Book Review of I See Reality: Twelve Short Stories About Real Life by YA authors, compiled by Grace Kendall

One of my earliest introductions to YA, the genre I hold nearest to my heart (and enjoy writing the most), was actually not a YA novel, but, instead, a collection of short stories by authors whose works had been banned or challenged, edited by none other than the famed Judy Blume, called Places I Never Meant To Be. Half of my lifetime later, with as much reading as I do, I've never been able to find a YA short story collection that captured the same feeling. I gave up long ago, acknowledging that it was magical enough to have captured lightning in a jar just the once. ...and then, lo and behold, my sneaky book ninja friend gifted me with an ARC of this little gem. By the time I'd sunk my teeth into the second story, I knew: I See Reality had filled a second jar.

Had I found this book on a bookstore or library shelf instead of piled in amongst other books in the best type of care package--a box unapologetically stuffed with books--I would've selected to read it because of two of the contributing authors whose work I've loved: Trisha Leaver and Heather Demetrios. I posted a review here of The Secrets We Keep by Trisha Leaver, in case you're curious. (After eagerly awaiting it for way too long, the book still blew my socks off.)

Out of the twelve short stories included in I See Reality, I was moved by ten. All of them made me think, question, and gain new understanding. From Three Imaginary Conversations With You, in which Heather Demetrios introduces us to a high school senior who wants to break up with her older, controlling boyfriend to Kristin Elizabeth Clark's light touch when dealing with a gay protagonist finally gaining self awareness, each author brings unique characters in realistic situations to life in compelling and exciting ways. Kekla Magoon drives home the realities of poverty, racial identity, and abuse in Makeshift with such vivid sensory details that I felt WITH her characters--not FOR them. Jason Schmidt turns his narrative of a school shooting into the simplest and most touching story of a boy and a girl in Things You Get Over, Things You Don't. Prescription drug addiction and the pitfalls of high school romance come alive in Coffee Chameleon by Jay Clark. Marcella Pixley presents readers with a disturbing story of grief and mental illness in Hush, and Trisha Leaver speaks to everyone who hides his or her light under a bushel because of someone else's sins and other people's perceptions in Blackbird. In her untitled pithy short comic, Faith Erin Hicks makes a heartbreaking situation less painful with hilarity, while Jordan Sonnenblick sums up four years' worth of lessons in mere pages with The Sweeter The Sin. Capping off the whole emotionally reeling collection is The Good Brother, Patrick Flores-Scott's tale of two brothers: one who is in our country legally, and one who is here against the law.

If nothing else, that rundown should've illuminated the very breadth and variety of issues and situations the authors whose works are included in I See Reality have explored in depth. Whether your eyes caught the names of some of your favorite YA authors on the list of contributors, or you're just interested in good YA short stories depicting diverse characters in a multitude of difficult situations, I See Reality is a fantastic choice. I can't recommend this one enough!

Book Review of The Secrets We Keep by Trisha Leaver

As a writer, reader, and lover of YA, I heard about The Secrets We Keep by Trisha Leaver almost a year before its release, and I was so excited that I actually marked the date in my planner in addition to immediately adding it to my book wishlist. I entered a contest to win an ARC, but didn't get one, so you can bet I had this title on preorder. All that to say: there was a lot of anticipation about this book for me, and I certainly wasn't disappointed! Merely reading the premise: that identical twin sisters are in a car accident, one survives, the other doesn't, and the surviving twin assumes the identity of the deceased twin was enough to get me interested, and the more I found out about the book, the more I knew it would be a must-read. But, in an epic book blogger fail, I forgot to post my review of this gem, and it has been sitting around in draft form ever since. As I went to post my review of I See Reality, a YA short story anthology with a short story by Trisha Leaver included, I wanted to refer back to this post, and that's when I realized my mistake. I love the cover design so much that, until my bookshelf got too crowded--what a good problem to have--it had actually earned a face-out.

For those of you who are dubious that a mix-up like that could happen, I point you to this story: which actually took place at the college I attended for undergrad while I was a student there, in which two completely unrelated girls were involved in a van crash and were misidentified as each other. They didn't even look like they could be sisters! ...so, one could see how this is certainly possible with identical twins. Also, because of this issue, I kept noticing that Leaver set up lots of circumstances to explain the questions of any potential doubters (Maddie was wearing Ella's clothing, when asked her name by first responders right after the accident, Ella was struggling to utter Maddie's name in a feeble attempt to ask about Maddie's condition, and Ella was driving Maddie's car at the time of the accident).

As the story continued past the car accident, what I found most powerful and compelling about The Secrets We Keep was that Ella, the quiet, studious, independent sister seemed 100% sure that her identity was devoid of value--that nobody would miss her. That misconception, combined with the crowds of people vociferously showing their support for "Maddie" right after the accident caused Ella to confuse popularity with personal value. ...not to say that Maddie didn't have value as a person, but just to say that she wasn't a better or more worthwhile person simply because she was more popular than Ella was. It took actually stepping into Maddie's (highly uncomfortable) shoes and pretending to be her sister for several weeks to realize that, while Maddie might have had many supporters and admirers, Ella was the beneficiary of unconditional love. Though not a "people person," her strong and meaningful relationships with her best friend (and potential boyfriend), her parents, and her art make the choice of which twin to be, which seems like a no-brainer to her at first blush, a truly difficult decision as time passes.

The Secrets We Keep deals genuinely and movingly with many serious issues: self-value and awareness, the true meaning and cost of popularity, personal ethics, the lesson that what we do can have a sometimes life-altering impact on others, substance use and abuse/underage drinking and drug use, grief, and unconditional love. If you enjoyed If I Stay and Where She Went by Gayle Forman, you may just like this book even more. This is one of the most powerful pieces of YA I've read in a long time. Highly recommended.

Book Review of Where The Stars Still Shine by Trish Doller

I remember how Something Like Normal got me through several tedious hours during an extended hospital stay. So, when I came across Where The Stars Still Shine, also by Trish Doller, on a list of recommended YA titles that portrayed PTSD well, I knew I had to check it out from my local library. However, I'm not a fan of the cover design, because I feel it doesn't capture the mood or themes of the book at all. I don't know if I'm like other readers of Where The Stars Still Shine, but I spent the entire time desperately wanting to see the inside of that Airstream, so I wish that had been incorporated into the cover concept somehow.


Where The Stars Still Shine opens twelve years after Callie's mom Veronica--a woman clearly not fit to be a custodial parent, who is off her meds for Borderline Personality Disorder--has kidnapped her and raised her on the run, so as to keep Callie away from her father and extended family in Florida. When Veronica is pulled over for driving a stolen car on yet another one of their last-minute moves to flee from yet another one of her scary boyfriends who is inappropriate with Callie (There have been many--hence Callie's PTSD.), Callie finds herself suddenly in the custody of a father she hasn't seen in over a decade, and amidst a huge extended Greek family in a Florida tourist town, not quite knowing where she fits in.

There were many things to like about Where The Stars Still Shine. I particularly enjoyed the contrasts shown between modern Greek-American culture and Greek-themed performances and products meant for tourists. I also appreciated Doller's representation of Callie's PTSD, which was both apt and sensitively done. The awkwardness and difficulty Callie experiences in renegotiating her relationship with her dad upon their reunion feels realistic, and develops both characters well. And her friendship with cousin Kat keeps things lively and interesting. Also, this book features one of the most hilariously-run bookstores I've ever encountered in fiction. (I would love to browse through its cheeky shelf-talkers, maybe even more than browsing for the books themselves!)

