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The Sky Always Hears Me and the Hills Don’t Mind by Kirstin Cronn-Mills

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Sometimes when I buy a book, I don’t end up picking it up right away. It’ll get a nice rest on my shelf (or floor) for a while before I dive in. When I do finally get to it and realize what a great novel it was, I don’t tend to get mad at myself for overlooking it. I like to think I read it when I needed to read it and the experience would have been different somehow had I read it the second I bought it.

That was the case with Kirstin Cronn-Mills’s The Sky Always Hears Me and the Hills Don’t Mind.

Morgan’s a junior in high school in middle of nowhere, Nebraska. She’s a clerk at the local grocery store, which is across the street from the gas station. She loves to flirt with Rob, one of her older co-workers, even though she has a boyfriend, Derek. They’ve been together for a while, but it’s clear from the start that it’s more of a thing of show than of deep romance. At least, from Morgan’s perspective.

As the story progresses, we get to meet Morgan’s family. She lost her mom when she was young, so she lives with her father (a borderline alcoholic) and step mother, as well as her two brothers. She’s exceptionally close with her grandmother, though, who also lives in town. Cronn-Mills does a good job of introducing us to the characters and set up early on without once info-dumping on us, as she eases us into what it really is like living in a small town. It’s in the little details and it’s in the moment that propels the story into action: Morgan’s neighbor Tessa was caught kissing another girl. It’s big news in town, but to Morgan it’s not a big deal. After Tessa was caught, she and Morgan shared a kiss, too.

The Sky Always Hears Me explores the idea of sexuality, certainly, but more than that, it’s an honest look at growing up in a place you feel can’t contain you.

Morgan’s voice is one of the best I’ve read in young adult literature: she’s smart without coming off as older than her age; she’s funny as hell and offers it to us in just the right about of snark; and she’s the kind of girl who has huge dreams and feels stuck in trying to achieve them. She’s trying to navigate so many paths at once while also going through the motions of every day — we get to not only see Morgan in action at work (the grocery store which changes names every time she refers to it) but we get to listen to her as she thinks a lot about what she wants outside this town. She loves to write, and she constantly talks about how she hopes to write a novel and she writes fortune cookie fortunes, leaving them wherever she goes. More than that, she’s the kind of girl you wish existed because you’d love to hang out with her or pick her brain on any number of topics. Morgan has an opinion on everything but it’s never overbearing. Instead, we get to see her as she forms these opinions and debates with herself whether she’s right or wrong.

This is a book about sexuality, but it’s not about being one thing or another. It’s raw and honest about being sexual, period. Morgan throws no punches throughout the story about how she feels when it comes to sex and kissing, and when she and Tessa exchange a kiss (in more than one scene), she doesn’t think it’s a big deal. And it’s really not. What Morgan really wrestles with, though, is the idea of love outside of sex. It’s a topic she talks about not only internally, but one she brings up with her grandmother. She and grandma are close enough to talk about these things, and it’s grandma who ultimately tests Morgan’s belief in love.

See, there’s a bigger secret at stake here, and that’s the secret of Morgan’s family. We know she lost her mother and that dad is a drinker, but we don’t know why. It’s never really been something Morgan thought too deeply about. It’s painful. Thinking about sex? Not as painful. She’s confronted with the loss, though, and in the wake of the knowledge, Morgan’s thoughts about love change a bit. Maybe change isn’t the right word — maybe it’s more than they become stronger and more solidified.

Morgan learns to love herself in spite of everything going on in her world, and she’s not going to settle for less than what she thinks she deserves.

Cronn-Mills’s debut novel is a gem, and it’ll appeal to readers who like a strong contemporary read with a main character who is likable, strong-willed, and willing to put herself out there. She challenges convention, and she’s a fighter. Morgan is spot on and relatable to anyone who grew up in or works in a small town and wants nothing more than to get out. This is a book about her finding not only a way out, but finding out why she’ll always be a part of this community (and why it’ll always be a part of her, too). Without doubt, I’m eager to see what Cronn-Mills offers up next, as this novel blew me away in the best possible way. If you’ve ever wondered what “good voice” means, this should be your example.

When you finish reading this one, you’ll never look at fortune cookies the same, either.

Review from my own purchased copy of the book.

Article 5 by Kristen Simmons

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In teenage Ember’s dystopian world, the Bill of Rights has been replaced by the Moral Statues. If you’ve read the Handmaid’s Tale, then you know where this is going (albeit there is no sex by proxy in Article 5). It’s a rigid Christian world, and people found in noncompliance with the statues are arrested and…no one knows what happens afterward.

