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2011 in Review: Kimberly’s Picks

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This was a good year for science fiction. On the SFF scale, I’ve always leaned more towards fantasy. Lately though, the YA fantasy field has been overcrowded with paranormal books (which really aren’t my thing). There just haven’t been many well-written books along the lines of Graceling (where the magic doesn’t occur in our own world). Science fiction is a different story. It started with the dystopia movement and I’m pleased to say it’s progressed beyond that subgenre to some straight-up old school scifi goodness. The trend continues beyond this year. I am very much looking forward to it.
All of that is to say there were some real standouts in science fiction this year. In fact, despite my deep and abiding love for all things dystopian, the standout sci fi novels weren’t dystopias. Of course, my favorite book of the year was a fantasy, and a paranormal one at that…
Best book of 2011: Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor
No need to recap why – I’ve said it at least half a dozen times already.
There are a smattering of runners-up, and here is where the sci fi shines: Glow by Amy Kathleen Ryan, A Long Long Sleep by Anna Sheehan (which I didn’t review, but Kelly did), and Tankborn by Karen Sandler. Karen Healey’s moving fantasy The Shattering and A. S. King’s literary novel Everybody Sees the Ants round out my top picks of the year.
Even the almost-great science fiction offerings were better than usual: Variant by Robison Wells, Divergent by Veronica Roth, and Ashes by Ilsa Bick all exceeded my expectations. Keep it up, authors. The science fiction field is so fertile for new and genuinely innovative stuff. I except to see some of that in 2012.
Book I most look forward to sharing in 2012: Cinder by Marissa Meyer
If Cinder is any indication, my wish for 2012 will be granted. Look for a review of this very early next year. I know it’s been getting a lot of buzz. It’s deserved.
Most anticipated sequel of 2012: Spark by Amy Kathleen Ryan (July) and the sequel to Daughter of Smoke and Bone (September) are neck and neck here. Insurgent (May) is a solid third, but I don’t feel the itch to get my hands on it like I do the others.
Most disappointing: Chime by Franny Billingsley & Dust and Decay by Jonathan Maberry
These two share the dubious honor in this category, but for very different reasons. Chime was almost the polar opposite of what I enjoy in a book, whereas Dust and Decay was well-written and exciting but too much of a rehash of the first book in the series to be in satisfying.
Cutest: Long Tail Kitty by Lark Pien
By a long shot. Is there anything cuter than this book? No, there is not. Dare I say it – it might be even cuter than some of your children. (This is a 2009 book, but I read it this year, so I’m including it.)
Best surprise: Clarity by Kim Harrington
I was so surprised – and pleased – by how much I enjoyed this mystery with a paranormal twist. Clare’s voice is among the best I read all year.
Book most in need of some judicious editing: The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin
It had potential. When I’m at my most grandiose, I like to think I could have whipped this book into shape. And then I remember that writing and editing are always harder than they seem.

First day on Earth by Cecil Castellucci

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One of the best things about speculative fiction is that it sometimes cuts to the truth of real life better than contemporary literature can. Sometimes it nails things in a way that no realistic book ever has and it rips your heart to shreds.

Speculative fiction is quickly becoming one of my favorite genres because of this.

So before I start into what will be one of the most personal reviews I’ve ever written and shared, be warned that this review features spoilers. But they aren’t going to ruin the plot or the emotional heft of the story. In fact, I think knowing these things ahead of time will make your experience with Cecil Castellucci’s First Day on Earth more powerful. It’s a short book — a mere 150 pages — and some of the chapters are simply one sentence long. Those words, though, are some of the most powerful I’ve ever experienced as a reader. I walked away from this book thinking that for the very first time in my life, I’ve found someone who just got it.

In theory and from the description, First Day on Earth is a book about Mal, who is an alien. All he wants to do is go back to where he’s from. And in his Alateen group, he’s met this guy named Hooper who is crazy. Who also claims to be from another planet. As soon as the two of these guys who feel like the loneliest people on Earth meet, though, things change. Hooper knows he has to go back to his home star. Mal doesn’t want to let him go because he’s finally forged a friendship with someone, and Mal is desperate to go with him.

But . . . this book is not at all about the aliens. I didn’t believe for a second either one of these guys is an alien or from another planet.

These two guys are as human as human gets.

Mal is angry. His home life sucks. Mal’s mom and dad recently divorced after being apart for a few years. Mal’s mom has sunk into alcoholism and deep depression and his dad has just disappeared all together.