One small thing that bothered me--and is so typical in YA--is that Doller gave Callie, a girl who refuses to attend school, and who hasn't been enrolled in years, a deep-seated love of books and reading. Of course, I have nothing against characters who like to read! But, the problem comes in when, like in Callie's case, this trait, which is oft mentioned and shapes a minor sideplot of the story, feels as if it was taken from the author's own life and has been plunked down onto a character for whom it is the most unlikely of fits. In addition to the fact that most kids who enjoy reading wouldn't be totally opposed to attending school, there's the added issue that none of the books mentioned really felt like they had any connection to Callie's character, reflecting things she was trying to work through, or themes from Where The Stars Still Shine itself.

I feel like this happens quite a bit in YA, and it is an example of lazy writing, because authors do it when they don't want to do the work of truly developing a character on the page so, instead of showing readers who that person is, they try to give cultural benchmarks like "girl who would pack books when given five minutes to pack everything she wants to take before a last-minute move," or "angsty better-than-your-pop-music-listening-self teen character who is a fan of the Smiths," or, really, any of hundreds of YA characters who are featured in books set in the past few years and have inexplicable preferences for 80s movies and music, just because that's when their authors were growing up.

Ultimately, though, I found Where The Stars Still Shine to be a quick and enjoyable read--not for the romance plot, but for the family issues, the new hometown struggles, and the bits about Greek-American culture. Also, I enjoyed the setting of Tarpon Springs (which is described fairly accurately in the book, from what I can tell). It felt unique and also homey. I'd recommend this book to fans of Finding Carter and The Face On The Milk Carton.

Book Review of When We Collided by Emery Lord

I checked out When We Collided by Emery Lord from my local library after encountering it on a roundup of YA books that do a good job portraying characters with mental illness. However, it did not live up to that promise, which was surprising, because the author's note alludes to this being an #ownvoices title. Ultimately, it felt like a  less well-written Sarah Dessen novel mixed with many plot points shamelessly copied from Party Of Five. The cover design was a disappointment to me. With Vivi's keen interest in fashion and her job at the pottery studio, and the picturesque vacation town setting, I feel like there were many aspects from the plot to draw on that would've been visually pleasing while still related to the story.

Vivi is staying with her mom in Verona Cove for the summer and working at a paint-your-own-pottery studio. She loves vintage fashion, and often sews her own clothing and undertakes other creative projects. She also has bipolar disorder. Jonah is helping to take care of his younger siblings and keep his large family together, as well as trying to keep the family's restaurant running in the aftermath of his dad's sudden death. His mom is mostly non-functional, due to grief-induced depression. When We Collided is the story of Vivi and Jonah's relationship over the course of a summer.

Aside from weak writing, plot and logic inconsistencies, and a general feeling that most of the aspects of this book were shamelessly taken from other sources and smashed together, my main complaint about When We Collided is how Emery Lord dealt with bipolar disorder and mental illness through the character of Vivi. The author's note is written in such a way that makes me think this is an #ownvoices book, inspired, at least in part, by Lord's own experiences with mental illness. That's why I found her free usage of words like crazy and insane when describing Vivi shocking. More than that, Vivi is written like just your average MPDG YA character: she has a flair for original and vintage fashion, she's impetuous and moody, she breezes into the life of a guy with real substance and shakes everything up, seemingly just because she can. 

This treatment of Vivi's character--and of Jonah's responses to her behavior--made the whole story feel like one tired YA trope, instead of a true look at what it means to be in a relationship with someone who has bipolar disorder. Vivi doesn't come across as an empathetic character who has a health challenge--she comes off as selfish and immature when she leverages charm and originality to get away with everything she does. To me, When We Collided didn't read as a YA summer relationship/romance-y type novel that also dealt with serious issues, as much as it read as kind of a horror story: Jonah got hooked by Vivi, and then I waited on the edge of my seat to see just how much she was going to wreak havoc on his already stressful life. It felt to me like Jonah was Vivi's victim, more than he was her love interest. I feel that's entirely the wrong way to present a character with bipolar disorder, and a relationship between that character and another one. For those reasons, I absolutely don't recommend When We Collided by Emery Lord.

Book Review of The Lost & Found by Katrina Leno

I borrowed The Lost & Found by Katrina Leno from the library because I loved Let's Get Lost by Adi Alsaid and Playlist for the Dead by Michelle Falkoff (the two authors whose blurbs were on the back cover). I find blurbs to be a very hit-or-miss way of finding new books I enjoy: just because an author whose work I like also liked a particular book, that doesn't necessarily mean I'll like it. Usually, I have to read 2-3 things recommended by a certain author before I can get a feel of whether or not that author's reading preferences mesh well with my own. There are authors whose writing I love, but whose reading recommendations I consistently don't enjoy, and there are authors whose writing I don't like, but who give great book recs. Unfortunately for me, if our opinions of The Lost & Found were any indication, my reading tastes don't match up with Michelle Falkoff's or Adi Alsaid's. I was mostly disappointed by this one. The cover, while quite appropriate to the story, was very meh.

Frannie and Louis meet on a web community for teens dealing with trauma. After years of exchanging messages with no identifying information included, each one suddenly and miraculously receives a letter leading him or her from opposite sides of the country to Austin, Texas, where they decide to meet face-to-face for the first time, bringing their respective best friends--cousin Arrow and sister Willa) along for the ride.

...which all sounds like it could be the making of a good YA novel, if a little too convenient with the double letters arriving at pretty much the same time plot device, but whatever. Leno used up most of my suspension of disbelief of random things happening just because they were convenient for the story with those two plot points aligning. So, when very poorly written elements of magical realism that feel like one deus ex machina after another swooping in to wrap up yet another loose end of the story keep happening, and that turns out to be the style in which Leno decided to write the entire book, well, I completely lost interest. I couldn't find the end of this one fast enough when I realized this messy nonsense was supposed to be the crux of the plot. 

However, for all of its faults, diversity is something Leno mostly did well in The Lost & Found. Louis and his twin sister Willa are half Indian. Willa is also a double amputee with two prosthetic legs, and I felt Leno's representation of her was sensitive and thoughtful. Willa's character was so much more than her disability or her challenges, and I really enjoyed how she didn't fit into the common tropes for disabled characters in YA. Louis has panic attacks and is dealing with a past of self harm--issues that are creeping back up for him over the course of the story. Frannie's cousin and bestie Arrow is Vietnamese and adopted. Frannie's mother is Schizophrenic, and Frannie wonders if she's genetically predisposed to the same fate, but this is the one area I had a problem with, because Frannie's mom wasn't written about with any sort of dignity or respect as a person with mental illness. (The words "crazy" and "insane" were used often in reference to Frannie's mother.)

Ultimately, I really don't recommend this book. Between the offensive ways Leno chooses to refer to a Schizophrenic character and some of the worst magical realism in YA I've ever read, I honestly don't understand how anyone could enjoy it. This is one of those stories where the execution in no way lives up to the premise. If you're looking for some fabulous YA magical realism with great diversity, try American Street by Ibi Zoboi--link here for my review--or The Walls Around Us by Nova Ren Suma--link here for my review.

Book Review of The Walls Around Us by Nova Ren Suma

This review was written in February 2015, right before The Walls Around Us was released the next month. I'm posting it here on the blog for the first time because I wanted to refer back to it in another review recommending YA magical realism with diversity, and also because it's an amazing book, and if any of you guys haven't heard about it, you might want to check it out! A bit of a reading update--since I wrote this review, I've read 3 other books by Nova Ren Suma, and some short stories. She has become one of my favorite authors--a must-read anytime her new works are published.

I have to be honest... when I got this ARC in the mail, I wasn't expecting much. I hadn't heard of the author before, and was only aware that this buzzy new YA book coming out in March was supposed to shake its readers to the very core. To me, the cover design was both loud and tacky. Also, it didn't translate into any kind of mood or theme to prepare me for what I was about to read.

