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Get Genrefied: YA in Translation

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We’ve dabbled in non-genre posts in our “Get Genrefied” series, covering different formats like graphic novels. For this addition to the series, we’re going to dig into a category within YA that doesn’t fit neatly into one genre, since it includes all genres, and one that doesn’t fit nicely into a format, since it can come in a variety of formats. We’re talking YA books in translation. 

Works in translation for YA make up a very small number of titles published each year, and those which are published through major publishers make up an even smaller portion of those titles. While good numbers of English-written books are sold for translation in other languages, the number of titles published in foreign language and translated into English is tiny. On this post about books in translation at The Girl Who Keeps Reading, she cites a study from Publishing Perspectives that notes 3% of the market for books is works in translation — that is inclusive, which suggests that the YA books in translation number is similar, if not smaller. 

There’s also surprisingly little being written about YA works in translation. 

YA works in translation contribute directly to the diversity within this category of literature. It opens up perspectives on story and voice. Even the most expertly translated works are expert for a reason: they allow the original author’s writing and storytelling to shine through. Though the themes or the appeal of the book may be universal, the magic of reading a title in translation is experiencing that universality. And, perhaps, what makes works in translation even more exciting for many readers is that those voices or ideas can be so divergent from the thoughts or ideas offered in what’s published in English. How many of the works in translation in YA dive into a philosophical notion that feels completely foreign or maybe even scary or strange? 

It’s through exposure to those odd-to-us worlds, though, we build bridges among and across cultures. 

In 2006, Roger Sutton posed the question of what makes a good translated book, and publisher Arthur A. Levine weighed in with this:

Wherever they start their lives, we want the books we publish simply to be terrific reads, written by interesting, powerful, affecting writers. And looking overseas (or across borders) is just a matter of making the broadest possible sweep when searching for those talented creators. For me, part of the appeal of looking for great authors to publish in translation is the tantalizing potential in that deep and — for English-language publishers — largely untapped pool of talent out there in the rest of the world. I ask myself, What refreshing new voice, what unique imagination would I find if I could read the very best writers in each country?


One of the interesting elements in this piece is that Levine notes the idea of a book being “too foreign” for an English readership isn’t something he takes into consideration. He notes:

I’ve never found such pronouncements that helpful. They remind me of discussions of what boys like. And what girls like. There’s probably some crumb of truth buried in such a discussion, but it’s not a very interesting truth to me, based as it is on stereotypes and least-common-denominator assumptions. What’s really interesting to me is the experience of the real, complex reader.


Another interesting piece from Horn Book, this time from 1999, looks at the task at hand for those who are translators. Cathy Hirano translated Kazumi Yumoto’s The Friends, which won the Boston Globe-Horn Book award in fiction, and she talked at length about the different elements that she had to keep in mind with not just Yumoto’s book, but what all translators think about when bringing a work into English. It’s far more challenging than a straightforward sentence-by-sentence, word-by-word translation:

I must strive to remain true not only to the essence, but also to the style and tone of the writer in the source language while at the same time render it in a way that is understandable to someone from a very different culture and way of thinking. It is a balancing act, requiring sensitivity and intuition, a combination of humility, vigilance, and arrogance. I say humility because as a translator I must be willing to accept that the author comes first, and that even if I don’t agree, or think that I can say it better, the author is always right. 


Laura Watkinson, a translator whose work has been recognized by the Batchelder Award, did a fascinating interview with Cynthia Leitich Smith, talking about the good and less-than-good parts of the translation process that hint at maybe why we don’t hear as much about YA in translation as we might otherwise:


Reading some reviews, you might think that a book gets magically translated into English at the press of a button in Google Translate.

I think that perhaps the funniest – you have to laugh – review of a translated book I ever saw included a great long list of facts at the beginning, including the name of the author (of course), publisher (yes), price (okay…), number of pages (hmm), font (maybe interesting from a design point of view), and type of paper used (huh?), but neglected entirely to mention the name of the translator, i.e. the person who had written every single word of the book that was being reviewed.

