The Fine Art of Truth or Dare – Melissa Jensen

Publisher’s Summary:
“Ella is nearly invisible at the Willing School, and that’s just fine by her. She’s got her friends – the fabulous Frankie and their sweet cohort Sadie. She’s got her art – and her idol, the unappreciated 19th-century painter Edward Willing. Still, it’s hard being a nobody and having a crush on the biggest somebody in the school: Alex Bainbridge. Especially when he is your French tutor, and lessons have started becoming, well, certainly more interesting than French ever has been before. But can the invisible girl actually end up with a happily ever after with the golden boy, when no one even knows they’re dating? And is Ella going to dare to be that girl?”

Truth: It took me roughly 160 pages to adapt to the story’s quirks and various plot devices; another 30 or 40 to be able to say that I was actually beginning to enjoy it.

By all accounts, The Fine Art of Truth or Dare should have hit it out of the park with me. The novel features a shy heroine; a girl no one notices, really, except to poke at old wounds. Ella’s let the hand life dealt her bruise her confidence, and while she’s honest with herself about needing to tackle her issues, she can’t bring herself to accept that she might actually be as great as her friends and family insist she is. And speaking of her family: It’s a big, enthusiastic Italian brood, comprised of individuals who love and support her. That kind of strong family unit never fails to be a check in my pro column. There’s also the art bit: Ella has a crush on a deceased artist, dreams of pursuing her own art through college and beyond, and spends an awful lot of time sketching on her pants. Though her own artistic efforts rarely took center stage, what discussions were had on the subject and Ella’s thoughts on different art forms offered a nice break from…everything else. And, finally, there’s the boy: charming, intelligent, don’t-judge-him-by-the-alligator-on-his-shirt* Alex Bainbridge.

The odds were stacked in its favor, but for all of the story’s appeal, I found myself having to work to immerse myself in it. I have a theory, but you’ll have to bear with me as I try to lay it out.

First, Ella has back-and-forth conversations with Edward Willing, the artist – long deceased – that she’s doggedly studied and developed a crush on. I found these lengthy dialogues jarring. The “discussions” were Ella’s way of navigating her thoughts and feelings in order to see any given situation more clearly.  Edward – or his voice, though I’m not sure that’s a more accurate way of putting it – was a manifestation of Ella’s consciousness. Maybe. My armchair diagnosis may be completely off base – and, honestly, I may be overthinking it – but I needed something to justify all of those interactions, which were presented as though Ella was in her room, talking to a friend. As the novel progressed I began to take these instances for granted, but that first time threw me for an extended moment, and I almost put the book aside. (The need to clarify is brewing in me, so let me stress: it was the presentation I found jarring, not the behavior.)

Next, the way the story was arranged, with seemingly random chapters stuck in between those that gave the plot forward momentum, was also jarring. For instance: A chapter in which Ella had one of the discussions mentioned above was followed by a brief chapter that presented excerpts from texts chronicling that artist/crush’s life and art; that was then followed by a two page chapter that consisted solely of Alex opposing a teacher’s view on magic in literature, and on the heels of that was a chapter that made the two that came before it seem entirely irrelevant. Granted, that wasn’t the case, but as I was reading, the in-between chapters didn’t feel necessary. I was forced to keep the information gleaned in those chapters at the forefront of my mind in order to see how it applied to the story as a whole.

Those two points explain, in part, what I meant by having to work to keep myself present in the story. It took a considerable amount of time and effort to settle in, to find a way to enjoy the story’s most basic premise: a sweet romance between a shy girl and seemingly unobtainable guy. And even that came with difficulty, because Ella and Alex’s relationship unfolded in the thick of so many other things. Nearly every character, it seemed, had a problem of his or her own, was contending with an impotent or frustrating parent, or otherwise interacted with Ella in such a way as to fracture the focus from her story, her attempts to reconcile who she is and who she wants to be. Absolutely, I want diversity and depth in secondary characters, but…

To a certain extent, several of them – including members of Ella’s family, her two best friends, and Alex – veered toward caricature. They were likable, but they were there for a REASON. Namely, Ella had enough on her plate and couldn’t also deal with important issues such as 1) living with an overbearing mother obsessed with her daughter’s weight and style, 2) having a twin brother who is a polar opposite (belongs to a gang, attends public school, etc.), and navigating a flashy private school when your family is strict and low income…The list could continue on. What it comes down to is that, on occasion, I wondered if these characters were included for their own sake, or because it was felt more issues needed to be addressed in order for the story to be meaningful and/or relevant. (As for Alex…You know the smart, good-looking, popular guy? The one whose parents have his life plan outlined, color-coded, and saved in a spreadsheet file? The one who wants to be something else – like become an artist rather than a lawyer? The one who’s a really good guy despite the arrogant, jerky friends he hangs out with? Meet Alex Bainbridge.)

