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Trilogies That Avoid the Second-Book Slump

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The book world is so saturated with series right now that they often get a bad rap. Trilogies in particular are often accused of being overlong, of creating three books where one or two would do. And that middle book usually takes the brunt of the criticism. I will admit that a lot of second books are slower than the first books and seem like set-up for the third books more than actual self-contained stories. 
When an author has such a winner with a first book, it’s hard to make that second one in the trilogy live up to its predecessor. I could name many, many authors whose second books were OK, or good, but not even close to the outstanding quality of the first. I could also name many whose second books were outright stinkers.
But that’s not the purpose of this post. Instead, I want to focus on second books that soar, that exceed my expectations, that reaffirm my faith in series, which I have always loved. I’ve deliberately focused on trilogies that tell a single, unified story, featuring the same characters. This means you won’t find books in the Graceling or Abhorsen series on my list (although I have opinions about those too). You also won’t find longer series like Harry Potter. The list below features second books that were stronger than the first books, or at least approached the first books’ greatness. These second books are far from filler.

Catching Fire by Suzanne Collins
I may be risking the wrath of my readers, but I think Catching Fire is a better book than The Hunger Games. It tells a much larger story, and much more is at stake than Katniss’ life and the well-being of her family. Catching Fire is where we get conspiracies and the resistance and proof that what happens in the arena will have huge repercussions for the rest of the nation. It’s tricky, too, because Collins makes you think it’s going to be a rehash of The Hunger Games, and then she turns it into something different and awesome.
The Ask and the Answer by Patrick Ness
I loved The Knife of Never Letting Go, but The Ask and the Answer devastated me. After I finished it, I had to write out a hypothetical letter to Patrick Ness just to get all my feelings out. Where the first book was basically an extended chase scene, the second book is much more. This is where the trilogy really begins to delve into what it means to be at war, to subjugate other creatures, to be manipulated and to manipulate others. It also gives us the secondary perspective of Viola, which adds a lot to the story. This installment is just as strong as the first and third.

Red Glove by Holly Black
It’s not quite as good as White Cat, but it’s still a worthy successor. The actions of Cassel and the other characters carry over from the first book and inform the plot of the sequel, and the sequel does have a great plot: large body count, plenty of mayhem, a good mystery for Cassel to investigate, and lots of soul-searching. Cassel’s and Lila’s character arcs are also particularly well-done here.
Scarlet by Marissa Meyer 
Technically this is a quartet, but I’m cheating and including it. Meyer helps make Scarlet a successful sequel by giving us another protagonist (the eponymous Scarlet), therefore giving us another perspective. Cinder is still there as a protagonist as well, but the addition of Scarlet grows the story. We see it from another angle, in another voice (though both are third-person), and we learn how the events of the first book affect more than just New Beijing. (I’ll have a longer review of Scarlet closer to its publication date in February.)
There were a few sequels I’ve read recently that didn’t make the cut: Ashen Winter, Insurgent, Dust and Decay. They weren’t bad books, but they weren’t close enough to the quality of their predecessors, and a lot of what was in them seemed like more of the typical filler that middle books get accused of. I also made a deliberate choice not to include The Subtle Knife, but only because I think it’s the weakest of the three. (It’s still a phenomenal book, but when it’s bookended by The Golden Compass and The Amber Spyglass, it just can’t compare.)
So, what ones did I miss? I’m sure there are more out there.

It’s OK to Give Up

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It’s OK to give up on books that aren’t a good fit for you.

I know this intellectually, but in practice, it can be more difficult. I’ll often set a book down for a few days, thinking I’ll pick it up again soon. Then days turn into months, and before I know it, a book has been sitting on my “currently reading” shelf for over a year.

I’m better at giving up on books now than I used to be. I have a better idea of what I like, and if I really want to know how a story turns out but don’t particularly care for how the author is writing it, I can head to the Internet for answers. (I’m imagining some of you gasping at this, but really, this is one of the best uses for Goodreads.)

Here are a few books that I’ve given up on recently and why. Of course, I know people who have loved these, but they weren’t good fits for me.

After the Snow by S. D. Crockett

This is written in dialect, which normally takes some time to get used to. Unfortunately, I never fell into the rhythm of it like I did with Blood Red Road. That made reading it a huge struggle, and it wasn’t worth it for me to keep going. I did get to a point where I felt like I could predict a major plot point, so I flipped forward to see if I was right (I was). That was enough for me.