...but then, I started reading. It was difficult to get into, at first. Part of my frustration was being unable to get a firm footing as far as the two settings of the book: a dance studio and its surrounding world, and a juvenile detention facility, both in modern day upstate New York. But pinpointing that, along with trying to untangle how the three narrators: Amber, Orianna, and Violet are related to each other took some work, and without having read any of Suma's other writing, or having a clear understanding of what this book set out to deliver, well, I wasn't sure if it was worth it or not.

All of a sudden, however, somewhere around 100 pages in, which is usually the point when the last few stragglers unsure of whether or not they want to be reading a book if they're waffling about it usually throw in the towel and decide to be done, that feeling dissolved. All I can say is, similar to the feeling Violet, a teenage ballet dancer, describes after she's done dancing and a hush falls over the audience and nobody is clamoring for the exits, I just sat there, probably for a good 20 minutes after I finished reading this book... simply being quiet and sad, moved, confused, and awed by the journey on which this author whom I hadn't fully trusted had taken me, despite my doubts. Her two other YA books (Imaginary Girls and 17 & Gone) didn't get added to my wishlist so much as flew onto it.

I don't want to say too much, because I don't want to ruin the mystique the book held for me, as I came to it from a place of almost completely no context, but I do want to do two things: urge anyone who likes YA to read it, and reassure those readers that, if they share the feelings I had, there are many valid reasons to push through until the 100 page mark, or so, and, that if you do, you won't even notice the next hundred plus pages as they whip by. 

This book has a profoundly moving story, beautiful imagery and symbolism, and gives a realistically graphic portrayal of life in a juvenile detention facility. There's much diversity, and it is done thoughtfully, in ways that add to the characters and the story. But, more than that, Suma opens up new worlds to her readers, who may not realize for quite some time exactly that they intertwine more than they collide.

The publisher has been describing it as "Orange Is The New Black Swan," and that totally fits. Highly recommended.

Book Review of Goodbye Days by Jeff Zentner

Goodbye Days by Jeff Zentner is another one of the inaugural batch of YA titles recently added to the Blogging For Books program. So, when I read several blurbs likening it to Looking For Alaska (which I loved), I thought I must request a free copy of this book for the purpose of review. I haven't read Zentner's first novel, The Serpent King, but now that I've finished Goodbye Days, it definitely holds a place on my TBR list. Before I get into why Goodbye Days turned Zentner into a must-read author for me, can we talk about its artful cover design for a second? I love the simplicity of the color palette, the word bubbles' resemblance to a text convo, and the textured web debossed into the cover, meant to signify a shattered windshield. I don't think this cover could be more apropos for the story, or more pleasingly elegant in its simplicity.

Goodbye Days tells the story of Carver Briggs, the only remaining member of a friend group of four guys who jokingly called themselves The Sauce Crew. The book opens in the wake of the deaths of Mars, Eli, and Blake--Carver's friends who perished in a car crash when Mars took his eyes off of the road while behind the wheel to answer a text from Carver. While dealing with his own grief, loss, and guilt in the aftermath of the accident, Carver begins experiencing panic attacks, and the book chronicles his sessions with an amazing therapist.

Goodbye Days tackles a multitude of complex issues with aplomb. From wrestling with the question of who is at fault, both legally and morally, for the accident to addressing that oft uncomfortable verbal space between parents and their teenage sons and daughters, Zentner does not shy away from tough queries--even if he doesn't have answers for them at the ready. Goodbye Days prominently features issues of mental health in a way that is productive, empathetic, and realistic. It features a young female character who is Filipino and has Caucasian adoptive parents, empowering her to frequently call out comments and actions that may be sexist or racist in a way that is neither condemning of the speaker, nor allowing herself to become a doormat. It also highlights a dysfunctional father/son relationship between a high-achieving Black Judge and his son, the parameters of which have been set by the ultra-strict father, based upon his own personal struggles trying to get ahead in the world as a Black man. It features a gay character who dies closeted to a very loving relative because he worried that her religious beliefs wouldn't allow her to accept his identity, and it deals with this plotline with super sensitivity. It also chronicles severe child neglect and abuse, but somehow does not allow the book to get sidetracked by the disheartening images described.

All in all, I can see the reasons why people might compare Goodbye Days to Looking For Alaska, but I think comparison to any of Chris Crutcher's books would be more apt. Zentner's writing features the same emotional truth, appearance and clash of characters weighted down by eerily lifelike problems, and stark contrast of adults who couldn't be more helpful with those who couldn't be more harmful to the teen characters he introduces on the page. Just as with Crutcher's books, this is a winning combination--one that lends the power and verisimilitude that keep Goodbye Days from being preachy, overwrought, or smacking of condescension. Highly recommended for those who like YA that artfully balances humor with solemnity.

Book Review of Antisocial by Jillian Blake

Antisocial by Jillian Blake is another ARC I received from the First In Line VIP program of an upcoming YA release (May 16th), which, like One Of Us Is Lying, is a mystery/suspense story that prominently features misuse of technology in a high school setting. They also have similar covers--in this case, it is a single girl's face that's obscured. The girl is Anna, Antisocial's protagonist. Though I like the rainbow effect of the cover background, I can't decide which I find more distracting: the hashtag slashing through Anna's face, or the fact that the girl who is supposed to depict Anna (a character of Colombian descent, who is frequently compared to Sofia Vergara in appearance), but I can tell you which one upsets me.

While covering Anna's eyes is an artistic choice, misrepresenting her as a white girl is a racist one made by marketing department employees who decided a white girl would sell more books. This crap happens all the time in YA (and publishing in general). I can't say how Jillian Blake feels about this issue, but I can say that, if I'd gone to all of the trouble she did to include details about how guys think calling Anna South American while hitting on her will get them points, and how people who aren't Colombian seem to believe all people of Colombian descent look the same and then my publisher slapped a white girl on the front of my book instead of one who actually resembled my protagonist of Colombian descent, well, I'd be pissed.

By the way, The US cover is on the left, and the UK cover is on the right. I guess the marketing department thinks YA readers in the UK are less racist? I addition to the US cover being a diversity representation fail and yet another victim of whitewashing, the UK cover also depicts an actual plot point from the book, as well as conveying the mood of the story much more effectively than the US cover.

Anna is returning to school after Winter Break of her Senior Year--a break during which her longtime boyfriend dumped her without explanation. Suddenly, the social life she built around her dating relationship crumbles, and her Social Anxiety Disorder rears its ugly head. While Anna was busy trying to fit in with the ultra popular crowd where her boyfriend's buddies sat during lunch, she neglected and betrayed her actual friends. Upon her return to school, she finds herself boyfriendless, friendless, and drowning in a sea of anxiety-related symptoms. This isn't the best position to be in under normal circumstances, but then kids' phones start getting hacked around school, and their darkest secrets are revealed. The popular students (friends of Anna's ex) are the targets, and nobody can figure out who the hacker might be, because so many different kids stand to gain from unseating the popular kids from their thrones. Everyone has something to hide, and to lose... including Anna.

While Blake's representation of someone with Social Anxiety Disorder was solid, I found it super distracting that she constantly referred to it as SAD. I've always known SAD to stand for Seasonal Affective Disorder, so I kept having to stop and remind myself that isn't what Blake was talking about when the acronym appeared, which took me out of the story again and again. This is a small detail that made a big difference in my reading experience (for the negative). If Blake was looking for a shorter or less clunky way to refer to Anna's Social Anxiety Disorder, I wish she would've just said anxiety. Since Blake carefully described Anna's diagnosis and symptoms early on, I don't think using a general term like that would've taken away from the story like using SAD did. 