I laughed – and then I wrote a note to point out the critic’s omission. They were very apologetic, but said that it hadn’t actually occurred to them to mention the translator’s name. Sigh.

And then there are the occasions when the perceived weaknesses of a book are blamed on the translator. There’s honestly only so much you can tweak when you’re translating a book. You have various options at word and sentence level and you can spot consistency issues, but plot and character issues are generally out of the translator’s hands.

It’s so frustrating to see that tired old “lost in translation” line trotted out when you know how much work goes into the process of translation and how many tricky issues the translator has to solve.

The whole interview is excellent, and it’s a nice window into the world of translating children’s books for an English audience. 

As noted above, there is an annual recognition for the best work in translation for children, the Mildred A. Batchelder Award. The award honors the most outstanding children’s book originally published in a language other than English, from a country outside of the United States which is then translated into English for publication in the US. One the small print aspects of the Batchelder Award is that it’s limited to books published for an audience of those up to and including 14, meaning that older YA titles — those that would generally be published 14 or older — are not eligible for the award. The Batchelder is an award given from ALSC, the children’s division within ALA, so it makes sense. But it’s interesting there hasn’t been an equivalent award through YALSA or an award that covers the books that would fall under both ALSC and YALSA’s age divisions, as some others do. 

Although works in translation contribute to the variety in YA fiction, it’s not always obvious when a book is a work in translation. Sometimes that gets noted in reviews, typically in the trades, but not always. And as Watkinson noted, rarely do we know about the intermediary who does the work of making the book come alive in English the same way it captured attention in its original language. Perhaps there’s a bias against translated works, as Levine notes in his piece, and perhaps it’s simply not being aware that these books are out there or that they are works in translation. If we don’t know, we can’t spread the word or talk about whether the translation is or isn’t successful. More than the perceived success of the translation, we can’t talk about the bigger, more interesting issues relating to translating, including why stories are or deserve to be translated, what stories we are exposed to through translation, and even the overarching question about what storytelling does for us as humans. 

Another angle of thinking about YA in translation, and maybe what would be most familiar and accessible to teens, is manga. The bulk of manga is translated, and readers who love it have little to no problem diving right in and “getting” it. 

Let’s dive into the world of YA in translation. I’ve not limited my list to recent titles, but have included a span of publication dates. All descriptions are from WorldCat, and I’ve tried to note relevant information about original language or the name of the translator, where I can find it. If you know of more YA novels in translation, I’d love to make this a bigger list, so please feel free to hop in in the comments.



Boy On The Edge by Fridrik Erlings: Henry has a clubfoot and he is the target of relentless bullying. One day, in a violent fit of anger, Henry lashes out at the only family he has– his mother. Sent to live with other troubled boys at the Home of Lesser Brethren, an isolated farm perched in the craggy lava fields along the unforgiving Icelandic coast, Henry finds a precarious contentment among the cows. But it is the people, including the manic preacher who runs the home, who fuel Henry’s frustration and sometimes rage as he yearns for a life and a home. Author Fridrik Erlings offers a young adult novel that explores cruelty and desperation, tenderness and remorse, but most importantly, kindness and friendship.
** This book isn’t technically in translation. Erlings wrote the book in English, based off the original he had written in Icelandic. But I’m including it because it’s too neat not to. 

The Storyteller by Antonia Michaelis, German, translated by Miriam Debbage: Wealthy, seventeen-year-old Anna begins to fall in love with her classmate, Abel, a drug dealer from the wrong side of town, when she hears him tell a story to his six-year-old sister, but when his enemies begin turning up dead, Anna fears she has fallen for a murderer.

Why We Took The Car by Wolfgang Herrndorf, German, translated by Tim Mohr: Mike Klingenberg is a troubled fourteen-year-old from a disfunctional family in Berlin who thinks of himself as boring, so when a Russian juvenile delinquent called Tschick begins to pay attention to him and include Mike in his criminal activities, he is excited–until those activities lead to disaster on the autobahn.

