suspected, and in fact, she’s found a fondness for academics. She actually wants to do well in class and raises her grade point average quite well. Maddie may even have college dreams, something she’d never have imagined for herself just months earlier when her biggest concern was her next hit.

When Stew leaves the facility, it’s not too long before he and Maddie can reconnect, and it is here that the story really blossoms. Their relationship is painfully real and it’s not always easy. I loved how Nelson built the relationship in this story, as it’s one that begins almost out of convenience and desperation — he and she are around the same age, both struggling with similar issues and they find solace in one another. But when Stew slips Maddie the ring, the relationship changes completely: it’s now one about making a promise to one another to get stronger. Here is the kicker, though. The promise ends up really being one Maddie gives to herself as the people she’s come to rely on as friends, Stew and Trish, will not have quite the journey she has post-rehab.

Throughout the story, Maddie has a lot of unique opportunities — she’s a role model for people, whether she believes herself to be one or not. And this is a chapter in her life that will come to a head, as well, and it will make her realize what a strong, resilient character she is. She also has the chance to change the lives of those closest to her. It’s hard not to spoil this, but I won’t. What I can say is that the way Nelson weaves in Maddie’s growth as a person is directly on the backs of Trish and Stew. And that’s not meant in a bad way; rather, her path is an entirely different one than either of theirs, and the decisions that they make on their own directly impact Maddie’s life. These things strengthen her as a character and make us as readers absolutely pull for her.

Recovery Road is not an easy book to read, given the topic it delves into and the harsh realities that these teens face on a daily basis. But I wouldn’t expect less from Nelson, and he handles these smoothly and realistically. For me, the setting is spot on, and the style is right for the book itself. It’s well executed in the use of multiple parts for the story telling, giving us insight into the different chapters of Maddie’s recovery. This story is right up there with Paranoid Park for me: it’s gritty, raw, and completely heartfelt. I loved being witness to Maddie, even though I should have had more reservations about her from the start. I also loved that everything I thought about other characters in the book shifted entirely because of my belief in Maddie.

This was yet another book I read in one sitting — something I’ve mentioned is a rare occurrence. But this book is so compelling and begs to be read as a whole. It is entirely fresh and contained a skillful balance of the grit with the realities of relationships. Maddie’s voice is approachable always, despite the fact it could be off putting. Recovery Road will, without doubt, be a story that sticks with me for a long time to come and it further proves to me that Nelson is a dependable, but extremely versatile, writer.

Hand this book off to Nelson’s established fan base, as well as those who like their stories gritty and real. I think fans of Ellen Hopkins or Amy Reed will find much to enjoy here, though stylistically they are much different. Those who enjoy Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak or Wintergirls will also find a lot here. And perhaps the real audience for this is your non-readers. The people too cool to read a book — you know exactly who those kids are. This is the kind of book that will smack them in the face and make them realize there is stuff out there speaking to their interests and their lives. The language and discussion of drug use, partying, and an attempted rape scene are issues readers should be prepared for, so do not hand this to your younger readers. Without doubt, this story will appeal to both males and females because of the subject.

Miles from Ordinary by Carol Lynch Williams

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There’s something I’ve come to really appreciate about Carol Lynch Williams, and it’s this: she can write the emerging teen (that is, the 12-14 year old) like nobody’s business. It is extremely tough to write this tricky age because it can either read too young or too old, and the problem is readers at this age are so different, and their levels of experience and knowledge so diverse. Some are ready to read about tough issues because they’ve been there. Others haven’t had quite the life experiences and therefore aren’t always ready to make the leap from middle grade fiction to young adult. But fortunately, those who are really have something spectacular to discover in Williams’s work. Miles From Ordinary is another winner.

Lacey’s excited to begin her new job at the local public library. She’s finally old enough to have real responsibilities, and even though this job is really a volunteer gig with no pay, she needs it. She needs time away from her home and her mother to figure herself out. See, mom’s not stable. Mom is a very mentally ill woman who requires constant care and attention from Lacey. Mom’s pushed away help from her own sister already, and dad left the family long ago.