Speaking of Social Anxiety Disorder, Antisocial begins slowly, with an opening that feels like it was ripped out of one of those middle school speeches starting with a dictionary definition of a word. The whole first chapter felt like a backstory and information dump, making it difficult to get into the story and develop empathy for the characters or anticipation about the mystery plot. Unfortunately, the whole book failed to build the excitement it should have. As the story progressed, my interest decreased with every chapter. If I wasn't writing a review, I would've put the book down well before the halfway mark and not picked it back up. 

Since Antisocial deals with cell phones, hacking, and quite a bit of social media, there are lots of little excerpts and quoted sections from those sources. However, the way they're presented is frustrating an annoying, rather than creative and amusing, so I found myself wanting to skip them, even though I knew they could contain important clues as to the hacker's identity. Some of the characters (even the secondary characters) were well-written, but there were far too many to keep track of, and there were several kids (at the lunch table, for example), who didn't need to be named and described as if the reader was supposed to remember who they were, because they hardly factored in later, if at all. 

Ultimately, Antisocial suffers from a slow-to-develop plot that feels boring, clunky inclusion of social media, and a whitewashed cover. It had every opportunity to get me interested, and it fell flat each time. If you're looking for a new YA release with elements of mystery and suspense that involves lots of technology, check out One Of Us Is Lying. Antisocial is definitely one to skip.

Book Review of One Of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus

One Of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus is an ARC I received from the First In Line VIP program. I was excited to read it as soon as I heard the story compared to The Breakfast Club, Gossip Girl, and PLL. Though I'm not sure I agree with all of those comparisons--it certainly doesn't have the wit or self-awareness of Gossip Girl, or the level of highly-stylized suspense of PLL--I will say that there's plenty to recommend this intricately-plotted novel. ...perhaps nothing more than the fact that this line from the cover is completely true, "Pay close attention and you might solve this." I will say that I'd describe it as Death Joins The Breakfast Club. There were some points where the pacing lagged, and others where things didn't make sense because a question was asked in dialogue right after it was answered in action or narration. But, for all of McManus' shortfalls, she does engage in one of the most difficult things a mystery and suspense writer can achieve: she delivers 100% on the cover's promise of fair play while spinning a compelling yarn.

Speaking of the cover, while I like the general idea for the concept, I hate the (pardon the pun) execution of it. Bronwyn is supposed to be half Colombian, and she looks just like any other white girl with dark hair, which is a super frustrating example of yet again even more cover whitewashing in YA specifically (and publishing, in general). I wonder how McManus feels about such a design choice, considering all of the ultra-aware content she included in the book regarding Bronwyn's racial background and ignorant reactions of people she encounters. As an important sidenote, I was quite impressed with the way Bronwyn's character was written with regard to race. McManus dealt simply with issues of racism and ignorance, and used a light touch while still sending a strong message that these behaviors aren't okay.

Also, the book constantly refers to how perfect Addy's hair is, and its stringy, disheveled appearance bothers me here because it doesn't fit with that description. I think having the suspects' faces covered with notebook paper cutouts is more distracting than it is provocative or chilling (or whatever the cover design team was going for here). And I would've liked to see Simon's picture on the cover as well, especially since he was included in the list of five characters on the back.

The premise of One Of Us Is Lying is simple: five kids (Bronwyn the brain, Addy the beauty, Nate the criminal, Cooper the athlete, and Simon the outcast) are sent to detention after mysterious (and forbidden) burner cells are found in their backpacks during school. While in detention with a Luddite Science teacher who notoriously despises technology, Simon helps himself to a drink of water, and then drops dead. Because Simon maintains an app curating and disseminating the latest gossip about his fellow students, each of the other students has a motive for wanting him dead. The four other students quickly become suspects, and the rest of the book unfolds as they react to Simon's death, and to the investigation regarding who might have caused it, and why.

As regular readers of my blog will probably recall, I'm notorious for guessing the endings of books, and this was no exception. However, McManus did have me hedging my bets with two suspects for the first third of the story. Still, the fact that I was able to accurately guess who killed Simon means that McManus (for all of the plot twists and turns, and red herrings she included... and there were many), played fair, and I also doubt that the ending would be easy for other readers to predict.

Simon was found to have died from exposure to peanut oil, as he had a severe anaphylactic allergy to peanuts. As someone who has several anaphylactic allergies and has to carry EPI pens everywhere, I appreciated the realism with which McManus included details about this plot point. (So often, when authors include a plot point about a medical problem I share, I'm distracted because they got the details blatantly wrong!) For example, she accounted for the EPI pens in Simon's bag and in the Nurse's office. She also explained the type of peanut oil that would've had to have been in Simon's water, and how someone would know what kind to use. Obviously, though, since Simon's death is the inciting incident for the book, readers don't get to see much about his allergies from his perspective.

Speaking of perspective, one of the most interesting things about One Of Us Is Lying was the narrative style. The narration rotated amongst Bronwyn, Addy, Nate, and Cooper, giving readers four pleasingly unique perspectives on the story, and allowing for more clues to be dropped without being obvious or absurd.

One Of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus comes out May 30th, and is currently available for preorder. Though I recommend this book to those who love to read mysteries and play along in an attempt to solve them, I caution book buyers that this is a story they may only find enjoyable once, so borrowing it from the library may be a wiser choice than making a purchase in this case.

Book Review of 10 Things I Can See From Here by Carrie Mac

As a longtime participant of the Blogging for Books program and a YA enthusiast, I was thrilled when they announced that they'd be offering new YA titles. 10 Things I Can See From Here by Carrie Mac is the first such title of which I requested a free copy for the purposes of review. Though I've suffered from anxiety for several years, I've only recently been diagnosed with an Anxiety Disorder, and I chose this selection because the protagonist, Maeve, lives a life ruled by anxiety. I'd never heard of Carrie Mac, so I wanted to see how she dealt with the issue of Mental Health, and what her writing was like in general. I was curious despite the boring and highly off-putting cover design. I truly hate the cover.

Maeve is a sixteen-year-old Lesbian with divorced parents and a severe Anxiety Disorder. When her mom travels abroad for six months, Maeve lives with her dad, pregnant stepmom, and two younger stepbrothers. Her dad struggles with Alcoholism, and her stepmom couldn't be more opposite of the evil stepmother trope. As Maeve meets Salix, a violinist she's interested in and things heat up, they're also building as her stepmom's pregnancy progresses, Maeve's anxiety levels increase, she loses a friend in a very traumatic way, and her dad turns his live over to alcohol once more.

One of the most frustrating things about 10 Things I Can See From Here is that practically every character except Maeve is more well-developed and three dimensional than Maeve herself. Mac seems to confuse constant descriptions of and reminders about Maeve's Anxiety Disorder with character building for Maeve. Though Mac does a great job showing readers who may not be familiar with such things how anxiety and an anxiety attack might manifest, she does a lousy job showing readers who Maeve is, anxiety aside. Thus, the unfortunate underlying message in this book is simple: people with severe Anxiety Disorders are solely comprised of their illness. This is wrong. It is also insulting.

"But, Maeve likes to sketch," you might say. Sure, she does. she sketches as a coping mechanism to deal with her anxiety when she feels it coming on. She doesn't seem to sketch for fun, or out of a particular interest in art. "But, Maeve likes to recite statistics," you might say. Sure, she does, she recites statistics she has memorized about things she has anxiety about, so this is yet another "interest" that is really just connected with her disorder. "But, Maeve likes to make up fake obituaries in her head," you might say. Sure, she does, she makes up fake obituaries in her head because she's imagining the worst case scenario of what might happen if the thing she has anxiety about currently goes as wrong as it can go, and then compiles a fake obituary based upon that scenario for herself, or for someone else involved. So, does Maeve have any interests that are actually hers, and not based in her anxiety? Not according to Carrie Mac.

