STACKED

books

Steel by Carrie Vaughn

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The theme for this week is time travel, it seems. In Steel, Carrie Vaughn’s second novel for teens, we’re introduced to Jill, an expert fencer. Jill has just lost a big fencing match and with it, the chance to compete in the Olympics. She’s pretty downtrodden and therefore doesn’t take much pleasure in the vacation her family takes to the Bahamas.

When wandering the beach, Jill stumbles over the tip of a rapier, the actual sword that her fencing sword is modeled after. She pockets it and goes on a boat ride with her family later in the day. When the boat hits a wave, she’s thrown overboard along with the bit of sword and finds herself in the past, being rescued by a passing pirate ship. Luckily, the crew doesn’t kill her immediately – this ship is captained by a woman named Marjory Cooper, and she’s kinder than a male captain would have been. Captain Cooper gives Jill two options: she can sign the crew’s roster and become a part of the crew, or she can remain their prisoner. Jill chooses the first option, hoping it will give her the time and ability to find her way back home.

There’s a fair amount of swashbuckling going on, but it’s pretty tame. For a historical account of piracy, there’s not a whole lot of blood and not that much fighting to be had, either. There are a couple subplots involving the capture of a slave ship and a teeny tiny romance between Jill and one of the young pirates, but for the most part the action centers around Cooper and her crew’s pursuit of an evil pirate captain named Blaine – the owner of the rest of the sword Jill found on the beach. Cooper has a personal vendetta against him, and Jill believes he’s the key to her return to her own time.

Despite its subject matter, Steel was pretty simplistically written. Vaughn has a straightforward, no frills style that made it hard for me to really connect with the story. It felt like she was perhaps writing for an audience younger than the story deserved. As a result, I wasn’t rooting for Jill as much as I could have, and I wasn’t totally invested in her romance or Cooper’s personal vendetta either. Unfortunately, this made Steel into a rather forgettable book for me.

Another side effect of the more juvenile writing style is that things never felt properly serious. I never got the feeling that there was much at stake, either for Jill or for Captain Cooper, despite the fact that their very lives were, indeed, at stake. What should have been an epic story with high adventure felt much more like an inconsequential romp. That’s not to say stories like these shouldn’t be fun, but they should induce a little more heart-pounding and nail-biting. The events of Steel made my heart beat about as fast as getting a new haircut or trying on a fancy dress. 

I’d recommend Steel for younger teens or tweens and people who are interested in pirate lore but don’t have much of a stomach for violence. There are some nice historical details about piracy (and famous pirates) that add interest, and Vaughn includes a brief author’s note that explains where her story deviates from reality (Did female pirate captains really exist?). It’s also nice to see fencing represented in a story for teens, something I haven’t come across anywhere other than Jane Yolen’s Foiled, but most readers can probably pass on this one.

Reviews, Twitter-style

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Kim’s post last week had me thinking about a bunch of books I’ve read lately that I don’t think I’ll get the chance to write full reviews for. So I offer up a handful of reviews, Twitter-style. To be fair, they’re all a little longer than 140 characters, but they’re short and to the point.

The Geeks Shall Inherit the Earth by Alexandra Robbins: I’ve read every one of Robbins’s non-fiction books because her writing appeals to me. In this book, she’s looked into the lives of a number of high school kids from all areas of the country and with a variety of backgrounds and explores what and why they are considered geeks in their schools. She then gives her reasoning for why these kids will grow up more successful than those who aren’t willing to embrace their geekdom in school. This wasn’t a favorite of mine, as I felt she dragged too long into the individual stories, and spent too little time on the social science aspect of her thesis. It’s one worth skimming.

My Life Undecided by Jessica Brody: This is a lightweight book about a girl who decides to put her life into the hands of her blog readers. Brooklyn had gotten herself into a heap of trouble, and now she needed help making good choices. At times this book was funny, and at other times, I found Brooklyn an annoying and unsympathetic character. I kind of felt like the story here (about her blog) didn’t develop soon enough, and a number of really interesting and huge topics were brought up at the very end of the book that would have merited longer exploration. That said, it has appeal to those who like lighter, girly reads. I liked this one a lot more than Brody’s first novel, The Karma Club.

The Day Before by Lisa Schroeder: This is my first Lisa Schroeder book, but it won’t be my last. This novel in verse follows two teens — a boy and a girl — who are spending “the day before” at a remote beach to clear their minds. Of course, they run into one another and have an amazing day together, wherein they’re able to forget the things they’ll be facing the next day. It’s a bit of a tear jerker ala Gayle Forman and will work for younger teens, as well as older teens. The issues these teens face are fresh and interesting, and the romance is quite sweet.