This is the first time I can recall ever truly feeling like I connected with a character dealing with a father issue. Mal’s dad is gone. Completely gone. He left nothing in his wake, though Mal knows where he lives. His dad hasn’t bothered calling, hasn’t bothered checking in, doesn’t care. He’s moved on. He’s living a new life with a new wife and kids and has completely divorced himself from Mal. What triggers the story is that after his father’s walked out, he’s back in the sense he wants to make his disappearance permanent. His mother got paperwork to make it so.

Mal has every right in the world to be as angry about it as he is. Every moment Mal got angry, I was angry with him. I’ve been there. It sucks. Everything Mal felt is completely authentic. Reading this thin little book brought out some gross emotions I’d shoved deep down because Mal’s story hit that little nerve I like to keep buried. But it felt good to feel them right along with this character. When Mal gets the chance to see his father in his new life as the theatrical director of Our Town (come on, how brilliant is this?) and is asked to help set up the show — his father, of course, not recognizing his own son because of time and sheer ignorance — and all he does is walk away I. freaking. cheered. It’s an incredibly painful moment for Mal to face the fact in order to move on, in order to reach the place he desperately longs for, he has to do the walking away. He needs the closure.

I don’t usually quote from the book, but this moved me to tears, and I think it speaks straight to the power Castellucci’s sparse prose packs:

This is the moment. I think.

“I could pay you forty dollars if you stay and help unload the truck. We really need the help,” he says. “I’ve got to go pick up my daughter from day care. My wife thinks it’s my job.”

I want to tell him that it is his job. To care for a child. To show up.

“I gotta go,” I say. “I gotta move on.”

“Fair enough,” he says.

So I do it.

I turn around.

I walk away.

I’m wrecked, but I’m also one million times lighter.

It’s better to be the one who’s leaving.

I’ve been there myself. The one walking away. At his age, even. And in that moment I connected so hard with Mal. He deserved to be angry and mad and have that moment of taking back his life. I won’t lie — I shed more than one tear. I remember being 15 and making the choice to be the one to walk away. Every emotion here, especially the ones between the lines, rings true.

When a parent walks out of your life with no explanation, it’s hard to articulate what that really feels like. And the fact is, no one truly can understand what it feels like unless they’ve been there. It’s not about the divorce or about what it feels like when parents split. Having a parent walk out on you is devastating and horrific on a whole different level. Knowing they’ve got a new life — one without you, one with new kids and a new wife — and knowing they’re never going to come back to see you? It wrecks you. In First Day on Earth, Mal’s mom becomes an alcoholic, and Mal is abandoned. When it happens to you when you’re 15, you feel like an alien and like you truly, honestly do not belong here. You’ve been dropped somewhere completely foreign without the support you deserve to have.

It sucks. And it penetrates everything — Mal cannot relate to the people around him because he feels so foreign. He can’t forge the connections he wants because he can’t piece himself together. Moreover, he doesn’t believe anyone has ever felt as low as he has. He thinks everyone around him has it good compared to him. And how could he not, really?

Through the metaphor of the alien, of course, Mal does begin to piece himself together. It’s never once about the alien or the spaceship but becoming whole and one with oneself. And it so does that right in the end.

While we’re given the chance to build this sympathy for Mal and to feel his pain, we also realize what he’s not realizing: that other people experience pain, too, even if it’s not the same thing he feels. He’s NOT an alien. He makes a huge assumption about fellow classmates Posey and Darwyn having these glossy perfect lives. But Mal comes to find out that they do not. Their baggage…it’s just different than his. And that’s okay. No one pain is bigger than another. It may be different, but in the end, it’s all crappy. That’s precisely when he realizes that trying to escape it all isn’t the answer. He needs to just embrace it and enjoy what he’s got while he can. Remember: he’s 15. That’s how 15 year olds rationalize. That’s exactly how I rationalized it all, too, at that age.

What Castellucci does in so few words is so powerful. It resonates. This book’s merits outweigh the problematic elements for me — that’s to say, this isn’t a perfect book. I wish we could have gotten a little more, especially when it came to character development of secondary characters. I would have loved knowing more about Mal in the after, wanting to know more about how he put what he figured out to use when he “comes back” to earth. I wanted to know more about Darwyn and Posey. But it makes sense why I don’t. Because really, readers are Mal throughout the story and cannot possibly know more than what I figure out in those final, crucial moments.

