I love a good book that has abundant, smart use of literary allusion, especially of titles like To Kill a Mockingbird that aren’t your traditional white man titles. The Mockingbirds by Daisy Whitney had a lot to like for me, despite some of the issues I had primarily with the main character, Alex. But if you’re looking for your readalong to titles like The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks, Chris Lynch’s Inexcusable, or Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak, this might be your winner.

We begin with a bang: Alex wakes up and doesn’t know where she is, but she knows she’s lying in bed with a boy she doesn’t know well. She’ll just sneak away quietly, since she doesn’t WANT to know why she is where she is. That’s when she notices the two condom wrappers in the garbage and the can of coke that wasn’t recycled. Then it hits her — she did something last night she didn’t want to do.

When she returns to her room after hearing Carter, the mystery boy, tell her what fun he had last night, her roommates immediately tell her she’s been raped and needs to get justice. The Themis Academy doesn’t believe any of their students would ever do anything bad, so they don’t really tackle things like rape cases (all their students are perfect, don’t you know). Instead, her roommates urge her to seek justice from The Mockingbirds, a student-run group that tries student cases that would otherwise go unnoticed by school administration.

In the meanwhile and during the preparation and trial, Alex begins spending more and more time with Martin, a science geek who was also around the night of the incident. He makes her feel safe and secure, particularly as she continues experiencing flashbacks from her night with Carter. Is she sure it was rape, or was she a consenting participant?

The Mockingbirds had a great premise and I think hits on some important issues in a way that makes Alex a character who is more than her issue. However, I found Alex a bit of an irritating character: throughout the end of the book, she is heralded as a hero for standing up and speaking out. Unfortunately, I don’t buy it. Alex never seemed convinced she was raped, and when she mentions it (somewhat off-handedly, I think) to her roommates, they jump to get her to act. I think they’re in it for selfish gains — T. S. does it to spend more time with Alex’s older sister (and get herself a good word with the board of the Mockingbirds) and Maia does it because it’ll give her experience for law school. And Alex just rode the wave. She never quite came together for me and as such, it was hard for me to feel much sympathy for her.

I had a hard time buying that there was not a single adult around who would help out. When Alex confesses what happened to a teacher she trusted (and whom I felt she used her because of her connections to Juliard), the teacher doesn’t even offer to help. In a story set in contemporary times, especially at a private, coed high school, this was impossible for me to wrap my head around. With over 320 pages, too, we only ever got one mention of a mother and father. While I understand they’re not there, I couldn’t quite buy that they’d never check in on their daughter or their daughter, who was clearly traumatized from the rape, never once sought their help. I get she didn’t want to have to leave the school, but, it didn’t gel for me.

That brings me to the real issue I had, I suppose, which was that this was never a high school story. This is a college story but written down for the young adult reader. Whitney provides us a great author’s note about her own experiences, and I felt that that was the reason I couldn’t buy this as a high school story. Her experiences happened in college, prior to today’s overprotective college campus environments that have multitudes of student resources for helping victims of things like rape; for a modern story set at a private boarding high school, it was harder to buy. I also want to know how all of these high school kids were getting all the alcohol and why no one was ever performing room checks for these things.

But I digress.

I found Alex’s role as a victim quite refreshing. Where Speak and Inexcusable are heavily issue-driven, I felt that Whitney’s book was much more about the justice group, The Mockingbirds. I found the organization intriguing and I wanted to know more and more, much in the way Alex did. I loved that they sought justice and the punishment they placed upon the wrongdoer involved giving up something they loved. These were savvy kids.

Likewise, Alex’s interest were wide and varied. I found her fully fleshed in this manner, as she was driven academically and musically. She had goals, and she didn’t let what happened to her railroad her from achieving them. Her budding romance with Martin was sweet, and I found her perspective about how it’s okay to be a geek also enjoyable.

This is a title worth reading and discussing. I think that it’d be an interesting read post-classic, too, to talk about how a classic can inform and develop a whole new story, changing the entire premise but still retaining a clear connection to the original. The Mockingbirds will have pretty good appeal, particularly for older high school readers and those who are fans of the previously mentioned titles. Although I had some qualms, I’d still rate this pretty high in the world of young adult lit because it is refreshing and it is important.

Daisy Whitney’s debut hits stores in November.

