STACKED

books

Recovery Road by Blake Nelson

|

When we meet Maddie, she’s just in the beginning of her time at the transitional halfway house located at the treatment facility she’s been sent to. Maddie is was a party girl, into drinking and drugs and hard. She made it through the detox portion of her stay and now, she’s got the opportunity to try navigating life in “the real world.” Of course, her activities are highly monitored and she’s got a set of rules she needs to follow strictly, but this is her chance to begin rebuilding her life. She’s also seeing her counselor, who tells her she needs to work hard at starting something new. This is perhaps her only opportunity to begin completely fresh.

It’s here in this transitional home she meets Trish. Trish is the first girl Maddie feels any sort of connection with. The two of them go together to the weekly movie in town, and they form a good bond. But Trish has been in the half way house longer, which means she’s sent home before Maddie — weeks before her, even — which means that Maddie is once again on her own.

Enter Stewart.

Immediately, Stew and Maddie hit it off. Even though opposite sex relations are forbidden here in Spring Meadows, the two of them elect to pursue a relationship anyway. They have a chemistry and a real connection. It’s cut short, though, when Maddie is able to leave the facility and Stewart still has time to spend. But when Maddie leaves, he gives her his grandmother’s ring as a promise to her that they will be together again, and that they can make it through this recovery together.

Recovery Road really begins here: now that Maddie has left Spring Meadows, she’s able to reconnect again with Trish. She’s also thrust back into school and with school comes the people she hung out with in her pre-rehab life. Maddie has to work hard to avoid these people seek out new friends. She’s lucky, though — she stumbles upon a friend in the library who ends up being key to her figuring herself out. I won’t linger on this much because it’s a smaller piece in the bigger puzzle of the story. Needless to say, her transition back to school isn’t as painful as she suspected, and in fact, she’s found a fondness for academics. She actually wants to do well in class and raises her grade point average quite well. Maddie may even have college dreams, something she’d never have imagined for herself just months earlier when her biggest concern was her next hit.

When Stew leaves the facility, it’s not too long before he and Maddie can reconnect, and it is here that the story really blossoms. Their relationship is painfully real and it’s not always easy. I loved how Nelson built the relationship in this story, as it’s one that begins almost out of convenience and desperation — he and she are around the same age, both struggling with similar issues and they find solace in one another. But when Stew slips Maddie the ring, the relationship changes completely: it’s now one about making a promise to one another to get stronger. Here is the kicker, though. The promise ends up really being one Maddie gives to herself as the people she’s come to rely on as friends, Stew and Trish, will not have quite the journey she has post-rehab.

Throughout the story, Maddie has a lot of unique opportunities — she’s a role model for people, whether she believes herself to be one or not. And this is a chapter in her life that will come to a head, as well, and it will make her realize what a strong, resilient character she is. She also has the chance to change the lives of those closest to her. It’s hard not to spoil this, but I won’t. What I can say is that the way Nelson weaves in Maddie’s growth as a person is directly on the backs of Trish and Stew. And that’s not meant in a bad way; rather, her path is an entirely different one than either of theirs, and the decisions that they make on their own directly impact Maddie’s life. These things strengthen her as a character and make us as readers absolutely pull for her.

Recovery Road is not an easy book to read, given the topic it delves into and the harsh realities that these teens face on a daily basis. But I wouldn’t expect less from Nelson, and he handles these smoothly and realistically. For me, the setting is spot on, and the style is right for the book itself. It’s well executed in the use of multiple parts for the story telling, giving us insight into the different chapters of Maddie’s recovery. This story is right up there with Paranoid Park for me: it’s gritty, raw, and completely heartfelt. I loved being witness to Maddie, even though I should have had more reservations about her from the start. I also loved that everything I thought about other characters in the book shifted entirely because of my belief in Maddie.

This was yet another book I read in one sitting — something I’ve mentioned is a rare occurrence. But this book is so compelling and begs to be read as a whole. It is entirely fresh and contained a skillful balance of the grit with the realities of relationships. Maddie’s voice is approachable always, despite the fact it could be off putting. Recovery Road will, without doubt, be a story that sticks with me for a long time to come and it further proves to me that Nelson is a dependable, but extremely versatile, writer.

