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Dust and Decay by Jonathan Maberry

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Rot and Ruin was so much more enjoyable than I thought it would be, and it left such a tantalizing hook at the end, I naturally picked up its sequel, Dust and Decay, soon after I finished reading it. Since it’s nearly impossible to review Dust and Decay without talking about Rot and Ruin, I’m giving you the obligatory warning: There are spoilers for Rot and Ruin ahead.

At the end of Rot and Ruin, Benny and Tom and the rest of the crew have defeated Charlie Pink-Eye, rescued Nix, and made it back home safely. But they spotted something incredible while out in the Rot and Ruin: a flying jet headed somewhere unknown. In the six months since they saw it, Benny, Nix, Lilah, and Chong have been training hard with Tom, learning how to fight zoms and survive in the Rot and Ruin. Once Tom deems them ready, they intend to find the jet, and hopefully the society that comes with it.

I was excited for this sequel because I’m always interested in seeing how a society handles a cataclysm – and how different societies clash during the aftermath. The question haunting Benny’s mind (and the minds of his friends) is “Is there anyone else out there?” Naturally, I have this question too.

Unfortunately, while Benny and his crew set out to find the jet, the story is not about that journey. Instead, at almost the very moment they step into the Rot and Ruin, Chong is kidnapped by a group of bad guys who plan to take him to Gameland. What’s more, they think they spot Charlie Pink-Eye in the midst of a group of zombies. Is Charlie Pink-Eye really dead? Is he a zom? Will they have to kill him all over again?

I’m sad to say that I was pretty let down by Dust and Decay because its plot is so similar to Rot and Ruin: rescue a friend from Gameland, defeat Charlie Pink-Eye, make it back home safely. The two books even end the same, with the survivors vowing to finally find that jet.

Maberry’s writing is as good as ever, with plenty of wisecracking and a nice bit of character development with Nix, who was mostly overshadowed in the first book. But Dust and Decay is too much of a re-hash of the first book to be satisfying. I felt a little betrayed by it, since I was so looking forward to seeing where the hunt for the jet would take Benny – and as it turns out, it takes him nowhere.

This is not to say that Dust and Decay isn’t worth reading. If you enjoyed the first, give it a shot: it’s fast reading despite its length, and the facets of Nix, Lilah, and Chong that Maberry reveals here are solid and interesting. I feel like I know all three of them so much better, and they moved from being ancillary characters that simply back up Benny to being characters I really care about. It’s too bad about the carbon copy plot.

Review copy received from the publisher. Dust and Decay is available now.

Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson

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Elisa, the younger of two princesses born in the kingdom of Orovalle, has been Chosen: she has the Godstone in her navel which indicates that she will be called upon one day to commit a great act of service. Problem is, Elisa doesn’t feel like she would be up to it. Her older sister is the one that has always shined. Elisa is overweight and not particularly courageous, but she must summon up as much courage as she is able if she is to conquer what lies ahead.

The first test of her courage is her marriage: her parents have arranged for her to marry the king of Joya D’Arena, a neighboring kingdom, and Elisa is petrified that he won’t like her. Then the wedding party is attacked on the journey to her new home, and after that…well, I can’t say. There’s plenty of action and lots of juicy material for a hero journey, which is essentially what Elisa is on. Through the events of the story, Elisa learns how to be self-reliant, develops some respect for herself and her abilities, and learns just what her particular act of service may be.

I’ve seen a lot of raves for The Girl of Fire and Thorns across the Internet. I actually read it many months ago before there were any reviews for it on Goodreads, so I didn’t go into it with any expectations. I’m sorry to say that I was underwhelmed. The first third of the book was a slog – it didn’t grip me and I found the pace tedious. The second and third parts picked up nicely, but I never felt that “wow” factor that so many other readers did.

I never felt pulled into the world. Those who have read my reviews of other fantasies know I love me some good world-building. Reflecting back on the book a few months after reading it, I had to look up what the three main countries were and exactly why they were fighting and how they were different from each other. I compare this to Kristin Cashore’s Graceling, where many months after I first read it, I was able to recall the names of countries and their rulers and cultures and even their precise location in the world.

There were certainly elements of the story that I did like: the inclusion of an overweight protagonist (although she slims down during the story), the Spanish-flavored elements of the story reflected in people’s names and appearances, the mythology surrounding the Godstone, and Elisa’s surprising relationship with the king.

I’m torn on the religion in Elisa’s world. It seems similar to Catholicism (I am not Catholic, so take that with a grain of salt), but there are enough differences (the Godstone) for it be jarring. Most fantasy novels that make religion a central element of the story do so with a Pagan or Earth-centered religion, or they do it with a completely made-up religion that doesn’t bear quite so much resemblance to one so many real-life people adhere to. I can’t decide if I like what Carson has done with the religion here or not, but it certainly makes the book different from the usual fantasy fare.

I’ve seen this book compared to those by Tamora Pierce and Robin McKinley. It’s got a lot of the same fantasy elements – magic and war and kingdoms (and it’s light on elves and other magical non-humans) – but Pierce’s and McKinley’s writing and characterization are so much better, it almost hurts my heart to see the comparison. But, you know, your mileage may vary. 

