Short Book Reviews: A Zimbabwean Ghost-Talker in Scotland

The Library of the Dead, by T. L. Huchu (Tor)

This book is just marvelous. It’s got a near-future dystopic setting, with all the creative and dysfunctional ways people adapt to crumbling civilization and a devastated ecology. A world in which ghosts hang around, pleading to speak with their loved ones and a secret academy trains wizards in the depths of Edinburgh. Best of all, though, is teen narrator, Ropa, a “ghost talker” who blends her Zimbabwean heritage with snappy Scottish slang, a gift for compassion, and intellectual curiosity.

Life is hard enough for Ropa. Along with her grandmother and smart-talking younger sister, she lives in a decaying RV and is always behind on paying rent for their spot. She’s had to drop out of school, her ghost-talking work is unpredictable, and the future doesn’t offer much. To make matters worse, children have been disappearing…and when they’re found, they suffer from extreme premature aging. In a seemingly unrelated incident, an old school friend from a posh family sneaks her into an underground library of the occult where she’s threatened with immediate execution for trespass until she’s given a student pass. Now, armed with a new classmate, she’s off to discover who’s taking the missing children and what’s happened to them.

The voice of narrator Ropa is the best part of the book, vivid and compelling and smart. She’s so engaging that I kept turning pages even when it seemed the mystery and other story elements were never going to come together (they do!) It felt like a braided novel, but I was more than happy to go along with Ropa as the linking thread. It’s impossible to overstate how powerful the narrative voice was.

 

Book Review: A Literary Attempt at a YA School Story Mystery

The Temple House Vanishing, by Rachel Donohue (Algonquin Books)

I requested an ARC of this book based on the description: a mystery set in a Catholic boarding school. Twenty-five years before the opening, Louisa, a brilliant but lonely student, and Mr. Lavelle, a charismatic art teacher, have mysteriously disappeared. Victoria, who knew them both, has just committed suicide at the school itself. Why did she kill herself? What happened to Louisa and Mr. Lavelle? Did they elope together? Were they murdered or did they perish through an accident? Or were the disappearances unrelated? The atmosphere of an isolated Victorian mansion set on a cliff in Ireland added to the appeal.

Very early in the book, however, I became increasingly disappointed and frustrated. By the end, I was ready to throw the book across the room in disgust, except that I was reading it on my Kindle and I don’t treat my electronic devices so cavalierly. Based on the description, The Temple House Vanishing promised me a genre novel – YA, school story, and mystery, all in one – and yet it consistently violated the conventions of all three, and not in a skillful way.

The opening point of view, a journalist who happened to live on the same street as Louisa and who is investigating the disappearance, was hard to relate to and never made any sense to me. She isn’t involved in the events, and her own life, irrelevant to the rest of the story, seemed remote and uninteresting. Then we get into Louisa’s story, narrated by herself. Therein lies the second hurdle, because Louisa doesn’t sound or act like a teen, even one who’s stuck in her head. Almost all teens, whether intellectual “brains” or not, center their lives around the fundamental issues of those years: independence from parents, confusion about who they are and what they want to become, desperate need for approval from peers, and so forth. Hormones saturate their bloodstreams, and the parts of their brains associated with executive functions, delayed gratification, and long-term planning, won’t mature until their mid-20s. It doesn’t matter how bright or academically gifted they are, they are still at the mercy of these internal storms. Louisa’s first-person narrative reads like the overly elitist pontifications of a writer with a very poor memory of her own teenaged years, or perhaps one seen through extremely adult-colored lenses, and with no understanding of the conventions of the genre. I cannot imagine a teen reader finding Louisa believable or interesting.

Then we meet Victoria, who becomes the object of Louisa’s bloodless passion. Both girls exhibit a disconnection between their intellectual philosophizing and their relationships so extreme as to verge into psychotic dissociation. I never perceived, through their speech or behavior, or through the inner voice of the narrative, any shred of genuine emotion until very near the end, when it became clear that Louisa was just as infatuated with Victoria as Victoria was with Mr. Lavelle. But for the most part, each experiences a pale, distant imitation of obsession, not the visceral stuff of teen suicide pacts or Romeo and Juliet. Not a hint of lesbian romance, requited or not, could I discern.

Book Review: A YA School Story Mystery Falls Short

 The Temple House Vanishing, by Rachel Donohue (Algonquin Books)

I requested an ARC of this book based on the description: a mystery set in a Catholic boarding school. Twenty-five years before the opening, Louisa, a brilliant but lonely student, and Mr. Lavelle, a charismatic art teacher, have mysteriously disappeared. Victoria, who knew them both, has just committed suicide at the school itself. Why did she kill herself? What happened to Louisa and Mr. Lavelle? Did they elope together? Were they murdered or did they perish through an accident? Or were the disappearances unrelated? The atmosphere of an isolated Victorian mansion set on a cliff in Ireland added to the appeal.