172 Hours On The Moon by Johan Marstad, Norwegian, translated by Tara F. Chace: In 2019, teens Mia, Antoine, and Midori are selected by lottery to join experienced astronauts on a NASA mission to the once top-secret moon base, DARLAH 2, while in a Florida nursing home, a former astronaut struggles to warn someone of the terrible danger there.

are u 4 real? by Sara Kadefors, Swedish, translated by Tara F. Chace: After meeting “online” in an Internet chat room and helping each other deal with family problems, Kyla and Alex, two very different sixteen year olds, decide to meet in person.

Ruby Red series by Kerstin Gier, German, translated by Anthea Bell: Sixteen-year-old Gwyneth discovers that she, rather than her well-prepared cousin, carries a time-travel gene, and soon she is journeying with Gideon, who shares the gift, through historical London trying to discover whom they can trust.

Arcadia Awakens series by Kai Meyer, German, translated by Anthea Bell: When seventeen-year-old Rosa Alcantara travels from her native Brooklyn to her ancestral home in Sicily, she falls head over heels for Alessandro Carnevare, whose family is the sworn enemy of hers, and must confront both of their families’ criminal–and paranormal–pasts.

Nothing by Janne Teller, Danish, translated by Martin Aitken: When thirteen-year-old Pierre Anthon leaves school to sit in a plum tree and train for becoming part of nothing, his seventh grade classmates set out on a desperate quest for the meaning of life.

The Prince of Mist by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Spanish, translated by Lucia Graves: In 1943, in a seaside town where their family has gone to be safe from war, thirteen-year-old Max Carver and sister, fifteen-year-old Alicia, with new friend Roland, face off against an evil magician who is striving to complete a bargain made before he died.

God And I Broke Up by Katarina Mazetti, Swedish, translated by Maria Lundin: Linnea is sixteen and when she meets Pia, she feels like she has finally found a friend. But now Pia is dead and Linnea struggles to understand the loss.

Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit series by Nahoko Uehashi, Japanese, translated by Cathy Hirano: The wandering warrior Balsa is hired to protect Prince Chagum from both a mysterious monster and the prince’s father, the Mikado.

No and Me by Daphine de Vigan, French, translated by George Miller: A novel about two very different teenagers and the true nature of homelessness.

As Red As Blood series by Salla Simukka, Finnish, translated by Owen Witesman: In the midst of the freezing Arctic winter, seventeen-year-old Lumikki Andersson walks into her school’s darkroom and finds a stash of money splattered with someone’s blood. She is swept into a whirlpool of dangerous encounters with dirty cops and a notorious drug kingpin as she helps to trace the origin of the cash.

City of the Beasts series by Isabel Allende, Spanish, translated by Margaret Sayers Peden: When fifteen-year-old Alexander Cold accompanies his individualistic grandmother on an expedition to find a humanoid Beast in the Amazon, he experiences ancient wonders and a supernatural world as he tries to avert disaster for the Indians.

Me On The Floor Bleeding by Jenny Jagerfeld, Swedish, translated by Susan Beard: Highschool-outsider Maja would never hurt herself on purpose as her dad, teachers, and classmates seem to believe. Can’t a person saw off the tip of her thumb without everyone starting to worry? That is, everyone except Maja’s mum, who worringly seems to have disappeared from the face of earth. Crashing a neighbour’s party, Maja meets twenty-year-old Justin Case, a super-verbal car mechanic with pink pants, who makes her forget everything about absent mothers and sawn-off thumbs, at least temporarily. But then Maja hacks into her father’s email account and reads an email that hurts more than all the electric saws in the world.