Ember lives with her single mother, and when her mom is arrested for being in noncompliance with Article 5 (having a child out of wedlock, Ember herself), Ember is taken to a sort of reformatory. She’s taken there by none other than Chase Jennings, her former friend who joined the Moral Militia and seems to have bought into its creed.
Ember doesn’t spend long at the reformatory. She desperately wants to find her mother, and (surprise and slight spoiler) it turns out Chase is willing to help her. He’s not so brainwashed by the Moral Militia after all. They break out of the reformatory and go on the run. They’re pursued by horrible people and run into many dangerous situations.
The premise is underdeveloped, but for me, that doesn’t always spell death for a dystopia. After all, Delirium has a completely ridiculous premise, but Lauren Oliver’s writing and characterization made me buy into it. I love dystopias so much that I more willingly suspend my disbelief for them than for other genres. While Miller’s writing here is solid, it never stands out. It’s competent but never really above average. The combination of average writing with a thin premise and underdeveloped world makes Article 5 pretty unmemorable.
My other main gripe is that Simmons advances the plot by making her protagonist do stupid things. Protagonists should definitely make mistakes, but the frequency of mistakes Ember makes strains credulity. The book is basically a chronicle of her and Chase’s run from the Moral Militia. You’d think after a while, Ember would learn that it’s not a good idea to make herself too visible. And yet she does, time and time again. The climax of the novel is brought about by her doing just that, in a moment of emotional turmoil. Ember doesn’t seem to learn from her mistakes, and it made me want to shake her. I understand that it’s necessary to keep the plot moving forward, but it’s not great writing to do it this way.
Article 5 isn’t a bad book. It’s just that it’s competing in an overcrowded field, and there’s nothing that really makes it stand out from the pack. If you’re looking for an action-packed read and haven’t gotten your fill of dystopias yet, Article 5 may satisfy you. But there’s definitely better stuff out there.
Review copy provided by the publisher. Article 5 is available January 31.

May B by Caroline Starr Rose

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It’s the late 1800s on the east Kansas prairie. Times are tough, and May B’s parents need money. Their plan is to send their daughter to work at a homestead 15 miles away. They’ll make a little money, and it’ll teach May B the value of hard work. She’s 12 and young to move away from home, but at this time and in this place, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for these things to happen. She packs a few pairs of clothes, along with her Reader, for the stay. She doesn’t need much else, since she’ll have a roof over her head and food in her stomach — food she’ll make.

May isn’t thrilled with the family she’s working for — Mrs. Oblinger is cold toward her, often giving her the side eye for choosing to work through her Reader rather than find some household task to complete, and Mr. Oblinger isn’t really around enough. Oh, and the house? It’s hardly a house. It needs a lot of work. To say the living conditions for May here are nothing like they were at home would be an understatement.

During one afternoon, Mrs. Oblinger confesses to May B that she hates her life here on the prairie. She left a bigger place to be with her husband, and she would like nothing more than to get away. It takes nearly no time for her to act upon this either, and it’s within pages that May went from being the help in the house to being the only person in the house. The Oblingers abandon her completely — and without giving her any idea of when or if they plan on coming back.

Now, she’s on her own, and home is a long 15 miles away.

May B is a fast-paced middle grade novel written in verse. The setting in this story plays as much a huge role as do the characters. This is partially because the only character we really get to know in the story is May. May’s a strong character, and she’s thrown into a crummy situation. She’s lonely when she begins her job with the Oblingers, but she becomes truly lonely when she’s abandoned at their home. She knows now she has to fend for herself and figure out how to live in this place alone. There’s not only the fact seasons are changing and winter’s knocking at the door, but she’s running out of food and there are the beasts of nature with which to contend. Before snow falls, May tries to make a run for it back home, knowing that while 15 miles is a long way, it’d be worth it. But she stops herself. She goes back to the Oblinger’s home and lets winter take over.

Something I didn’t mention is that May B’s real name is Mavis Elizabeth Betterly. And the reason she brings her Reader with her to the Oblinger house is because she wants to be a teacher. But to be a teacher, she has to overcome her learning disability: dyslexia. This isn’t something we know about her right away as readers. We know she wants to be a teacher and she wants to be a better reader. It’s not until the winter really descends and May is completely alone that she offers us the insight into her personal struggle with reading. We see it in spurts, but it’s when May owns it that we understand the full depths of her character. Her isolation is much greater than being at the Oblinger’s home on the prairie without her family.

Rose is very smart in the execution of May B because of this — it would be easy to build sympathy for May because of her learning disability. The thing is, we build that sympathy well before we’re in the know. We get it when we see her being shipped away from home for a few dollars, and we get it again when Mrs. Oblinger treats her poorly, and we get it again when she’s completely abandoned. She’s been given up over and over. Then we reach the moments of flashback when her teacher has given up on her, and when May hits her lowest point in the winter, she lets us in on this secret. We’re not sorry for her because of this; we want her to get better and fulfill her dream of becoming a teacher.

I’m a fan of verse novels, even though I usually find them problematic. Rose uses the format exceptionally well, though. The sparseness in the writing translates further into the sparseness of the Kansas landscape and into May herself. This is the way May thinks. Her language is rich and picturesque, as well, without diverging into the literary. It’s important to note that because it’s May’s voice, and it rings true to a 12-year-old, particularly one who struggles herself with reading.

Though I liked the novel, I wanted a little bit more. At times, it felt like May got through things a little bit too easily, particularly at the very end of the story. While this feels right for the middle grade readership, it could have been pushed even further. I also hoped to get a little bit more of Mr. Oblinger, since it’s ultimately his actions that leave May B alone in his house.

It’s worthwhile to read the author’s note at the end of the book, as Rose talks about her inspirations. In it, she discusses her love of Little House on the Prairie and I think that this book would appeal to that readership. Your middle grade historical fiction readers will eat this one up. I’d be comfortable handing this one off to the tween readers easily, as there’s nothing content wise to be worried about, and the strong female lead will strike the right notes with many readers. It’d be a nice stepping stone to books like The Year We Were Famous by Carole Estby Dagg and Kirby Larson’s Hattie Big Sky. This is an impressive debut and I’m eager to see where Rose goes next — my fingers are crossed for another historical novel, since she’s got a knack here.

Review copy received from the publisher. May B is available now.