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn

Nick’s wife Amy goes missing, and Nick turns into the prime suspect. Nothing is what it seems in this disturbing adult mystery/thriller. Normally I love a good mystery, particularly one full of twists as this one is, but this book just made me feel gross. I don’t mind language, I don’t mind much violence, I don’t mind sex and drugs. It’s the relationship between Nick and Amy – manipulative and twisted – that prevented me from wanting to finish this one, and it’s the relationship that will be the draw for most readers. It’s a credit to Flynn that she made me feel slimy reading about her characters, since they are supposed to be messed up people, but I sure didn’t like reading about it. It made me want to run over to my boyfriend and give him a huge hug and thank goodness our relationship isn’t so ugly. So, so ugly. Unlike most others, my abandonment of Gone Girl wasn’t due to boredom. (I did check out the intentionally spoilery reviews on Goodreads so I could find out how it ended.)

Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas

This book should have been a surefire winner for me. High fantasy, snarky and badass female protagonist, court intrigue, magic. My teen self would have been salivating over it. But nothing here really clicked for me. It’s hard for me to pinpoint exactly why, other than I found the writing kind of blah. Celaena’s voice should have been strong, considering her character (assassin who survived being a slave in salt mines), but it was mostly forgettable. And I guess I just never felt invested in her story, which revolves around a competition to be the king’s personal assassin. The stakes are high, there’s a lot of danger, but she never made me care about it enough to want to keep reading.
Are there any books you’ve given up on lately?

Out of Reach by Carrie Arcos

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Rachel’s brother Micah disappeared.

Two weeks ago, she got a letter from him.

Today, she’s going to go look for him.

Carrie Arcos’s debut novel Out of Reach follows Rachel and Micah’s former best friend Tyler as they search for him. But it’s not just a road trip in search of a missing brother and missing friend. This is a story about how addiction can tear apart even the most solid of relationships. How meth addiction can ruin not just the life of the addict, but how it impacts the lives of those who love that person.

Told through Rachel’s voice, we’re given the back story of Micah’s struggle with the drug. What started as a one time thing slowly grew to be a part of who Micah was and of how he survived each and every day. Rachel knew about his drug use and had an inkling about how serious it was, but she never confronted him. She never told her parents, either. She let Micah have his addiction, seeing it as not that problematic.

Of course, it was. That’s why he disappeared. He’s living on the streets somewhere, doing what he can to make a buck and score his next stash.

But it’s not Rachel’s fault.

As Rachel and Tyler set out on the trip to find Micah, readers are given insight into his spiral into full-blown addiction. Both of them carry the weight of responsibility, and together, they’re hopeful they will make things right by finding Micah, bringing him home, and getting him the help he needs. It won’t be that easy, though.

While Arcos’s novel successfully illuminates the impact of addiction on a family, I never found the book to carry the sort of emotional heft it needed. Rachel is saddled with grief and with frustration at herself for not speaking up. For also hiding away the letter Micah sent her for weeks before choosing to see what sort of trouble he was in right now. The problem is that it’s all talk — there isn’t actually an emotional component to the story. It’s hard to connect with Rachel because she says repeatedly she feels the guilt, but that’s it. There’s not an actual expression of emotions or her guilt. It’s told, not shown, which is going to happen when much of the story is told through back story on the drive down. This isn’t a story in the moment. It’s a reflection on a story as it played out over the years. Rachel isn’t emotionally distant. Rather, there is simply no emotional connection to be made here.

This is further challenging as — spoiler alert — Rachel’s car is stolen. Where an average teenager who has snuck out from her parents’ home to go look for a missing person would feel utter anger, frustration, and rage about a car being stolen, Rachel fills out a missing car report and that’s it. For a moment she considers her options and feels like she might be stuck, but the second the report is filed, it’s tucked away and forgotten. The thought about where her car could be, how she could go find her brother, nor how she could get home aren’t considered again. It’s odd and jarring to the reader because Rachel’s emotions do not match the situation. There are no emotions, period. And where she could have been easily void of emotions, which is a valid way for a character to be, her reflections upon her guilt show that she indeed has experienced them before. That they are a part of her. Us readers, though, never get to see them.