But coming back around to the romance: was it sweet? Yes. Was it swoon-worthy? In my opinion, no. With everything else, it just…got a little lost, and while I wanted Ella to achieve some kind of happy ending, whether it was with Alex or not was incidental.

Truth: Perhaps my favorite aspect of the novel was the many mentions of food. Italian, mostly, but also Greek, and even some junk food. Each chapter, it seemed, made me crave something – pizza, cannoli, ravioli, biscotti. By the time I set the book down, I wanted a four course meal.

In the end, I was pleased to have finished the book, and would even say that I liked it. It just took some effort to get there.

_______

*It may not have been an alligator, though Izod/Lacoste was the first thing that came to mind when Ella takes note of the – thing – on his shirt.

Anticipating: YA Fantasy & Historical Fiction

Seraphina – Rachel Hartman (July 10th)

Publisher’s Summary: “Four decades of peace have done little to ease the mistrust between humans and dragons in the kingdom of Goredd. Folding themselves into human shape, dragons attend court as ambassadors, and lend their rational, mathematical minds to universities as scholars and teachers. As the treaty’s anniversary draws near, however, tensions are high.

Seraphina Dombegh has reason to fear both sides. An unusually gifted musician, she joins the court just as a member of the royal family is murdered—in suspiciously draconian fashion. Seraphina is drawn into the investigation, partnering with the captain of the Queen’s Guard, the dangerously perceptive Prince Lucian Kiggs. While they begin to uncover hints of a sinister plot to destroy the peace, Seraphina struggles to protect her own secret, the secret behind her musical gift, one so terrible that its discovery could mean her very life.”

The cover caught my eye initially, but when I went on to read the summary…Well. My must-have-it-now instinct began to shriek in a most irritating fashion considering I can’t have it until July. And so I went to the author’s web site to see if I could find an excerpt, a line or two from the book, anything to tide me over a bit, but…No. Instead, I read a couple of blurbs that bumped this novel even higher on my list of this year’s most anticipated reads. Check them out:

“A book worth hoarding, as glittering and silver-bright as dragon scales, with a heroine who insists on carving herself a place in your mind.” — Naomi Novik

“Seraphina is strong, complex, talented — she makes mistakes and struggles to trust, with good reason, and she fights to survive in a world that would tear her apart. I love this book!” — Tamora Pierce

“Just when you thought there was nothing new to say about dragons, it turns out there is, and plenty! Rachel Hartman’s rich invention never fails to impress — and to convince. It’s smart and funny and original, and has characters I will follow to the ends of the earth.” — Ellen Kushner

Secret Letters – Leah Scheier (June 26th)

Publisher’s Summary: “Inquisitive and observant, Dora dreams of escaping her aristocratic country life to solve mysteries alongside Sherlock Holmes. So when she learns that the legendary detective might be her biological father, Dora jumps on the opportunity to travel to London and enlist his help in solving the mystery of her cousin’s ransomed love letters. But Dora arrives in London to devastating news: Sherlock Holmes is dead. Her dreams dashed, Dora is left to rely on her wits—and the assistance of an attractive yet enigmatic young detective—to save her cousin’s reputation and help rescue a kidnapped heiress along the way.”

Sherlock Holmes? Sold. Even if he is – *sob* – dead before the story has even begun. Knowing how crafty the man is, I’m going to call into doubt the validity of that pronouncement. (I can be intractable even in the face of summaries released by the publisher that allege his no-longer-of-this-world status. *Sniff*) Regardless, a mystery! Ransomed love letters! An attractive yet enigmatic young detective! This book should have a gilt banner arcing across its cover that reads “Chelle, this book is indubitably for you.”

Time Snatchers – Richard Ungar (March 15th)

Publisher’s Summary: “Caleb’s blinders are off. The small group of orphans who were also “adopted” by Uncle used to feel like family, but the competition to be the top time snatcher and the punishment for failure has gotten fierce. Time traveling to steal valuable objects can be a thrill, but with bully Frank trying to steal his snatches, his partner Abbie falling for Frank’s slimy charms, and Uncle’s plans to kidnap innocent kids to grow his business, Caleb starts thinking about getting out. But Uncle’s reach extends to any country in any time period, and runaways get the harshest punishment of all.

Caleb can steal just about anything from the past, but can he steal a family for the future?”

Another case of, Lordy, that cover is sublime in a surreal, sci-fi way. Even if I did mistake Caleb’s goggles for a mask. (I’m living in a perpetual state of superheroes on the brain.) This book may be slanted a bit more towards middle grade readers than YA, but the appeal of science fiction slash petty crime slash Neverland‘s Hook-like agenda may intrigue older readers. Like me. Plus, the cover. That may not be a superhero mask, but those are definitely, probably, knee pads, people. Who knew time-traveling was hard on the knees?

