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A Long, Long Sleep by Anna Sheehan

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It’s Bren whose lips are on Rosalinda’s when she wakes from her 62 year sleep. But it wasn’t an ordinary sleep; this was a stasis sleep, one which she was put into under suspect reasons and left in for far longer than she should have been.

That 62 years means many things have changed, and it means that Rose slept through the Dark Times. Now she’s learning about it in her history class and needs to know more than just the events she’s slept through. Where are her parents? Why was she left to sleep that long? Where is her long time love Xavier? And what does Bren have to do with all of this? Why was it his kiss that awoke her from this sleep?

A Long Long Sleep was one of the strongest books I’ve read in a while, and it’s so different from my usual reading fare. This story is science fiction with a melding of fantasy, as it’s a bit of a retelling of the story of Sleeping Beauty. It’s one that’s a little bit slower paced, but that’s because there is so much revealing to happen, both for the readers and for the main character, that that speed is necessary. It works well, and the writing itself is strong enough to sustain the pace and the plot.

As readers, we’re immediately dropped into Rose’s world right along with her. We aren’t familiar with the place she’s at, though there are certain elements that make sense and certain elements that emerge that are realistic. There’s big corporations and the role they place in society, pitted against ideas of science and nature, as well as the deep down love story at play between Rose and Xavier — and it’s this love story that really kept me reading.

We know from the beginning that when Rose entered her long stasis, she was in love with a boy named Xavier. We know there was a little bit of an age difference between the two of them, but each time Rose talks about Xavier, the age issue changes slightly, as does her perception of what they were and what they could have been had they had the chance. Bren, the boy who wakes Rose, becomes her close friend during the course of their time together, but she knows that he can never be a replacement for Xavier, and she tells him as much (and regularly). But as readers, we know there is something deeper going on with Bren, and we know he has to play a larger role in Rose’s life than she thinks. It’s both predictable and a twist when his role in the story is revealed.

As I alluded to earlier, the strongest part of this story is that we’re dropped into the story right where Rose is, and we learn everything about her world along with her. Sheehan’s decision to develop her story this way means that there are a lot of questions to be answered, and we’re left wondering if what we predict to be true really is or if we’re going to be surprised. For me, there were a lot of surprises, especially when it came to understanding why Rose underwent stasis in the first place and what experiences her parents had during the Dark Times. I was completely absorbed in this world. I wanted to know more, and with each piece of the story coming into place, I felt like I understood and sympathized with Rose more and more.

The politics in this book are worth noting as well: much like the recent XVI by Julia Karr, there is a lot of discussion of corporate control and power in this book. Some of these passages were among the most interesting for me, simply because I wanted to know where Rose stood on the issue as the person who is at the center of this corporation. I can’t say much more without spoiling that aspect of the story, but she wakes into a world where she is both powerless and all powerful, and Sheehan offers us a chance to watch Rose navigate this gulf.

Of course, there were some weaknesses in plotting and story telling here. Part of the challenge in this book was that Sheehan tries to incorporate a few too many elements into an already complex and interesting story. Though the story is told mostly in traditional language, she does offer up a few new words in the language of this society and it doesn’t work particularly well. It could have been left out entirely, and as readers, we would have still understood the futuristic world setting. Moreover, a few other plot holes emerged through the course of unraveling the storyline, and a lot of them felt a little too convenient for me as a reader (this is naturally the downside of a book where you learn the story along with the character). That said, these aspects of the story did not make the book weak, given the strength of the writing and the uniqueness of Rose and the world as a whole.

A Long, Long Sleep will appeal to fans of fairy tale retellings with a twist, as well as fans of science fiction with a little bit of a dystopian swing to it, like Karr’s XVI. It’s an engaging world, and through the way the story builds, this is the kind of book that could appeal to traditional non-genre readers, as well. It bends through a few different genres and twists expectations.

Book received from the publisher. A Long, Long Sleep publishes today.

