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books

Awakening by Karen Sandler

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I really enjoyed Tankborn, the first in Karen Sandler’s futuristic series featuring a world (called Loka) where some human beings are genetically engineered for hard labor and other undesirable tasks – a scientifically designed slave class. Our protagonist, Kayla, is one of these GENs – genetically engineered non-humans. At age 15, she was assigned to work for a powerful high-born man who turned out to be the leader of the Kinship, an organization dedicated to transforming the society on Loka, freeing GENs from their crippling restrictions, and gaining them rights of full humans – as the Kinship believes they are. Awakening continues this story, after Kayla has joined the Kinship in her own right.

While Tankborn focused on both Kayla and her best friend Mishalla, another GEN, Awakening focuses almost entirely on Kayla, with the majority of the story told from her third-person perspective. There’s a lot going on with Kayla in this installment. She struggles with her feelings for Devak, the grandson of the Kinship’s leader, a trueborn boy. There’s another GEN boy in the picture, Abran, who has secrets of his own. Then there’s the fact that Kayla keeps discovering things hidden in her brain, downloaded and installed there by an unknown person, that hint at a splinter group called FHE: Freedom, Humanity, Equality.

I assumed that much of the story would entail Kayla’s fight for equality with the Kinship, but that’s not quite the direction the book takes. Instead, a large part focuses on a disease affecting GENs (and only GENs) called Scratch. Even more mysteriously than the disease itself, which has no known cure, is the fact that some GENs seem to have the ability to heal others of Scratch simply by touch.

There’s a lot going on in the book, obviously, but I found it to be much slower than Tankborn despite this. It seems less focused and more meandering, with a few too many sections of dialogue where characters simply muse on what to do next instead of just doing it. A benefit to this, though, is that we get a lot more insight into Loka – its culture, its wildlife, and its environment. We learn more about Loka’s moons and their cycles, about the allabain people and their religious beliefs, about the history of the settlements. As a result, Loka feels like a living, breathing place, and it’s clear Sandler has put a lot of thought into making it seem so. Things like this are of huge interest to readers who love detailed world-building, but may be tedious for those who want a more plot-driven story.

I mentioned it in my review of Tankborn, but it bears mentioning again: Kayla is a black girl, and she is the star of this series. She’s not the best friend or the villain; she doesn’t even share protagonist status in this volume like she did in the first. What’s more, her face is prominently featured on the cover of the book. The series is published by Tu Books, an imprint of Lee and Low, who are dedicated to promoting culturally diverse books. In science fiction and fantasy, the lack of protagonists of color is a worrying problem, so books like this are essential.

While I don’t think this series will necessarily appeal to casual SF readers, it will most certainly appeal to seasoned ones, and I hope they’ll give it a try – it’s original, well-written, and unpredictable. We need to show that we want more SF stories like this featuring girls of color – and the way to do that is to read them, talk about them, and buy them.

Check back tomorrow for a twitterview with Karen Sandler addressing some of these things, plus a giveaway of a finished copy of Awakening.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Movie Review: Catching Fire