The Near Witch by Victoria Schwab (August 2): I’m not a big fantasy reader, but this fairy tale came highly recommended, and I really did enjoy it. Lexi, the main character, is a great leader in resolving the problem at hand — the appearance of a strange boy in town and the sudden disappearance of local children. It’s a story about a small town fearful of outsiders that has developed a mythos about the landscape surrounding them. Lexi’s determined to figure it out and she’s quite an optimistic character, but what really stood out to me was how flawed she was in some of the decisions she made, being too trusting, then too untrusting; it made her lovable. This is a clean, well-paced story with quite a bit of action and suspense and it’s a stand alone!

To Timbuktu by Casey Sciezcka and Steve Weinberg: This non-fiction book’s non-traditional format really worked for me. It’s told in vignettes and through illustrations, and it’s the story of Casey and Steve’s exploration of nine different countries in the two years following their college graduation. It’s funny and enlightening, and I thought they did an excellent job depicting the countries they were in quite well. I loved that China exceeded their expectations while Thailand didn’t. That said, there were times this book really dragged, and I felt like there was too much whining from the characters. I guess my challenge was I felt there was a real sense of entitlement in the story, and a lack of acknowledgment to this. It became hard to sympathize in some of their plights. That said, I liked watching their relationship grow and flourish in their travels, though I think it’s definitely a much more mature relationship than is usually depicted in ya, making me question whether this book is really meant for a teen readership or if it will really appeal more to the college and post-college crowd.

Ruby Red by Kerstin Gier

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I have what may be an unhealthy obsession with time travel. When I was a teen, I had bookmarked several sites that speculated on the possibility of time travel, and whether we’d eventually be able to travel forward and backward in time, or maybe just forward OR backward. I spent a long time wondering if I would rather solve the mystery of Stonehenge or see what America would be like in the year 2500.

So you can see why this book would appeal. In Ruby Red, the translation into English of the German novel by Kerstin Gier, we meet Gwyneth Shepherd, who is nothing special. It’s her cousin Charlotte who is the special one – she’s inherited the family gene that allows her to travel backward in time. Charlotte is at the age where the ability is supposed to manifest itself, and she’s got the trademark dizzy spells that indicate imminent travel.

But, surprisingly, it’s Gwen who travels one day. While Charlotte has been trained her whole life on how to survive in the past, Gwen has received no training. Without warning, she’s thrust into the world of time travel, and she has to learn how to behave in the past without giving herself away. She also becomes embroiled in the family machinations, which involve a secret order of time travelers and a strange machine called the chronograph that helps control the time traveling and needs the blood of the travelers to work. And there’s a boy time-traveler from another family, Gideon, who was probably in love with Charlotte and resents the fact that Gwen has replaced her. Unluckily for Gwen, she’s tasked with traveling back in time with Gideon and getting the blood of all the past time travelers (there aren’t many) to add to the machine, for reasons that are deliberately kept secret.

The biggest problem with Ruby Red is that it’s all exposition. We wait a long time for Gwen to finally tell her family that she’s traveled, and even when she has, the pace doesn’t really pick up. There’s a somewhat exciting battle near the end of the book that serves as its climax, but it doesn’t answer any questions. In fact, no questions are answered throughout the entire novel, and it makes for a frustrating read, not a satisfying one.

Furthermore, the book is framed by two confusing chapters about Lucy and Paul, two time-travelers from Gwen’s time who ran away – disappearing into the past – several years ago, and these chapters made no sense to me with the information I was provided. Perhaps they would make sense on a re-read after I’ve had a chance to read the book’s sequels, but I doubt I’ll put forth the effort.

The last thing I’ll complain about is somewhat small, but important. There’s a lot of sexism in the book. I should note that it’s not something the author supports. In fact, it’s used to show that certain characters are the bad guys. This is a problem. It’s like the author had this conversation with herself: “OK, here’s where I introduce the bad guy. How can I show that he’s bad? Oh, I know, I can have him make disparaging remarks about women!” It’s too easy, and it’s too pervasive. After awhile it just gets irritating to read about.

I think Ruby Red had a lot of potential that went unfulfilled. A time travel gene is such a neat concept (the Time Traveler’s Wife made mega money off of it), and Gwen has a unique narrative voice. It’s possible that some of the confusion and other faults are due to the translation. Ultimately, though, this isn’t a book I can really recommend. There’s not enough actual time travel, no resolution, and too much deliberate obfuscation. It’s not a bad read, it’s just not a particularly good one. There are plenty of other good books out there that are more worth your time.

Clean by Amy Reed

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I’ll be the first to admit to having a hard, hard time reading Amy Reed’s sophomore release, Clean. If you’ll remember, I was quite a fan of her debut novel, Beautiful, and I knew ahead of time that Clean was going to tackle the idea of drug addition within the setting of a treatment facility. It wasn’t going to be an easy nor a fun read, but I didn’t quite expect to have such a challenge reading it.