Croak – Gina Damico (March 20th)

Publisher’s Summary: “Fed up with her wild behavior, sixteen-year-old Lex’s parents ship her off to upstate New York to live with her Uncle Mort for the summer, hoping that a few months of dirty farm work will whip her back into shape. But Uncle Mort’s true occupation is much dirtier than shoveling manure.

He’s a Grim Reaper. And he’s going to teach Lex the family business. She quickly assimilates into the peculiar world of Croak, a town populated by reapers who deliver souls from this life to the next. But Lex can’t stop her desire for justice—or is it vengeance?—whenever she encounters a murder victim, craving to stop the attackers before they can strike again. Will she ditch Croak and go rogue with her reaper skills?”

Uncle Mort. I see what you did there, Gina Damico. And I like it. Also, the VOYA review of Croak (written by Taryn Bush) called this a “creepy and hilarious thriller”; three words that are, at the moment, having a catnip like effect on me, which is weird, because dog person. And an additional also, Adam Rex dug it. Which is basically all I needed to hear.

Contemporary Fiction Bonus Round:

The Best Night of Your (Pathetic) Life – Tara Altebrando (July 5th)

Publisher’s Summary: “An all-day scavenger hunt in the name of eternal small-town glory.

With only a week until graduation, there’s one last thing Mary and her friends must do together: participate in the Oyster Point High Official Unofficial Senior Week Scavenger Hunt. And Mary is determined to win.

Mary lost her spot at Georgetown to self-professed “it” bully Pete Lembo, and she’s not about to lose again. But everyone is racing for the finish line with complicated motives, and the team’s all-night adventure becomes all-night drama as shifting alliances, flared tempers, and crushing crushes take over. As the items and points pile up, Mary and her team must reinvent their strategy—and themselves—in order to win.”

Okay. Okay. I’m a cover, well…not whore. That sounds a bit harsh. But I do like them. Have been known to pet the pretty ones from time to time. And I wouldn’t turn one that looks like The Best Night of Your (Pathetic) Life away if it wound up on my street corner. (And…That was just terrible. My apologies. Moving on.) I had to track down the summary for this one, so at first I really was just going on the cover and its massive, I-can’t-quite-put-my-finger-on-why appeal. It just so happens that the actual story – a scavenger hunt! Bring on the clues! – sounds good too.

The Fault in Our Stars – John Green

Publisher’s Summary:
“Despite the tumor-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.”

I’ve loved books that have made me laugh, and I’ve loved books that have made me cry, but I cannot recall ever finding one that prompted both responses simultaneously. Now I have; this is it. By the time the last pages of The Fault in Our Stars were in sight, I found myself in possession of a damp, mascara stained Kleenex and wearing a smile so wide it ousted my lopsided dimples. Continuing this line of thought: It’s also been a long time – no, that’s not accurate; I can’t think of another time when this has actually happened – but when I finished the book, I got up, went to grab another tissue, and sat on the lip of the tub, tears falling apace as I tried to bring myself back from the subdued and exultant place where the last ten words had left me stranded. I’m not going for melodrama here; John Green wanted this book to make his readers feel, and, in my case, that’s exactly what it did.

But this is where my thoughts stall. Beyond recounting my emotional state while reading it, which is easy enough to do even if I feel like a surface stripped of its fine varnish, I…have no idea what to say about the book. I keep typing, and I keep hitting the delete key, and I think if I just keep doing that something will come out that won’t sound…lame. Like, okay. Should I take for granted that John Green is widely considered an intelligent and  incredibly talented writer, and therefore not comment on how well-written the novel is, deftly exploring heavy themes in a way that resonates rather than alienates? Should I assume that most people know he is capable of creating characters that seem so unreal and yet completely possible, probable, even, though I’ve never met anyone remotely like any one of them, and altogether avoid talking about how Hazel and Augustus got under my skin and stayed there, not because of or in spite of the cancer and how either one dealt with it, but because they both charmed the pants off of me? Figuratively speaking, of course. Though, that Augustus…

Or, here’s a question: Do I need to say anything at all? Read the first chapter. I doubt you’ll need further convincing to keep at it.

If I had my way – and I do, if only in a limited sense, because: librarian – I’d put this book in the hands of every single person I spoke to in a day (and in days to come). It’s a book that should be read, one that needs to be experienced, and that’s saying something, I think, coming from me, if you consider the fact that I typically cringe at the sight of most realistic fiction like it’s a shark in a tank, flashing its painful-issues-and-angst shaped sharp teeth whenever I get too close. Don’t get me wrong: John Green’s books have teeth. They’re worth risking the bite.

And that is the end of that painful metaphor. Okay. Now it’s done.

Just…Disregard all of this. Read The Fault in Our Stars for yourself. And when you’re done? I hope it will have affected you as greatly as it did me.