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I feel like movie adaptations of young adult novels (as opposed to adult novels) have a lot of baggage to carry, doubly so if the movie and novel are SFF. Take this review of The Book Thief film adaptation (but do brace yourself before reading it, as it’s irritating on multiple levels).
What I get from that review and others of its ilk is that a young adult film adaptation not only has to be a good movie for teens, it also has to be a good movie for adults, which is, of course, better. Touching on adolescent emotions and interests is beneath adults, really – no matter that all adults were at one point adolescents themselves (except, perhaps, for Godfrey Cheshire?). I would even go so far as to say that a young adult film adaptation would be lauded if it appealed to adults at the expense of its appeal to teens. It’s the same sort of thing I see when SFF films (for any age group) are reviewed: the movie must appeal to non-SFF fans if it’s to be taken seriously, if it’s to be called truly good.
All of this intro is to say that snooty, stick-up-their-you-know-whats reviewers shouldn’t have a problem with Catching Fire. It’s a very good movie in its own right. It will most certainly satisfy teen viewers. It will also appeal to adults, which doesn’t necessarily make it better, but it certainly makes it more lucrative.
Like the book, this film has a much slower burn than The Hunger Games. I’d say that a good half – or perhaps more – is occupied with events prior to the Quarter Quell. I don’t mean to say it’s boring; it’s far from that. In fact, these sections before the more overt violence in the arena are just as horrifying – but in a different way. When Katniss makes a fatal mistake during her performance in the Victory Tour, and someone dies as a result, it all becomes clear: even the tiniest of wrong moves has deadly effects. This is something the book and the movie both do very well.
Once the Quarter Quell actually begins, the tension ratchets up 200%. As a viewer who knew precisely what would happen and when, I still found myself breathless at several points, shouting in my head to “run faster!” or “look behind you!” I was disappointed by one instance of a “jack-in-the-box scare,” which is a cheap ploy and never executed well, but aside from that, the arena is just as action-packed and horrifying as it should be.
Collins’ killer story (pun intended, so sorry) is buoyed by excellent acting on almost all fronts. Jennifer Lawrence is amazing, as I knew she would be. I was surprised to learn after watching the film that people doubted Sam Claflin as Finnick; he was terrific, with a 1000-watt grin that fits precisely my recollection of the character. (In fact, I cared a bit more about him in the movie than the book!) Woody Harrelson as Haymitch is hilarious but also capable of gravity; Elizabeth Banks as Effie shows us that she’s more than sparkly hair in this installment as well. Lenny Kravitz (Cinna), Donald Sutherland (President Snow), Stanley Tucci (Caesar Flickerman), and Jena Malone (Johanna Mason) are all excellent too. They’re all memorable, they all make an impact, and they all manage to be more than one-note characters. 
The two main boys (Gale and Peeta) are still merely OK. Since Liam Hemsworth (Gale) is given more to do than just mope in the field, he fares a little better in this installment, but I still cringed every time he called Katniss “catnip.” And I know there are Peeta fans out there, but I still find his character pretty bland, and Josh Hutcherson didn’t do anything to change that opinion. (This does change in the third book, when Peeta becomes very interesting indeed, thanks to some Capitol torture. Yes, I realize how heartless that sentence makes me sound.)
I wasn’t bothered by anything that was in the book but didn’t make it into the movie, though I’m sure some others will be (perhaps the fact that there is no Bonnie and Twill will be most upsetting, but who knows). Unlike some other readers, I don’t have all details committed to memory, so chances are I don’t even remember something that may upset someone else. 
I did take note of a couple of things that the filmmakers added which I really liked. The first is a lot of dialogue between Plutarch Heavensbee (portrayed by Philip Seymour Hoffman) and President Snow (and these conversations made me doubt my recollection of Heavensbee’s true goals, Hoffman is so good at his manipulation of Snow – and the audience). Since the book is told from Katniss’ point of view, these type of scenes aren’t possible there. This is just one example of how certain media forces a different kind of storytelling – and that’s a good thing. Movies are not books. We don’t get as much insight into Katniss’ head in the movie, but we do get these juicy scenes between characters that are not Katniss. It adds a layer of richness to the story that I love. It also enhances the world-building immensely, something I found lacking at times in the books.
Another addition is President Snow’s young granddaughter. She’s a very clever device, seen in a few brief conversations with her grandfather, usually talking about what a fan she is of Katniss. It brings home to President Snow – quite literally – just what Katniss has been doing to Panem. And of course Donald Sutherland is remarkable, allowing the audience to both laugh at him and be horrified at what it all means.
As with the first movie, Catching Fire’s visuals are very slick. The special effects make everything look authentic. This sort of thing is often seen as tangential by some reviewers, but it’s so essential in a movie like this. The Capitol truly is an incredible sight. The districts are equally incredible, but for very different reasons. The excellent visual effects create the buy-in necessary for the audience to be fully invested in the story.
I was happy to see that there was much less shaky cam during the action scenes. There’s not a lot of blood, though the camera does focus on some other gruesome aspects (I had to turn my head away during one scene). As the shaky cam was my primary issue with the first film, I’d say I enjoyed this one a little more. In fact, when it ended, I turned to my boyfriend and told him I wanted to see it again. 