Hand this book off to Nelson’s established fan base, as well as those who like their stories gritty and real. I think fans of Ellen Hopkins or Amy Reed will find much to enjoy here, though stylistically they are much different. Those who enjoy Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak or Wintergirls will also find a lot here. And perhaps the real audience for this is your non-readers. The people too cool to read a book — you know exactly who those kids are. This is the kind of book that will smack them in the face and make them realize there is stuff out there speaking to their interests and their lives. The language and discussion of drug use, partying, and an attempted rape scene are issues readers should be prepared for, so do not hand this to your younger readers. Without doubt, this story will appeal to both males and females because of the subject.

Miles from Ordinary by Carol Lynch Williams

|

There’s something I’ve come to really appreciate about Carol Lynch Williams, and it’s this: she can write the emerging teen (that is, the 12-14 year old) like nobody’s business. It is extremely tough to write this tricky age because it can either read too young or too old, and the problem is readers at this age are so different, and their levels of experience and knowledge so diverse. Some are ready to read about tough issues because they’ve been there. Others haven’t had quite the life experiences and therefore aren’t always ready to make the leap from middle grade fiction to young adult. But fortunately, those who are really have something spectacular to discover in Williams’s work. Miles From Ordinary is another winner.

Lacey’s excited to begin her new job at the local public library. She’s finally old enough to have real responsibilities, and even though this job is really a volunteer gig with no pay, she needs it. She needs time away from her home and her mother to figure herself out. See, mom’s not stable. Mom is a very mentally ill woman who requires constant care and attention from Lacey. Mom’s pushed away help from her own sister already, and dad left the family long ago.

Maybe more exciting for Lacey than her post at the library is her mom’s job — Lacey convinced mom she, too, needs to get out of the house and make something of herself. Although mom protests, the fear and social anxiety eating away at her, she decides she’ll try it, and she gets a job at the grocery store. Together, Lacey and her mother take the bus to their respective new jobs on this day, and both set themselves on the path of making their lives better.

Unfortunately, things don’t go as smoothly as Lacey hopes they will when she leaves work. When she makes it to mom’s new place of employment, mom is not there. In fact, she finds out mom quit the job just minutes after getting there, and now Lacey crosses her fingers that mom will be at home, in bed, and no where else. But when Lacey gets home, things aren’t what she hoped, and mom may have finally hit rock bottom.

This rapid pace book packs a punch with it — as readers, we’re right there along with every move Lacey makes. We care a lot about her and we feel awful for her because she’s been responsible for keeping an eye on her mother. She doesn’t get a chance to live for herself, and we know how excited she is to finally have something to do with her time. She’s eager to throw herself into her volunteer gig at the library where her aunt once ran the children’s department. We want her to succeed and have a killer day and positive start to this new chapter in her life.

And the thing of it all is, we don’t wish ill on her mother. Even though mom is made out to be a bit of a demon — not because she mistreats Lacey but because she’s so needy and dependent upon her in her day-to-day operation — we actually care a lot about her, too. She’s got a chance to make a positive change in her life, and we see her outlet to independence. It’d be easy to develop anger to mom, but we can’t; in fact, despite the fact she ruins Lacey’s day, we still care about her mom’s well being. We want her to be at home in bed, her depression taking over her. We don’t want her hurt.

The entire story takes place in one day, but there is so much packed into the story. We get the history of Lacey’s life, and we know she deserves so much better than she has. We get glimpses into her mother’s life story, too, without being bogged down in it. We’re getting it from Lacey’s perspective, which is, of course, skewed and needs to be. It’s pretty masterful story telling to do so much with so little — because in addition to taking place in one day, this book clocks in at under 200 pages — and there is nothing missing here. When I finished the story, I felt like it came to the right conclusion and that it didn’t need additional juice elsewhere.