Very early in the book, however, I became increasingly disappointed and frustrated. By the end, I was ready to throw the book across the room in disgust, except that I was reading it on my Kindle and I don’t treat my electronic devices so cavalierly. Based on the description, The Temple House Vanishing promised me a genre novel – YA, school story, and mystery, all in one – and yet it consistently violated the conventions of all three.

The opening point of view, a journalist who happened to live on the same street as Louisa and who is investigating the disappearance, was hard to relate to and never made any sense to me. She isn’t involved in the events, and her own life, irrelevant to the rest of the story, seemed remote and uninteresting. Then we get into Louisa’s story, narrated by herself. Therein lies the second hurdle, because Louisa doesn’t sound or act like a teen, even one who’s stuck in her head. Almost all teens, whether intellectual “brains” or not, center their lives around the fundamental issues of those years: independence from parents, confusion about who they are and what they want to become, desperate need for approval from peers, and so forth. Hormones saturate their bloodstreams, and the parts of their brains associated with executive functions, delayed gratification, and long-term planning, won’t mature until their mid-20s. It doesn’t matter how bright or academically gifted they are, they are still at the mercy of these internal storms. Louisa’s first-person narrative reads like the overly elitist pontifications of a writer with a very poor memory of her own teenaged years, or perhaps one seen through extremely adult-colored lenses, and with no understanding of the conventions of the genre. I cannot imagine a teen reader finding Louisa believable or interesting.

Then we meet Victoria, who becomes the object of Louisa’s bloodless passion. Both girls exhibit a disconnection between their intellectual philosophizing and their relationships so extreme as to verge into psychotic dissociation. I never perceived, through their speech or behavior, or through the inner voice of the narrative, any shred of genuine emotion until very near the end, when it became clear that Louisa was just as infatuated with Victoria as Victoria was with Mr. Lavelle. But for the most part, each experiences a pale, distant imitation of obsession, not the visceral stuff of teen suicide pacts or Romeo and Juliet. Not a hint of lesbian romance, requited or not, could I discern.

Short Book Reviews: A Powerful Life-Swapping YA Novel

Not Myself Today, by Muriel Ellis Pritchett (Black Rose Writing)

I picked up this book, knowing little more about it than it partakes of the character-wakes-up-in-the-body-of-a-stranger-who-died-at-the-same-time story trope. Fine, I thought. I’m a fan of Drop Dead Diva. I’m game.

Our viewpoint character is Lindsey, college-bound high school soccer star, articulate, self-confident, with an awesome father and super best friend. In other words, a golden girl with a golden future. After collapsing at the end of a crucial soccer game, she wakes up in the hospital in a much younger body, beaten to a pulp. As the story unfolds, Lindsey goes through the expected motions of trying to convince her father that this bruised, unwanted fourteen year old is really her, while fending off a smelly, repulsively dependent girl who claims to be her roommate.

The story flows seamlessly from “Freaky Friday” to darker themes. It doesn’t take long for Lindsey to realize that her new body is that of a teenage runaway sex worker and the man who assaulted her was the pimp she’d been desperate to get away from. As Lindsey comes to understand the realities of her new identity, she also finds the courage to speak up for exploited girls like her. What begins as a light-hearted identity-swap story grows, as its narrator grows, into a mature, challenging, and transformative novel. One of the things I liked most about Lindsey’s growth was her acceptance that her new life will be different: she’ll have to repeat high school, albeit from a more mature perspective; soccer will be out of the physical capabilities of her new body, but not track and field or perhaps something else. And the geeky younger boy who idolized her infuriatingly might just turn out to be her new romance.

Although the body-swapping is technically a fantasy element, the story itself has a mainstream sensibility; nevertheless, fans of Young Adult fantasy will find the character development and meaty topics rewarding. Highly recommended.

 

Short Book Reviews: The Ratings Are Not Real

 Rated, by Melissa Grey (Scholastic)

We humans are obsessed with labeling ourselves by categories and numbers: our age, our class, our weight, our IQ, our SAT scores, our GPA, and so on. In the larger world, the caste system in all its cultural versions locks the social order into place. In Melissa Grey’s world, ratings control access to education, health care, housing, and opportunity. The system was devised by John Maplethorpe, who also founded the elite high school where six students – Bex, Noah, Tamsin, Hana, Chase and Javi – find their lives change and their assumptions challenged when graffiti appears on the school’s front doors: The ratings are not real.

