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Fallen Grace by Mary Hooper

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I’m a sucker for a good historical fiction, and I’ve never read one quite like Fallen Grace. Grace lives in Victorian-era London with her older, mentally handicapped sister Lily. Her father left before Grace was born and her mother died when she was a little girl. Since being orphaned, the two girls lived in an orphanage for many years before being transferred to a charity school where Grace was to learn to be a teacher and Lily to learn servant work.
Unfortunately, the person who ran the charity school was the most unscrupulous of men who was in the habit of raping the girls he housed. Grace and Lily left the school, and nine months later Grace gave birth to a stillborn child. The two manage to eke out an existence in London’s slums by selling watercresses, but when their residence arrangement falls through, they find themselves in dire straits.
Luckily (or maybe unluckily), Grace is able to secure employment as a mute at the Unwin Undertaking Establishment and Lily is employed as a maid in the owners’ home. A mute, in this instance, is someone who is hired by a mourner to hold vigil at a funeral or wake and look suitably mournful. They dress in black, wear an expression of grief on their faces, and never speak. That is their job.
The Unwins are pretty underhanded, so it’s no surprise that their reasons for employing Grace, who is a suitable mute, and Lily, who is a very unsuitable maid, are less than charitable. In fact, they intend to make Grace and Lily a part of a great fraud that they’ve concocted. Will Grace figure the scheme out and stop it before she and Lily come to harm? It doesn’t hurt that she has a handsome young clerk in a lawyer’s office to help her.
I was never bored with the story, even though I could see all plot twists and turns coming from a mile away. That’s the mark of a good writer who knows how to use language to her advantage.
But the plot wasn’t the most interesting thing about Fallen Grace. What really struck me were the details about the Victorian practices of funerals and mourning. Before reading the book, my knowledge of Victorian mourning rituals consisted of “They wore black a lot longer than we do now,” and that’s about it. Now, I can tell you all about it. For example, there were entire shops dedicated to selling only mourning apparel, and people believed that keeping this mourning apparel in between the deaths of loved ones was bad luck – meaning they would discard the old garments when the mourning session was complete and buy new ones for a new death.
Hooper is a pro at interweaving a story with its setting and making them work together. While so many authors get bogged down in historical description that really does nothing to further the plot, the funeral home and mourning practices drive the plot in Fallen Grace. The story Hooper tells could not have been told in any other location or time period. And far from being tedious or depressing, these historical details are fascinating.
Grace isn’t a terribly proactive heroine. We get an idea of her resourcefulness from the first few chapters, where we see her ability to support herself and her sister in pretty terrible circumstances. Beyond that, though, she’s mostly reactive – the reader sees things coming from way off, but Grace doesn’t. That’s a not good sign in a protagonist and makes her seem a little dull. What’s more, the romantic interest – the aforementioned clerk – is the one who really spurs her to action. I prefer my heroines with a bit more agency.
I also felt the clues about various plot points could have been dropped with a little more subtlety – the book’s target age group (pretty solidly teenagers, not middle graders) is certainly smart enough to pick up on things without being hit over the head with them. But the story is still enjoyable and has so many delightful moments, I can forgive this aspect.
This is a good readalike to Y. S. Lee’s The Agency series – both are books set in Victorian England with an air of mystery and adventure featuring a plucky young heroine. Lee’s writing is, I think, a bit more sophisticated than Hooper’s and the mysteries are more of a focus – meaning I didn’t see all the answers right from the beginning like I did with Fallen Grace. Mary Quinn is also a much more confident and capable heroine, though Grace has her moments. While Lee gives us a good sense of time and place, Hooper surpasses her in this regard, and it is a treat. Who knew learning about grief could be so much fun?
Review copy provided by Bloomsbury in exchange for my honest opinion.

Delirium by Lauren Oliver

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

When the Stars Go Blue by Caridad Ferrer

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Soledad Reyes’s entire life is dance — she lives it, breathes it, and eats it. She attends an arts academy for high school in Miami and devotes everything to her talent.

But when Jonathan Crandall, another arts academy student, proposes Soledad try out for the role of Carmen in his bugle corps’s summer traveling tour, her life will change for ever. And not just because she’s taking her dancing elsewhere: she’s also falling head over heels in love.

When the Stars Go Blue can probably be best described by the word sultry. While reading this, I could not help but draw the comparisons between the steamy romance that builds between Soledad and Jonathan to the ones that develop in Simone Elkeles’s Perfect Chemistry series. They’re quick, swoon-worthy, and hot! It’s little wonder why Ferrer has earned a RITA award in the past. Their attraction to one another is immediate and passionate, and I love how intricately entwined it is with their pursuits of their skills — hers in dance and his in bugle corps.