Another problem I had with 10 Things I Can See From Here can be summed up by the last sentence of jacket copy, talking about Maeve. "Will she be able to find focus through all the chaos to be there for the people she loves?"  In other words, Maeve doesn't deserve to be happy and mentally healthy of her own accord, or for her own well being--she should only strive to keep her Anxiety Disorder in check to fill the roles of daughter, stepdaughter, stepsister, friend, and girlfriend. That is a pretty damaging message to be sending YA readers of a book wherein the protagonist struggles with mental illness, especially about a teenage girl--a demographic who is already pressured by various parts of our society to say "yes" to social demands from every angle and adopt a people-pleasing personality that can be detrimental to mental well being.

Lastly, *spoiler alert* there's a scene very late in the book when Maeve confides in Salix that she was sexually assaulted. Maeve has attempted to maintain a penpal-type of relationship with the girl who sexually assaulted her, and her assailant has apologized to her for the assault. It is unclear if Mac is trying to say that Maeve's severe Anxiety Disorder is a result of her sexual assault, but the way it is dropped in, almost as if it is an afterthought, near the end of the book didn't work at all. There was no foreshadowing that prepared readers for the big reveal of this information. There is no helpful and clear unpacking of these issues during the denouement of the book. It is simply thrown out there, briefly discussed, and then swept back under the rug to get to the happy resolution of the story. As a reader, I find that to be a disturbing way to deal with sexual assault. As an adult reviewing a YA book, I wonder what the negative impact of this type of inclusion might be on teenagers who read 10 Things I Can See From Here. Carrie Mac basically chose to drop sexual assault in as a plot point and did it in the laziest way possible, writing-wise. Here's a link to an old blog article (but still a very relevant one) that explains more about why this is a problem.

In conclusion, I really don't recommend this book to anyone. I find its portrayal of Anxiety Disorders and its handling of sexual assault to be potentially damaging. I think the writing is lazy and the protagonist is shown as being no more than her disorder. To me, this book was a total fail.

Book Review of Snowbirds by Crissa-Jean Chappell

When I was enrolled in a professional writing program in college, Amish fiction was trendy in publishing. Everywhere you looked, it seemed there was another murder mystery where the killer or the main witness was hiding out in Amish country, a forbidden romance featuring quilts and buggies, or a novel about the joys of a basic lifestyle far from the trappings of the Internet and the modern world. Our local newspaper even featured a column--part slice-of-life, part recipe--written by a local Amish woman who gave her English neighbors a peephole into her world. I couldn't have been less interested. Ditto, the tabloid-esque shows on TLC. I had a writing instructor who joked that, if you wanted to get published, you should write a novel about "the Amish."

But, the thing is... while Snowbirds by Crissa-Jean Chappell does take place within Amish (and Mennonite) communities (and also differentiates twixt the two, for those readers who may be confused and think they're the same thing), it isn't really about being Amish. It's simply about being a teenager in a world where adults make the rules, and they feel too restrictive. Which is, as most people know, simply put--being a teenager. So, upon realizing this was likely the case from the book's description, I checked it out from the library. Though I completely understand the symbolism and aesthetic choices behind the cover design, and I feel they are appropriate to the story, they really aren't my cup of tea.

Though it may not seem, from the outset of the book, like protagonist Lucy has much freedom, her best friend and longtime penpal Alice doesn't see it that way. While Lucy is part of a Mennonite community in Florida, Alice comes down from the north every winter with her more conservative Old Order Amish mother. Alice is jealous of the pastel-colored dresses Lucy gets to wear, while Lucy is jealous that Alice can participate in Rumspringa. Neither actually has many choices of self-determination, but each is determined to carve her own path for herself, community opinions and rules be damned. So, when hard-partying rebel Alice goes missing, Lucy risks everything to find her.

Chappell provides an accurate and compelling picture of both Old Order Amish and Mennonite life, and shows the contrasts beautifully. Snowbirds feels as if it was written respectfully, while still posing questions about what such societies can truly offer young women, and how such communities can evolve to become more functional, instead of simply good-looking on the surface. The mood--stubborn piousness, suspicion of outsiders, quickness to shun--is conveyed well, and is the cornerstone upon which Snowbirds sits.

One of the most interesting relationships is that of Lucy and her dad. It provides a stark contrast to the sad well of dysfunction that is relationship between Alice and her mom. Even though things between Lucy and her dad are far from perfect, he seems to want good things for his daughter, and to desire to protect her. Alice's mom merely appears to care about her own reputation within the community. 

Unfortunately, what could be a suspenseful plot--Lucy frantically investigating Alice's disappearance--is somehow turned into a slow, poetic amble, thanks to Chappell's snail-paced prose. Chappell puts a premium on flowery visual description, which frequently came at the price of holding my interest as a reader. At times, I felt like I was reading a bad parody of Walden, rather than a YA novel about a girl searching for her missing friend. 

If you like pretty descriptions of nature infused with occasional faith or teenage-angst-based intrigue, Snowbirds is for you. If you get bored with suspense novels that don't drive steadily forward or annoyed with novels that feel stark with not altogether satisfying endings, Snowbirds by Crissa-Jean Chappell is one to skip.

Book Review of Windfall by Jennifer E. Smith

I enjoyed reading The Statistical Probability of Falling in Love, This Is What Happy Looks Like, and Hello, Goodbye, and Everything In Between, so when I found out I was going to receive a complimentary ARC of Windfall by Jennifer E. Smith through the First In Line VIP program, I may have squeed a little, and that's before I saw the cover design. This is one of my favorite covers of the year so far, because it is simple, visually pleasing, appropriate for the book, and highly meaningful. The concept is one that is compelling before you read it, but holds even more symbolism afterwards. ...and, did I mention it is just pretty? I kept flipping the book closed to look at it.

If you've read and loved books by Jennifer E. Smith before, this will be a must-read for you. If not, be prepared to appreciate the delicate balance Smith has achieved between light I-like-him-does-he-like-me teen romance and heavy life situation/big choices-centered drama. Somehow, neither fully takes over the book, and the story of Windfall is the result of that happy collision.

That said, I felt this story could've been told more effectively with some significant cuts. Weighing in at just over 400 pages, it began to feel long, and things lagged 1/2 to 2/3rds of the way through the book before picking up again near the denouement. I don't dislike long books--in fact, I love them, but only if the length adds to the story instead of taking away from it. I didn't need to read the same character's rationale for a decision or recounting of an incident more than once.

But there are still several strengths that outweigh Windfall's extra chapters. I enjoyed the fresh and nuanced parental characters. I appreciated that many of the characters were dynamic: especially when they were unexpectedly so. And chapter Forty-Nine, a mere three pages long, is one of the strongest, most compelling, most poetic pieces of prose I've ever read in YA. It left me wishing that the book had ended right there: on the highest note there was. 

All in all, I'd still recommend Windfall by Jennifer E. Smith, despite the extra length. And, if you're thinking of giving it as a gift, consider tucking a special bookmark inside--a Lottery ticket... one of the ones where you choose your own numbers. Windfall comes out May 2nd.

Book Review of The Whole Thing Together by Ann Brashares

I was thrilled to receive a review copy of The Whole Thing Together by Ann Brashares from the publisher free for the purposes of this review because I loved the Traveling Pants books. I was also excited because I haven't exactly loved some of Brashares' later works, and I was ready to give her writing another chance. I found the premise of Whole Thing delightfully interesting: two teenagers, a guy and a girl, both the same age, whose parents used to be married to each other are now on the flip side of a historically acrimonious divorce. They've never met, but they alternate using the same bedroom in a beach house neither parent is willing to give up, and they share three older sisters. Everything from the partly beach house/partly urban setting to the sprawling-but-disjointed family peaked my curiosity. I don't particularly care for the cover, and, after reading the book, I can honestly say that it doesn't truly fit the story... nor do the people shown match up with some of the character descriptions or with the most important characters one would expect to appear on the cover. And, for some reason, it feels much more like a West Coast beach than an East Coast one to me.