At first, the lives of the six students could not be more dissimilar. Bex is an overscheduled academic superstar, Hana an anorexic figure skater, Chase an athlete desperate to maintain his falling rating, Noah a shy photographer, Tamsin a Tarot-reading rebel, and Javi a professional virtual game star. Each discovers a note signed by “The Jester” and containing a riddle:

On the day of the prophet false

One mustn’t dance a forbidden waltz

A copper found and a fortune told

All beside a box of gold.

Drawn together, each of the six plays a vital role in deciphering the riddle and revealing the identity of the jester. In the process, friendships are forged and romance blooms. These are teens, right? More importantly, each comes to question the status quo and discovers their own power to change it. Reading this story as an older adult, I was infused with hope. The spontaneity, courage, and ruthless honesty of young people can indeed transform the world.

Short Book Reviews: Thoughtful, Inspiring YA/MG For Everyone

Born Confused by Tanuja Desai Hidier.

Dimple Lala is an American Indian (as in East Indian, not Native American) caught between the traditional world of her parents and the life of a normal American teenager. Her best friend, willowy blonde ultra-cool Gwyn, thinks Indian culture is exotic and cool. Dimple’s one passion is her photography, and the world as she sees it through her camera lens is described in luminescent detail. Only here can she be herself, instead of awkward and alienated. At school, she can never compete with Gwyn; at home, wishes her meddling parents would stay out of her hair. When they arrange an introduction to a “suitable boy” (suitable for an arranged marriage, that is), Dimple goes on a blind date that Gwyn had set up, with predictably disastrous consequences. As the story unfolds, spilling out into the Indian music club scene, Dimple comes into her own, fusing the best of both worlds. An array of vivid secondary character and gorgeous sensory detail mark this as a book to be savored and shared.

We Are the Goldens by Dana Reinhardt.

This book is deceptively simple in tone yet rich in nuance and courageous in its approach to complex, painful issues. This book chronicles the parallel journeys of two teenaged sisters, using an interesting twist on the usual YA first-person narrative in that one sister is addressing the other: their relationship forms the core of the story as they grow from intertwined to antagonistic to individuated. The story opens with the narrator and younger sister, Nell, beginning high school and discovering that the previously close relationship with adored, perfect Layla has now developed fracture lines. While Nell develops an unrequited crush on a glamorous older boy, Layla begins acting mysteriously. She, too, has a secret – one that Nell discovers and that has the power to tear them and their whole family apart. Highly recommended for both adult and teen readers for its clear and excellent handling of relationships and sexuality.


The Cartographer's Daughter, by Kiran Millwood Hargrave.

This lovely middle grade story offers a wonderful twist to the usual fantasy tale featuring adolescent heroes. The protagonist’s strength is not magic or physical prowess but her understanding of how our knowledge of the landscape gives us power. The techniques of map-making are woven into the story in beautiful, evocative ways. The plot itself involves a group of friends, a journey to forbidden lands, monsters and creatures, villains and allies. Much has a familiar feel, but the use of cartography makes this book stand out. It would make a great book for a family to read together and discuss the principles of geography and their relationship to the plot.

Deborah’s Excellent Nebula Awards Weekend Adventure Continues

Saturday did not begin auspiciously. The Nebula Awards hotel is in downtown San Jose, which is not noteworthy for the adequacy of its public parking. After visiting one full public lot after another and having various adventures which left the paint of my car considerably worse for wear, I surrendered to the inevitability of having to pay a significant fraction of the national debt in order to leave my car somewhere. However, with the sympathetic reception of my tale of aggravation, I determined to leave that particular episode safely ensconced in the past…at least until I have to get my car out of hock.

As a consequence, I caught only the last part of the SFWA Business Meeting, and I wouldn’t have been able to report on what transpired anyway, it being SFWA-Sekrit. However, during the discussion of pirate websites, a couple of points arose that bear repeating and are nonspecific enough that nobody is going to track me down for indiscretion. If your traditionally-published books appear on a pirate site, notify your publisher, who are, after all, adversely financially affected and often have the legal departments, etc., to deal with it. Also, some of these sites do not actually sell pirated copies of books – they are scams for collecting credit card numbers. This latter notion boggles the mind with its likelihood.

Fast forward through lunch and various conversations to the panel on Writing For Young Adults (with Leah Bobet, Sarah Beth Durst, Steven Gould, and E.C. Myers). Herewith my notes:

Don’t be boring (especially for kids). Write well if the subject matter is difficult, and make sure every element is there for a reason. This advice strikes me as being rue for all fiction.