 

Dream A Little Dream series by Kerstin Gier, coming January 2015, German, translated by Anthea Bell: Liv Silver, fifteen, has lived in six countries in eight years and she and her sister yearn for a real home and normalcy, but soon after moving in with her mother’s boyfriend in London, Liv’s dreams turn bizarre, filled with talking stone statues, mysterious corridors, and strange rituals conducted by four boys who happen to be her new classmates.

Playing A Part by Daria Wilke, Russian, translated by Marian Schwartz, coming March 31, 2015: In June 2013, the Russian government passed laws prohibiting “gay propaganda,” threatening jail time and fines to offenders. That same month, in spite of these harsh laws, a Russian publisher released Playing a Part, a young adult novel with openly gay characters. It was a brave, bold act, and now this groundbreaking story has been translated for American readers. Grisha adores everything about the Moscow puppet theater where his parents work, and spends as much time there as he can. But life outside the theater is not so wonderful. The boys in Grisha’s class bully him mercilessly, and his own grandfather says hateful things about how he’s not “masculine” enough. Life goes from bad to worse when Grisha learns that Sam, his favorite actor and mentor, is moving: He’s leaving the country to escape the extreme homophobia he faces in Russia. (Description via Goodreads). 

This Week in Reading: Volume VIII

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It’s been two weeks since the last update, so there are a lot of new books that showed up in my house. I think this is everything I still have hanging around. I know I’ve already returned Amity by Micol Ostow and 100 Sideways Miles by Andrew Smith, both of which I blew through in the last week (and both were enjoyable — I’ll write more about each in a big roundup soon).

Here’s what I’ve purchased/received/checked out/bought in the last couple of weeks:
Captain Marvel: Volume 1 by Kelly DeConnick
Ms. Marvel: Volume 1 by G. Willow Wilson — This was great and I can’t wait to keep up with this series. 
Yes Please by Amy Poehler — The hardcover edition of this is so nice. The print quality, the paper, the design, everything is really lovely. The book itself was great, too. I love how much Poehler celebrates and encourages other women.
Bird Box by Josh Malerman
In The Woods by Tana French
Stone in the Sky by Cecil Castellucci (February 24) — I’m eager to read this duology all at once. 
Alex As Well by Alyssa Bergman (January 20)
Those Girls by Lauren Saft (June 9)
The Witch Hunter by Virginia Boecker (June 2)
Kissing Ted Callahan (And Other Guys) by Amy Spalding (April 14) — I got to read this one early and I loved it. It might be my favorite Amy Spalding title to date. 
Scarlett Undercover by Jennifer Latham (May 19) — I am so looking forward to this one.
A Million Miles Away by Lara Avery (July 7)
After The Red Rain by Barry Lyga, Peter Facinelli, and Rob DeFranco (August 4)
Court of Fives by Kate Elliot (August 18) — This is pitched as (wait for it) Game of Thrones meets Hunger Games meets Little Women, which means…absolutely nothing to me. 
Six Impossible Things by Fiona Wood (August 11) — I loved Wildlife and can’t wait to read the companion novel. 
All The Bright Places by Jennifer Niven (January 8) — This is getting a massive push and I’ve seen some good reviews, but can we knock off the Eleanor & Park meets The Fault In Our Stars thing? Because that’s actually a turn off for me.
Currently Reading:
I started Sara Farizan’s Tell Me Again How A Crush Should Feel last night and while it’s imperfect — there’s weirdly timed info-dumping and not all of that info feels consistent — the voice is young and sweet, and I love that the main character is Iranian and working through how to best express her sexuality. This is lighter reading, which I am really in the mood for right now.
Around the Web: 

  • I’ve been reading like crazy the last month or so. I think I was finishing a book every other day in October. I wanted to get through as much horror as possible, and because of all the reading, I decided I wouldn’t pressure myself to write up reviews of everything. If you’re curious about what I read in horror — some YA and some adult — here’s a visual peek on my Tumblr. After I posted it, I realize I didn’t add Rachel Klein’s The Moth Diaries. That was a better read than it was a movie, for sure. 