What isn't apparent from the book's summary is that Brashares delves deeply into issues of class and income, adoption and biological families, and racial identity, and she does it all with a sense of grace and a feeling that this isn't an "issue book," but one where the characters and the story veered toward serious topics on their own. Thus, what could've been a breezy beach read or a throwaway book about a family feud has been elevated into a statement about what it really means to be a family, choosing your own identity, and what may get lost or found in the process.

The Whole Thing Together feels much more literary than Brashares' previous works. It also feels like an answer to the Sisterhood books, somehow, as if Brashares sought to write a reply to questions she asked in those volumes, but left without a response. Here, she spills out each can of worms artfully before packing them back up, instead of merely removing the lids and commenting on their presence, as she had previously. This deeper exploration of the cracks in the foundation--from nasty truths about judgments regarding class, income, and rarefied education to parentage and race--makes the characters and plot all the richer. What does it mean that the character (Robert) with the strongest Indian background in the book refuses to discuss it, acknowledge it, or embrace anything from his culture, has married two blonde-haired women, and favors the daughter who looks most her mother, his daughters want to know? Such profound and painful questions carry real weight throughout the book. 

I feel The Whole Thing Together is Brashares' strongest work to date, and definitely one to check out... especially if you're looking for a summer beach read that's more on the serious side, or a book to remind you that there are always families as messed up (or more messed up) than your own. Highly recommended, comes out today.

Book Review of The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli

I'm just going to come right out and say it: I'm a fat Jewish girl who hated this book. Every page I turned, I kept flipping to the back to see how many pages were left. It felt like in The Upside of Unrequited, Becky Albertalli sought to capitalize on a Jewish identity that feels from the book like it is more important to her commercially than it is personally. I found that frustrating and disappointing. (I'm not saying it is necessarily--I certainly can't tell that as a reader--I'm just saying that, if there's anything beyond the surface there, it doesn't come across in the book.) Oftentimes, even when it is a non-observant Jewish character portrayed by a Jewish author, the book feels more personal to me, somehow. (A good example of this done well in YA is Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist, when Norah describes the Jewish concept of Tikkun Olam to Nick.) In this case, the way it was handled really drove me away from the protagonist, the author, and the story. I also truly despise the cover design, but there are plenty of books I love with covers I hate, so I certainly wasn't going to let a pesky little thing like that slow me down when I came across it at the library.

I also had a problem with the way Molly talks about her body. To me, as a fat girl, there were lots of glaring moments when I was sure someone in Molly's situation would feel uncomfortable and (at least her interior monologue) would comment on it. Nope. Nothing. Also, I'm supposed to believe that Molly doesn't immediately unpack some of those painful body image issues the second she mentions that her twin sister Cassie is slender and willowy? Um, I'm sorry, but I'm just not buying that. People (unfortunately) constantly compare twins to each other, and I doubt she wouldn't compare herself to her twin--especially since, from the way Albertalli constructed Molly's character, it shows her constantly mentally contrasting herself with Cassie in lots of other ways. If this issue were handled realistically, Cassie's body being society's definition of beautiful or acceptable in comparison to Molly's own body would be a real hot-button topic, and it would be dealt with like one from the beginning of the story.

Aside from the problems I had as a diverse reader of a book that is supposed to have a main character representing two diverse demographics of which I am a part, I also just couldn't get behind Albertalli's style in general. It felt awkward and uncomfortable to me, like when an adult who has no idea how to talk to teenagers tries to be cool and use whatever they assume are the cultural touchstones as inroads for conversation. ...except, they aren't. The stuff they're talking about isn't even relevant to the high schooler they're trying to talk up. The dialogue feels too snappy and overwritten, like a rejected episode of Gilmore girls.

And, speaking of the dialogue, just how much does one book need to have about vaginas, anyway? I mean, it is one thing to be open and accepting, and even have a jokey one-liner or two, but I even have those parts, and I didn't want to spend an entire YA novel reading supposed-to-be-hilarious references to them. I get that there are two central Lesbian relationships in the book, but letting them speak for themselves in terms of showing those women interacting with each other and backing off a bit would've been a stronger presentation of the characters and themes. (For example, the scenes where Molly and Cassies moms were simply interacting with each other were much better and added more to the book than the constant dialogue with the female genitalia-based jokes.) It just kind of felt like Albertalli was trying to hit her readers over the head with the word "labia" again and again.

Because of the ridiculous dialogue, stilted pop culture references, and constant female anatomy talk, I had trouble actually getting to know (or care about) Molly and Cassie. That, coupled with my issues about how the Jewish and fat girl aspects played into the story and characters meant I basically wrote them off before the halfway point of the book--making Albertalli's storytelling and character building rather ineffective. Meanwhile, I found it difficult to believe that Reid (Molly's potential love interest at work), the shy LOTR t-shirt wearing nerd, is so confident and outgoing. I've known many guys who fit the type it felt like Albertalli was going for there, and Reid just seemed way off-kilter to me, like the visual cues included in his description didn't quite match the other characterizations of him.

All in all, The Upside of Unrequited by Becky Albertalli felt like one of those creations a little kid makes at a DIY fro-yo place: all of the ingredients are good (tons of diversity, acceptance, humor, and wit), but they aren't well-balanced and assembled in a way that makes sense together, so the end result is mostly left in the dish to melt. I wouldn't recommend this book.

Book Review of You're Welcome, Universe by Whitney Gardner

You're Welcome, Universe by Whitney Gardner has been on my TBR ever since Eric Smith recommended it on Twitter. The premise (a Deaf graffiti artist is kicked out of school for covering up a slur about her best friend with graffiti) sounded intriguing, and I eagerly awaited my turn to read it on the library hold list. With an MC, Julia, who was Deaf, Indian, and a kid with two moms, I was expecting a unique character, unlike any other I'd encountered in YA previously. I thought the descriptions of street art would be awesome, and, if any was actually included in the book, I anticipated losing many minutes of precious reading time staring at the amazing art instead. I figured the cover design I liked of Julia tagging the book's title and the author's name while standing on a milk crate in her favorite yellow Docs was only the beginning of the great art and one-of-a-kind character You're Welcome, Universe the book might have in store.

Unfortunately, on the unique character front, it didn't feel like Gardner came up with Julia's character at all. Instead, it seems like she's as much a Switched At Birth fan as I am, and she mashed Bay's street art loving character with a penchant for trouble and breaking the law with Daphne's Deaf character who has a close but contentious relationship with her mom. I realized this in the first few chapters, and it significantly took away from my enjoyment of the book. You're Welcome, Universe had a good plot, and some of the other characters were well-written, but with an MC that feels like it was ripped off from a Free Form show, it isn't half the book I thought it was going to be.

...and then, there's the street art problem. See, the main plot of the book is that Julia starts throwing up street art, which is her main passion, and someone else starts changing it and adding to it. Julia sees this as an insult, and spends the rest of the book trying to figure out who the paint-handed culprit might be and why they have it in for her. Since street art appears to be Julia's only hobby, the thing she spends all her time and money on, and what keeps getting her into trouble, one would think she's good at it because it's what she invests all of her resources into, but the art included in the book that is supposed to be Julia's is actually cringeworthy in that it is so bad. When I saw it, I had two thoughts. 1) I could probably do that, and my stick figures look diseased. 2) Whomever is tampering with her art is actually doing it a favor--they're way more talented than she is. So, it's kind of hard to sympathize with a protagonist who is laughably bad at the one thing she cares about, but seems to think she's pretty good at it.