Maybe more exciting for Lacey than her post at the library is her mom’s job — Lacey convinced mom she, too, needs to get out of the house and make something of herself. Although mom protests, the fear and social anxiety eating away at her, she decides she’ll try it, and she gets a job at the grocery store. Together, Lacey and her mother take the bus to their respective new jobs on this day, and both set themselves on the path of making their lives better.

Unfortunately, things don’t go as smoothly as Lacey hopes they will when she leaves work. When she makes it to mom’s new place of employment, mom is not there. In fact, she finds out mom quit the job just minutes after getting there, and now Lacey crosses her fingers that mom will be at home, in bed, and no where else. But when Lacey gets home, things aren’t what she hoped, and mom may have finally hit rock bottom.

This rapid pace book packs a punch with it — as readers, we’re right there along with every move Lacey makes. We care a lot about her and we feel awful for her because she’s been responsible for keeping an eye on her mother. She doesn’t get a chance to live for herself, and we know how excited she is to finally have something to do with her time. She’s eager to throw herself into her volunteer gig at the library where her aunt once ran the children’s department. We want her to succeed and have a killer day and positive start to this new chapter in her life.

And the thing of it all is, we don’t wish ill on her mother. Even though mom is made out to be a bit of a demon — not because she mistreats Lacey but because she’s so needy and dependent upon her in her day-to-day operation — we actually care a lot about her, too. She’s got a chance to make a positive change in her life, and we see her outlet to independence. It’d be easy to develop anger to mom, but we can’t; in fact, despite the fact she ruins Lacey’s day, we still care about her mom’s well being. We want her to be at home in bed, her depression taking over her. We don’t want her hurt.

The entire story takes place in one day, but there is so much packed into the story. We get the history of Lacey’s life, and we know she deserves so much better than she has. We get glimpses into her mother’s life story, too, without being bogged down in it. We’re getting it from Lacey’s perspective, which is, of course, skewed and needs to be. It’s pretty masterful story telling to do so much with so little — because in addition to taking place in one day, this book clocks in at under 200 pages — and there is nothing missing here. When I finished the story, I felt like it came to the right conclusion and that it didn’t need additional juice elsewhere.

Key to understanding why this book is so powerful is thinking about Lacey being 14. All we want is success for her, and we don’t necessarily mean success in a financial manner. We want Lacey to have success in understanding what it is to be her own person, independent from her mother. She deserves a chance to do what she wants to do and escape the ghosts which haunt her mom. She’s stronger than they are, and she knows this. But she’s still weighed down because of family decisions which left her in her mother’s care; however, Lacey is smart enough to know when she finally needs to seek help. When she’s taken too much of the weight on herself and when she needs to be herself. It’s a pretty powerful moment in the story. While some readers might believe the things Lacey realizes or thinks to herself read older than 14, I would heartily disagree — anyone who has lived through something like this knows what sometimes, young people are forced to grow up well before they’re meant to. Lacey is one such teen, and we can’t help but completely believe her. We also can’t help but breathe an incredible sigh of relief at the decisions she makes and the head she’s got on her shoulders. Lacey is a hell of a memorable character, much like Hope is in Glimpse and Kyra is in The Chosen One.

I also love that it’s Lacey coming to Lacey’s own understanding. There is not another person telling her what to do or think, and there is not a boy mixed up in her coming into herself. I bring it up since it’s a bone I’ve had to pick with a number of books lately. But oh, not here! Lacey is a pretty dynamite female character all her own.

This book will have appeal to young and older teen readers and is an excellent read alike to Holly Schindler’s A Blue So Dark (reviewed here). Hand this to readers who are ready for a mature and insightful voice, as well as those who may be struggling to find a story with which to connect. I really think there’s an understated power in Williams’s books to hook more reluctant readers, especially since her characters are younger.