Captain America: Man Out of Time – Mark Waid, Jorge Molina

Publisher’s Summary:
“In the waning days of World War II, Steve Rogers – Captain America – seemingly sacrifices his life to save his nation. But decades later, he finds himself revived, thrust into a strange new America he barely recognizes. As he meets the heroes his legend inspired, Cap comes to understand what his sacrifice has meant. But it doesn’t change one fact: His partner and friend, Bucky, is dead – and Cap may have the means to return to the past and save him. For the sake of the timestream, the Avengers must do everything in their power to stop him!”

Marvel superheroes have lived long and varied lives. For someone like myself, who fell hard for a few of them after seeing their stories brought to life via the movies, trying to determine the correct place to wade in comics-wise often left me in a state of vague confusion. For instance, my first graphic novel outing with Iron Man – Ultimate Iron Man by Orson Scott Card – was, honestly, something of a disappointment. It was an origin story, but not one that in any way resonated with my perception of the character or what I had pieced together by reading fan fiction and things like Marvel Avengers: The Ultimate Character Guide and various Marvel related web sites. Captain America: Man Out of Time, on the other hand, proved to be a fine start, if only for the fact that it cemented my love for Steve Rogers and his super solider alter ego.

This graphic novel opens in 1945; Steve and Bucky are holed-up in the aftermath of a mission, and receive transfer orders that have terrible consequences. Namely, and this isn’t a spoiler because it says so up there in the summary, Bucky seemingly dies in an explosion. Steve, unable to save him, wakes up decades later, surrounded by a handful of costumed strangers, including a man made entirely of something that looks like metal. Basically, this is Mark Waid’s take on Cap’s rebirth and his immersion into the Avengers, and it works as such.

Now, I’ve heard it said (seen it written?) that opinions hold that Steve Rogers/Captain America is one of the least interesting characters in the superhero cabal; that he’s too idealistic, too vanilla, especially when standing shoulder to shoulder with, say, Tony Stark/Iron Man. But that’s just not how I see him. He is, to my mind, one of the more dynamic, sympathetic characters I’ve encountered since digging into comics of this kind. And he about broke my heart in Man Out of Time.

Here’s a man who has, for all intents and purposes, lost himself in order to fight the good fight, if you will, and to his belief in doing the right thing. Early on in this story, Bucky asks Steve what he’ll do once the war is won and over, and Steve doesn’t know how to answer. His identity is completely tied up, at that point, in what he does rather than in whom he once was – Steve Rogers, kid from Brooklyn – his hopes and dreams having been sacrificed to the serum that remade him and to the people giving him his orders. And then there’s his grief over losing Bucky and his inability to save him; his confusion upon waking up in an entirely new world; his struggle to determine his place, not based on his own wishes, mind, but where he can best serve his country and its people; and his eventual acceptance and determination to make a go of it with the Avengers. For all of his strength, he has the air of a Lost Boy; I’m not going to lie, that aspect of him plays me like an accomplished master.

But – and this is where frustration kicks in – I know I’m not articulating beyond the obvious why Steve/Cap gets to me. Steve and Tony both tie me up in knots; I can’t seem to untangle myself  to objectively determine just when or how it happened, never mind be able to coherently write about it.

In any event, I’m getting off track.

Regarding the art in this graphic novel, I’m going to take the easy way out: I loved it. Full color, wonderful use of various palettes, and the expressions on Cap’s face conveyed his internal struggle beautifully. I could happily just look through this book without reading a word.

With this under my belt, I’m going to go back and read the graphic novels that will give me a better understanding of Cap’s place in comic book history. I want to know who he fought – beyond Red Skull – and learn more about the Avengers after he was fully on board. Perhaps then I’ll be able to more authoritatively explain why his character works so remarkably well for me.

The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight – Jennifer E. Smith

Publisher’s Summary:
“Today should be one of the worst days of seventeen-year-old Hadley Sullivan’s life. She’s stuck at JFK, late to her father’s second wedding, which is taking place in London and involves a soon to be step-mother that Hadley’s never even met. Then she meets the perfect boy in the airport’s cramped waiting area. His name is Oliver, he’s British, and he’s in seat 18C. Hadley’s in 18A.

Twists of fate and quirks of timing play out in this thoughtful novel about family connections, second chances and first loves. Set over a 24-hour-period, Hadley and Oliver’s story will make you believe that true love finds you when you’re least expecting it.”

Perhaps you’ve followed this blog long enough to have come to the conclusion that I tend to gravitate towards girls that don’t necessarily fit the standard definition of gutsy or defiant or strong. Because there’s something to be said, I think, for a girl who blurts out a litany of her fears to a stranger without trying to reclaim the words or backpedal to make them sound prettier or less daunting. That? That takes guts. And it shows strength of character that seems to be too often overlooked in favor of the girl who is visibly out there taking on the world. So I’ll go ahead and admit it: Hadley, quietly struggling to reconcile her life in the wake of her father’s exit from their family, won me over from the start. Oliver’s sense of humor, his artful deflection of painful topics, and his comfortable yet still exciting presence was a bonus.