Empire State by Jason Shiga

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Jason Shiga’s graphic novel for kids, Meanwhile, is a genius piece of comic wizardry. If you haven’t taken a look at it yet, you really should. The best way to describe it is a “choose your own adventure” comic, but it’s so cleverly done that it eclipses all of those cheesy stories you read as a kid yourself. 
But this post isn’t about Meanwhile. It’s about Empire State, Shiga’s graphic novel for adults, which I picked up solely due to my love for Meanwhile.
Jimmy is a twenty-five year old library assistant living in Oakland. He lives with his mom, signs over all of his paychecks to her, and has aspirations to being a web designer. The bright spot in his life is his best friend Sara. She’s forthright, sarcastic, funny, and has dreams of her own. Namely, she wants to be a part of the publishing world in New York City.
Sara decides to follow her dream, haring off to the Big Apple and leaving Jimmy behind. Jimmy, who has harbored a not so secret crush on Sara for ages, writes her a letter describing his feelings and suggesting a rendezvous at the top of the Empire State Building. Without waiting for a reply, he tells his mother he’s going to apply for a job at Google and buys a bus ticket to NYC.
The highlight of Empire State for me was the dialogue between Jimmy and Sara. This is a witty book, but it’s subtle. Jimmy and Sara talk about how she finds boyfriends on JDate and makes out with the fat ones out of pity, how ridiculous hipsters are, how Jimmy has no idea what all the different words mean when ordering coffee. In order to pick up on all of the nuances of the dialogue, re-reading is necessary, because some things can be missed in the course of a normal conversation between the two. 
When Jimmy gets to New York and meets up with Sara, things don’t happen as he hoped – but they don’t happen as I expected, either. It’s all very understated and much quieter than comics normally are. It works.
Empire State alternates between the present (Jimmy’s trip to NYC and the meeting that ensues) and the past (Jimmy and Sara’s friendship in Oakland and his decision to pursue her when she leaves). Shiga uses blue shades for the present and pinks for the past. It gives the book kind of a dreamy quality. If you don’t know this right off the bat, the story can be a bit confusing at first, but perseverance pays off.
Empire State is semi-autobiographical, inspired by a by a cross-country bus trip Shiga himself took from California to New York. The bus trip is actually a very small part of the story (it is pretty funny, though, since it involves a couple of newly-released prison inmates as Jimmy’s co-riders). The emphasis is on the relationship – romance? friendship? something else? – between Jimmy and Sara, and the story shines most when both occupy the page together.
Copy borrowed from my local library.

Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff

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As a reader, one of the things I really enjoy about a book is reading about people who are nothing like me. A successful book can take me away from my world and transport me somewhere completely foreign, do it successfully and leave me with a sense of understanding and appreciation of different experiences and lifestyles. Steve Brezenoff’s sophomore ya novel Brooklyn Burning offered me just that.

A fire that began over a year ago at the old warehouse in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, is an open case. There’s no suspect in the crime, though many believe 16-year-old Kid has had something to do with it.

Who is Kid? Well, Kid is a genderless teen who lives sometimes in the streets of Brooklyn and sometimes in the basement of the bar run by Fish. Kid was madly in love with Felix, who took up residence in the old warehouse that summer. But when the fire happened, he disappeared. And now Kid is lost, shuffling among a few bar regulars who become friends, including Konny. The Konny with whom Kid has also been madly in love with; she doesn’t reciprocate the crush, though.

But this summer, someone new’s in town. Someone who, like Kid, struggles with identity and struggles to find a place to fit in. Scout quickly becomes Kid’s closest friend, but knowing what Kid knows about those who just show up for the summer, Kid’s cautious in pursuing a romantic relationship with Scout, even though there are real feelings developing between the two of them. But this might be the summer that things just change and Kid may have to come to terms with these feelings and may have to pursue one of the scariest things imaginable.

Part love story, part mystery, and part story of identity, Brooklyn, Burning was unlike any story I’ve read before. Although the description sounds a little convoluted, it can’t be explained any other way. Kid and Scout are both genderless in the story. We don’t know whether they’re male or female, and the importance of this is that it doesn’t matter one bit. Kid expresses feelings toward Felix and toward Konny, and as readers, we accept this. We have to accept this, as it’s the only way to understand why Kid chooses not to identify as either male or female, and it’s also the only way to understand why Kid develops such incredible feelings toward Scout.

This is not a quick paced book. It’s slow and deliberate, as we’re introduced to the life that Kid leads: there is little safe in Kid’s world. Although bar owner Fish lets Kid periodically stay in the lower level of the establishment, we know when the cops drop by the question Kid about the warehouse fire and to give Fish grief about serving underage clients that this living arrangement is unstable. It’s nothing that could be considered a real life. Kid’s mother and father aren’t in the picture either: even though Kid’s mother accepts the lifestyle Kid leads, Kid’s father does not. He’s delineated as downright angry, and in those brief moments when Kid does sneak time in at home, we know it’s extremely uncomfortable. We feel it right along with Kid.

