STACKED

books

Plain Kate by Erin Bow

|

Plain Kate lives in a world of superstitions and curses, where a song can heal a wound and a shadow can work deep magic. As the wood-carver’s daughter, Kate held a carving knife before a spoon, and her wooden talismans are so fine that some even call her “witch-blade”: a dangerous nickname in a country where witches are hunted and burned in the square.

For Kate and her village have fallen on hard times. Kate’s father has died, leaving her alone in the world. And a mysterious fog now covers the countryside, ruining crops and spreading fear of hunger and sickness. The townspeople are looking for someone to blame, and their eyes have fallen on Kate.

Enter Linay, a stranger with a proposition: In exchange for her shadow, he’ll give Kate the means to escape the angry town, and what’s more, he’ll grant her heart’s wish. It’s a chance for her to start over, to find a home, a family, a place to belong. But Kate soon realizes she can’t live shadowless forever — and that Linay’s designs are darker than she ever dreamed
(Summary from Amazon.com)

Plain Kate is one of the most beautiful books that I have read in ages. ‘Beautiful’ is honestly the first word that comes to mind to describe Erin Bow’s prose, which is as lovingly shaped and whittled as the figures and objarka, or talismans, that Kate so artfully carves to protect others from the curses and mysterious sicknesses that threaten the land. The writing is so simple and straightforward, much in the vein of the classic fairytale, but at the same time manages to infuse worlds of emotion and description into each paragraph and every sentence.

Bow creates a well-developed, three-dimensional heroine in Kate, whose plucky, adventurous, and stubborn nature does not allow her to languish in misery or self-pity after her father dies. Although she is persecuted by her fellow townspeople and encounters suspicion once she joins up with a band of Roamers, she still stays strong in her desire to find acceptance and a home. Throughout Kate’s struggles: to not get thrown out of her village, to find belonging with the Roamers, to escape Linay, and to ultimately save the village of Lov from destruction, she never loses hope. Perhaps it is this idea of hope that is so central to fairy tales and that is key to why I adore fantasies so much. Plain Kate embodies this idea.

The supporting characters in Plain Kate are amazing. Linay, the villain, is creepy and compelling, bargaining for Kate’s shadow and then stealing her away for further sacrifices. Without giving spoilers, I will say that his ultimate scheme is incredibly eerie, and one of the most original motives I have seen in ages. Drina, the Roamer girl who befriends Kate and is ultimately and inextricably linked to Linay’s devious plan, is a welcome companion, providing a wonderful look at a best-friendship that is nurtured and developed throughout the course of the book. Scenes with Drina and Kate plotting, sacrificing for each other, and huddling together in the dark hours talking made me yearn for the sleepovers of my youth.

And who could leave out Taggle, one of the most adorable talking cats I have ever had the pleasure of being introduced to. In the depths of her loneliness after her father’s death, Kate only desires friendship and companionship. When this, her heart’s desire, is granted to her, it is embodied in the talking form of her cat, Taggle. Taggle’s humorous lines (“Look, I’m still damp. Fuss over me.”), preening arrogance, and deep love for Kate are the heart of this novel.

Full of mystery, superstition, heart, and pure emotion (I dare you not to cry–you’ll know when I mean), Plain Kate is one of my favorite books read so far this year.

(Also of note for Harry Potter fans: the table of contents of this book is done in the exact format and font as the Harry Potter books (both are Arthur A. Levine books)—that, more than anything, will tell you how good this is!)

Mostly Good Girls by Leila Sales

|

If ever a book cover did disservice to a fantastic story, it would be this one. Leila Sales’s Mostly Good Girls is a story that really stands out in a crowd and would appeal to so many readers, but unfortunately, this cover kills me. It suggests the story is something else entirely, and while it will draw some readers in, it won’t draw the readers in who probably want this story most of all.

Violet and Katie are best friends, and they have been for a long time. The two of them attend an all-girls private school near Boston, and both of them are go-getting type of girls: Violet is working hard to improve her standardized test scores and put together the school’s literary journal, where she serves as editor, and Katie has earned a perfect score on her tests and works with Violet on the junior yearbook. We begin this story as the two of them list other girls in their class and “how far they’ve gone.” Both get a good giggle out of the girls who are more experienced, as neither of them is all that interested in any particular boys. But that will change. . .