All in all, You're Welcome, Universe was a big letdown for me. Maybe it was overhyped. Maybe I expected it to be way more amazing than it could've ever been. I don't know. But no amount of compelling side characters could distract me from the recycled Frankenstein of an MC cobbled together from two other characters from a TV show and the lousy street art she made. I really don't recommend this book.

Book Review of Allegedly by Tiffany D. Jackson

I've had Allegedly by Tiffany D. Jackson on hold at the library ever since Nena Bolling Smith Tweeted about how good it was. (Since every other book rec from her has been on point, I was sure this one wouldn't let me down.) Then, when I wrote in to Jamillah, founder of the amazing Call Number book box to tell her how much I'd been enjoying her book recommendations, she seconded this one, so I was thrilled when I finally got that sweet sweet notification from the library saying it was ready to be picked up. Something about how empty the cover is and how small Mary, the MC, is depicted on the front, and about how you can't really even make out the details of her face is very powerful. The cover design really works for me.

Since I love stories about Juvie and group homes and the like (The Fosters, The Walls Around Us, Short Term 12), I figured Allegedly would be right up my alley. It tells the story of Mary, who was nine when her Mom was babysitting a baby girl who died. Mary was convicted (without a trial or, really, any evidence) of killing the baby and sentenced to six years of juvenile jail before she is transferred to a group home, where the story picks up. Some may assume the crux of the narrative lies in the potential racial conflict (Mary and her Mom are black, the deceased baby girl was white), and other readers might think the story's focus lies with Mary's Mom's physical and psychological abuse and obvious mental illness. ...but Jackson will keep readers guessing (or assuming they know what's going on) right up until the very end. 

One thing that really didn't work for me were the excerpts, sprinkled liberally throughout the book, which are supposed to show bits and pieces of books, interviews, and testimony having to do with Mary's legal case. The writing within them was of poor quality compared to that of the narrative itself, and I found them to be distracting and frustrating, as a reader. While I realize that some of them contained necessary information, many did not, and I felt like they were just wasting time and page space in a book that was longer than it needed to be. 3/4ths of them could've easily been removed without taking anything away from the story. And, in addition to tightening up the book, this would have also stopped the feeling of being ripped out of Mary's world at the moments when I usually found it to be most compelling.

Jackson does not shy away from the ugly truths of the juvenile "justice" system. She accurately portrays the wretched conditions in which children who are suspected of or have been found guilty of crimes are allowed to exist. Jackson shines a light on the many adults involved in the system who are out for themselves, instead of striving to improve the lives of the children they are employed to rehabilitate. She also highlights intersectionality well, allowing her readers to feel the full weight of poverty, a Black identity, the stigma of mental illness, and the label of "violent criminal," as well as those of "minor" and "female." Each is another stone around Mary's neck, holding her down from making any sort of progress--at times literally from growing up in a world that seems to see her as disposable on many fronts. 

I'd recommend this book to those who enjoy gritty stories about harsh realities, or complicated stories involving unreliable narrators or deep psychological issues. It definitely isn't for everyone, but it was a powerful story that kept me thinking long after I finished that last gut-punching page.

Book Review of Geekerella by Ashley Poston

Getting an ARC of Geekerella by Ashley Poston in the mail (which was provided free in exchange for my honest review) didn't feel like hitting the jackpot, but it should have. I loved the title, and a subgenre of YA to which I affectionately refer as "geekmance" is one of my favorites, when done absolutely, perfectly right (though it rarely is). However, as I examined the cover art with increasing scrutiny, every witty and charming detail popped out at me--one right after another--and I knew I had something special in my hands. (Also, there was a dachshund. Along with superbly-written YA geekmance, dachshunds are the way to my heart, you guys.)

Cinderella stories have been told a thousand times. Rags-to-riches has been done to death. It requires a truly refreshing new take on a fairy tale to make a new and compelling story at this point. Poston has just such a take. Her cultural references were on-point. Geekerella was just dripping with nerdy goodness at every turn! Her nods to the original fairy tale were entertaining, but not so ubiquitous that it felt like Poston failed to make the story her own. The alternating narration between Elle (the MC) and Darien (her love interest) works so well because Poston uses the shifting POV to build tension, and Elle's voice is different enough from Darien's that the reader won't get confused.

Though Elle and Darien are both well-developed, empathetic characters, my favorite character, hands-down, was Sage. Everything from how she handled the Magic Pumpkin food truck (yes--so zeitgeist-y) to how unapologetically herself she was at every turn, to how much she had Elle's back made her pretty much the most badass incarnation of a fairy godmother I've ever seen on the page (and that isn't even factoring in her hairstyle). Next time I'm in a jam, doubting myself, or in need of a friend to tell me like it is, I hope Sage and The Magic Pumpkin simply appear in my driveway.

Geekerella could've so easily been fluff. ...and that would've been fine--we all need a little fluff in our lives. But it is so much more than that. Poston tackles weighty issues, such as colorblind casting, modern fandom, internet relationships, paparazzi and the media, child actors, grief, and dysfunctional/abusive family dynamics. But, somehow, she wraps all of those big, meaty topics up and hides them inside the nice, warm, chewy pita bread of geekdom + romance, and nothing ever feels preachy or forced. (Well, except all of that constant ah'blena stuff. That got old fast.)

One of my favorite things about the publisher Quirk Books is all of the little extras they put into a book. They don't just do a cover design and select a font. In a Quirk Book, you're likely to find chapter headings/titles that fit with the book's theme, pages (like those separating the book's parts in Geekerella) that are printed differently from the norm, with much apparent thought as to how to keep the reader in the mood of the story, and other visually charming details that you're doing yourself a disservice if you don't stop to appreciate. Much like with the Miss Peregrine's books and and My Best Friend's Exorcism (other YA titles Quirk has published), these careful attentions have been lavished upon Geekerella. So many book reviewers have recently been lamenting how it seems like publishers are just trying to churn out sub-par books at alarmingly fast rates to make money, with no regard to quality. Holding any of these Quirk YA releases will show you that these books are put out by a publisher with a different attitude, which puts a superior product into your hands as a reader. That product has definitely earned its real estate in my limited bookshelf layout, right next to Fangirl, The Improbable Theory of Ana and Zak, and The Summer I Became A Nerd. You know, just behind my Amy Farrah Fowler Funko Pop....

Geekerella comes out April 4th.

Book Review of Exit, Pursued By A Bear by E.K. Johnston

Exit, Pursued By A Bear by E.K. Johnston has been languishing on my TBR for a year now. I can't recall where I first heard about it, or why exactly I added it to the list (which is probably part of the reason I didn't track it down at the library sooner--it always helps to have context for why I decided I wanted to read something). Still, I'm glad I finally got around to it. At first, I didn't find the cover very appealing, but periodically as I was reading, I'd catch myself flipping the book closed to look at it, so, I guess you could say it grew on me. Also, it represented the story well.

Exit, Pursued By A Bear has a beautiful motif relating to its title, which comes from the Shakespeare Play, 'A Winter's Tale.' The great thing about the way Johnston chose to incorporate history's most famous stage direction and the stageplay which gave it context is that one need not be a Shakespeare scholar (or even be familiar with the play in the least) to understand and appreciate the book. However, the more Johnston's readers know about the play which gave her book its title, the more nuance the story has. I love it when writers refuse to write down to a YA audience. Or course, not everyone holding your book may get every reference, but that doesn't mean you should take them out. This is a case where not doing that paid off, for sure.