Key to understanding why this book is so powerful is thinking about Lacey being 14. All we want is success for her, and we don’t necessarily mean success in a financial manner. We want Lacey to have success in understanding what it is to be her own person, independent from her mother. She deserves a chance to do what she wants to do and escape the ghosts which haunt her mom. She’s stronger than they are, and she knows this. But she’s still weighed down because of family decisions which left her in her mother’s care; however, Lacey is smart enough to know when she finally needs to seek help. When she’s taken too much of the weight on herself and when she needs to be herself. It’s a pretty powerful moment in the story. While some readers might believe the things Lacey realizes or thinks to herself read older than 14, I would heartily disagree — anyone who has lived through something like this knows what sometimes, young people are forced to grow up well before they’re meant to. Lacey is one such teen, and we can’t help but completely believe her. We also can’t help but breathe an incredible sigh of relief at the decisions she makes and the head she’s got on her shoulders. Lacey is a hell of a memorable character, much like Hope is in Glimpse and Kyra is in The Chosen One.

I also love that it’s Lacey coming to Lacey’s own understanding. There is not another person telling her what to do or think, and there is not a boy mixed up in her coming into herself. I bring it up since it’s a bone I’ve had to pick with a number of books lately. But oh, not here! Lacey is a pretty dynamite female character all her own.

This book will have appeal to young and older teen readers and is an excellent read alike to Holly Schindler’s A Blue So Dark (reviewed here). Hand this to readers who are ready for a mature and insightful voice, as well as those who may be struggling to find a story with which to connect. I really think there’s an understated power in Williams’s books to hook more reluctant readers, especially since her characters are younger.

A Red Herring Without Mustard by Alan Bradley

|

A Red Herring Without Mustard by Alan Bradley is the third in a series of mystery novels featuring precocious eleven year old amateur detective Flavia de Luce. Despite the age of the protagonist, the books are written for an adult audience, although they do have great crossover appeal. They’ve garnered a lot of acclaim, and it’s well deserved. Even if you’re not particularly interested in mysteries, if you like a quirky character, you’d enjoy reading about Flavia’s adventures.
Flavia is a special sort of child. She’s more interested in her dead uncle Tarquin’s chemistry laboratory than any other more normal childish pursuit (although she does enjoy flitting about the town on her bicycle, Gladys). Her specialty is poisons, and she often uses these (non-fatally, of course) against her two older sisters as vengeance for their mean-spirited pranks. (Let’s be honest, sometimes it’s not vengeance for anything, sometimes it’s just to torment them.) She also has a penchant for discovering dead bodies, and like any good character in a mystery novel, she ensures she’s involved in solving the crime.
Flavia lives with her sisters and father (her mother died when she was a baby in a climbing accident) in 1950s England, in the de Luce family’s sprawling estate of Buckshaw. Her father’s been a bit remote since the death of her mother, and her two sisters, while once close to her, now make it a habit of torturing her (a favorite taunt is that Flavia is a changeling, a fairy swapped out for the real human child as a baby). Buckshaw sits in a peculiar little English town called Bishop’s Lacey – a town full of colorful characters and an alarming number of murders. The town and time period lend the stories much of their charm.
What makes these books truly entertaining is Flavia’s voice. She’s got a tremendous amount of character and it’s remarkable that Bradley, a grown man, is able to write her voice so convincingly. It helps that Flavia is very deliberately not your typical eleven year old. She’s resourceful, cheeky, intelligent beyond her years, and treats adults as her peers. She’s also frequently selfish, petulant, mean-spirited, and foolish. Despite all that (or perhaps because of these failings), she’s also always likable. As a reader, I never felt left behind by Flavia’s sleuthing nor did I find that I was miles ahead of her. She treats the reader as her confidant and makes numerous (often very amusing) asides that allow us to get into her head.
A Red Herring Without Mustard involves a gypsy, a lost baby, and a ring of forgers. Its predecessor, The Weed That Strings the Hangman’s Bag, finds Flavia investigating the death of a famous puppeteer, and the first in the series, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, involves a dead philatelist (that’s stamp collector to the uninitiated) on Buckshaw’s lawn. The mysteries are all good, by which I mean they always make sense, there are not gaping plot holes, and they move along at a fair clip without forcing the reader to slog through boring bits. They’re also different than what you tend to find in your usual mystery fare (dead lovers and the like). So while each book is rather long, clocking in at 400 pages or more, they never feel so and can be read in a couple lazy afternoons.
Each book is a distinct mystery unto itself, so they can theoretically be read out of order, but I wouldn’t recommend it. One of Bradley’s talents as a storyteller is to let his characters grow from book to book. Flavia’s relationships with her father and sisters change over the course of the three novels, as does her understanding of her mother and the people in Bishop’s Lacey. By the end of the third novel, I was left with the knowledge that the de Luce family dynamic is much more complex (and therefore richer) than I realized in the first novel.
I’ve heard that the audios are really good with spot-on narration for Flavia’s voice. I think these are books that would do well on re-read (or re-listen) – even though I know whodunnit, there’s enough humor in Flavia’s irresistible voice to keep me interested a second time around.
Copy checked out from my local library.