If my personal story here isn’t enough to express audience, I’ll be more explicit. This book is going to speak volumes to readers who have or are experiencing life with an absent parent. I’ve read a lot of books in the course of my life, and I say with all honesty, I’ve never read one that captured the reality and the trauma so well. The thing is, it’s a very private and very personal pain. People really don’t understand unless they’ve been there. Mal’s there, and he’s the kind of friend people need to find when they’re dealing with such a heavy and hard situation. More importantly, though, it’s a story about how we all have our baggage and how, despite being so different, the crap we carry doesn’t divorce us from the world. It grounds us more tightly.

I debated posting this review here for a few reasons, including the fact I don’t like being super personal in reviewing. I like to take the most objective path I can. But more than one friend told me I have to let people in sometimes and I like to think in working up the guts to post this, maybe it moves someone to hand this book to a teen (or adult!) who needs it. Or maybe, too, it’s a way for me to ground myself tighter to the world.

ARC picked up at ALA.

Thoughts on the Morris shortlist

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Over the last year, I’ve read a lot of books — and a ton of debuts at that. Part of why I like to read so many debuts, aside from the fact I get exposed to completely new and fresh voices, is that I like to play the “how many can I guess” game come awards season. Plus, the lively discussions (or debates) you can have when you’ve read the books that do get award nods are much better than if you haven’t read any.

This year, when the Morris Award finalists were announced, I was pretty pleased with myself because I’ve read four of the five titles (but Kimberly has reviewed that title here). Of those, three were ones I’d pinned as potentials list-makers after reading them. Since I’ve never fully reviewed any of the titles, here’s a look at the four I’ve read and my thoughts on them. Any thoughts you have are more than welcome, of course. I love a good discussion!

Guadalupe Garcia McCall’s Under the Mesquite takes place in Eagle Pass, Texas (and a bit in Mexico, as well) and it follows the story of Lupita, who is dealing with a cancer-stricken mother, a host of brothers and sisters, and the daily challenges of living in a border town. Of all the verse novels I read this year — and I’m pretty sure I’ve read every young adult verse novel this year — this one was one of the strongest in form. It worked around each page and pass, and I really felt like it captured Lupita’s voice very well.

The story itself is compelling, especially because it really digs into the challenges that come with devoting oneself to family while pursuing one’s dreams. It’s one of those issues that’s particularly important in a lot of first generation immigrants, and it’s one with which readers definitely will identify. McCall offers readers a relatable character, and she tells a story that’s culturally pertinent right now and will continue to be relevant. I read this one immediately after reading Ashley Hope Perez’s What Can'(t) Wait (another debut), which explores similar themes and came away thinking that finally (!) there are authors writing really good stories about the challenges of growing with one’s latino/a heritage in America.

My problem, however, was that the resolution in this story comes out of left field. What Lupita chooses at the end didn’t make sense in context of the rest of the story, simply because what she does was something that never came up throughout the book. I’d have bought it in a heartbeat had she mentioned her desires to do what she did, but she didn’t. This is where I think Perez’s story is much more successful. While I think McCall’s book was strong in writing, it lacked in cohesive plot resolution, and I think compared to other titles on the shortlist, it doesn’t stack up as strongly. It does, however, have good reader appeal, which is a factor (however small) in the decisions of the Morris committee.

Where McCall’s book did feature reader appeal, I feel like Jennifer Hubbard’s Paper Covers Rock lacks. Admittedly, this book was one I had a hard time reading. I would read a page or two, put it down, not want to pick it up, pick it up reluctantly, and the process would repeat.

Here’s the deal: it’s set at a private, all-boys prep school in the 1980s. There are secrets and scandals. And it’s very, very literary. But it’s not just literary, it’s a wink and a nudge to a whole host of literary novels — especially the classic and canonical A Separate Peace. There’s also a lot of reference to Moby Dick and even though that is My All-Time Favorite Classical Read (capitals important because I’m not being sarcastic, actually), I couldn’t revel in them like I wanted to. In being so heavy in references, the story for me got so lost and convoluted. I don’t remember anything about the plot from this one, other than the fact it made tons of use of the references and made me anxious to be finished. The story becomes too aware of itself. As soon as I finished, though, I noted that it reminded me of an awardy book. And, bingo.

Obviously, this one had all of the things I dislike in a book. The arbitrary 1980s setting only enhanced my frustration with the read, and I say as a librarian, I have a hard time figuring out who the readership is for this book other than an adult/award committee. Don’t get me wrong here, though. Hubbard does what she does well. The writing is strong and the ability to make all those connections to other works is masterful. But at the end, I still wonder whether the style ended up taking over substance. Or rather, the substance of the style overtook the story.

