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Unlocked by Ryan G Van Cleave

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Andy is the son of a janitor, and that has given him a reputation and a nickname. Shaking that off isn’t easy, especially when you’re a freshman in high school and everyone seems to know exactly where they belong in the social hierarchy.

While there are a couple other loners in the school — Sue and Nicholas — it’s Blake that captures Andy’s attention and interest, and it’s not because he’s necessarily interested in being friends. No, Blake interests Andy because of a rumor he heard: that Blake had a gun in his locker.

It’s ultimately Becky Ann, the girl Andy has a mega crush on, who convinces Andy to steal the school’s keys from his father and check the situation out for himself. Is Blake a threat to the school? Does Andy get the girl after snooping in Blake’s locker?

Does Andy have an agenda for revenge on the school?

Unlocked, written in verse, is an extremely fast paced but surprising book on a topic that’s been tread quite a bit in recent years: school violence. Andy is an angry character, but because we’re given the story from his perspective, and because he’s kind enough to give us his impressions of other students experiencing social outcast like he is, we understand why he’s angry. We also know deep down he has a spot of goodness, even if he doesn’t want to admit to it himself. Van Cleave gives his main character and his story a strong voice, something that is essential to a story as short as this one, and he is consistent in his execution.

Andy’s got a strong desire to find a way to fit in, and though he is quick to judge the other “losers” in school, it’s obvious he wants a friend and he wants one bad. And despite being set up by Becky Ann to talk with Blake — a guy who scares him — he finds he and Blake have more in common than he could imagine. But as readers, we hope they don’t form a friendship. We know Blake’s problematic, both from Andy’s descriptions and from our own understanding of the situation the two of them are thrown into, and despite our interest in Andy socializing, this is bad news.

Andy won’t listen though. But he will surprise us.

Books in verse are hit and miss for me, since these stories need to have a real purpose for using verse. It can’t be used as a method without serving the story, and I’m a little mixed on whether it was effective in Van Cleave’s book. Andy’s story and perspective don’t have enough pulse behind them to merit a longer book or to merit standard prose, but I’m not entirely sure that the verse heightened or changed the story, either. The caveat to that is that this is the kind of book that will appeal to reluctant readers, particularly reluctant readers of verse novels. It’s a short book, and the fact it’s written as it is makes it read quickly. There’s not a lot of dwelling on unnecessary details, and we get just enough characterization in the story to make it move. Likewise, I think that this book has great guy appeal — besides the main character being male, there is more emphasis on action than on emotion, despite the fact this is a bit of an emotionally-intense book. But the emotion comes more on the reader’s side than on the story’s side. I don’t think there are enough books written in verse with guy appeal, and this one, despite some of the shortcomings of the structure, is a worthy entry into that category.

What I really enjoyed about Van Cleave’s story was it wasn’t entirely predictable. Because I’ve read a number of stories that tackle this topic, I had a prediction of how the story would play out, but Andy completely surprised me in the end. Throughout the story, I saw these glimpses of something different in his character, something that made him different from these other kids, and in the end, he proved this to me. This is the kind of book that almost begs for a rereading, simply because of the surprise ending; the clues are dropped throughout, and a second read would be rewarding in terms of unlocking them.

Unlocked would make a strong read alike to books such as Hate List by Jennifer Brown, as well as Jodi Picoult’s 19 Minutes and even Dave Cullen’s Columbine. In the past, I’ve talked the former three together, and I’ve found kids interested in one story want to read the rest of them as a means of understanding different perspectives. Van Cleave’s story will reach reluctant readers, as mention before, as well as those who enjoy fast-paced, realistic stories. Hand this one, too, to your kids who maybe find themselves in the outside of high school cliques, as it will make them feel they can make a difference and do matter in school.

The Pull of Gravity by Gae Polisner

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At ALA Midwinter, Abby and I were told by a reputable source that we needed to find a copy of Gae Polisner’s debut novel The Pull of Gravity. Turns out, we scored the last two review copies, and when I finally had the chance to dive in, I can say I wasn’t disappointed.

Nick’s family is in a tough position right now, as his father has decided he needs to go for a walk. This walk is a life walk of sorts, one where he hopes he’ll be able to not only find himself, but that he’ll have the added benefit of losing weight. About the time he up and leaves, Nick’s neighbor and best friend Scooter, who has suffered from a life altering disease for years, becomes sicker and sicker. Nick can’t fathom the idea of losing both his father and his best friend.