Elixir by Hilary Duff, despite what it looks like, is a co-written book. The co-author is Elise Allen. This isn’t entirely uncommon for books written by celebrities, as Lauren Conrad’s books are also co-written.

That said, what began as a great premise falls apart about 2/3 of the way through the novel, suffering from the classic downfall of many books: too much tell and not enough show.

Clea is the daughter of a well-known politician and a world famous surgeon. Her mother travels the world for her job, but her father — the surgeon — disappeared. Since then, Clea’s life has been under even more scrutiny and security, as no one wants her to disappear in the same mysterious manner as her father. Prior to his disappearance, her father had appointed Ben to be a sort of care taker for Clea. Although she doesn’t need a babysitter nor a housekeeper (she already has one!), he’s there to help her navigate the difficult lifestyle of one born to the well-known. Along with Ben is Rayna, Clea’s best friend. They are inseparable since her mother and Clea’s mother are also tight. Makes sense.

One of Clea’s favorite hobbies is photography: her father got her interested in photojournalism, and she’s always found passion in capturing images of people, of things, of stories. While going through photos one night, though, Clea discovers something bizarre: there is a man who has appeared in the background of every photo she’s taken. A little sleuthing through old photos shows that this same man has appeared in the photos that her father has taken, as well as the photo of the day she and Rayna were brought home from the hospital. Was he a creeper or was he another layer of security?

Elixir sets up an exciting mysterious premise, and Clea herself is quite a likable and sympathetic character. Although she’s clearly privileged, she is still somewhat sheltered and naive. When an opportunity arises to complete a photojournalism assignment in South America, Clea jumps at the chance, despite what Ben believes will be serious objections from her mother. But oh, he’d be wrong: mom was okay with Clea jet-setting down yonder, where she inevitably will meet the mystery man in all of those photos face to face. Oh, and not only will she meet him, she may unravel the secrets to the strange dreams she’s been having over and over, wherein she plays the roles of many different women in time and oh, she might also figure out what happened to her dad. And she might just take a trip to Tokyo. Just maybe.

Hilary Duff’s novel had me quite captivated for a while, but when the suspense begins to really build, the novel falls apart. Pacing is pretty much non-existent, as we are introduced to Clea for a long time, but we are left hanging when it comes to the development of the mystery man (whose name at this point is Sage) and the timing of events doesn’t quite work well. Likewise, the number of different elements pulled together to build the suspense are too many, and we are left with a bit of a mess when it comes to why things are happening or how Clea could possibly be privy to the information she receives.

I didn’t find Sage worthwhile, and he was the mystery man. He wasn’t built strongly enough for me as a reader, and I thought Clea was far too trusting of him from the beginning. Let’s be honest: who meets a random man in South America, brings him back home to their house under a pseudonym, then hops a jet for a quick trip to a Tokyo hotel without once rousing the suspicions of their mother? And what made her so sure he knew what was going on with her father? There were too many threads and not enough knots here to pull through.

Finally, I had a difficult time even following what happened to her father and the Elixir of Life. Duff’s book builds from the mystery that Clea’s father has discovered the Elixir of Life, which allows people to live multiple lives. Kind of, I think. It sounded like the Fountain of Youth to me, but somehow, it lets people live different lives in different places. Having this Elixir got some people mad, and they’re who ultimately were onto Clea’s father. And Sage was on Clea’s father’s side here, but because the last 2/3 of the book relies so heavily on explaining a complicated backstory, it’s never clear to me who I am supposed to be rooting for as a reader. I know this is the first book in a series, but being that I was introduced to one character and her best friend for so long, then dropped amid a complicated back story, I’m not compelled to pick up further volumes.

I wish the backstory about the Elixir were better developed from the beginning, with less emphasis on Clea’s mother, her friend Rayna, or how dumb she was about the massive crush Ben had on her. Ben’s a stock character here, but just as Clea is clueless about how to use him in her life, so is the story. It’s disappointing, since I think he could have added a lot to it. Oh, and Clea ends up sleeping with Sage at one point, even though he had made her really frustrated. That was another relationship that just needed more oomph to work for me.

Elixir will work, however, for fans of Lisa McMann’s Wake trilogy: although it’s not as well fleshed, the dream elements, the idea of the incubus, and the mystery will appeal to these readers. When I initially began reading this title, I thought it would work for fans of Joanna Philbin’s The Daughters series, given the “child of celebrities” angle, but I think those who are interested in that aspect of her series might be a bit disappointed when this unravels.