This Week at Book Riot

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Here’s a look at this week over at Book Riot . . .

Guest Post: Victoria Signorelli and Kathleen Willard of Gay YA

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It’s not often we do guest posts for people who aren’t authors. But today’s guest post, from Vee Signorelli and Kathleen Willard, is one I am so excited to share. If those names don’t sound familiar to you, maybe their blog does. These two ladies — teenagers — run GayYA.org. This is an incredible resource of book reviews, book lists, and discussions about all things relating to LGBTQIA+ in YA, and it’s one that I turn to regularly. If it’s not on your reading radar already, it should be. 
 
Let me reiterate that the two minds behind this site, as well as its Tumblr and Twitter accounts, are teenagers. Their work and their insight into YA is keen and thoughtful, and I had to ask them to come talk about why they started the site, what they offer up on the site, books that have impacted them, and more. 
**
One night in May of 2011, Jessica Verday announced to the internet why she’d pulled out of the anthology Wicked Pretty Things: one of the editors said they would not include her piece unless she changed her m/m pairing to an m/f one. The internet exploded. A #YesGayYA hashtag formed on Twitter. Hundreds of blog posts went up. People came out of the woodwork to talk about similar experiences, and to promote LGBT YA. My older sister and I were both scrolling through our Twitter feeds the night of this announcement. We ushered each other over to read stories of characters being “straightened” by publishers/editors/agents who didn’t think they would sell, or someone explaining why they needed LGBT YA. We both saw the same thing: tons of people calling out for representation, with no way to reach publishers, agents, and editors, and nothing to connect them to each other. To this day, we don’t know who said it. But it was announced, “someone really needs to make a website on all of this stuff.” We looked at each other over the top of our computer screens.

“are you…”

“thinking…?”

“Yes!”

“SAME.”

We realized there was a huge demand for representation of the people, and no one organizing to talk about it past some hashtags on Twitter. We were only sixteen and twelve at the time, but it wasn’t even really a question in our minds: we knew how to do websites, and we knew social media.

We both identified as straight at the time (ha ha), and we really knew nothing about the LGBTQ community. To be honest, we were probably the least qualified people to do the job. But, we had the time and the passion and the knowledge of websites to be able to do it. We made many mistakes: calling a pairing of two bisexual guys “gay” when it should’ve been M/M, using “gay” as an umbrella term for the entire LGBTQIA+ community, and generally just being the most clueless people in the world. It was a learning curve, but once we realized we were not the ones who needed to do the speaking, we got out of the way.

We got some great posts on our site, and many wonderful and rich conversations going. We both enjoyed it, and put a good amount of time into it. But there was only so much effort two presumably straight teens could put into something like this— we were convinced that all LGBT lit was dreary and full of angst, and the words “the problem is, it’s just not good” were muttered frequently. We had no over-arcing vision for the site, and were really getting nothing out of it, except getting to talk to some authors who we were convinced wrote solely angst. So after about two years, we abandoned our site. It was partially due to issues at home, but the site had started to drag on us. If it had been something we were still incredibly passionate about, I don’t think we would’ve let it go.

It didn’t really look like it would ever get going again, especially after my sister headed off to college.

Then, this past winter when I turned sixteen, I went through a process of figuring out my own identity. It was an extremely hard time for me, as I had never heard of either non-binary genders or pansexuality and it took me a long time to realize that they fit me. During this time, I found such solace in books. Beautiful Music for Ugly Children by Kirstin Cronn-Mills really opened up the door to self discovery, because Gabe, the MC was trans and happy. I had the same thing with The Realm of Possibility by David Levithan which made me feel like however I identified would be accepted. And Far From You by Tess Sharpe, which made me feel OK about my attraction to girls. Eventually, I figured out what my identity was through tumblr (non-binary and pansexual), but I got the humanity and the ability to discard shame from books. I remember the first time I held in my hands a book that had me in it (which was Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff)– a book that had a happy ending. Every time I was told that people like me didn’t exist, every time I started to believe that I would never be happy, I had something physical to cling to that proved to me I really was here, that I had a chance at a good life.