When Nick meets Jaycee, a strange girl who, too, has ties to Scooter (something Nick never knew), he learns that his best friend not only kept a secret about his friendship with this girl, but he discovers there’s another secret — a dying wish Scooter only shared with Jaycee — that involves Nick. He and Jaycee are to deliver a valuable first edition of John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men to Scooter’s father, a man who walked out of Scooter’s life a long time ago and from whom no one had heard from in many years. Jaycee has a plan, and Nick, knowing he wants to make the wishes of his best friend come true, follows along on a road trip that will take them to unexpected places.

Polisner’s book is a steady-paced story that pulls much of its inspiration direct from the source: Steinbeck’s classic Of Mice and Men. This is a huge strength to the book, as it’s something that readers who are familiar with the work will appreciate on many levels, but it’s not so overwhelming as to turn off readers who aren’t familiar with the story. Nick and Jaycee stand on either side of this, too, so readers will immediately relate — Nick is reading the book for the first time and comes to understand why the book and story were so important to Scooter, while Jaycee, who is familiar with Steinbeck’s book, has the opportunity to teach Nick how to understand the tough parts. This set up mirrors, of course, their grieving process over the illness of Scooter, as well as their understanding of one another’s unique relationship to Scooter.

The Pull of Gravity is a quiet book, and it wouldn’t need to be any other way. Nick is your average guy: he’s not the smartest nor the dumbest, and he does enough to get by in school socially. Even though he has a lot going on in his life, and none of it is good, he’s strong and solid, albeit quiet. When he embarks on this trip with Jaycee, he’s hesitant at first, but throughout the course of the story, he begins to embrace the fact that Jaycee is not quiet like he is. She is anything but, and she has an excellent optimistic attitude about life. She reminded me quite a bit of Amber Appleton of Sorta Like a Rockstar in this regard, and I suspect that Polisner’s book would make a fantastic readalike to Quick’s story. By the end of the story — in a bit of a twist from what I was expecting — Nick has really learned to appreciate who he is as a person, as well as learn to love Jaycee. It turns out that Scooter’s dying wish has a far greater impact than Nick believed, even if readers will understand this chapters before Nick does.

Perhaps one of the best parts of the story for me, though, is the writing. It’s quite tight, and the control of the story — which could become unwieldy easily, given the huge number of topics tackled here — is excellent. The story moves smoothly, and there weren’t loose ends at the conclusion. But more than that, despite the heart of this story being about grief and loss, it’s written with wit, thanks to Jaycee. She’s the right balance of serious and insightful, as well as humor and absurdity, to temper the tough elements with which Nick and readers grapple.

That said, I did have a few issues with the plot. Perhaps most challenging for me was how easy it was for Nick and Jaycee to slip away from home to go on a bus trip to a city hours away from home to try to locate Scooter’s father. The clues that led them to the city were thinly developed, and while believable for teens of their age, I think that given the insight we have into Nick’s mind and the understanding we have of Jaycee, neither would really be that willing to go off such loose threads. Moreover, it was strange neither Nick’s mother nor Jaycee’s parents were aware their kids up and left — it’s explained away in the story, but it wasn’t realistic enough to me as a reader. Another minor issue I had as a reader was that when Nick and Jaycee initially arrive in Albany, the pacing dragged a bit. There is an illness involved in their arrival, and for me as a reader, it was one element too many; contextually it makes sense, particularly in relation to the parallels between Polisner’s work and Steinbeck’s, but it was just a little too much going on in such a small time frame, particularly after their time on the road. It slowed too much. And finally, post-trip, I don’t know if I necessarily bought the change in Nick and Jaycee’s relationship, perhaps because I didn’t want what happened to happen. It was almost cliche, especially in the realm of contemporary YA lit as a whole.

This book reminded me quite a bit of John Green in terms of style and execution, which is both a good and a bad thing. Long-time readers know I’m not a huge Green fan because most of his plots are the same concept over and over (geeky guy meets mysterious but quirky girl who takes him on a trip that changes his life). We have that set up here, as well. While for me, this set up is a little overdone, I think that fans of Green’s books will eat this one up. Polisner, of course, does us the favor of not falling into the exact same trope as Green, by offering us a little more in terms of the meaning of this trip and the importance of the friendship of Scooter to Nick and Jaycee.