There’s also something to be said, I think, for the enforced intimacy of a long flight. (If, of course, the company you’re forced to keep is palatable.) Hadley and Oliver’s hushed conversations, the occasional shock of an accidental touch, it was all sort of…electric. It was almost like you could see the currents running between them, pulling one closer to the other, and I appreciated the honest warmth and acceptance that marked the start of their…friendship? Relationship? The label doesn’t matter, but that this aspect of the story worked, contentment welling up in me as I experienced it along with them, does.

The one and only thing I’ll say – and it’s not a criticism, really, but I’ll get to that – is that the plot’s progression was predictable. There were only so many ways Hadley could resolve the problems she had with her father, and any one of them would have felt familiar, but that’s not to say it came across as clichéd. Once again, it was made okay – for me, at least – because of Hadley, because the way she dealt with and looked at her issues with her father, the way she gave weight to both the good and the bad, almost without realizing it, made me care enough to overlook the ‘well, that’s been done before’ nature of the resolution. Same goes for the predictable how and why behind Hadley and Oliver reconnecting outside of the airport. If you’re invested in these characters, and if your experience is anything like mine, you’ll just go with it, snuffing the urge to quirk an eyebrow in silent judgment of what might otherwise seem like an easy out.

The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight was the first novel I read in this New Year; if it’s any indication of bookish things to come, the future is bright.

Kiss of Frost – Jennifer Estep

Publisher’s Summary:
“At Mythos Academy, teen warriors in the making train to take up their roles protecting humankind. With her snarky, self-deprecating voice and strange gift of psychometry – the ability to know an object’s history just by touching it – Gwen Frost is an outsider both to the students of the Academy and the rest of the world. But now that she’s taking private tutoring with the Academy’s most notorious young Spartan, and has Nike’s own sword to protect her, she’s ready to make her mark…”

Using my review of Touch of Frost as a jumping off point, I could reiterate that this series is made of fun times with a crotchety talking sword, providing a few hours of light-hearted enjoyment, but I’m not going to pussyfoot around. There is one overwhelming reason why I headed back to Mythos Academy, why I once again enjoyed my time there, a few persistent quibbles aside: Logan Hot Spartan Boy Quinn.

Oh, sure, our heroine Gwen insists that he’s a “man-whore”, repeating the same anecdote and only piece of (circumstantial) evidence she has – our Hot Spartan allegedly signs girls’ mattresses, see, to keep his conquests straight. And to avoid pesky repeat performances, because isn’t that what a man-whore would do? Avoid a sure thing? – whenever she gets the chance, and that in spite of acknowledging that his reputation may not be deserved. But here’s the thing: Logan is a stand-up guy, fiercely loyal to his friends, determined to protect an unsuspecting world from mythological boogeymen, and always there when the girl he cares about needs him. Plus, he’s all black-haired and blue-eyed and sexy-voiced and Spartan-strong and harboring some deep, dark, anguishing secret that makes him believe he can’t have/be with said girl.

And you know what? Sometimes? Reading-slumpers can’t be choosers. If the cute guy, or Hot Spartan, as the case may be, gets me through a book, super. I’ll take him it. I’ll take it.

Removing tongue from cheek, there’s more to enjoy in Kiss of Frost than Logan. The story builds nicely on its predecessor; we learn more about Gwen’s powers, what task she must undertake to serve her goddess, and she gains a new ally or two. Estep has a snug arc in place, one that pulled me through the pages, curious to find out what the next chapter might bring, and left me looking forward to book three, Dark Frost, which is due out next May.

Now, because I mentioned that I had them, the quibbles:

• Gwen continued to be slow on the uptake, which was frustrating in light of how transparent the villain was, and she showed an angsty side that didn’t quite fit her personality as portrayed in the first book.
• A piece of the plot, which I was hoping would be more fully developed, remained an untied string at novel’s end. Perhaps it will be raised in the third book, but it might be like trying to stamp the wrong puzzle piece into place, I’m afraid.
• Repetition. I understand that series books require a certain amount of rehashing to catch new readers up, or to refresh one’s memory of events. That’s not what I’m talking about. (Mostly.) For example, the characters are constantly referred to as the Valkyrie or the Amazon or, yes, the Spartan. (And Gwen’s insistent need to call Logan a man-whore, if you couldn’t tell, gets to me.)

Despite my reservations, I have every intention of seeing this series out to the end.

Shatter Me – Tahereh Mafi

Publisher’s Summary:
“No one knows why Juliette’s touch is fatal, but The Reestablishment has plans for her. Plans to use her as a weapon.

But Juliette has plans on her own.

After a lifetime without freedom, she’s finally discovering a strength to fight back for the very first time—and to find a future with the one boy she thought she’d lost forever.”