Review copy provided by the publisher. Girl of Fire and Thorns is on shelves today.

The Fox Inheritance by Mary E. Pearson

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I loved Mary E. Pearson’s The Adoration of Jenna Fox. In fact, it’s what got me through a reading slump back in 2009 and sucked me even deeper into the world of YA. So naturally, when I discovered there was a sequel, I was all over it. If you haven’t read The Adoration of Jenna Fox and you’d like to at some point, I recommend not reading my review – there are spoilers.

The Fox Inheritance is actually not about Jenna Fox, primarily. Instead, it tells the story of the two friends that were in the car accident with Jenna – Locke and Kara. Even though Jenna destroyed the machines that housed Locke’s and Kara’s minds, she didn’t realize there were copies. Now it’s 260 years later, and those copies have been brought out of their suspended existence and given brand-new, BioPerfect bodies.

Locke and Kara are brought back to life by Doctor Gatsbro, who keeps them at his estate and provides for all of their needs. Locke and Kara’s very existence is illegal, since none of their original bodies survived the crash, meaning they don’t meet the “Jenna standard” of ten percent. That doesn’t stop Doctor Gatsbro from inviting investors over to take a look at the two friends – investors who hope to one day have their own brains uploaded and stored while a new body is created to replace the old, worn-out one.

Once Locke and Kara realize they are merely shelf models for Gatsbro’s illegal money-making venture (and that he will never let them go and make lives of their own), they decide to make a run for it. That’s where the story really begins. Locke and Kara must learn to navigate this new world that they know nothing about and deal with the emotional turmoil that accompanies their existence. Naturally, they decide to find Jenna.

The story is told entirely from Locke’s point of view in a taut, fast-paced first person present tense. I complain constantly about how sick I am of first person present tense, but Pearson used it well in Adoration and she does so again here. The pace is fast and the surprises are many, just how I like my dystopias.

In Adoration, Pearson created a future world more advanced than our own, but not entirely different. In The Fox Inheritance, she’s hurtled us much further into the future and let her imagination run with it. In future America, there are two Americas split not on physical lines, but ideological lines, and those who don’t commit to one or the other are outcast. (Texas is also its own country, and while I find it amusing that so many science fiction and fantasy writers decide to do this, I also don’t want to give people here any more ammunition, so can we please place a moratorium on this for awhile?)

There are also robots (“bots”) all over the place that are used to help humans with a variety of everyday operations – driving cabs, shining shoes, serving food, and so on. The bots are so advanced that they seem human, but they’re tightly regulated. Dot, the bot who drives the cab Locke and Kara escape with, isn’t even built with a lower body since it’s not deemed necessary for her function. Naturally, many of these bots seem human in many respects and yearn to be free.

There are also a ton of other little details that make the world seem truly futuristic, like the freeways that automatically direct the cars and the communicator built into each person’s palm. I loved all of these details, even if I felt that not all of them worked completely (the strange split in the country is particularly weak).

There’s a lot more that Pearson does well here. She gives the reader a good sense of the horror Locke and Kara must have felt trapped in limbo for 260 years. Jenna 260 years later is realistically adult and wise, though her body looks as young as ever. And Locke’s and Kara’s anger and confusion and grief over their situation are heart-wrenching.

Sometimes Pearson’s plotting is predictable, but it’s always exciting and well-written. I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend this to fans of the first book and dystopias in general. It’s a fast, fun read that also makes you think a little – what more can you ask for?

Review copy received from the publisher. The Fox Inheritance is on shelves now.

Wisdom’s Kiss by Catherine Gilbert Murdock

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Wisdom’s Kiss is a companion novel to Princess Ben in that it’s set in the same world, but it’s not a sequel. Ben is present as an ancillary character, but the story centers on three others: Fortitude (Trudy), a young serving girl with the ability to see the future, Tips, the boy  Trudy loves who leaves town to be a soldier, and Wisdom (Dizzy), a princess who has managed to accept the marriage proposal of a man she does not love.

These three characters all manage to meet up, and the ways in which their lives intersect form the story of Wisdom’s Kiss. The book includes all three of their perspectives, as well as the perspectives of five others, such as Tips’ trainer Felis el Gato and Ben herself.

And therein lies the problem. There are eight points of view
in this book, which for most books is seven POVs too many. Very few authors can
pull off two POVs, and even fewer can do three. In my experience, George R. R.
Martin is the only author who can successfully write as many POVs as he pleases
and still produce a stellar novel.