Brezenoff develops an extremely sympathetic character in Kid, even if as readers we really do not get to know the character well. We know more about the circumstances surrounding Kid, but do we really know Kid? I’m not sure. And I’m not sure Kid would want us to, either. Being a teen with little stable in one’s life and with the knowledge that one’s gender identity is fluid, rather than solid is good enough. This flux is the heart of the story. We’re meant to accept Kid at face level and ride along as Kid’s accused of starting this massive fire and while Kid experiences the ups and downs of connecting with other people romantically. As readers, we bring our own experiences in love — both required and not requited — and we feel everything Kid goes through in deciding whether pursuing a relationship with Scout is worthwhile. The moments when Kid opens up to Scout are aching, as it’s here we not only get a sense of the greater context of the story but also of the immense uncertainty that exists in this 16-year-old’s life. Because we have to keep reminding ourselves that Kid is only 16, not an independent adult.

There is a lot in this story readers will latch onto, including the setting. I’ve spent no time in Brooklyn personally, and though I’ve read a few stories set in this part of New York City, the street setting here is palpable. It’s a minute setting without a huge setting, as Kid’s life really revolves within a few blocks; it’s Kid’s entire life encapsulated in this tiny niche within one of the largest cities in the world. The parallels are obvious, but they’re pretty powerful. For urban teens, this will resonate greatly, but even for readers in the suburbs or in rural areas, this still works. It gives them a glimpse into the city life but also offers the realization that even life in a big city can be small and isolated.

Then, there’s the mystery of the fire. Kid gives readers small insights into this aspect of the plot, but it’s never made a huge part of the story. Except, of course, it really is the story here: we know Kid knows something, but as readers, we’re as privy to this information as the police are. As the story unfolds though, and Kid becomes more comfortable with Scout (and with the fact Felix is not going to be coming back), we get more. It’s the big reveal about the cause of the fire that re-grounds the story in Brooklyn and re-grounds the story as one about gender politics. The pacing is spot on here, and the way the intricate strings of the story tie together here is well done without feeling moralistic or political and more importantly, it never panders to the readers.

I finished this book a couple of weeks before diving into A. S. King’s Please Ignore Vera Dietz and when I finished King’s book, I was immediately reminded of Brooklyn, Burning. Although the narrative structures and storylines aren’t the same, they’re fantastic read alikes to one another, as they tackle heavy issues of love, family, acceptance, and the importance of place. It’s a realistic story and one that throws readers into an unstable world, but one that ends with just the right amount of hope. My only real issue is that it might be a difficult sell to readers, given that the book’s difficult to describe succinctly without labeling it as one type of book. But I believe pairing it up with books of similar threads will be key to getting it in the right hands. Like always, it’s worth reading the author’s note at the very end, as well. Some of what’s mentioned there will answer your own and teen reader questions about the setting and about Kid.

Keep your eyes on this one next January. I think it has a real chance at recognition by the Stonewall Awards, a recognition for books that highlight LGBTQ issues.

Review copy received from the publisher. Brooklyn, Burning is available now.

Forgotten by Cat Patrick

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Every night before sixteen year old London Lane goes to sleep, she writes a note to herself outlining the things of importance that happened that day: she found out about a test tomorrow, she wore a certain outfit to school, she had a fight with her mother. This is necessary because her memory is wiped while she sleeps, and she wakes up not remembering a single thing that happened before.

This is already a fairly tricky concept, but Cat Patrick makes her debut novel Forgotten even trickier. Not only does London not remember what happened in the past, she does “remember” what will happen in the future. So she’ll know the answers to tomorrow’s test today, but as soon as tomorrow actually arrives, she won’t even know there was a test scheduled in the first place – unless she leaves herself a note.

I don’t know if there is a way to tell this story and manage to avoid gigantic plot holes. Patrick doesn’t find a way to do it, but she’s still crafted a heck of an absorbing read, so I was able to suspend my disbelief a little more than I’m normally willing to.

Of course, there’s more to the story than just London surviving high school with her condition without anyone catching on. (Her mother and her best friend are two of the few people who know about it.) One day, London meets Luke, a cute boy at her school, but she doesn’t have any future memories of him. Knowing her condition, she concludes that this means she won’t ever see him again. If she did, she would “remember” it.

Except she does see him again. And she continues to see him, and even starts to date him, all without ever remembering him. There is clearly something different about Luke.