Elixir Giveaway

|


You may remember a little book we reviewed a while back called Elixir. It’s written by one Ms. Hilary Duff. Well, guess what? We have a copy to give away. But it’s not just any copy, you see. We have a copy signed by Hilary Duff herself.

That’s right — here’s your chance to win your very own signed copy of Elixir. Talk about a cool gift for yourself, if you’re a fan, or for use as a prize in your summer reading program or other events.

All you need to do to enter is fill out the form below. We’ll pick a winner at the end of the month. You may only enter once and you must be 13 to win. Easy enough.

Like Mandarin by Kirsten Hubbard

|

At 15, Grace has more wisdom and insight than I can admit to having at 26. To say Like Mandarin completely blew me away would be an understatement.

Grace is bored in her podunk town of Washokey, Wyoming. Nothing happens here, and she’s got no real way out until college, which feels like light years away. She doesn’t want to end up like everyone else, stuck here for eternity — or worse, end up like her mother who had a taste of freedom when she spent time in Jackson Hole, a town where something happens. Too bad mom threw it all away to come back here, to Washokey, where the only thing she cares about is her sister Taffeta’s pageant career. Since Grace threw her potential pageant career out the window years ago, well, mom doesn’t really care about her.

There is something in Washokey that drives Grace, and that is Mandarin. She’s 17 and the town slut, but she’s everything Grace wants to be: worldly, experienced, edgy, different. Sexy. If Grace could have any of those qualities, she’d be so much happier. If she could even get close to Mandarin, she knows her life would improve by leaps and bounds. Lucky for Grace, a school project leads her to end up in Mandarin’s orbit.

As their school relationship develops into something more serious — friendship, as Mandarin put it (and this acknowledgment is important) — Grace quickly begins to understand that the person she thinks has it all actually might not have anything. That everything she does and everything that feels so loose and free about her might be a cry for help. Mandarin is far from perfect. Grace can’t resist what comes with being associated with her, though, and she continues to spend time with her and seek her out. And when Mandarin suggests she and Grace run away and leave Washokey together to make waves in bigger places, Grace is at first excited. And just to ensure that Grace is on board with this trip, Mandarin will prove to her protege how truly horrible the people in this town are.

Like Mandarin is a little bit Courtney Summers with a little bit Siobhan Vivian with a little bit C. K. Kelly Martin with a little bit of Carol Lynch Williams. That is to say, this is an edgy story about a girl coming to terms with who she is and how the people she interacts with really impact her perception of self. It’s emotionally gripping, and it is completely honest in its portrayal of relationships. It is what every contemporary book should be, and it is one that will not last long on shelves. This book should be given to every teen girl when she enters high school — it is what they experience every day and not just in high school but even after. Hubbard’s book is a girl’s bible.

Grace feels lost. She’s lonely, feels like a bit of an outsider and a castaway in high school. She feels divorced from her own family, where her mother spends more time paying attention to her little sister than her. Grace wasn’t wanted, anyway; she was an accident, the reason her mom’s desire to escape was dashed. But Mandarin — she’s everything Grace longs to be. She’s beautiful. She’s sought after. She’s got a future ahead of her. She’s fearless. The longing Grace expresses is so raw; she believes just by being around Mandarin, her life will be better. That energy, that vibe, it’ll rub off on her, too. Grace goes as far as to imitate Mandarin, slinging her jeans low over her hips, wearing tighter, more revealing clothing, mimicking her trademark walk.

Every girl has felt this. Every girl has felt lost and driftless and believed that what someone else has is what they need. It’ll make them better and stronger. They idolize another girl, put her on a pedestal then hope to reach that, hope to even just touch that. Reading and experiencing this with Grace was tough. I’ve been there. I’ve done that. Sometimes, I still do it and still believe that. How I wanted to redirect Grace here. But I certainly can’t tell her the truths she knows already. She’s got them figured out. I’m not sure I do.