But oh, the fall. We know going into the story this is a relationship which won’t last, and we know that because this book’s storyline is based upon the famous play Carmen. Although I was told to read up on that before diving into the book, I chose to go in without knowledge and see if the story worked. It does — but I would recommend doing a little background reading on Carmen just to see how the parallels work, whether before or immediately after reading this title.

Ferrer’s prose is among some of the most fluid and dynamic I’ve read in a long time. I book talked this title to 9th graders a few weeks back, and rather than giving them a long synopsis of the story, I simply read the first two pages. The language not only sets the stage but it also gives a strong depiction of who Soledad is: a driven, hard-working dancer who pushes herself to her limit.

The tension in the novel is palpable. It’s not only in the relationship between Soledad and Jonathan but also in their hard work on the ground at their corps performances. The devotion to their work can only translate into their relationship, and it’s this intensity and tension that ultimately changes the entire course of Soledad’s life.

Because of the forceful pulse throughout the story, this was a quicker paced novel, but the language forced me to slow down. At times, especially near the end of the book, I found the story itself limped behind the writing. Fortunately, the language makes up for these weaker plot points and let me overlook some weaknesses in the plot. This is a rare novel that will appeal to those who like their books to read quickly and those who want to savor each word.

One thing that didn’t quite work for me as a reader in this one was the use of a journal as a plot device for us to get insight into Soledad’s mindset. It didn’t come through consistently enough for me. I wish it had been pushed a little bit more or not included at all. I was set up to believe it would play a bigger role from the beginning when in actuality, it plays a more minute role until the very end.

When the Stars Go Blue is a novel I devoured and one in which I rode a roller coaster of feelings about both of our main characters (and the big third character who appears later on). I loved them and hated them in equal parts. It’ll appeal to fans of romances, though be forewarned that there is plenty of sexual tension so it’s better for your older teen readers. Pass this one off to those seeking a solid story about pursuing one’s creative talents, especially to dancers or musicians. There’s also little doubt on the appeal of this book to fans of theater.

Choker by Elizabeth Woods

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Cara and Zoe were best friends in their youth, but since sixteen-year-old Cara moved away, they’ve drifted. Now, Cara’s lonely in her new school and is harassed by a group of mean girls in her school. What’s worse is living next door to one of these girls who hosts parties nearly every weekend. It makes Cara’s life miserable.

But when an incident in the school cafeteria brings Cara close to her big crush Ethan and Zoe mysteriously appears at her house, begging for shelter, things change. Suddenly, there’s a dead girl, a missing girl, and perhaps a little more possibility for Cara to snag Ethan all for herself.

Choker is a fast-paced novel that can be devoured in one sitting — which is saying a lot, since I don’t usually read things cover to cover. This one, though, I completely ate up.

At the beginning of this novel, I didn’t buy Cara’s assessment of the girls in her school: she seemed convinced they were mean to her, but I had absolutely no evidence of this. The girls made fun of her but it didn’t seem to me anything beyond typical (it’s high school, after all). This really bothered me, and it made me question my belief in Cara as a narrator almost straight away.

As the plot unraveled further, I saw that my assessment was solid here. I saw what was happening in this book from the first pages, even though I didn’t want to acknowledge it immediately. That is to say, this book is really predictable. Almost too predictable. I knew what was coming well before it came. The end didn’t surprise me in the least and in fact, I was pretty let down that it didn’t take a twist I didn’t expect. Unfortunately, I think that teen readers will see this ending coming from a mile away, as well.

When I finished the book, I couldn’t quite put words to what bothered me the most. I don’t think the predictability is what did it for me. I think that this is the kind of book that, had it been written down for a younger teen or tween audience, would be so much stronger. I think readers in that range haven’t quite read enough to predict the outcome and would find what happens to be really compelling and exciting. I don’t think there’s enough stuff with this sort of edge to it for that readership. However, because this book DOES have a lot of really tough stuff in it — sex and drinking — this isn’t an appropriate title to hand to those younger readers.

At times, I found the writing to be a little bit clunky, as well. I think it may have gotten tied up in the plotting here. There’s an overuse of verbs and descriptors that aren’t necessary, and I wish those words would have been used to build up the plot arc a bit more. Some of the repetitive images that come up didn’t seem to serve a greater purpose; they were there to slow me down and make me question my instincts about where the story was going. That tactic didn’t work for me as a reader, though I think it could work for a younger set.