Gathering my thoughts to review Tahereh Mafi’s debut has clocked more minutes, it seems, than those given over to reading the book itself. It may have taken too long, but I’ve pinpointed why: When it comes to Shatter Me, I’m a middle of the road girl. The story didn’t wow me, didn’t leave me pining for the characters once the pages had run out; by the same token, it was easily and quickly read, and there were bits and pieces that warmed me, enough to decide me in favor of reading the next book.

I struggled, at first, with the repetition that soaks through the dozen or so chapters that set-up the story. It’s a pet peeve of mine, when characters think the same or similar thoughts over and again, but there are certain situations that cast repetition in a pardonable light, and Juliette’s incarceration, her struggle to come to terms with her sanity, is one of those. She’s had only herself for years and months and days; it makes a certain kind of sense that her thoughts would snag and loop. My tolerance ends there but, unfortunately, the repetitive nature of the story didn’t.

The Reestablishment, the Big Bad holding the umbrella over the story, is a one note plot device. The reader is apprised of the group’s basic principles – down with diversity, luxury (for the masses), and free thinking – and is told, repeatedly, that they’re using the threat of a dying Earth – no clean water or air, a disease riddled food supply – to enforce their will. This is all well and good except for the fact that that’s all The Reestablishment is: a scary story told over and again without variation. From my perspective, the group did not have a tangible presence in the story, which made Warner, the immediate Big Bad, a wonderfully manic but mostly ineffectual villain in this first book. That said, I can give Warner and his part in the conflict the benefit of the doubt because there’s enough in this first installment to suggest that his character’s layers will be stripped away in time.

While Juliette was in the asylum and then held by Warner, I sort of floated through the story, but once she and Adam broke away, my interest was tethered. There were a few reasons for this, but the main reason goes by James, Adam’s much younger brother. (There, however, my preferences are showing. Brothers!) Also, it was at this point in the story that the repetition eased up, the somber atmosphere lightened, and the plot seemed to have actual forward movement.

Now, in terms of the writing, it didn’t meet my standard of lyrical, though I’ve many times seen that word applied to it, and the strikeouts and abrupt nature of the (many) overt metaphors restrict me from using “flowing” as a descriptor. Here again, my middle of the road stance on this book comes into play: stylistically, the writing had its moments, both good and bad.

That I didn’t feel strongly one way or another comes as a surprise to me; I expected to, based on reviews I read prior to picking up the book. But my tepid response only makes me more keen to suggest you try Shatter Me for yourself.

To wrap up on a good note, a section I enjoyed:

“In the absence of human relationships I formed bonds with paper characters. I lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; I experienced adolescence by association. My world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.”

Last Breath – Rachel Caine

Publisher’s Summary:
“With her boss preoccupied researching the Founder Houses in Morganville, student Claire Danvers is left to her own devices when she learns that three vampires have vanished without a trace. She soon discovers that the last person seen with one of the missing vampires is someone new to town-a mysterious individual named Magnus. After an uneasy encounter with Morganville’s latest resident, Claire is certain Magnus isn’t merely human. But is he a vampire-or something else entirely?”

With long-running series, it stands to reason that at least one book will rank lower than the others, and that holds true for me: Ghost Town and Bite Club were not duds, per se, but they induced a regrettable sense of hesitancy regarding the future of the series. It would be going too far to say that Last Breath wowed me, but it did, in turn, startle me, worry me and, finally, took a sizeable bite out of the hesitance left in the wake of the last two books. Was Last Breath great? No. But it was pretty dang good.

Rachel Caine excels at keeping the reader off balance. Her Morganville books are no exception; they rely on no holds-barred, cojones to the wall plot lines that will – and inevitably do – run over your favorite characters with all the crushing force of a tank. Nothing is sacred. No one is safe. And the resultant tension is only one reason fans of the series keep coming back for more. This time around, Caine topped her personal best in the Take That! category. Last Breath also sets-up the next chapter in the lives of Claire, Shane, Eve and Michael, and, from where I’m sitting, the inkling we get of what’s in store for the quartet has the potential to elevate this series back to its initial glory.

So what did I like about this installment, gasp-inducing twists aside? First and foremost, Myrnin. That vampire has a troubling affect on my heart; in this book he didn’t just break it, he shredded it. If Caine – who has in recent books given characters other than Claire chapters from their perspective – were to let me inside of Myrnin’s head, the time spent there would do more than tear at my heart: it would make me fall to pieces entirely, I’m sure. It goes without saying, then, that I fiercely covet his perspective, even if it spans no more than a single page.

A look at Myrnin from Shane’s POV:

“He just stood there, Claire’s sad, crazy, manic boss with his handsome pale face and lunatic eyes and stupid damn bunny slippers that had always made her smile.”