And then there’s that strange memory that keeps invading London’s mind – a memory of a funeral sometime in the future, where London sees a number of friends and family members and feels a deep sense of sorrow. Whose funeral will it be? And can London prevent the death from happening?

The twin mysteries of Luke and the funeral propel the story forward. London’s relationship with Luke is sweet – she manages to convince him she remembers him day after day by keeping meticulous notes of their conversations – although it does get a little tiresome to hear her remark on how hot he is every time she meets him. Frustratingly, and this may be a bit of a spoiler so stop reading now if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing, the mystery behind Luke is never fully explained. He does have a secret, but it doesn’t have anything to do with why London doesn’t remember him in her future – that part is never explained. I could get over so many of the other problems with the concept, but this one made me a little crazy.

The mystery concerning the funeral memory is handled better. I’ve read several accounts of readers being blindsided by what they perceived as a “twist” near the end of the book, but it seemed to me like a perfectly rational explanation for the clues Patrick had placed throughout the novel. I suppose what I mean is that I treated this book as much more of a traditional mystery than others may have – I expected there to be a major solution near the end and felt the answer Patrick gave us worked well. It was logical (within the context of London’s condition, at least), fit all of the clues, and packed a pretty good emotional punch as well.

Patrick has a real sense of urgency to her writing style, making this a page turner that I wanted to finish in a single sitting. She also gave me a good sense of London’s character – I felt like I knew her, and as a result I sympathized with her and rooted for her. Overall, Forgotten is a strong debut. Even less than careful readers will pick up on its problems, but it’s enjoyable and engrossing nonetheless.

Review copy picked up at TLA. Forgotten is available now.

Silent in the Grave by Deanna Raybourn

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Silent in the Grave, Deanna Raybourn’s debut effort, opens with the death of Lady Julia (née March) Grey’s husband, Edward. Edward had been sickly since a child, so his death was expected. What was not expected, however, was a private investigator named Nicholas Brisbane telling Lady Julia that her husband did not, in fact, die of natural causes. He was murdered.

Before his death, Edward had been receiving threatening notes using quotations from the Bible, including the one from which the novel gets its title: Psalm 31:17 – Let the wicked be ashamed, and let them be silent in the grave. Edward had hired Brisbane to determine the source of the notes and hopefully prevent the violence they implied. Julia is at first disbelieving, but when confronted with one of the notes, she chooses to keep Brisbane in her hire in order to determine if Edward was indeed murdered and if so, who the culprit is.

As Julia and Brisbane dive headlong into the mystery, they uncover all sorts of secrets – about Edward, about Julia’s household servants, and about Brisbane himself. This being a book from MIRA, an imprint of Harlequin, there’s a fair amount of romantic tension between the two leads, but this is a mystery first and foremost.

And it’s a great one. Julia is a terrific protagonist – a little snobby, but broad-minded enough to be relatable to a modern audience. She’s plucky, headstrong, smart, and funny, and Brisbane is wonderful as her enigmatic partner in sleuthing. Raybourn pours on the historical details, but it never becomes tedious. Instead, it makes the period come alive, elegance and decay alike. And the plots and subplots and sub-subplots are twisty and surprising and always interesting to read about.

There are some hitches. At times, characters’ actions or words will contradict. For example, Julia tells the reader how much she preferred the late Edward’s blonde good looks, and a few pages later remarks that her teenage fantasies always involved dark, brooding men – exactly the opposite of Edward. I understand that this helps develop Julia’s character and her budding romance with Brisbane, who is very much a dark, brooding man, but it seems clunky.

Additionally, characters often act in what seems to be an anachronistic way. The March family speaks rather freely about sexual affairs, homosexuality, prostitution, and other topics we modern readers tend to believe just weren’t discussed openly in prim and proper Victorian times. Julia’s elder sister Portia is, for all intents and purposes, a fully out lesbian and lives with her lover Jane, and the family doesn’t seem to suffer much socially for it. Of course these things did go on then as they do now, but the way the characters react to it strains credulity. Their sensibilities are a bit too modern to be believable.

These are minor quibbles in an otherwise fantastic story. Silent in the Grave has everything required for a nearly perfect romantic historical mystery: lots of witty banter, a solid (and wonderfully salacious) central mystery, a large and colorful cast of characters, plenty of period detail, and several subplots to keep you interested in case you solve the main mystery before the sleuth does. Plus, Raybourn resolves mostly everything but leaves one small thread purposefully dangling so you’ll be eager to pick up the sequel once you’ve finished. Which I promptly did.

Borrowed from my local library.