Primates by Jim Ottaviani and Maris Wicks

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Primates is a nonfiction gem. Ottaviani and Wicks tell the interlocking stories of three female scientists who did groundbreaking research with primates: Jane Goodall, Dian Fossey, and Birute Galdikas. All three women lived with the primates they studied (chimps, gorillas, and orangutans, respectively), and all three made significant contributions to their fields.

Of particular interest is the fact that they were all able to do their work because of their association with noted male scientist Louis Leakey – the three women were all dubbed “Leakey’s Angels” as a result. Leakey believed women were uniquely qualified for this type of research, and he was able to secure the funding to make it happen. There’s certainly an element of frustration knowing that brilliant female scientists needed another male scientist to make it possible for them to do their work.

I also found it interesting that two of the three women (Goodall and Fossey) actively eschewed traditional education (by this I mainly mean advanced college degrees), finding it unnecessary and even counterproductive. It’s only the third and youngest, Galdikas, who was already pursuing an advanced degree when she met Leakey, several years after Goodall and Fossey had begun their research with him. I can’t help but feel that the distaste for a degree has a lot to do with the traditional maleness of it as well as the very hands-off nature of such things, which didn’t appeal to these scientists who literally lived alongside their subjects.

This is the kind of book that inspires the reader to find out more about the subjects after the last page is turned. In so doing, I discovered that Ottaviani and Wicks significantly glossed over Fossey’s death – they refer to it, but make no mention of the fact she was murdered, the case still unsolved today (mostly). It’s not an exhaustive biography. Ottaviani mentions in the author’s note that the book is a hybrid of fiction and nonfiction – he had to fill in the gaps and speculate at some points. It’s told in first person, with Goodall narrating the first part, Fossey the second, and Galdikas the third. All three scientists narrate the last few pages, their voices intermingling. During this section, we get some idea of what they thought of each other, which I found very interesting. While the handwriting is different for each scientist, I did find it a bit difficult to distinguish who was narrating at times.

It’s in full-color, eye-catching and gorgeous. I’m so glad it is; it would be a travesty not to see the fantastic nature scenes depicted in all their glory. The three women look distinct from each other, and each is easily identifiable in a real-life photograph at the end of the book. This is excellent nonfiction with high appeal. I was amazed at what these women did, and I loved knowing that two of them continue to do amazing work today. I think this fact will make it seem relevant to kids – especially girls – who love science and animals, and it may inspire them to think of doing something like this themselves one day.

I never thought I’d find primates so fascinating. I still don’t think I really do. But the scientists? Definitely so.

Copy borrowed from the library.

The In-Between by Barbara Stewart

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Barbara Stewart’s The In-Between begins when Ellie, along with her mom, dad, and her cat, are in a car accident in the Poconos. They were moving from a small town in Pennsylvania to a smaller town in New York, where dad was taking a new job, mom was studying for her real estate license, and where Ellie could get a fresh start. Fourteen-year-old Ellie was — and is — troubled. Best friend Priscilla wasn’t the friend she thought she was, and she went through her life in a state of unease, disappointment, and ultimately, she attempted suicide as a means out. But the car accident puts everything into a different type of tail spin. Just as things felt like they could be a fresh start, they’re not.

When Ellie awakes and finds herself in her new home, she’s visited by the ghost of her deceased mother. The car accident had killed her and left just Ellie and her father to build a new life together. But Ellie sensed mom all around her; mom often pressed into her palm, reassuring her that even in the afterlife, her presence was still around.

So was the presence of Madeline.

Madeline was everything Ellie ever wanted to be. Stylish. Fun. A little bit wild and unashamed. This was not just who Ellie hoped to be in her new town, but Madeline was also the kind of person Ellie wanted to be friends with. They spent countless hours together, and it was Madeline who Ellie opened up to about everything: her broken friendships back in her old town, her depression, her suicide attempt, everything. Ellie and Madeline’s relationship bordered on obsessive; Ellie couldn’t stop thinking about her and desiring to be with her at all times. She even let Madeline tattoo her body with an “ME” over he heart — “ME” standing, of course, for “Madeline” and “Ellie.” Mostly.