Mostly Good Girls follows Violet and Katie’s changing friendship through their junior year of high school. When Katie earns her perfect test score, Violet becomes envious, and in her determination to outdo her best friend, she misses her best friend change. Katie, despite having everything, chooses to start dating Martin, a high school graduate who chose to work as a barista instead of attend college. In Violet’s eyes, Katie’s lowered her standards, but that’s because she can’s see the true problem brewing within Katie. This will be the tipping point in the story, and it will ultimately redefine their friendship and call to question what friendship even is.

Sales’s book is not written in a completely traditional narrative story but is instead told in vignettes. We know the story takes place over one school year, but the chapters are brief snippets in time and in place. This works exceedingly well in this book, as so much of what the story would do to fill in time and space holes would bore readers. Violet and Katie are normal characters. Neither has a particularly challenging aspect to their lives; they are utterly relatable but in the course of being so, they don’t have a huge obstacle to overcome physically or emotionally. Or at least, that’s kind of what we’re led to believe.

Not only is there a non-traditional method of story telling at work here, but the humor! This is a funny book. There was more than one time I laughed out loud while reading it, and there may or may not have been passages I read out loud for my husband because I found them spot on funny. Violet and Katie are a little snarky, and they conquer problems in a manner I would. When the literary journal had some extra space due to a profuse amount of garbage being submitted, the girls write a joint story that mocks their school. I may or may not have done that once in my life, too.

Besides being funny, the situations the girls find themselves in ring true on so many levels. When Katie pairs off with Martin, she invites Violet along. Violet, in the interest of being a good friend, follows along, despite being extremely uncomfortable in this environment. She wants to be a good friend. And when she sees what Martin and his roommates are like, she’s further unsettled. Who hasn’t found themselves in a similar situation?

There is a little romance in this book. We see Katie pair off with Martin, and while we don’t necessarily see the romance blossom as readers. But we do see and experience a number of great moments with Violet, as she develops a crush on Scott. He attends a nearby all-boys school. Unfortunately, a lot gets in the way of their relationship developing beyond friendship, and some of these interruptions are downright hilarious (in particular, Violet needs a ride home from a night out with a bunch of Scott’s classmates and Katie, and when Scott pipes in to offer the ride, we see her imagining this being what leads to their ultimate marriage. Unfortunately, another guy — a less appealing one — offers a ride over Scott’s, since he lives closer. A dream deferred, if you will). Did I mention I was laughing a lot while reading this because I could relate to more than one incident here?

Back to my cover comments: this cover does not work. It does not scream that this is a story about friendship or that it’s a funny book. Instead, it says this is a school drama, and it probably involves skanky girls (look at how short her skirt is). The cover will appeal to fans of Pretty Little Liars and similar titles, but this book will not necessarily make most readers of that series happy. This is a much lighter book, with little to no interpersonal drama. Instead, this is the kind of book fans of Sarah Dessen, Jenny Han, and Siobhan Vivian will love. Many teen girls will NEED this book, to show to them that friendship isn’t always constant and that things change and shift and that that is okay and normal. This is contemporary, realistic, and funny, and without a lot of good handselling, I’m afraid it might not get into the hands of those who need it most and those who would see themselves and their friendships played out here. But believe me when I say this is a title that most teen collections need; there are too few stories about friendship that play out so realistically.

* Review copy picked up at BEA.

Jane by April Lindner

|

It’s been a few years (probably 10 or more) since I’ve read the classic Bronte tale of Jane Eyre. Most of the details are pretty much lost in my mind. But let me tell you, reading April Lindner’s forthcoming Jane makes me want to pick the classic up again just to compare the original with the retold tale.

Jane Moore’s parents tragic accident forced her to make a decision that she didn’t want to make: she needed to drop out of her elite college in order to work. The investments that they had made for her had lost all value, and now she’s found herself seeking out nanny positions in hopes of making enough money to possibly return to school some day.

That’s when she’s placed as a nanny for Nico Rathburn, a rock star who everyone knows and adores . . . except Jane. She’s been sheltered and doesn’t follow pop culture, so it takes some research and hours of listening to his music to get caught up on who he is before she begins her job as his daughter’s caretaker.