Although the name alone will sell this book, I think it will disappoint many of its readers. With the abundance of strongly written mysteries with a paranormal and supernatural element to them, Elixir’s weak pacing and many strings of moments where one needs to suspend logic won’t match others on the shelf. I wish this were edited a little more tightly and took the opportunity to delete some of the elements that weren’t necessary and beef up the character relationships a little stronger that did matter. Likewise, less telling and more showing, particularly when it comes to the history of the Elixir of Life, could have sustained the momentum just a bit more.

*Review copy received from Simon & Schuster. Thanks!

As readers already know, one of my favorite styles of writing is the gothic novel. On my recent trip to Las Vegas, I packed myself with The Twin’s Daughter by Lauren Baratz-Logsted. I knew it was a mystery of sorts, but I knew little beyond that. When I cracked it open and dove into a nearly 400 page gothic novel, though, I couldn’t have been more excited.

A knock on the door of Lucy Sexton’s door will change her life forever when the long lost twin of her mother, Helen, appears. Lucy didn’t know her mom had a sister, let alone a twin. Although Helen offers to leave, Lucy’s mother and father insist on keeping her at their large home and taking care of her. But when Lucy’s mother insists on getting her sister a new wardrobe, etiquette classes, and hiding her from society, Lucy knows something deeper is going on. Why can’t Helen go for a walk in the park? Why can’t she marry any of the suitors who are coming to the door for her?

The Twin’s Daughter begins slowly, as we delve into the back story of who Lucy is, as well as who her mother and Helen are. We learn that Helen and mom were not the children of the man and woman that Lucy knew as grandparents, but were instead raised by them after a birth that shouldn’t have happened — and in that birth, one child needed to be sacrificed to an orphanage of sorts. Although it sounds complicated, it makes sense to both the reader and to Lucy. What doesn’t make sense, though, is why Lucy’s mother and father insist on keeping Helen cloistered. As she makes progress in her education, it seems strange that Helen cannot go outside or cannot meet the men who want to woo her.

But it is a strange murder that rocks the world of Lucy and her family and it pushes the novel forward, as we are left wondering whether it is Lucy’s mother or Helen who was the victim of the horrendous crime.

The Twin’s Daughter, despite some of the flaws I found in pacing and in plot inconsistencies, rocks for its narrator: Lucy is a fantastic narrator, as we are left wondering whether or not she is reliable. In the first third of the book, Lucy gains the trust of the reader. We believe her observations that she has of her mother and father (and she tells us over and over they are great parents, leaving us to believe her) and of Helen. But when the murder happens, everything is called into question. Lucy becomes unhinged in her search for the truth and drags the readers along for the ride. She falls in love shortly after and marries, and while we believe her in those factual moments, we cannot believe some of the connections she makes between Helen and her mother.

As a reader, I was left confused at the end of the lengthy novel, and I was utterly satisfied in this. I reread the last couple of chapters multiple times and continued feeling disoriented. But once I stepped back and realized my confusion came from being too invested in Lucy’s perspective, I realized that maybe I’d been tricked. But the trick here isn’t a plot device. Instead, it was the hallmark of a strong gothic novel: as readers, we must step back and question everything. This is a novel that begs for a reread with this perspective; it is a lengthy character study with a strong plot in the background, rather than a strong background with a character to move through it.

As mentioned briefly before, there are some issues with this novel. First, the pacing is not as strong as it could be. It seems as though the first 2/3 of the novel has a young Lucy, but within just a couple of chapters, she will become engaged, married, and unravel the life-long secrets of her family (maybe, that is). Likewise, there were definite plot holes and moments of confusion for the reader, perhaps brought on because of the pacing. Readers, though, will likely forgive these issues for the greater story and mystery at hand.

The Twin’s Daughter will appeal to fans of historical novels, novels set in Victorian London, and gothic novels. Hand this one to a fan of Jane Austen or the Bronte sisters, as there is a romance that arises between Lucy and a neighbor boy that would fit into the love stories of those classic writers. This is a book that will make readers think and question, as well as pull them through intricate twists and turns. Although it is lengthy, it moves quickly as readers attempt to solve the mystery. It left me eager to dig into more of Baratz-Logsted’s novels.