There is much to love about this book. In an age when stories about sexual assault are almost always coupled with stories about how survivors of sexual assault lack community support, Johnston's fresh take where her protagonist Hermione is able to find help at every turn is a nice change, in that it shares a perspective which is true (some survivors do have great support networks and access to all of the help they need), which isn't often represented. It also illustrates that, in situations where everyone who knows a survivor does everything they possibly can to help, that doesn't just make the problem go away. Though Hermione is obviously able to draw strength from the many people who unconditionally have her back, it doesn't negate the assault itself. 

My favorite character was Hermione's best friend, Polly. Johnston mentions teeth several times in the story, specifically in reference to a girl baring them while fiercely standing up for herself (or for a friend), and often, that girl is Polly. Polly is tried-and-true. She embodies both loyalty and bravery. She is completely an ally in every sense of the word. As Hermione wakes up and doesn't know what happened to her, Polly is there to give her the facts. As Hermione struggles through beginning to remember her assault in PTSD flashbacks, Polly is there to bring her back to the here and now. As people at school are being ignorant and victim-blaming, Polly is there to shield her from the bullshit. Polly is one of the most amazing friends I've ever encountered on the page.

I was very nearly put off by the fact that Hermione is a cheerleader, and much of the book is set against a backdrop of cheerleading, which is so aggressively not my thing. But, while cheerleading is important to Hermione and other characters in the story, it really isn't important to the book, itself. Reading Exit, Pursued By A Bear when you don't like cheerleading is kind of like reading or watching The Blind Side when you don't like football--it's okay, because that really isn't the point, and, while it is a major factor, to be sure, it isn't so pervasive that you can't enjoy the story. (...like I found it to be with Tangerine and soccer, for example.)

My complaint about Exit, Pursued By A Bear, however, is the ending. It is such an absurd deus ex machina that I have now lost the ability to even. The ending really felt like Johnston just got tired of writing this well-developed thread and of following Hermione's character on her journey, and decided to wrap it all up in less than ten pages, in pretty much the most unrealistic way possible. I'm not sure if it totally ruined the book for me, but it did take the story from a "must read" down to a "this is pretty good" in my mind. So, read Exit, Pursued By A Bear, unless you are the type of reader who counts on a well thought-out and artful ending.

Book Review of Piecing Me Together by Reneé Watson

I learned about Piecing Me Together by Reneé Watson from Francina Simone's unboxing video of the Call Number Bookbox here. Call Number Bookbox is a special one, and if you don't know what it's all about, you should watch the video because Francina Simone explains it beautifully. Bookbox subscriptions aren't in my budget (boy, if they were, I would be so dangerous), but I was so intrigued based upon what I learned from the video that I immediately put a hold on this book at my local library. Now that I've read it, Piecing Me Together has soared to the top of my "books to buy when I have money" wishlist. Because of my small budget, I have to be very choosy about the books I purchase, but, guys? This one will be so worth it! The cover is not only beautiful and unique, but it holds great meaning for the story.

I loved so many things about this book: how empathetic the characters of Jade and her mother are, how much their neighborhood reminded me of the one where I lived as a young girl, how wonderfully Watson conveyed Jade's twin passions for collaging (hence, the amazing cover) and Spanish, and how well she illustrated the need for intersectional feminism. The way Piecing Me Together showed that a mother/daughter relationship can indeed be loving and functional even in a household where the mom is working multiple jobs and money is tight really spoke to me. Despite dealing with several major social issues that are supremely au courant today, covering everything from police brutality and racism, to catcalling and body image issues to self consciousness about not having extra cash to spend and erasure of minorities from history to the fact that people are always trying to tell poor people what they need, like it requires money to be able to speak for yourself. ...and that is not even a complete list! Piecing Me Together falls gently upon readers, as if Jade, a fiercely intelligent and passionate 11th grader is talking to them while walking home from the corner convenience store, sharing a bag of hot chicken wings, and never comes across as preachy or too on-the-nose. Jade is a principled girl with realistic reactions to the world around her and honesty that is refreshingly humorous. She feels like a friend. I rooted for her from the start.

It would've been easy for Watson to identify a list of challenges or things that were lacking in Jade's life at the beginning of the book and wave her magic wand to grant them all without Jade having to put in the work, but Watson was above falling into that trap. Though Jade does get some of what she wants, she has to overcome interior and exterior obstacles to attain her goals, at times, taking risky gambles in the process. This just made me respect the author and the protagonist all the more. I love that Jade wants to be nobody's cause, that she wants to help people instead of having others always assume she needs the help. I also really appreciate that Watson gave Jade the artistic focus of collaging (as opposed to anything else) because it speaks to Jade's resourcefulness and doesn't present a character whose family can barely afford groceries as someone who magically has access to expensive art supplies. (I always hate it when books do that, and YA is so guilty of it in particular.)  

I recently reviewed The Education of Margot Sanchez here, and had many issues with that book, which I enumerated within my review. There are several parallels between it and Piecing Me Together, and what kept striking me as I read this book (in addition to the fact that I was repeatedly bowled over by just how good it was--seriously... so good) was that both books tried to do the same things, but only one succeeded.

I can't recommend this book enough. I know it is one I will be reading again and again.

Book Review of I Love I Hate I Miss My Sister by Amélie Sarn

I discovered I Love I Hate I Miss My Sister by Amélie Sarn on a list of exceptional memoirs and autobiographies. This is frustrating mainly because, upon actually looking at the book, it is a YA novel, and not a memoir or an autobiography. However, it does deal with some issues which are extremely relevant today. As for the cover, I quite despise the artwork and the "every choice has a price" tagline. Blech!

I Love I Hate I Miss My Sister was translated from French. Since I'm not a French speaker, I read it in English, and I wonder if that explains why the prose sometimes felt clunky to me, especially the dialogue. Other times, it just seemed "off" and unnatural. So, for English readers who would like to read a book with natural-feeling prose and realistic-sounding dialogue, this translation isn't it.

My main issue with the book is that it was based upon a true story. The Author's Note in the back of the book explains that Sarn was inspired by a true event which happened in France in 2002. *Spoiler alert.* It says, "...Sohane Benziane, a seventeen-year-old French girl of Algerian descent, who was murdered. Sohane Benziane was doused with gasoline and burnt alive by Jamal Derrar, a boy who was said to be settling a score with Sohane's boyfriend." 

My problem is that, in the book, Sohane's sister Djelila is murdered when a boy from her neighborhood burns her alive after dousing her with gasoline. She has no boyfriend mentioned in the text, and the murder is motivated by the boy's fury that Djelila dresses and acts like a modern, secular girl when she is from a Muslim background and family. (She smokes, drinks, plays sports, and wears clothing that is considered immodest by observant Muslim standards, at least according to this boy and his posse.) After bullying her, trying to intimidate her, following her around the neighborhood, and threatening her repeatedly, he slaps her. Then, the murder occurs. Djelila is upset, but never acts intimidated, and doesn't back down on her personal expression of herself. She also doesn't perform religious observance that doesn't fit with her own beliefs or feelings just to appease her tormentors. 

So, while I understand how learning about Sohane Benziane's murder would give Amélie Sarn the idea for the book, slapping meaning on it that had nothing to do with the actual events seems insulting to Benziane's memory and random. Nowhere in the short summary of the events surrounding the actual murder is there any mention of modesty policing or anything related to that. So, maybe not using the name (and also randomly giving it to the character of her sister, instead of the girl who is actually murdered) is ill-fitting and a poor choice.

Because of disrespect for an actual murder victim, I absolutely cannot recommend this book, which is sad, because I feel it does make some good points about a Muslim woman's own choice to wear or not wear a headscarf and how society should respect and respond to that.