Let’s talk now about the non-reluctant reader for a second. I mentioned in the book above I had a hard time figuring out an audience for such a heavy, literary novel. In the case of John Corey Whaley’s Where Things Come Back, I have no trouble knowing that readers who would appreciate this one are those who like their works challenging, substantial, and literary. Where the Hubbard book lacked a strong storyline for me, Whaley’s nails it.

I’ve actually talked about this book before (briefly), so I won’t go too much into what worked for me. This is a book where two very separate storylines compel the reader forward to figure out how they are related to one another. It’s layered and nuanced and complicated, but it doesn’t become overly aware of itself in the process. We are grounded in the story, rather than caught up in the technique to make the story.

As soon as I finished reading this book earlier in the year, it became the top runner in my mind for Morris consideration, and I’m thrilled to see it made the list. I’d love to see this one take the top prize come January because I think that it not only deserves it, but I think it give this gem a little more attention than it’s already received. Cullen’s voice is authentic, memorable, and, I think, relatable to so many readers, particularly those who aren’t city kids but rather are your average, small town kids.

Between Shades of Gray by Ruta Sepetys was a non-surprise for me on this list, and that’s not meant to be a bad or a good thing. The book got loads of good attention, and it’s one that I’m glad I read. I had no idea about this facet of history, nor that Stalin actively deported Lithuanians. It was a horrifying read because of how eye-opening it was. And for me, I don’t see a problem with teen appeal here at all. The teens I’ve worked with are fascinated by World War II stories and devour them. Giving them a book that takes such a different approach to the war and opens up an entire new story is exactly what I want to do, and I know they’ll read it.

However — and I know this is going to be unpopular — I’m not sure how well written the book itself is. Lina, the main character, seems to take forever to develop a real voice. It’s a story of horror and fear and torment and that’s all there. But I often question while reading a book set in this era or similar ones how much of that is the work of strong writing skills versus how much is the weight these events carry on their own. While Lina does eventually gain a voice (and a killer one that led me to mark a few really powerful and moving lines), it took a long time to come. I’m conscious of the fact it’ll be overpowered by the events, as it should be, but at the same time, I go back to the question of whether that’s necessarily a fair argument to even make given the situations themselves carry so much.

For me, the story was completely there, but I would have liked tighter, maybe even more compelling, writing throughout, rather than at the end of the book. I think what pleases me about the Morris shortlist is that, despite my issues with the writing in this book, Between Shades of Gray deserves its spot because of the story itself.

Rae Carson’s The Girl of Fire and Thorns is the one book I haven’t read so far, but I’ll link again to Kim’s review. Even though I’m not a fantasy reader, I’ve put this one on hold because I’m curious enough to pick it up (see, Morris awards have another great purpose!).

What I know about this book, though, is that it’s huge on appeal. A strong girl main character in a fantasy world and comparisons to Tamora Pierce? I don’t see how this book doesn’t sell itself to those readers.

I’m pleased to see that a book which has huge reader appeal made the list, as well as those which have more limited appeal. Even though I don’t get caught up on the idea of balance when it comes to award lists, it feels like this year’s field of Morris shortlist titles is quite well balanced. There are some titles I’m sad didn’t see the list, but on the whole, I think this is a pretty good, albeit not all that surprising, roster.

In the end, my money’s on Where Things Come Back. I’m really looking forward to being able to attend my first Youth Media Awards ceremony and knowing I’ll have read all of these books by then only makes it that much sweeter.

Show-Stopping Books: Gifts for the Artistic Readers in Your Life (YA Edition)

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Abby and I were talking recently about the growth of performance as a theme in kid lit. There have been a ton of books exploring different forms of artistic expression in the last few years, and we thought it would be neat to highlight some of these books. It’s our hope these’ll offer ideas for book lists, displays, and maybe even a few holiday gift purchases. I’m tackling young adult titles, and you can hop over to Abby’s blog today and get a peek at picture books and middle grade titles.

Note these lists are in no way inclusive, and we’d love any other suggestions you have. All descriptions are via Worldcat.

Dance

When pulling together the titles, I noticed there are definitely holes in this area. Are there any recent titles featuring a male lead dancer? What about hip hop dancers? Jazz? The ones here are a nice mix of contemporary and historical novels.

Strings Attached by Judy Blundell: When she drops out of school and struggles to start a career on Broadway in the fall of 1950, seventeen-year-old Kit Corrigan accepts help from an old family friend, a lawyer said to have ties with the mob, who then asks her to do some favors for him.