But I also ran into a lot of difficulty: because most people don’t even know people like me exist, I can count on one hand the books that have non-binary people in them. And I had the resources to be able to find them. I understood more than ever the importance of not only queer YA, but the service I had an opportunity to provide through GayYA.org.

I realized that there were a lot of teens out there like me, looking for themselves in books. And I realized I had a chance to really help them out. So, this March, I decided to start it back up. For the first time since we began, I had a vision and purpose.

Kathleen:

I never “figured out” that I was gay, as so many people do later in life. I knew from the beginning. I thought girls were the bomb. I had a substantial crush on Daphne from Scooby Doo. I also thought that something was horribly wrong with me–that I was wrong, and needed to be fixed–because I did not know that queer people existed.

Representation is pretty important to me.

I don’t know exactly when I figured out that there is a word for what I am, but it hit me somewhere around age nine, watching Willow and Tara become a couple in Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

At age eleven, I came out to my parents, and while they were really surprised, they also really didn’t care who I fell in love with as long as I was happy. The notion that Gay is OK grew and grew in my mind; it cautiously morphed into pride, then bloomed into lesbian feminist rants, and the rest is history.

Flash forward six years and picture an angst-ridden teen riding the bus with a cup of coffee in her hand, wearing enough black clothing and red lipstick and false confidence to be mistaken for a widow spider, while simultaneously searching her person for her bus pass. That’s me.

I have known Vee and Maria, the founders of Gay YA, for years and years; I witnessed the growth of Maria’s first fansite, an homage to Melissa Marr’s Wicked Lovely Series, and the birth of Gay YA.

Early this spring, Vee decided to singlehandedly reboot Gay YA after a dormant period. One day, as I was presumably sipping on tea and V was working on Gay YA’s Tumblr, she said, “What have I done?! I have so much to do!” And I said, “I can do that for you if you want.” She handed me the laptop. This happened several times with several tasks over a period of several months.

In early summer, I said: “Have I become your co-conspirator?”

And she said: “Yeah, if you wanna be.”

I did.

Helping to run Gay YA started out as a cool hobby to promote something very close to my heart; it has become something much bigger and a little bit scary. After running our social media and receiving positive feedback, I realized that I have stumbled backwards into the opportunity to support–even help?!–queer youth just like me, who are looking for themselves on the page.

Vee:

Very frequently, my parents will ask me with a twinge of hope in their voices if I’ve ever rethought getting into this– they still think I’m a straight girl. “No,” I respond with a smile. “Not at all.”

Although my workload is huge and overwhelming and growing every day, re-booting this site has lead to some of the most amazing experiences in my life. I live in Minnesota, which is secretly one of the coolest states in the country (especially in a literary sense). I’ve gotten to meet some of my favorite authors, usually through events at the Loft Literary Center, or Addendum Books. Though it still terrifies me to go up and squeak at them, I now have something I can say. We’ve even gotten to interview some of our favorite authors (like Francesca Lia Block!!).

And we’ve been able to make a difference for teens and adults looking for representation. The last few years have been HUGE for queer YA books— the representation is out there! It’s just hard to find. And we have been able to collect a thorough knowledge of all the titles, and are able to recommend exactly what people are looking for. We’re far from becoming the exhaustive resource that I have my eye set on, but we’re getting closer by the day.

Kathleen:

In the last few months, we have been spectators to the site’s explosion (in a good way).  There has been an influx of posts, followers, questions, and general publicity to the point that that between the two of us, it is a daily struggle to keep everything running smoothly.  Part of the struggle is financial: we each contribute 2-10 hours to the site on any given day (in addition to keeping up with a high school education), for which we are not paid.  For me, this is in addition to a part-time job; for Vee, it means giving up having a job at all. Our operating costs add up to approximately $100/month, which is a LOT when you’re taking from one part-time job and a $40 allowance.