Murdock’s problem with the multiple POVs is two-fold.
Firstly, they’re not straight up third person narratives across the board.
Instead, the book is an amalgam of first person, third person, diary entries,
encyclopedia entries, and so on. Here’s a list in case you’re curious:

1.      
3rd person traditional story of a
young girl
2.       Memoirs of a man
3.      
A play
4.      
Memoirs/diary of a duchess
5.      
Encyclopedia entries
6.      
Letters from a boy to a girl
7.      
Letters from a queen to her granddaughter
8.      
Diary entries of a princess

Got all that? What’s more, Murdock throws in some cutesy
extras to a few of the POVs, such as cross-outs and strange grammar, which adds
to the confusion. With the events told in so many different ways, there’s no
cohesive narrative thread. The story doesn’t ever feel like it’s going
anywhere, which means it moves at a glacial pace. Furthermore, the already-slim
novel being split eight ways means no one character really gets a chance to
shine, which in turn means characterization is slight or nonexistent.
The second problem with the POVs is redundancy. It can
occasionally be interesting to read about the same event from different
perspectives, but it’s overdone here. Too often, no new insights are gained by
the re-telling and I found myself skimming the pages to get to the next
chapter. This exacerbates the pacing problem I mentioned above and makes a lot
of the book a real snore.
I can admire what Murdock has tried to do with the POVs, but
it doesn’t work like she wanted it to. There are some bright spots: Murdock has
a good sense of humor – particularly with Felis el Gato’s memoirs – and the way
Trudy’s story shakes out is surprising. Unfortunately, it’s not enough to compensate for the slow pace and flat characterizations brought about by the multiple
points of view.

Review copy provided by the publisher. Wisdom’s Kiss is on
shelves now.

Reviews, Twitter-Style

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Back by popular demand, more reviews Twitter-style. These are all longer than 140-characters, but they’re quick looks at recent reads that didn’t necessarily merit a long review on their own.

Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey: This Australian import has been getting quite a bit of buzz because it’s earned the most starred reviews this year. But honestly, it was disappointing. I was engaged with the story from the beginning, as the mystery and the mental anguish within Charlie reminded me a lot of Paranoid Park and Gentlemen, but the last third of the book becomes one large information dump, essentially bringing the pace to a dead halt and killing any character growth. Moreover, even though I’m not a big mystery reader, I knew the solution to the story near immediately and never found myself questioning the plot twists — they weren’t really twisted. I’m sort of surprised the acclaim this one is getting. It’s not a poorly written book, but I don’t get the rave reviews, either. It was simply okay.

Okay for Now by Gary Schmidt: I was a huge fan of The Wednesday Wars, and though I am glad I read the companion (not sequel), I found it falling into some of the middle grade tropes I really dislike. The writing is strong, and Doug’s voice is well-done, but there are situations I felt were rushed in the end of the story. Though I’ve read arguments suggesting the end makes sense in context of the title, that doesn’t forgive it for me. The bigger issue I had was with what happens to Lily, as I feel it’s almost an eye-rolling cliche at this point. But, I do think Schmidt might earn his redemption with this novel, as I think it’s a Newberry potential title. It’s clean, though it tackles some challenging issues, and it’s perfectly appropriate for middle schoolers and up.


Chain Reaction by Simone Elkeles: This is the third and final book in the Perfect Chemistry series, and I think it is the weakest. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy this because there were times I had to put the book down because it gets that steamy. Rather than give us a bad boy this time, Elkeles mixes up the storyline and gives us a good boy and a bad girl. The Fuentes family returns to Illinois, and for me, the setting is what really makes this novel. The manner it deals with gangs and associations has huge appeal to teen readers. The writing itself is not spectacular, but Elkeles’s books are less about that and more about the pacing and characters, and with those, she does a good job. Fans of the first books will appreciate this one, and though you could read this book without reading the other two, I’d suggest starting with Perfect Chemistry to become acquainted with the back stories and to see the strongest entry in the series.

Blood Wounds by Susan Beth Pfeffer: I’ve really come to dislike the reviews of this one that suggest Pfeffer has strayed from her well-loved “Moon” series. I believe an author can branch out wherever they want to, and it’s unfair to compare the works cross-genre. That said, I thought this family drama was interesting, and it’ll have appeal for many teen readers, I think. There’s a fast pace to it, and there are a lot of questions of what if. I felt like I never got a good grip on where the story would take me, and I kind of liked that. However, there are a number of subplots that are underexplored in the story, including ones on social class and on cutting, that are almost unforgivable. There is a huge issue of social class, right within Willa’s family, but they’re left there unexplored and Willa herself wasn’t as emotionally invested in that as I was (wouldn’t you hate if your step sisters got everything and you got nothing?) Had these subplots been played upon a little more, this book would have been stronger for me. Also, the cover is terribly unappealing — there’s a house involved in this story, and I kept imagining how cool that could have been as a cover and how it would have been a little truer to the plot. Alas.

Blink & Caution by Tim Wynne-Jones: This has been another book that’s gotten a lot of acclaim lately, and while I see it, I don’t necessarily think it’s the strongest book I’ve read this year. This thriller will appeal to a lot of readers who stick it out through the clunky beginning of the story, where we’re introduced to two characters, Blink and Caution. We’re introduced separately, and we’re not entirely sure how the two of them will fall into each other’s orbits; as soon as we get to that part, though, things speed up. This story of two street kids tackles issues of class and survival quite well, and there’s enough twisting and turning to keep the pages moving. That said, I was not into the use of second person. I find that to be a very tricky way of writing, and with the story here being strong as it is, I felt the second person actually slowed the narration down. It wasn’t necessary. It was a means of heightening the tension in the story when it didn’t really need to be heightened, as there was enough tension without it.