Bunheads by Sophie Flack: Hannah Ward, nineteen, revels in the competition, intense rehearsals, and dazzling performances that come with being a member of Manhattan Ballet Company’s corps de ballet, but after meeting handsome musician Jacob she begins to realize there could be more to her life.

dancergirl by Carol Tanzman: A friend posted a video of me dancing online and now I’m now longer Alicia Ruffino. I’m dancergirl—and suddenly it’s like me against the world—everyone’s got opinions. My admirers want more, the haters hate, my best friend Jacy—even he’s acting weird. And some stranger isn’t content to just watch anymore. Ali, dancergirl. Whatever you know me as, however you’ve seen me online, I’ve trained my whole life to be the best dancer I can be. But if someone watching has their way, I could lose more than just my love of dancing. I could lose my life. (Description via Goodreads)

Leap by Jodi Lundgren: Having just turned 15 and gone through her parents’ divorce, Natalie and her best friend Sasha are going to be practicing with their dance team all summer, but her friendship with Sasha goes on the rock, and her relationship with her boyfriend Kevin who is Sasha’s brother goes too far. Will she be taking on all these changes with confidence?

Audition by Stasia Ward Kehoe: When sixteen-year-old Sara, from a small Vermont town, wins a scholarship to study ballet in New Jersey, her ambivalence about her future increases even as her dancing improves.

Ten Cents a Dance by Christine Fletcher: In 1940s Chicago, fifteen-year-old Ruby hopes to escape poverty by becoming a taxi dancer in a nightclub, but the work has unforeseen dangers and hiding the truth from her family and friends becomes increasingly difficult.

When the Stars Go Blue by Caridad Ferrer: Soledad Reyes decides to dance Carmen as part of a drum and bugle corps competition, not knowing if it will help or harm her chance of becoming a professional ballet dancer but eager to pursue new options, including a romance with the boy who invited her to audition. Reviewed here.

Music

This category has so many titles to pick from, though again, I find it’s heavy on female leads. I’ve included music in a variety of forms. I’d be interested in hearing more recent titles featuring male leads, non-traditional music, or other facets within music.

Adios, Nirvana by Conrad Wesselhoeft: As Seattle sixteen-year-old Jonathan helps a dying man come to terms with a tragic event he experienced during World War II, Jonathan begins facing his own demons, especially the death of his twin brother, helped by an assortment of friends, old and new. Reviewed here.

Amplified by Tara Kelly: When privileged seventeen-year-old Jasmine Kiss gets kicked out of her house by her father, she takes what is left of her meager savings and flees to Santa Cruz, California, to pursue her dream of becoming a rock musician. Reviewed here.

A Little Wanting Song by Cath Crowley: One Australian summer, two very different sixteen-year-old girls–Charlie, a talented but shy musician, and Rose, a confident student longing to escape her tiny town–are drawn into an unexpected friendship, as told in their alternating voices. Reviewed here.

Rival by Sara Bennett-Wealer: Two high school rivals compete in a prestigious singing competition while reflecting on the events that turned them from close friends to enemies the year before. Reviewed here.

Virtuosity by Jessica Martinez: Just before the most important violin competition of her career, seventeen-year-old violin prodigy Carmen faces critical decisions about her anti-anxiety drug addiction, her controlling mother, and a potential romance with her most talented rival.

Notes From an Accidental Band Geek by Erin Dionne: French horn virtuoso Elsie Wyatt resents having to join her high school’s marching band playing a mellophone, but finally finds a sense of belonging that transcends the pressure she has always felt to be as good as her father, principal french horn player in the Boston Symphony Orchestra.

Five Flavors of Dumb by Antony John: Eighteen-year-old Piper becomes the manager for her classmates’ popular rock band, called Dumb, giving her the chance to prove her capabilities to her parents and others, if only she can get the band members to get along. Reviewed here.

Rock Star Superstar by Blake Nelson: When Pete, a talented bass player, moves from playing in the high school jazz band to playing in a popular rock group, he finds the experience exhilarating even as his new fame jeopardizes his relationship with girlfriend Margaret.

Glitz by Philana Marie Boles: Sixteen-year-old orphan Ann Michelle runs away from her grandmother’s house in Toledo, Ohio, with a new friend who is intent on seeking her own fame while the teenagers follow a hip-hop musician to New York City.

Theater

In pulling these titles together, it felt like there were a lot more end-of-book productions than actual books about theater or the theatrical arts. I’d love more suggestions in this category. I stuck to books where theater played a pivotal part in the story.

