It always makes me nervous when a book is pitched to me as “the next Hunger Games” for a few reasons: first, I don’t think any book can ever truly be “the next _____,” no matter what the title; second, my expectations are then set either sky high (if I liked the book in comparison) or quite low (if I didn’t); and finally, it doesn’t let the book stand out for its own qualities. We don’t get a real pitch for the book and what makes it stand out from everything else.

Fortunately, when I was hand-pitched Blood Red Road at Midwinter, I got more than a standard pitch of “the next Hunger Games.” It was sold to me as having the adventure of Collins’s book, but the main character, Saba, was supposed to be a hundred times more kick ass, and the story totally absorbing, different, and addictive. Then there was the added bonus of being told some of the “behind the writing” stuff, too — that Young turned the manuscript in at the end of 2010 and the book would be published in June 2011 (a pace not found in publishing) because the writing was so tight and that this book didn’t follow traditional conventions of punctuation. Okay, so the last part made me a little skeptical, but there was enough to build up this book for me. And then I put it off. And put it off. And put it off.

But then, it met and exceeded my expectations when I did read it.

Saba and Lugh are twins, and they live in an extremely remote place with no one else around except Pa and their younger sister Emmi; there is a guy who lives nearby, but Saba’s always had weird feelings about him, and Pa says it’s best to stay away. Saba feels resentment toward younger sister Emmi and isn’t afraid to voice this; Emmi’s the reason her mother died. Oh, and there’s a crow that Saba’s raised for many years, despite her father’s disapproval. In this remote place, experience a lot of storms — dust storms caused by a lack of rain — and when the book begins, we’re tossed right into a huge storm on the horizon. It’s a storm that they survive, but that doesn’t mean what comes about the corner after is any better: it’s four men on horses here to take Lugh away from the family. Saba can’t stand by and let this happen, and in the midst of a battle, there is death, destruction, pain, and the loss of Saba’s twin brother to these bandits.

She’s not going to let this be the end of him, though, and she promises Lugh she will rescue him; little does she know how much work this will be, especially when younger sister Emmi has to tag along with her. Saba knows where Lugh’s been taken, though she knows nothing about Hopetown. That is, until she herself becomes a victim of kidnapping and quickly learns that Hopetown is nothing like the name may promise. Saba’s been sold into a fighting ring (think Hunger Games here) as a way for her captors to make money, which buys them more drugs. Hopetown, it turns out, is a mega drug town, and people will do anything for another fix, including pillage and steal and sell innocent people into battle. It is here Lugh’s been taken, too, as the chosen boy to be sacrificed by the King. And Saba’s not going to let this happen. No way.

This is what happens in the first 150 pages of the 500 page book.

Blood Red Road is an incredibly fast paced book, and it begs to be read in one sitting. Saba is a killer character, and she’s not necessarily that way because she’s the smartest. In fact, I think Saba’s a bit of a dumb character, and she needs to be that way — if she were more intelligent, she wouldn’t have followed her brother, wouldn’t have fought with the raw power inside her, and she wouldn’t have been so open about her resentment toward Emmi. That last part is important, since it plays a huge role in the structure of the story and the pacing, as well. I believed Saba from the beginning, and I knew she had something inside her that would drive her to achieve a lot despite her upbringing. But as the story progressed, it was wonderful to see Saba begin to believe in herself and begin to understand the raw power within her to do good things and to make things happen herself. She’s not reliant upon a male to be powerful; she relies upon herself, which is something there isn’t enough of in YA lit.

In fact, one of the things I appreciated about Young’s book is that there is virtually no romance. Jack, a guy Saba saves following an incident in the arena, is absolutely in love with Saba from the beginning of their time together. But Saba’s both a little ignorant of the fact and a little bit frustrated by it. She knows he’s interested, but she doesn’t know how interested, but even that slight interest is infuriating. Yes, there will be a kiss, but Saba will not linger on it. She’s got bigger dragons to slay, and even when those beasts have been slayed, well, Jack’s a secondary thought.

There’s a lot of symbolism piled up in the story, and it’s easy to latch onto. The world Young’s created is believable, and it’s easy to picture, as well. It’s desolate and deserted and red. It feels a bit like a story that could be set in the Great Depression, but it’s futuristic, rather than historical. With some of the clues dropped in the story, it felt like it may take place in Europe, though the location really isn’t that important. What is important is how important the setting is to the story, and how scary believable it is because there are places similar to Hopetown existing in our world.

To the writing — this is a book written in a dialect. It’s not standard English, and some of the words dropped aren’t necessarily in English either. That was part of what made me believe this book may be set in Europe. Unlike many books written in a dialect, the use of it in Young’s book is well-placed. It really gives a strong character to both the setting and to Saba, and it enhances our knowledge of who she is and what makes her such a powerful character. As a reader, I had no problem diving into it, and even found myself believing it made the story read faster. I think if it had been done without the dialect, much of the story would be lost. Likewise, I had no problems with the lack of punctuation in dialog, as it made the story read more naturally. Teens and adults will certainly have no problem with this, either.

Perhaps my favorite part of the book is that fact that it can stand alone. Don’t get me wrong: this isn’t a stand alone book, but rather the first in a series. But the story line and characters are completely developed and come to full resolutions at the conclusion of the book, meaning readers can walk away entirely satisfied having read just this volume. I would absolutely read the second volume of this book because I think that this one was engaging and exciting enough I want to know what else Young can come up with, but it makes me thrilled to know I can hand this to a reader and let them know it can be read all on its own and they don’t have to wait a year to find out what happens. It all happens right here.