The thing is, that’s sort of the entire point of the story, and it’s why I think this is one of the strongest written books I’ve read in a while.

Clean is told through five voices: Kelly, the main voice, is a girl who is angry. She’s on suicide watch and has no privacy in this facility whatsoever; we know she’s got something going on in her family, but she doesn’t put it all out there. It’s a slow reveal.

The story opens with Kelly getting a new roommate, Olivia, a girl who forever operates on the fringes of the small, tight group of friends with whom Kelly associates with inside the facility. Olivia is obsessed with dissociating herself from her addiction and from other people, and she finds her solace in constantly engaging in school work (even though it’s forbidden outside study hours). Then there’s Eva: a girl with a bit of privilege and a girl who has struggled with feeling like she doesn’t belong in her own family.

Then there’s the boys: Christopher is paranoid. We’re dropped into this immediately, as he is constantly worried everyone is judging him in this facility. And finally, Jason. Jason’s out to prove something, whether to himself or to an imaginary following, and he’ll do something that rattles both himself and Kelly. Something that’ll prove how power(less) he really is.

Clean, as you might imagine, is not a plot-driven story; instead, it’s an intensely character-driven novel that packs a punch in each page. All five of the characters are well defined, but not immediately.

When I dove into the book, I had a hard time keeping the five voices straight. They all sounded almost the same to me, like five spokes on the same wheel. But this is done purposefully. As readers, we come to the story with certain preconceived notions of drug addicts, and Reed plays into this quite well at the exposition. The guys all sounded the same, and all of the girls sounded exactly the same. They’re all angry and paranoid and completely irritated that they’ve arrived in this facility. They’re skeptical of the idea they have problems, but perhaps they’re more skeptical that anything will ever change for them. It’s almost stereotypical because of how much it plays into the reader’s expectations.

But this is why it’s so brilliantly set up.

After being introduced to these characters through their short vignettes, we begin to unravel who these individuals are through their group therapy sessions, through their intensely personal essays of addiction, and through the individual stories they tell. Their voices become crystal clear, defined, and unique. We begin to understand why each of these people fell into a life of drugs and booze, and we begin to truly sympathize with the crummy situations that put them there. More brilliant, though, is how relatable these characters are: none of them has had all that tragic a life. None of them came from a background of drugs and booze and abuse. They’ve come from backgrounds that teens live every day, which is perhaps why this book was so downright scary to read. Kelly, for example, took drugs up as a way to keep herself amused, as a way to feel something. Her sisters, twins, were both born with birth defects that caused her parents to divert attention she may have gotten to them and their needs; but more than that, she has never had the chance to connect with her sisters in the way she so desperately wished to. Drugs were her conduit to feeling.

And Olivia, who comes to be the sort of outcast of the group, turns out to be the real heart breaker in the story. I think of all the characters, I was most engaged in her story because she was such a tough nut to crack, and yet, I knew there was something stirring inside her that would shift the entire dynamic of this group. To say the ending of the book was fitting and moving would be an understatement.

This book could easily be described as The Breakfast Club set in rehab, and it is. Even the set up of the book follows the execution of the movie, and it’s done so in a manner that anyone who has seen the movie can appreciate on one level and those who haven’t seen the movie can still completely understand what’s going on.

Reed’s writing, much like her writing in Beautiful, is unflinching and raw. It’s not easy to read, and knowing that these teens have hit such a rock bottom that they’re together in a residential rehab facility makes it understandable why this book is going to be uncomfortable. More than once, as soon as I got into the story, I had to back myself out. I had to distance myself from these characters because the pain at times was almost too much to take. But this exactly why this book is so important: it gives insight into the diverse stories that make up a habit that’s so easy to categorize as something that only “losers” and “low lifes” can fall into. These teens are real, and their struggles are those that emerge not only in life as we know it, but also in the pages of the young adult books that we read. I think, though, this need to distance from the text is a good thing and a necessary thing. The impact this book has is one that needs to be absorbed, rather than breezed through. Clean might be one of the strongest written books I’ve read in a long, long time, and it’s one that made me shed a tear — not from the story, necessarily, but from the powerful writing itself. This is an author to keep an eye on.

Pass Clean off to those who loved Reed’s first book, Beautiful, as well as fans of Ellen Hopkins, Courtney Summers, and other authors who don’t shy away from writing honest stories about tough subjects. Obviously, this isn’t a book for your younger readers, nor is it a go-to for all contemporary fans. I’d easily hand this one off to adults, too, both for the story aspect and for the ability Reed has in defining how addiction spans background, class, and more.

eGalley received from publisher, but then I preordered my own copy. I ended up buying this one as an ebook, but I’d be extremely curious to know whether some of the formatting is better fit for print. If anyone wants to weigh in, I’d love to hear. Clean comes out July 19.