It’s impossible for me to write this paragraph without spoiling, so drop down if you don’t want it. But I found the ending of this book to make this lack of emotion even more difficult. Rachel and Tyler leave before finding Micah, though she is reunited with her car through one of the most ridiculous scenes in the book. On the drive home, Rachel and Tyler admit to potentially having feelings for one another, and that both of them are devastated by the life Micah chose. Beyond that, though, we never hear how Rachel feels about leaving for home without him. For all of the guilt and fear she talks about having, again, we have nothing. In fact, the ending was so flat and singular that I wondered what the point of the journey was. There wasn’t an arc. It could be argued — and quite fairly — that the journey and arc are of Rachel’s worries and fears and guilt shifting from personal responsibility to understanding that an addict is an addict and can only seek help for him or herself. The problem is, then, the lack of emotional connection or weight behind the narrative makes this arc hard to see and unsatisfying.

Likewise, the other issue I had is that nothing in this story is at stake. Rachel’s brother is missing. If he’s found, there’s an avenue for the story to expand. But because — spoiler — he never is found, there is nothing gained and nothing lost. Had this story happened immediately upon Rachel receiving the letter from him, there would be much more at stake. That waiting period though, which is explained as her way of processing all she and her family had been through with Micah’s addiction, removes the stakes. It’s almost as if Rachel knows finding him won’t happen. This journey is much more for her and for Tyler than it is for Micah; but again, since Rachel doesn’t make her emotions palpable, it’s tough to see her arc or what’s at stake for her. Out of Reach starts at the lowest part of the story and ends in the same place.

Arcos’s writing is fine, the pacing is even (the bulk of the story takes place within a 24-hour period), and even though this story fell flat for me, she’s tapped into an interesting enough topic that I would pick up future books by her. The problem is that Out of Reach doesn’t quite do enough in the story to make it memorable, particularly when there are other books about addiction that are stronger. Does this successfully illustrate how addiction can ruin a family? Absolutely. And I’d be silly to not acknowledge that this book has merits — it did earn a National Book Award nomination — but for me, it was simply okay. While I don’t expect to relate to characters in every book I read, I do expect to feel emotional connection on some level. Here, there was nothing. Additionally, I didn’t like the tactic of making the story a circle, of starting and ending in the same place because it simply didn’t push the narrative forward here.

Pass this one off to readers who are interested in stories of addiction. It’s not high literary, so it should appeal to a wider range of readers with that interest. For stories of addiction told from the perspective of those dealing with it, check out Blake Nelson’s Recovery Road or Amy Reed’s Clean, both of which offer deeper insight into the emotional heft of the issues. For an exploration of alcohol addiction, there is Tim Tharp’s The Spectacular Now, too. To Arcos’s credit, I can’t think of another story that so strongly explores the impact of addiction on the family, rather than self, so certainly, her book is a needed addition.

Out of Reach is available now. Review copy purchased by me.

Revisiting War Stories

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Two years ago on Veterans Day, I posted a book list of titles featuring stories of war. I thought since it has been a couple years, I’d revisit the topic and update it with a slew of new titles. I’m taking this with a bit of a different angle this time. Rather than tackling stories that just talk war, I’ve got stories that feature the consequences or challenges of war, too. There will be stories that feature veterans full-on and those that feature other people whose lives have been deeply impacted by war somehow.

Something to think about — these books and stories we’re getting now about war — are the veterans stories for this generation. As such, the bulk of these books are about serving in or being impacted by the Iraq War. 

All descriptions come from WorldCat, and all titles are from the end of 2010 through today. These are all YA titles (though a few are middle grade appropriate), since adding in adult titles would make this post miles long. If I’ve missed something, feel free to leave a comment. 

After Eli by Rebecca Rupp: After the death of his older brother, Daniel Anderson became engrossed in recording details about dead people, how they died, and whether their deaths mattered but he is eventually drawn back into interaction with the living.

Badd by Tim Tharp: A teenaged girl’s beloved brother returns home from the Iraq War completely unlike the person she remembers.

Dear Blue Sky by Mary Sullivan: Shortly after Cass’s big brother is deployed to fight in Iraq, Cass becomes pen pals with an Iraqi girl who opens up her eyes to the effects of war

Something Like Normal by Trish Doller: When Travis returns home from Afghanistan, his parents are splitting up, his brother has stolen his girlfriend and car, and he has nightmares of his best friend getting killed but when he runs into Harper, a girl who has despised him since middle school, life actually starts looking up.

Personal Effects by E. M. Kokie: Matt has been sleepwalking through life while seeking answers about his brother T.J.’s death in Iraq, but after discovering that he may not have known his brother as well as he thought he did, Matt is able to stand up to his father, honor T.J.’s memory, and take charge of his own life.