But Ellie’s father wasn’t the one who survived the accident. He died. He never got to be at the new house. Ellie’s mother was the one who lived. So when Ellie wakes up — really wakes up — from the accident, everything in the house feels familiar, but her father isn’s there. Her mother is. And Madeline isn’t really there either. Except her presence is. On top of the weird and unnerving deja vu, Ellie has to be nice to Autumn, a girl who lives near her, who her mother wants her to be friend, and who is too much like the people back in her old town that she didn’t like. Fortunately, Ellie also meets Jess, a popular girl. But Jess won’t befriend her, not really. And Autumn will get a very different impression of Ellie when Ellie admits to trying to kill herself, to the strange visions she’s seen, and to Madeline.

It’s a sonogram in a box of items that makes things snap into place for Ellie. First when she discovers it in her afterlife with her dad, and second, when she confronts her mother about it. But mom isn’t forthcoming. Mom won’t be forthcoming. Mom insists Ellie mind her own business, get herself together to be the New Ellie she’s supposed to be in her new life, and spend more time with Autumn as a means to get there.

Ellie can’t stop thinking about Madeline. Can’t stop embodying her spirit. Can’t stop embodying her.

The In-Between is wonderfully complex — as a reader you’re never sure what reality Ellie is taking you through. Is she mentally ill? Is this a side effect of the car accident, in that she’s seeing and connecting with spirits that reside in her mind? Or is Ellie truly being visited by a ghost in this new place? There are many layers to this cake, and each one makes sense alone. Together, they blur the lines between reality and madness, between mental illness and the supernatural. I love books that do this, forcing the reader to consider the lines between what mental illness is and what the supernatural may be. In many ways, Stewart’s novel is reminiscent of Nova Ren Suma’s Imaginary Girls or 17 & Gone because of this.

There aren’t answers here, either, so spending time trying to find an explanation isn’t worthwhile. The story is about that unknowing, that line in between madness and sanity. Between the real world and the not-so-real world. Is there a distinction? Should there be one? Does it matter?

Of course, Ellie offers ideas, and the way the book is written, she is in many ways addressing a readership. This isn’t a diary. But maybe it is a diary. It’s never entirely clear whether Ellie is alive or dead. Whether Madeline is the one alive or dead. Plenty of the holes in the story could lead readers to believe either story or explanation. Ellie isn’t entirely reliable, and we know this near-immediately. We first believe she’s living with her father in the new house, then we’re told shortly after that she’s living with her mother. That her mother is pregnant with twins.

Twins.

Stewart weaves into the story an element about twins. The sonogram Ellie discovers shows that when she was in utero, she wasn’t alone. She’d had a twin, but that twin had disappeared. There hadn’t been a miscarriage; it was vanishing twin syndrome. Armed with that knowledge, as well as her own experiences with depression and suicide, Ellie tells herself that the reason for her life never being good was because she was a murderer event before she was born. That because of her, her twin sister Madeline never got the chance to live. That because of her, the good girl, the cool girl, the one who would have been popular and well-liked and a good daughter never got the chance to exist. Instead, she can only exist in the mind of Ellie and within the body of Ellie.

Ellie is just her carrier.

Mom being pregnant with twins post-accident, post-death of her father, is both the best thing and the worst thing Ellie can imagine. The best because her siblings will have one another. The worst because what does that leave Ellie? Ultimately, it is those twins — and what happens to them — that forces Ellie to confront Madeline head-on. And, ultimately, it’s where the story leaves readers wondering what just happened, what will happen, and whether we’ve been taken on a wild ride with Ellie’s mental illness.