Hand Blood Red Road to your fans of fast paced, action packed dystopians, including The Hunger Games and Veronica Roth’s Divergent. Readers of post-apocalyptic stories will eat this one up, as well. Thriller fans, too, will fall into this world without problem. This has wide appeal to males and females, and I think it certainly deserves attention. Will I call it “the next Hunger Games?” No. But I will say it appeals to that fan base, and that it’s a book for readers looking for adventure, high stakes, and a powerful main character who refuses to take crap from anyone who gets in her way.

Bound manuscript handed to me at ALA midwinter. Blood Red Road will be published by Simon & Schuster June 7 — just in time for summer reading!

When 17-year-old Donna’s father dies after a long bout with cancer, she begins to question who she is and what her purpose is in the world. As she works her way through the grief and loss, she comes to the realization that perhaps where she belongs is in the death business. Despite the vehement opposition of her mother and the outcast she feels from her classmates, she applies to a local mortuary school on the advice of the funeral home director who did her father’s services.

When Donna’s accepted to school and when she takes a position as an intern at the funeral home, she finds herself on the outside of everything she once was and on the outside of every relationship she once held, and she must come to terms with owning her own future.

Putting Makeup on Dead People is a book with a premise unlike any I’d read before — how often do we get a glimpse into the life of a person interested in making death their profession? In teen literature, not often. But I have to be honest: this book did not work for me as a reader on a number of levels.

Donna, who is 17 in the story, never once rang true to me as a 17-year-old. She felt 12; although it is clear her father’s death has really impacted her growth as a person, her voice is far too young and immature for 17. The manner in which she presented herself and the ways in which she protested against her mother came across as extremely childish. While reading it, I let myself be okay with this flaw, though, seeing as sometimes having an older teen character written in this style can great for tween readers. It’s a voice they can relate to while still giving them the impression they’re reading something that may be meant for older readers.

Unfortunately, though, this isn’t a book I’d be comfortable book talking or recommending to tween readers because of another challenge I had: the sex. Donna, despite talking about how she’s not really interested in boys and how she isn’t interested in pursuing a relationship, develops one with a guy about 1/4 of the way through the book. It’s not a relationship that based on romance or shared interests; it’s based entirely upon Tim’s desire to sleep with Donna. He goes as far as to do some pretty graphic things to her in a car when other characters are present, and there is an awkward going-to-have-sex-for-the-first-time scene where Donna finally remembers that she doesn’t really want a boyfriend. But perhaps what’s most worrisome about it is how little agency Donna has in any of this, as well as how little she even seems to be enjoying it. The writing here, too, falters quite a bit and feels clunky and awkward. Comparing a sexual act to painting, to be blunt, made me cringe a little bit and feel uncomfortable as a reader (and adult). I fear teens will feel similarly. I think that the story would have been stronger had no romantic relationships had been incorporated, especially one that felt so one-sided and stilted as this one.

Which brings me to the biggest issue I had with the book, and it’s that Violi tries to take on far too many topics at once, and few are as well fleshed as they could be. Aside from the sex issue, there’s quite a bit going on in terms of religion and belief. Although it is certainly a topic that would come up when discussing death and the ways in which people handle death, Donna is a little all over the board with her beliefs. It seems at the beginning she’s a strong believer in something, but she’s also interested in Wiccan traditions and other spiritual practices she knows her aunt has been outcast from the family for. It’s not a solid enough progression of change or understanding, and for me, this goes back to Donna being an unbelievable 17-year-old.

One of the major themes in the story is family, and for Donna, much of the challenge of her being able to discover her own passions is the roadblock of her mother. Of all the characters, I believe Donna’s mother was the most fully developed — she’s a total wet blanket about anything, and yet, it’s clear that Donna doesn’t understand that her mother has a life of her own to live, too. Mom both lives for her children, hoping to protect and nurture them, but she’s also eager to move on with her own life, too. Mom wants to put the kabash on her daughter going to mortuary school, and the way that Donna and her mother work through this feel authentic and reminiscent of what many teens go through with their parents when it comes to their post-high school plans. The betrayal Donna feels when her mother begins dating a new guy is relatable, despite the fact her reactions feel younger than 17. That’s not to say, though, that the mother was entirely realistic to me, either. At times, the things she said made me cringe, including one time she said that young people shouldn’t have fun because they need their rest. Awkward, strange and not all that believable to read. It feels like in this book as a whole, the challenge the author comes against is developing powerful opportunities for scenes, but it’s in the execution, the dialog, and closure where it falls apart. Potential wasn’t as fully realized as it could have been.

What did work for me in the book was the big lesson that Donna learns: that she can be what she wants to be, and that if she pursues her passions hard enough, things will work out in the end. I had the feeling this lesson would come full circle when the story began, but it was still a good one nonetheless. I love how Violi took a look at a topic that really isn’t much talked about — the funeral business — and made it interesting. Donna’s passion for it is palpable, and as a reader, I was sucked into it. It wasn’t at all morbid, but instead, it was interesting to see the entire process of funeral planning and body preparation. It makes sense to me why this book needed to tackle a wealth of issues, including faith, since that’s something hit upon quite heavily in Donna’s school and internship. Although I wasn’t crazy impressed with the writing, I would have read another 50 or 100 pages of this story to see that fleshed out further.

Putting Makeup on Dead People is a good read for your younger teens who like stories about growing up, finding oneself, and non-traditional routes post-high school. There aren’t enough stories that touch that topic, and this is a worthy entry into that area. Despite the weaknesses in this story, I am eager to see what Violi writes in the future, as she managed to keep me reading and interested in Donna’s final outcome anyway.

Picked up at ALA. Putting Makeup on Dead People will be released May 24.