I recently added a donation button to the site– anything is greatly appreciated: 50 cents to $50.

Although something like 50 cents seems like nothing, it really helps us a lot.

Vee:

We have a number of new things happening with our site. We are currently are accepting (until the end of October) applications to become a regular contributor to our site.

We’re also looking to gather a small group of dedicated volunteers to help us with some small but essential tasks, so we can continue tackling the big picture things. We’re completely strung out with everything we’ve got going on now, because it all just sort of happened, and had no grasp on the amount of work it would all take. We have a lot of cool project ideas running around our heads, but no time to enact them, because of all the day-to-day emergencies we have to keep up with. Volunteer help is essential to keeping this community and project moving forward. See here for more information!

I’ve had the opportunity of working with Nita Tyndall on GayYA’s Masterlist Project. We’ve made a wiki and are cultivating a three pronged project to help people looking for queer YA find exactly what they’re looking for. It’s entirely community driven, and we’d love it if you joined us!

We just started up our first book club, and we’re reading Pantomime by Laura Lam. Check out the schedule and how you can participate!

We also have continual opportunities for authors, teens, and everyone else. And if you have an idea for something you’d like to work on with us, or have a question, comments, or anything else, my email is always open at victoria@gayya.org.

We’re really looking forward to expanding this website in new and awesome ways, and we hope that you’ll join us!

Review & Giveaway: Loop by Karen Akins

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Bree Bennis attends a school for Shifters, those who were born with the ability to travel backwards in time. Her goal at the book’s opening is to travel to the 21st century, complete her midterm, and carry out a little side project that will earn her the money to ensure her sick mother is able to get the care she needs. It should be doable, except that Bree runs into a bratty kid named Finn and accidentally takes him hostage while trying to complete her tasks. Oops.

She eventually escapes the 21st century and goes back to her home time, the 23rd century, knowing she’ll have to return to the 21st to somehow convince Finn not to talk about her little visit. Only when she does return, she lands three years later, and Finn is no longer a bratty kid. He’s her age, he’s pretty hot, and he claims to have been in a relationship with her for some time. It doesn’t take long to figure out he means a future version of Bree. Of course, he can’t tell her about her own future, for fear of disrupting the timeline. (Picture River Song saying “Spoilers” to the Doctor here.) In true Bree fashion, in trying to extricate herself from this situation, she accidentally brings Finn along with her to the 23rd century, something that shouldn’t even be possible. Oops again.

Now Bree must unravel not only how to return Finn to his own time without anyone the wiser, but also how exactly he came to know future Bree so well, and what it all has to do with the strange things going on in her boarding school.

Karen Akins’ debut Loop really embraces how fun time travel can be. This is a time travel book for readers who love time travel. Do you have certain websites bookmarked whose sole purpose is to speculate on the possibility of time travel? This book is for you. This is a true speculative novel, one that continuously asks what if. What if we could time travel? What would the rules be? What would the consequences be? For readers who love those kinds of questions, this is a gem. For readers who get headaches thinking about it, it might be best to pick up a different book.

It’s not just the time travel that makes this book so much fun. Bree and Finn have great snarky chemistry, and there’s a slew of futuristic 23rd century technology that is fascinating to read about. The 23rd century feels real, chock full of fun little details and new slang terms. The plot itself is fast-paced and complicated, but makes sense in the end, as good time travel books should. Often when I read a book with multiple moving plot parts, I’m a little hesitant to reach the end; I’ve been burned with unresolved subplots and details left dangling before (seemingly unintentionally). This is especially true for time travel stories, which can be more complicated than most. Trust in Akins – it all comes together in a satisfying way.

St. Martin’s Press is giving away a finished copy of Loop to one lucky reader (US residents only). Enter using the form below. The giveaway closes November 14.