Pass Polisner’s debut The Pull of Gravity to your fans of slower paced readers, as well as fans of classic literary novels. Though I wouldn’t necessarily call this a literary piece itself, the connections it makes to Of Mice and Men will pique the interest of many classic readers, while capturing the interest of those readers who wouldn’t want to touch a classic novel if they weren’t forced to. Don’t believe that there aren’t tough issues tackled and that there aren’t very heavy moments in the story — there are. But the overall tone of the novel is hopeful and positive, so those who don’t like stories with sad endings will find this to be a satisfying read. Although not necessarily what I’d consider a “guy read,” this book certainly will appeal to both girls and guys, as Nick is a pretty believable male lead. This is the kind of book that would work well, too, for book clubs or reading groups because of its wide potential readership.

The Lucky Kind by Alyssa B Sheinmel

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Nick’s a junior in high school, and he’s your average kind of guy. He floats by. But everything changes on night when he receives a strange phone call for his father — it’s a voice on the other end of the line that he doesn’t recognize and he takes a message. When the strange caller strikes again and this time his father is able to answer, Nick knows something unsettling is going on.

Little did he know how much his life would change when one of the deepest secrets his father holds unravels before him.

The Lucky Kind, Sheinmel’s sophomore effort, is a quiet book in the same style as her first novel, The Beautiful Between. It’s not a quick read, and much like Sarah Dessen does, Sheinmel really develops a world for her characters that is easy to fall into. The two make excellent readalikes for that and for their ability to delve into family drama in a realistic and relatable way.

But for me, The Lucky Kind was not as strong as The Beautiful Between, and it all hinges on the fact that Nick is not a believable male voice to me. He’s far too emotional and internally driven, set on making everything right between people in his world. Although there certainly are boys who are emotional, it doesn’t ring true here. This book won’t really reach male readers but I think that many female readers will appreciate the voice that Nick has, despite the fact it’s a little unrealistic.

Sheinmel has a way with writing interesting and evocative scenes — I wanted to keep reading, despite my disinterest and disbelief in Nick. The thread of the story was compelling enough to keep going, and perhaps most important to me was the fact this story did not drag. It’s a short book, clocking in at just over 200 pages, and I had enough interest to keep going. The big secret which Nick discovers about his father is believable enough, and I found the actual relationship that developed between father and son to be honest: there’s a lot of hurt going on with Nick and with his father in the big reveal, and as readers, we feel it. I would have liked knowing a little bit more about the mother in the story, but since this story really focused in on one thing, that could have added unnecessary weight.

Sheinmel excels at relationship building. Nick develops a relationship with a long time crush in the story, and I enjoyed seeing how that developed through the course of the book; not only was this relationship between them, though, it connected right back to the relationship that Nick and his father were having and the relationship that develops between Nick and the person on the phone. I’d say it even connected right back to the relationship Nick had with best friend Stevie, too. This year it seems there are a lot of strong books about family and the fluidity therein, and I believe The Lucky Kind offers a glimpse into this.

That said, I had to suspend a little bit of my belief in reading because the entire plot depended upon a single phone call on a land line phone. And while this alone isn’t necessarily unbelievable, the fact Nick said he depends upon that land line phone, particularly when it came to communicating with his friend Stevie, was hammered out more than once; a little dated, perhaps, for teen readers today, but again, not entirely problematic. But the issue lies in the fact that after the first couple of chapters when the big phone call plot is set up, everything is done via cell phone. Stevie is the last person Nick called on his cell phone. He only communicates with girlfriend Eden via cell phone. It was a thin string to unhatch the plot, but the narrative inconsistencies made the string even weaker.

The Lucky Kind will appeal to readers of realistic fiction, family stories, or sweet romances. Sarah Dessen fans will enjoy this, as will fans of Deb Caletti, and perhaps those of CK Kelly Martin. This wasn’t my favorite read of this year, but it does stand out a little bit as something different from much of what I have read. I liked the family dynamics, and I thought the ending offered something that wasn’t as open and closed as many other similar stories. Girl readers will probably find Nick an extremely likeable character, though I think they won’t necessarily buy him as realistic. I’d skip handing this one off to the boys, though, in hopes of reaching them with a good guy voice; but don’t brush off the fact that this character will still appeal to some boy readers who like more romantic stories (they do exist).