I read that sentence so many times I lost count. I got all quivery each time, too. Because with the sad comes his delight; with the crazy comes his sharp intelligence; and with the manic comes his vulnerability. And then there’s his devotion to Claire. The handsome pale face, lunatic eyes, and bunny slippers are just icing on a dynamic, delicious cake.

What else? Shane. Always Shane. And a paragraph on the last page that merited a deep, contented sigh.

There was one thing, though, regarding the alternating perspectives: I kept asking myself, why now? Granted, Shane got a few chapters in the last book, Bite Club, and Claire remained the focus of the majority of Last Breath, but…It’s odd, isn’t it, that Caine decided to utilize multiple points of view ten books into the series? And are we to take away that this formula will remain in place for the remainder of the books in the series? Just a few idle thoughts that distracted me after I’d finished the book.

In the end, it’s nice to be left once again greatly anticipating the next book in the series. That said, Black Dawn, you had best give me more Myrnin, preferably from his own dangerously unstable point of view.

The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer – Michelle Hodkin

Publisher’s Summary:
“Mara Dyer doesn’t think life can get any stranger than waking up in a hospital with no memory of how she got there. It can.

She believes there must be more to the accident she can’t remember that killed her friends and left her mysteriously unharmed. There is.

She doesn’t believe that after everything she’s been through, she can fall in love. She’s wrong.”

Note: This was an incredibly hard review to write, but I believe I’ve managed to avoid including spoilers.

My inability to connect with the female protagonists of too many recent YA novels has directly contributed to my ongoing reading slump. Their voices, or lack thereof, do little to compel me to follow them through hundreds of pages, and so, time and again, I set their books aside. The general premise of The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer was enough to hook me, and by the time Mara started to grate on my nerves, I was determined to see the thing out.

I liked Mara. At first. Coping with the aftermath of a traumatic event inspired some sympathy in me towards her character. But what went much further towards winning me over? Her back-and-forth banter with her older brother, Daniel, and her obvious fondness for her little brother, Joseph. Make no mistake: Mara is the caustic, take-’em-out-at-the-knees type. And she remained her caustic self (some readers say witty, I say caustic) around Daniel, but in those moments with her brothers, a sweet side came out, betraying a vulnerable aspect of her nature. That, more than anything else, is what I initially responded to. Unfortunately, at some point her decision-making process fell apart. She was no longer the smart, sharp girl she originally seemed to be, and it didn’t ring true, for me at least, that the cause of this degeneration was her mental state. If that had been the case, if I really bought into her unraveling, it would have been one thing. But it got to a point where her character stopped being likable or worthy of sympathy. By novel’s end, all I felt toward her was growing frustration.

It’s stating the obvious, I’m sure, to admit that my favorite characters in the novel were Daniel and Joseph; the same applies to me saying that my favorite interactions involved one or both brothers and Mara. If I’m being particularly honest, Daniel may have been a bit too good to be true, and Joseph perhaps a tad bit too precocious, but that didn’t matter much to me. I’m a sucker for strong family units in fiction, and both of these boys, in their own way, were really there for Mara.

Now. Noah. What to say about Noah? Some wonderfully sexy things came out of his mouth. A girl could fall prey to such talk. I wasn’t entirely immune myself, but at the same time he was no Etienne St. Clair or – and this one might be slightly closer to the mark considering their personalities – Nico Rathburn (in that he didn’t evoke the same kind of Oh God emotion in the pit of my stomach). Noah cultivates a certain reputation for his own reasons, some of which are easily sussed out, but I never quite got a handle on him, or believed his motivation for becoming so inordinately loyal to Mara.

To sum up: I was on a see-saw with the two main characters, one I occasionally wanted to level off, but would have played in the park for days and days with the brothers.

I’ve mentioned before, and forgive me if this is becoming redundant, that I love mystery novels. I have since I was very young and, really, I blame my father: he set my little feet on that path, gave me a nudge, and enabled my need for all things deductive along the way. But what does that have to do with Mara Dyer? Considering the twisting, spiraling trajectory of the plot: everything. And for once, my must-figure-things-out brain pretty much got the better of me. See, I found myself preempting the twists. The slightest hint of a twist on the horizon and, instead of settling into the story to ride it out, I pulled myself from it to work the possibility of what might occur (or what it might mean) the same way I would a Rubik’s Cube, pushing and prodding and snarling until things lined up just right. And so the ending? That supposed-to-be-shocking, cliffhanger ending? Didn’t shock me in the least. Didn’t leave me wide-eyed and scratching my head while attempting to understand what just happened. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it was obvious, but there was a trail of breadcrumbs to follow (and to pick up if, like me, you just can’t stand to see them litter the floor). To be fair, I didn’t figure out everything (though I do have a few suspicions).