Something strange is happening at his estate, though. She’s not allowed to go up to the third floor of his estate, despite the fact someone is living there. She’s woken up more than once to strange dreams and strange people wandering around, and there have been other strange events happening at Thornfield. But despite the feeling of something being off, Jane becomes enamored with Nico and Nico draws her closer and closer, until they find themselves in a very serious relationship, ready to make their love permanent. That is, until a horrible secret from Nico unravels before them.

Jane is a well-plotted story, with a cast of strong and memorable characters. Beyond the characterization and setting that make this book work well is an incredibly pleasing writing style. Lindner is a poet and this comes through clearly in her writing: it is vivid, smooth, and pleasing to the reader. This is a world I was easily swept away in because of how fluid her words ran.

Jane herself is a character for whom you have great sympathy. She never once tries to elicit this feeling from the reader, despite the hardships she’s had in her young life, and this is precisely why she gets it from the reader. It’s hard not to feel bad for a girl who has lost both her parents and her seemingly open future in one incident, and it’s even harder not to feel sorry for her when she becomes entangled in a romance that comes back to bite her. She’s strong willed and has a survivor’s fight within her, and with that, she’s willing to do what she needs to do in order to accomplish her goals. This is a theme we’ll see again and again with her.

Nico as a main male character is shrouded in mystery and allure. He’s your standard rock star but he has a different side to him. Throughout his interactions with Jane, it seems obvious he sees something much greater in her than simply her nannying skills with his daughter. At times it seems downright creepy (particularly in a scene where they’re spending time together in the pool) but the last few chapters made me rethink some of the assumptions I’d had about him. This in and of itself should speak to the writing skills of Lindner.

Though the book it set in contemporary times, this had all the feelings of a classic. While reading, it was hard not to feel like I was back in Victorian England along side the original Jane Eyre, despite the rock star musician and other pop cultural elements. It works well in this case, and I think it will give this book a little more staying time in an expanding teen market. This is the kind of book that would be well used in a classroom setting alongside the original. There are some language and situational issues to be aware of, but the book’s setting and characters make them work. They aren’t gratuitous or detract from the plot.

One element that didn’t quite work for me in this book was the pacing. This is a lengthy book — well over 400 pages — but many chapters have large time jumps in them, particularly in the second half of the book. Jane’s post-Thornfield time moves at breakneck speed, in an attempt to bring it to its conclusion more quickly. As a reader, this was a little irritating, as I found it hard to believe in some of the situations and some of the relationships she made after leaving Thornfield, and I wanted this to be as well-fleshed as her time at the estate.

This is a great book to hand to your fans of Victorian literature, as well as fans of the original Jane Eyre or similar titles. There’s romance, mystery, and a cast of enjoyable (and frustrating!) characters. Fans of Lauren Baratz-Logsted’s The Twin’s Daughter will find this an excellent readalike, as well. Give this one to your skeptics of young adult literature, too; it’s a fantastic example of what’s out there and could make those skeptics rethink their assumptions. And for people who haven’t read the original in a long time, it might just make them revisit the classic.

Did I mention that Lindner is a debut author, too? This is an author to keep an eye on. Jane comes out October 11!

*Review copy received from the publisher. Thanks!

Where the Truth Lies by Jessica Warman + Giveaway

|

Emily Meckler’s life is, in short, charmed. She’s going to a private boarding school where her father is the president, and she gets to live with some of her best friends in the dorm. But when her junior year of high school resumes after a short break, things that once looked perfectly rosy take a nose dive with the arrival of the mysterious and utterly magnetic Del Sugar. Her school never lets in students mid-year, and since she didn’t hear a word about this from her father during break, Emily begins thinking something very strange is afoot, and she wants to get to the bottom of it.

What sounds like a girl-meets-mysterious-boy story is actually much more layered: turns out that everything Emily has come to believe about herself and her family may be lies. And we’re not just talking little white lies: these are the sorts of lies that may change her entire life.