Book picked up at ALA. The Lucky Kind will be released May 10.

Castle Waiting by Linda Medley

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I first read Linda Medley’s Castle Waiting graphic novel as part of an assignment in library school.  It was the very first graphic novel/comic I had read in years (the last one before that was probably an issue of Casper when I wasn’t even double digits).  I wasn’t averse to reading graphic novels, and I had long embraced the notion of having them in public libraries as practical and necessary, I just hadn’t ever bothered to go find one I thought I would like.
I’m glad I chose Castle Waiting as my gateway drug.  It has a lot of elements I really enjoy in a novel: fairy tales reworked in new and interesting ways, a strong female protagonist, humor, feminist themes, and some nice surprises in the plot.  I revisited the book this week and was pleased to discover that I enjoyed it just as much the second time around.
Castle Waiting opens with what seems to be a fairly straightforward re-telling of Rapunzel.  Near the end, it morphs into something different (there’s a particularly funny set of wordless panels at this point), and we see that it’s the origin story for the place known as “Castle Waiting,” which has become a refuge for the weary and the imperiled.  As one of the characters tells our protagonist later on, the castle provides sanctuary for those who need to live in safety or die in safety.  When you consider the fact that the setting is a fairy tale world, it becomes easy to see how this story is a feminist one.
After the origin story, we’re introduced to our protagonist, lovely young Jain, who’s pregnant and on the run from her husband (not necessarily the father of her child).  She’s been told by her own father about Castle Waiting and its sanctuary, so she makes her way there.  Once there, she’s welcomed by its inhabitants, a diverse array of characters which Medley has plundered from the pages of nursery rhymes, legends, and fairy tales.
The second half of the book involves a group of bearded nuns.  That’s awesome enough in itself.  I don’t think this story is as strong as the one featuring Jain, but it’s amusing and interesting nonetheless.
The emphasis in Castle Waiting is not on sword and sorcery, and there’s not a great deal of action.  Instead, Medley focuses completely on the characters, giving us vignettes without major climaxes that allow us to really get to know everyone.  By the end of the book, they’ve become friends, and we wish we could visit for a weekend.  There’s nothing pulse-pounding about this comic, and sometimes that’s exactly what people need.
All of the female characters (and the male ones) are independent and interesting.  They’ve all got their own back stories and their own little quirks.  A few of the characters are particularly funny, cracking jokes and seeing humor in everyday activities.  While the characters’ lives weren’t necessarily rosy, they’ve all found a home at Castle Waiting, and the tone of the book reflects that sense of community.         
Medley’s art is all black and white, which I normally avoid (I prefer full-color), but it works here.  Her linework is very detailed and helps give the story its sense of fun.  The humor in the story comes not only from the dialogue between the characters, but in the reactions seen in facial expressions and body language.
Castle Waiting is basically a fairy tale (or rather, a series of fairy tale-esque stories) told with a feminist bent.  It has similarities with Bill Willingham’s Fables in that they both re-work traditional stories for a new audience and both center around a community of diverse characters who have found sanctuary with each other, but Castle Waiting is much different in tone.  Whereas Fables is most definitely for an adult or mature teen audience (lots of violence and sex), Castle Waiting is more child-friendly.  Its tone is a bit gentler and it doesn’t have any of the content parents tend to object to: bad language, nudity, violence.  That said, I think Castle Waiting is best appreciated by older teens and adults due to its themes, which younger readers may miss or simply not find interesting.
I first read Castle Waiting in individual volumes, but I got my hands on the compilation for the re-read (so the origin story, Jain’s story, and the bearded nuns story were all together).  Wow this book is beautiful. The spine has a cloth-type covering and it comes with a built-in ribbon bookmark.  It’s kind of ridiculous how much I love these ribbon bookmarks.  The cover, the only part of the book in color, shows the characters the reader meets within the book’s pages, and even the horse’s personality is evident.
This review covers only Castle Waiting Volume I, but Volume II is out now, and it’s sitting on my table ready to be read.  I’m definitely looking forward to it.

Stay by Deb Caletti

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Clara and her father’s move to a rental place in a small town on the water begins Deb Caletti’s latest novel, Stay. Although a quiet event in their lives, it ends up being a huge part of the story, as we begin weaving the story of Clara’s volatile last few months in an abusive relationship with Christian with the story of her recovery and attempt to reconcile her feelings for Christian, herself, and a guy she’s met on the water in her new town. Is she ready to move on after such a rough relationship with Christian? Can she let herself believe she’s worth more than what Christian told her?