Mandarin isn’t all she’s cracked up to be. She’s a huge liar, but not so much to other people as she is to herself. She tells people things about her family that aren’t true, sure, but the fact is she tells them because they’re the things she’s convinced herself to believe. And the rumors about her being a slut aren’t rumors: she really is. She doesn’t lie to herself about the fact she sleeps around. What she lies to herself about is how this makes her feel. She says it makes her feel powerful, makes her feel like she has something she can hold about the head of other people.

This is a story about power. Mandarin knows she’s admired by Grace, knows that she can turn Grace into whatever she wants to. She knows — at least thinks she knows — Grace’s weak point. She’s going to get her there. Make her bend to her will. THIS is what fuels Mandarin, this power. When we get to the crux of the story though, the moment when Mandarin tries to prove to Grace how messed up the people in Washokey are and that she has no other choice but to leave with her, Grace realizes that Mandarin is doing nothing but lying to herself. Filling herself with meaning when there’s really nothing there. Sleeping with men and convincing herself it’s meaningful even though she knows it’s actually the opposite. And it’s here that I needed to back away because what Grace says to Mandarin is so much smarter and more insightful than anything I’ve ever thought. This is the moment when Grace comes into herself. When she realizes she’s one heck of a person herself.

One of the things I loved about this story was that there wasn’t a traditional romance here. There’s no boy vying for the attention of either of these girls. Hubbard keeps her focus on these girls and that’s all. That’s not to say, though, that what Grace feels toward Mandarin isn’t a crush — she has a complete crush on her. It’s a girl crush. It’s the kind of thing all girls experience, whether they’re willing to vocalize it or not. She’s not a lesbian, and she’s not interested in a romantic relationship with Mandarin. She’s simply infatuated with her. And Mandarin will, of course, tease the hell out of her. Maybe it’s sincere; we’ll never know because we don’t really get to know Mandarin’s internal thoughts. But knowing Mandarin, seeing her actions, understanding how completely unhinged she is, I think she was simply trying to get more of a rise out of Grace. She wanted to mess with her, break her completely.

The relationships feel authentic and are true and real to girls. Hubbard never tries to push the envelope here, never tries to make it anything it’s not. That’s why I appreciated it so much. There’s something honest in a mean girl story, but blatant meanness isn’t the only kind of relationship that happens among girls. Sometimes it’s subtle, even if it’s about power.

If you’ll remember, too, I talked a lot about the idea of place when I reviewed Julia Wertz’s Drinking at the Movies here. I love what Hubbard does in talking about these very issues in her novel. We know how who we are is linked to where we are, and both Grace and Mandarin really expand upon this. They live this and breathe this and believe everything about themselves to be tied to Washokey, though they go about it in different ways. But like Wertz’s character, Grace figures out that it’s only part of her whole. Mandarin, on the other hand, is letting this thing — this place — be her excuse for not confronting her real problems.

In addition to being a fantastic story about power and longing and growth, the writing in Like Mandarin is strong. Hubbard weaves together images that just work well and never feel cliche. As a reader, you feel the aura Grace places around Mandarin. Despite her longing to leave Washokey, you actually see how beautiful it is too — anyone who has spent any time in Wyoming knows the beauty of the open sky and the vast prairies dotted among the mountains. There isn’t a wasted word in this story, nor is the writing sacrificed for the sake of the story. This is a well paced book: it clips along but it does beg the reader to slow down at times and soak in the language.

This book will appeal to teens without question, and I also think this book will have great appeal to 20-somethings. Everything here is still as relevant and as relatable to them as it is to teenagers. I’ll be honest: this book doesn’t hold a whole lot for male readers, and you know what? It doesn’t have to. In fact, I suspect that what Hubbard might open the door for here is an opportunity for someone to shed light into this sort of relationship from the male perspective. This is a book that will speak to girls on a number of levels and it’s an important one. Grace is really something. I think she’ll be something to a lot of girls.

This is a debut author, but I suspect we have a lot to look forward to. I cannot wait for more. If you didn’t get the chance, check out the trailer we debuted right here. I think it captures the book perfectly!