Jessica Warman’s Breathless was one of the titles I dove into last fall upon its release because of the premise of secrets, family drama, and a little prep school suave. Although I ultimately had some issues with the book (similar to what I had with this particular one), the writing here is top notch. Warman has a very literary styling to her writing which requires the reader to slow down and engage. And engage I did; I was immediately drawn into Emily who, on the surface, comes off as a typical girl who has everything. But the further I fell into the real Emily, the more I had revelations similar to her — everyone has a deeper story than what’s explained on the surface.

Where the Truth Lies is a companion to Breathless but it is not essential to read her first novel to read this one. Instead, it’s much like the smooth connection Wendy Mass makes between her 11 Birthdays and Finally: we have a character who is related to the previous characters. This connection gave me a huge ah-ha moment and made me think that Warman was pretty clever. But those who don’t have that moment will not be missing out on anything essential to the story.

Warman’s prep school drama has great appeal to fans of realistic and contemporary fiction. We are dropped amid a world of wealth, privilege, drugs, sex, and secrets; it’s everything you imagine this sort of world to be where teens are left to live in dorm rooms away from their parents. Emily will fall in love with the off-limits Del who can convince her of everything, including breaking and entering into her own home. But oh, this will have so many consequences for her, and we’re not just talking about the sort that requires time writing the same line 500 times.

As much as I dug the drama (and I did), there were some issues that I struggled with through this book. First, the pacing and time passage in this book, much like in Breathless is a bit wonky; we meet Emily part way through junior year, but somehow there is a pregnancy that doesn’t quite time out appropriately. The book ends near the middle of her senior year, I think, and it seems that there are periods of time between that simply don’t exist. While I appreciate that we weren’t dragged into periods of nothingness in the novel, there was a sense of some plot points missing that could have been worked up a little more. Likewise, some of the characters who were initially really compelling (including Franny) seem to drop out of the story too quickly for my tastes. It didn’t quite make sense to me why we knew she had a hair pulling disorder if we never got much more of her. I also wish I had learned a little more why Emily became suddenly interested in a friendship with Renee, a known drug user/seller, after initially writing her off. Perhaps this is for a second volume or a third book that pulls these characters in again.

Where the Truth Lies will appeal to fans of Nina de Gramont’s edgy prep school story Gossip of the Starlings. These are darn near perfect readalikes for me, as both are full of scandal, unraveling secrets, illegal activity, and quite lovely writing. Fans of Curtis Sittenfeld’s Prep and even Tom Wolfe’s I am Charlotte Simmons will find a lot to like here, as will fans of books along the lines of Gossip Girls, Pretty Little Liars, and Anna Godbersen’s The Luxe series. This is for more mature readers, for sure. I think this book will also have wide appeal to adults.

While I rarely comment on book covers fitting the book (haha), I just want to say that this is one of the most perfect captures of how I imagine the main character. Emily is a red head with long messy tresses, and she strikes me as a bit of an artsy dresser. In addition, the smoky element of the sky fits in perfectly with the smoke and water images that haunt Emily at night. Well played!

Want your own copy? Fill out the form below, and we’ll pick a winner at the end of the month.

*Review copy received from BEA, but this post is part of the Bloomsbury Tour.

Monsters of Men by Patrick Ness

|

The young adult market has been saturated for the past few years with paranormal romances of every possible flavor – vampires, werewolves, ghosts, fallen angels, zombies – but the recent abundance of dystopian and post-apocalyptic stories is giving the paranormal subgenre a run for its money.  Dystopian fiction has been a favorite of mine since before I knew what the word “dystopia” meant, and it can be a bit disheartening to see so many new titles pop up without a single outstanding one among them.

Amid this crowded and too often disappointing field, Patrick Ness has written a gem of a series – three books that make up the Chaos Walking trilogy.  The third and concluding volume, Monsters of Men, was published Tuesday.

This is not to say Chaos Walking doesn’t share anything with the immensely popular and significantly more mediocre books of its kind also targeting teens.  Some of the immediately noticeable aspects of Ness’ story fit right in with the mega trends of today’s young adult fiction market: first person, present tense, series of at least three, some sort of fantasy or science fiction element.  Despite these similarities, Ness has managed to create something unique, and he’s made the more traditional elements fresh again.

If you haven’t heard much about the books yet, I encourage you to check out my review of the first book here, where I provide a description of the premise.  I won’t go into much plot detail in this post since I wrote about it previously; instead I’ll concentrate on other aspects of the books – writing style, themes, and audience.