Stay is a slower paced story but it’s an important one. As readers, we know immediately that the relationship Clara develops with Christian won’t be healthy — we can see it from the start. But what Caletti does that’s so important here is that she drops us square into Clara’s mindset. As outsiders, it’s easy for us to judge this relationship, but given the internal thoughts of Clara, it’s almost easy to see why she chose to remain in an abusive relationship and why she’s unwilling to throw herself into a new one after ending things with Christian.

A secondary plot that Caletti develops in this book is that of Clara’s mother: she’s been dead for quite a while, but we’re never given the immediate reason why. Clara’s father isn’t willing to talk much about it, but it’s through his newly emerging relationships in this new town that he finally comes to terms with his grief over the loss of his wife and is able and willing to relate the story to his daughter.

This isn’t an easy book to review, primarily because it is such an issue-driven book. It’s fairly cut and dry in terms of what the goals are in story telling, and as readers, we have our expectations adequately met. Christian is depicted at first as a good guy, but then we’re given insight into those small moments where his character is questionable. Then we see his wretched side fully. We get to see Clara develop her innocent fascination with Christian into a full relationship, one which is rich and exciting from the get go. Then we see her begin questioning his actions toward her, his possessiveness and need to keep an eye on her. We care deeply when she’s hurt and we want her to leave Christian, but we know, too, it will take quite a bit for her to build the power to do so. Both are fully realized characters, complex and emotionally charged, but neither were exactly different. That is to say, nothing memorable stood out about either for me as a reader. They were based on their actions/reactions thereafter, rather than their characteristics.

The story as a whole never coalesced like I hoped, either. Although I liked the resolution, I kept thinking in the back of my head that more should happen or that I should know something quirky or more compelling about any of the characters. Part of me questioned the audience of this novel more generally, too: as Sarah’s pointed out, Caletti’s writing feels a bit like a teen version of Jodi Picoult. I agree. In fact, part of me believes that a story like Stay has tremendous cross-over potential for adult readers and admittedly, there were moments in the story that the description dwelled just a little too long on the water front imagery and the idea of the sea, something that happens much more in adult fiction than teen. Those moments didn’t feel as authentic to Clara’s voice as I’d like them to because they felt much more adult than teen. Although she’d been through something that certainly was adult, I didn’t believe her sensibilities in those musings.

What I really liked about this novel, though, was the relationship between Clara and her father. It’s rare to read a well-written relationship between a father and a daughter, but I think Caletti nails it here. Dad doesn’t hover, but he wants to protect his daughter; Clara doesn’t repel him or go running to him for safety, but she treads carefully into the world of knowing she needs her father for some things (such as safety and security) but that she also needs to rely on herself to handle other things (such as social acceptance and moving on). I really liked her father throughout the story, but it was probably the last couple of interactions between them that solidified him as my favorite character in the story.

Worth noting, this book can come off a bit jarring upon first reading. The chapters alternate from the present back through the past, and it took me a few chapters to figure this out. It’s worth noting that I read the advanced copy of this title, and as of that version, there were not indicators on the chapters noting whether they were in the present or were flashbacks. Once in the groove of the story telling method, though, the flow makes sense and works quite nicely. I liked the story’s execution because it really gave us intimate insight into Clara’s mindset, both in the moment and in her reflection of those moments.

Stay will work for your teen fans of adult fiction authors like Jodi Picoult or Anna Quendlin (and fans of her most well-known work Black and Blue will likely find Caletti’s story an interesting work to read in comparison to boot). It’ll also work for fans of Sarah Dessen and Susane Colasanti, though the plotting here will be the thrust of the stories, rather than the characters. And finally, I urge you to keep this book on your radar if for no other reason than to notice one of 2011’s ya trends: relationship abuse. Stay is the first big name book on this topic out this year, but Jennifer Brown’s Bitter End (reviewed here) will be available this week and Jenny Downham’s You Against Me will be over from the UK this fall. In addition, Amanda Grace (the pen name for Mandy Hubbard) has also recently released But I Love Him on this topic, as well. It’ll be interesting to see the varied and various angles on this tough but important topic — Caletti’s title falls on the internal and recovery aspects of the victim.