Stewart’s writing is crisp, tight, and completely believable. Many YA books featuring younger teen protagonists can miss the mark. Here, Ellie is 14. Though the book does tackle the creepy head on, and though Ellie does discuss her suicide attempt and does participate in an act of violence, the book is suitable for younger teen readers. The story is a trip, and because it’s not one which has any solid resolution, it will frustrate those readers who seek answers. Fortunately, many readers who love darker stories, who love horror and the supernatural and ghosts, will be very satisfied with how many possibilities exist in this book. Because what is living? What is death? Can we exist in a world between the two of them and interact with both sides? Does mental illness hold the power to allow both sides in?

And perhaps “ME” means something greater than simply Madeline and Ellie.

Pass this off to readers who love Nova Ren Suma’s Imaginary Girls or 17 & Gone. In many ways, this reminded me of Sarah McCarry’s All Our Pretty Songs in terms of writing — it’s got a magical quality to it that doesn’t override the story.

Review copy received via the publisher. The In-Between will be available November 5 from St. Martin’s Press.

Audiobook Review: The Waking Dark by Robin Wasserman

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On a seemingly normal day in Oleander, Kansas, five people attacked anyone and everyone around them, using whatever weapons were at their disposal. Afterward, all the murderers killed themselves – except for one: Cass Porter. Cass doesn’t remember killing, but she knows she’s done it. She doesn’t know why she would have done such a thing, but she knows she’s a monster. She’s locked away in a mental hospital, the sentence she received instead of prison, until the tornado hits.

No one understands why five people suddenly became murderers, killing people at random. When a tornado rips through Oleander, it destroys much of the town and kills off a great number of its population. The town is quarantined – for its safety, supposedly. The tornado also unleashes something inside of Oleander’s surviving residents. They start to turn on each other. Small slights turn into bigger transgressions. Religion and small-town politics collide. People start dying again at their neighbors’ hands, only this time, no one seems to care. In fact, many of the residents seem to regard it as business as usual. It turns out the Killing Day wasn’t the worst thing to happen to Oleander; what came after the tornado will be much, much worse.

The story follows several teenagers in the town (a football player, the sister of a murdered child, a girl from the meth-dealing family, etc.), Cass among them, shifting perspectives but keeping everything third person past tense. Their stories overlap in different ways, and they do all end up together near the end (more or less).

This is a tough one to evaluate. It’s not a “jump out at you scary” type of horror novel. I wouldn’t say that I was ever on the edge of my seat, itching to hear what would happen next. It did feel a bit long to me. I think Wasserman sacrificed pacing in order to give us more in-depth character development. That’s not a bad thing, on the whole – but it’s not a choice I personally liked. This is not a quick read.

The key question, the one Wasserman clearly wants the listener/reader to ponder, long after the book is over, is “Did these people do what they did because they always had it in them, or did something external turn them into something they never were?” It’s a question the surviving characters themselves address directly, with different theories. No conclusions are given. We’re deliberately left to wonder. That is the power of the book – and also its most horrifying aspect, I think. What if all your neighbors, your friends, your family harbor the ability to do these terrible things? What if all it takes is something to set it off – and no one would even recognize the difference?

The body count is high. Wasserman doesn’t shy away from killing off her main characters, some in particularly horrible ways. It does make the whole listening experience quite tense, since it’s never clear who’s going to make it to the next chapter – and who’s going to end up burned alive. It doesn’t ever feel exploitative, though, thanks to the time and care Wasserman has taken in creating her characters. They don’t all like each other – and they shouldn’t all like each other – but they’re people you’ll recognize. What they do to each other – both good and bad – is what we all do to each other. Even the horrible things start with a few minor things and escalate.

Kelly’s read this one too, and she’d be able to speak much more to the Midwest setting. I grew up in Southern suburbia and have lived in a large-ish city plus a rural/suburban Southern hybrid, and none of them seem close to what I’ve seen a small town in the Midwest described as. Oleander, Kansas seems very suffocating, even before it’s quarantined – and I’m sure this metaphor will not be lost on teens.

Give this to teens who appreciate thoughtful horror and a more leisurely pace. I’d recommend it on audio as well. Reader Mark Deakins gives the story the appropriate amount of gravitas without making it seem melodramatic. Though I do have to mention that one of his female characters sounds a bit like a character from South Park at times…

Finished copy received from the publisher.