If you don’t nurse the same tendency to latch onto mystery threads like the proverbial dog with a bone, that last paragraph (and this one too) is irrelevant. I felt the need to include it because being only semi-present (or semi-immersed) for at least the last quarter of the novel affected my reading experience as a whole. Why? Because the secondary result of working the mystery angle so hard was the dulling of the creepier aspects of the story. And, honestly, that was a shame. Every now and again I like a good shivery moment while reading.

If I haven’t gone on enough about it already, there was one thing about the novel that, like my father, enabled my pulling apart of the threads: the pace. It was…leisurely. Not slow, necessarily, but the story took its time unfolding, lingering when the mood struck, more so in the beginning as Mara acclimated to her new school, to Noah’s baffling attention, and to dealing with the discomfort prompted by her mother’s continued perception of her mental and emotional state. If pacing is an issue for you – meaning you prefer fast-paced, action-imbued stories – you may want to take this book’s slow and steady roll into consideration beforehand.

As it turns out, this is one case in which I cannot definitively say that I did or did not like the book. I read it – and, despite how it may seem based on the tone of this review, doing so wasn’t a hardship. Finishing it in a single day is evidence of that. And I’ll likely read the next book. After all, I have to see how some of my suspicions pan out. So. Well. There you have it.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone – Laini Taylor

Publisher’s Summary:
“Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.

In a dark and dusty shop, a devil’s supply of human teeth grown dangerously low.

And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war.

Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she’s prone to disappearing on mysterious “errands”; she speaks many languages—not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she’s about to find out.

When one of the strangers—beautiful, haunted Akiva—fixes his fire-colored eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?”

Thanks to Janice, who is wonderful and took pity on me after I expressed my undying fangirl love for Laini Taylor, I had an arc of Daughter of Smoke and Bone in my greedy hands months ago. In an uncharacteristic display of bookish willpower, I didn’t read it. Posting a review that far in advance didn’t sit right with me, and I wanted whatever I said to carry the urgency of adoration that I would undoubtedly feel for it. But now, looking down the barrel of the book’s release date, I can finally express a smidge of the love I harbor for Laini Taylor’s writing and, specifically, the writing that throbbed and pulsed with life and gobsmacking beauty on the pages of Daughter of Smoke and Bone. Just know that whatever I say about this book, it will not be enough.

To my mind, Laini Taylor is one of the best, most brilliant writers writing YA fantasy today. There are very few who can match her imagination and execution of ideas – the only other, in fact, that immediately leaps to mind is Catherynne Valente, whose Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making thoroughly undid me in magnificent ways earlier this year. Realize I put forth that statement knowing that I’ll need to support it; knowing that trying to do so will be…daunting. My response to her work is specific to me, to who I am, and what I crave. It’s like I’m a well; each word Taylor writes is a drop of water that ripples out from my mind to my heart, settling in the deep down place that nurtures my daydreams and hopes and wishes. And it has been like that with each book of hers I’ve read, and I’ve read them all, including The Drowned, the graphic novel she collaborated on with her husband, Jim Di Bartolo. I have a personal and emotional relationship with her stories, and how, please tell me how, you can look at anything like that objectively and say here, this is why.

Perhaps the best way to start is to say that, without fail, I end up wanting to crawl inside Laini Taylor’s books, to take up residence beside her characters. That, to me, is a mark of excellent world-building. If she wanted to, Taylor could go on for paragraphs and pages, doling out the tiniest details, and I would be captivated. Her writing is evocative and visual and engages all of the senses. She takes intricately hewn bricks and brightly colored mortar and builds something special. That I take note of how things tick, the setting, and all the little bits and bobs is a testament to how well she crafts them. Daughter of Smoke and Bone is no exception.

And then there are her characters. I fell hard for Talon, one of many spectacular characters in Taylor’s Dreamdark books, and now Akiva has me ensnared. A taste (one that may change upon final publication):

“…he looked at her. Just looked. His gaze was heat across her cheeks, her lips. It was touch. His eyes were hypnotic, his brows black and velvet. He was copper and shadow, honey and menace, the severity of knife-blade cheekbones and a widow’s peak like the point of a dagger. All that and the muted snap of invisible fire, and facing him, Karou was jolted into the hum of blood and magic, and something else.”

Taylor’s characters – all of them, but especially her female characters – have an underlying core of strength, a self-assuredness that makes them infinitely appealing and more than a little intriguing. Karou is fully capable of taking care of herself, she’s smart and artistic, but she’s not unafraid. She knows what it’s like to feel vulnerable. And that, despite the whimsy of her blue hair and the surreal aspect of her childhood, makes her deeply real. Add a charming, offbeat best friend (whose nature is every bit as indomitable as Karou’s, and who is just as happy and secure in her own skin) to the mix, and you’ve got a winning combination.

There is so much I could say about this book. And I would. If I had any idea how to do so. In the end, I’ll just urge you to give her work a try, be it Daughter of Smoke and Bone or one of her Dreamdark novels. You won’t be sorry you did.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone will be released on September 27th.