Eyes Like Stars by Lisa Mantchev (series): Seventeen-year-old Bertie strives to save Theater Illuminata, the only home she has ever known, but is hindered by the Players who magically live on there, especially Ariel, who is willing to destroy the Book at the center of the magic in order to escape into the outside world.

Will Grayson, Will Grayson by David Levithan and John Green: When two teens, one gay and one straight, meet accidentally and discover that they share the same name, their lives become intertwined as one begins dating the other’s best friend, who produces a play revealing his relationship with them both. Reviewed here.

Dramarama by E Lockhart: Spending their summer at Wildewood Academy, an elite boarding school for the performing arts, tests the bond between teens Sadye and her best friend Demi.

Withering Tights by Louise Rennison: Self-conscious about her knobby knees but confident in her acting ability, fourteen-year-old Tallulah spends the summer at a Yorkshire performing arts camp that, she is surprised to learn, is for girls only.

My Life, the Theater, and Other Tragedies by Allen Zadoff: While working backstage on a high school production of “A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” sixteen-year-old Adam develops feelings for a beautiful actress–which violates an unwritten code–and begins to overcome the grief that has controlled him since his father’s death nearly two years earlier.

Carter Finally Gets it by Brent Crawford (series): Awkward freshman Will Carter endures many painful moments during his first year of high school before realizing that nothing good comes easily, focus is everything, and the payoff is usually incredible.

Legend by Marie Lu

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In Legend, America has been divided into two: the Republic on the west coast and the Colonies on the east. They’re at war with each other and no one remembers that the country used to be whole. A terrible plague grips the Republic. The poor suffer most from it, since they are unable to afford the vaccine. Living in this world are our two fifteen year old protagonists: Day, a male fugitive from the law who’s become notorious for several carefully-planned crimes; and June, a female prodigy who has been trained as a Republic soldier. When June’s brother is murdered, ostensibly by Day, the Republic sends her to hunt him down. And there is our story, told in alternating chapters from Day’s and June’s perspectives.
I appreciated Lu’s honesty with her depictions of June’s participation in the violence, which is a major part of the novel. June has been raised in a culture that sanctions torture and is at perpetual war with the Colonies. She’s been singled out by the leaders of this culture, been molded by them into their perfect soldier, a soldier that will do anything for the Republic. Yes, she has qualms, and yes, she refrains from the worst of what her superiors do, but she is a participant in the violent process. In one scene, she watches a fellow soldier torture a Colonies spy in order to learn how it’s done – after all, she will have to do it herself one day. I’m glad Lu didn’t flinch from showing us this. It’s realistic and creates a compelling character arc for June.
The first thing I noticed about Legend was its typefaces: gold sans serif font for Day and black serif font for June. As a teen, I would probably have loved this. As an adult, I wasn’t as thrilled. The gold is a bit too light for comfortable reading and I always prefer serif fonts on a printed page.
It seems like the color/font switches were used to compensate for a weakness in voice differentiation. When a story is told from more than one first-person perspective, there’s always the possibility that the voices will be too similar to one another. In fact, in writing this review, I had to go back to the book to look up which character was in the gold font and which character in the black.
I would have liked to see more backstory. This is a complaint I have with a lot of dystopias that are intended to be series. Lu sets up a pretty interesting premise with the Republic versus the Colonies, but we never learn why the schism occurred. Really, that’s half the fun of a dystopia – learning what terrible thing (or things!) it was that caused humanity to be in such a sad spot. Often this is revealed in second or third books, but I always feel its lack in the first. It causes the world to feel underdeveloped, and world-building is so important in science fiction. (The Hunger Games actually never revealed this information, and it’s something I’ve had to make my peace with.)
Here I am sounding like a broken record, but I think Legend should have been written in past tense. There’s a lot of action, but it’s not a straight up action novel (there’s a lot of wallowing in prison cells, for instance), and the present tense feels forced.
With all of these criticisms, you may think I didn’t enjoy Legend, but I did, and quite a bit. It’s a good read and one I’d recommend to dystopia fans. Divergent does both action and voice a little better, but both books have the same feel (lots of action, a small but tough female protagonist, several physical tests that must be overcome, big government secrets). To its credit, Legend wraps itself up in a single volume, which I always appreciate. This is not to say there isn’t a sequel (the website for the book is “legendtheseries.com” after all), and I’ll be happy to read it once its published.
Review copy picked up at BEA. Legend is available now.