That said, I think that Woods’s debut is one worth reading, despite the faults. It’s an easy one to read because of the pacing and because you will be wondering whether you’ve figured the game out or not. Fans of mysteries will probably like this (though they will know what’s coming) but you might want to try this book out on your fans of contemporary, edgy titles. It’ll give them a taste of a different genre. I think, too, if you know your middle grade/early high school readers — especially those in the 8th and 9th grade set — and you know that the heavy stuff won’t be problematic, you may want to try this one out with them.

Beautiful by Amy Reed

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When Cassie begins 7th grade in a new school, she doesn’t want to be ordinary. Doesn’t want to be part of the masses of kids who are all the same, boring and typical and average. And she’s lucky when Alex notices her, introduces her to a group of guys who think she’s the most beautiful thing they’ve seen. Little 7th grade Cassie’s made it cool with a group of 9th graders and knows her year will be much more than boring.

Thing is, these kids aren’t really the popular kids or the cool kids. They’re the kids who are into doing bad things. Into drugs and alcohol and abusing any and all substances they can get their hands on. Into lots of sex. Into lots of parties.

Cassie gets caught up in this world until she loses the one thing she’s learned to care about the most.

Beautiful is the ultimate readalike to Ellen Hopkins — it is edgy, dark, and immediately gripping. This fast-paced read dives deep into the personal crisis of a girl coming into her own and making a series of poor choices that, in the end, we don’t know the ultimate repercussions of. It’s a satisfying ending, to say the least, for those who are comfortable with a book that doesn’t answer as many questions as it brings up.

I wavered back and forth on the believability of Cassie as a 7th grader, as many of the situations she finds herself in felt much older, much more late high school than middle school, but when I finished the book, I thought she was exactly the age she needed to be. Getting involved in this older group exposed her to things she’d otherwise not experience until high school, and since the kids she was with were 9th graders, their own desires to feel and act older had an impact on Cassie, too.

Let me put it more bluntly: Cassie gets into drugs, and it’s not pretty. She’s not the beautiful girl she’s been told she is. She’s ugly. Day long drug-induced hazes and black outs are what makes one pretty. As a reader, you’re right there with her, wanting to tell her to stop it and get a grip but at the same time, you want to see her figure it out for herself. She’s so young and naive. And the thing is, she’s also SMART. She’s in advanced classes and does exceedingly well without an ounce of effort (though it’s likely the adderall helps out a bit). Cassie is used and abused by those she hangs out with.

There’s a scene in a discussion Cassie has with Sarah, a girl with whom she becomes quite close, that I think sort of defines the entirety of Cassie — she asks Sarah if having sex is supposed to be boring. If she’s supposed to get something out of it or if it’s meant to just be something girls do and deal with. Cassie’s on the verge of something here. She knows and doesn’t know how wrong what she’s doing and feeling are but she can’t put those pieces together right. She’s a tough sort of character to hold in your head and one who you will want to dissect and discuss — do we ever know who she really is? For me, this conflict of character worked really well.

One contentious point in the book comes through the portrayal of the parents. We get very little face time with mom and dad in this book, other than knowing that they’re married and still around. Dad and mom both seem to have an idea of what’s going on with Cassie, though neither acts upon it. Although it seems a little unrealistic, what made this work for me was remembering this book is told from Cassie’s perspective; her skewed perception and her drug-influenced thinking would make her parents to be as they are. I think both her parents were much more concerned and made concerted effort to help, but she couldn’t see it. She was elsewhere.

Although I like the ending, the unknowing of what happens to Cassie, I was really sad that the end comes at not the expense of herself but at the expense of another character. A character I wanted to know more about but know I couldn’t learn more about because Cassie wouldn’t let me. Obviously, this character meant a lot more to Cassie than we’re ever led to believe, but it would be impossible to know more than we do or else the ending wouldn’t serve as something meaningful to her.

My favorite part of the entire book, though, was the writing. Reed writes in an incredible stream of conscious style and the way the words are tied together really give us the flesh of who Cassie is. I’m right there in her mind and I can’t get out of it. It reminded me a lot of Blake Nelson’s Girl and this is a connection I really appreciate.

Even though our main character in this book is a 7th grader, this is a book with appeal to older readers. I would be brave enough to say, too, if you know your reader and think that a middle schooler could handle the challenges here, you could sell this to them, too. But I emphasize: know your reader because this is not an easy story to read or understand, and I don’t mean that only in the sense of the drugs and sex that are involved. Fans of Ellen Hopkins (whose blurb on the paperback was enough to sell one of my teens on it), Gail Giles, Courtney Summers, and other unflinching contemporary fiction with real voice and pulse will eat this up. To say I’m eager for Reed’s summer release, Clean, after reading Beautiful would be an understatement.