The first book, The Knife of Never Letting Go, is told entirely with Todd’s voice and ends with a cliffhanger (of course). The second book, The Ask and the Answer, picks up right where the first left off, but adds Viola’s voice to the mix.  In this volume, Todd and Viola are separated, and Todd is taken under the wing of the manipulative mayor while Viola is pulled into a rebel group called the Answer whose goal is to destroy the mayor at any cost.

Meanwhile, another war with the Spackle looms, and Ness leaves his readers on another precipice as the volume ends.

Which brings us to the third book, Monsters of Men.  In the concluding volume, Ness has added a third voice, that of a Spackle called the Return.  Here is where Ness really shines.  He’s succeeded in bringing us into the Spackle’s mind, a mind that feels both familiar but also very, very alien.  The Return’s sections are poetic and pained and at times hard to decipher, and when we finally do sink far enough into the character’s voice to understand the Return’s story, it is all the more satisfying.  Other authors have tried something similar with varying levels of success.  Philip Pullman’s Mulefa in the Amber Spyglass are brought to mind, but even Pullman couldn’t portray his aliens as effectively as Ness.  While the Return is ultimately a figure we relate to and feel sympathy for, we are also always conscious of his non-humanness.  It’s a terrific feat that Ness is able to pull off. 

There are some heavy themes at work here.  The first major one is gender, in particular what it means to be a man (in a world devoid of women or not).  It’s not a stretch to call the series feminist books for boys, but Ness doesn’t hit us over the head with it.

The other major theme is war, and this comes into play most heavily in the third installment.  Monsters of Men (taken from a character’s statement that “war makes monsters of men”) brings us full-on war with the Spackle from page one.  The mayor and the Answer must decide whether they should keep fighting each other or join forces to beat back the Spackle, and the process is not quick or pretty.  Even when it’s over, there are aftershocks.

These themes make for a very dark story, but Ness provides some balance with a few humorous touches.  Todd’s voice is a big part of what makes the first book such an enjoyable read.  His narration resembles the Noise that surrounds him, so he tells his story in fragments and run-ons and quick parenthetical asides (“Shut up!” he frequently tells the reader after he knows he’s said something not very nice.).  The style is unique and more than a gimmick – it’s necessary to the story Ness needs to tell.

Ness also brings us Todd’s dog Manchee, the best dog in literature ever.  The first line in The Knife of Never Letting Go is “The first thing you find out when yer dog learns to talk is that dogs don’t got nothing much to say.”  To prove his point, Manchee’s first words are “Need a poo, Todd.”  When you think about it, that is really one of the main things our dogs would say to us, isn’t it?

Comparisons with Suzanne Collins’ Hunger Games trilogy (which I also love, just not with quite the same fervor) are unavoidable.  You can read my thoughts on Mockingjay at our round-robin review here.  There’s no doubt that Collins has written a heck of a story, a dystopia in first person present-tense (sound familiar?) about a teenager who fights against the odds in a war that tears her world apart.  But when both books are placed side by side, Mockingjay never really stands a chance.  Ness’ story is much more layered with more complex characters and subtler, less heavy-handed messages.  Mockingjay is great, but Monsters of Men is a masterpiece.  

This complexity of character and theme is also what propels Monsters of Men beyond just the teen market.  It’s one of those crossovers that’s fast-paced enough to appeal to even reluctant teen readers, but also layered enough to appeal to adults whose teen years may be far behind them.  In this regard, it’s similar to Markus Zusak’s The Book Thief, another outstanding book marketed to teens but read and appreciated by all ages.  I hope that adult readers who don’t normally read YA won’t let the “young adult” tag mislead them – the book’s protagonists are teens, but its exciting plot and skillful writing are universally appealing.

Not everything about Chaos Walking shines.  The abundance of short fragmentary sentences can sometimes wear, and bad guys have a tendency to come back from the dead so many times that it would break even the most willing suspension of disbelief.  But these are minor quibbles about a story that is one of the best I’ve read this decade.

A common saying among readers and writers alike is “There are no new stories.” Mind-reading has been done before, as has colonization of faraway planets and war and aliens.  But it’s never been done in quite this way, and it’s never been told quite so well.