Gigged by Heath Gibson: Georgia high school junior J.T. relies on the discipline of the Reserve Officer Training Corps to cope with grief, life in foster care, and his physical limitations, as well as to prove himself to his mother, dead in a car crash, and his father, a soldier killed in Desert Storm.

If I Lie by Corrine Jackson: Seventeen-year-old Sophie Quinn becomes an outcast in her small military town when she chooses to keep a secret for her Marine boyfriend who is missing in action in Afghanistan.

In Honor by Jessi Kirby: Three days after she learns that her brother Finn died serving in Iraq, Honor receives a letter from him asking her to drive his car from Texas to California for a concert, and when his estranged best friend shows up suddenly and offers to accompany her, they set off on a road trip that reveals much about all three of them.

While He Was Away by Karen Schreck: When Penna Weaver’s boyfriend goes off to Iraq, she’s left facing life without him. Then David stops writing. She knows in her heart he will come home–but will he be the same boy she fell in love with? 

Sweet, Hereafter by Angela Johnson: Sweet leaves her family and goes to live in a cabin in the woods with the quiet but understanding Curtis, to whom she feels intensely connected, just as he is called back to serve again in Iraq.

Somebody Please Tell Me Who I Am by Harry Mazer and Peter Lerangis: Wounded in Iraq while his Army unit is on convoy and treated for many months for traumatic brain injury, the first person Ben remembers from his earlier life is his autistic brother.



This is Not a Drill by Beck McDowell: Two teens must work together to protect a class of first-graders when a soldier with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder takes them hostage.

Never Fall Down by Patricia McCormick: Cambodian child soldier Arn Chorn-Pond defied the odds and used all of his courage and wits to survive the murderous regime of the Khmer Rouge. When soldiers arrive at his hometown in Cambodia, Arn is just a kid, dancing to rock n roll, hustling for spare change, and selling ice cream with his brother. But after the soldiers march the entire population into the countryside, his life is changed forever. Arn is separated from his family and assigned to a labor camp: working in the rice paddies under a blazing sun, he sees the other children, weak from hunger, malaria, or sheer exhaustion, dying before his eyes. He sees prisoners marched to a nearby mango grove, never to return. And he learns to be invisible to the sadistic Khmer Rouge, who can give or take away life on a whim. One day, the soldiers ask if any of the kids can play an instrument. Arn’s never played a note in his life, but he volunteers. In order to survive, he must quickly master the strange revolutionary songs the soldiers demand, and steal food to keep the other kids alive. This decision saves his life, but it puts him into the very center of what we know today as the Killing Fields. And just as the country is about to be liberated from the Khmer Rouge, Arn is handed a gun and forced to become a soldier. He lives by the simple credo: Over and over I tell myself one thing: never fall down. Based on the true story of Arn Chorn-Pond, this is an novel about a child of war who becomes a man of peace.

This is Not Forgiveness by Celia Rees: Everyone says Caro is bad, but Jamie can’t help himself. She is totally different from the other girls. But he soon realizes there is more to Caro-much more. Consider: How she disappears for days at a time, or the scars on her wrists, or her talk of revolution and taking action. Jamie’s also worried about his older brother Rob. Back from Afghanistan and struggling with PTSD, Rob is living in a world of his own. Which is why it’s so strange that Rob and Caro know one another-and why their secrets feel so very dangerous.

Contemporary YA Fiction Week 2012: Wrap Up Post

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This week, we heard about everything from alternative formats to sports book, from diversity to setting, and we wrapped up the week tackling the tough topic of sex and edgy content in contemporary fiction. These topics are only the tip of the iceberg though — contemporary YA takes on so much more than these issues, and more frequently than not, contemporary YA books take on more than one issue within one book.

Adolescence is, of course, that complicated.

To wrap up this week, I thought I’d share the link to last year’s contemporary YA fiction week posts, in hopes that something in there will stir up further interest and exploration. You can learn how to advocate for contemporary YA and you can learn about some classics in the genre. And if you missed it, you can check out the lengthy piece I wrote last month over at YALSA’s The Hub blog about the direction contemporary YA fiction will be going in the future.

Remember, too, that as readers, you have the opportunity to get contemporary YA not only in the hands of readers, but also in the hands of those who volunteer their time on YALSA’s book award and selection committees. It’s simple to suggest titles, and you can learn how here.