Review: The Secret to Lying by Todd Mitchell

Since I'm always on the lookout for titles dealing with mental illness, when I saw Publisher's Weekly described this as "a vivid picture of teenage social and mental health issues," I knew I had to have it. The fact that it's set in a boarding school and is filled with pranks, a la the inimitable Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks,  was a bonus.

At his small town high school, James was all but invisible. So when he is accepted to a prestigious boarding school for the gifted and talented, he takes the opportunity to re-make himself into a brooding punk with a history of carjacking and back alley brawls. He quickly falls in with a new group of friends, and even gets a hot girlfriend. Only two people remain unimpressed: the school's ice queen Ellie (who inspires boyfriends to pull crazy stunts like run half naked around campus out of love for her) and ghost44, another student who communicates with James only via IM and sees right through his facade.

During the day, life is going well for James, as he and his friends begin an escalating prank war with a few guys down the hall (and also stage some epic performance art level protests against the awful cafeteria food). But nighttime is a different story, as James begins to dream of being a demon hunter. While the dreams are exciting at first, they begin to bleed over into James' real life, distracting him from his friends and his studies, and inspiring James to attempt deadly feats when he's awake. Will he be able to pull himself out before he gets out of control?

While the pranking wasn't on the epic level of Disreputable History (Frankie's pranks all had some sort of philosophical point behind them while James' are petty and silly), this is definitely an excellent book on identity, belonging and mental illness. James and one other major character have some major psychological struggles (I'm maintaining the anonymity of the other character because the big reveal doesn't come until the final chapter), but it's handled sensitively and deftly. There are no big revelatory scenes, rather James' illness progresses smoothly through the book so even the reader doesn't realize just how dangerous his dreams are until well into the story.

And those dreams - damn are they spooky. I often see dreams used as a sort of lazy plot device, a way for a character to metaphorically examine events of the story without relying on pages of exposition and internal monologues. Here the dreams form a whole other narrative where it isn't immediately clear what bearing they will have on the rest of the story, or if they will at all, and it's all fabulously creepy. The pranks and humor throughout James' waking moments provide and excellent and much needed counterpoint to the seriousness of his dreams and inner thoughts.

Review: Wildthorn by Jane Eagland

I picked this one up in the mad dash for galleys at ALA in June. A corset on the cover, a story of mistaken identity in a 19th century asylum, I figured it was worth a shot - even if it has the cheesiest tagline ever on the cover. "Treachery locks her away. Love is the key." Ignore that, it gets much better!

Louisa Cosgrove is a young woman of privilege. Her father is a respected doctor and encourages his daughter's precocious and inquisitive mind. Her mother is disappointed she doesn't have a more traditional daughter, and her older brother is jealous of the time Louisa gets to spend with her father as they bond over their shared passion for medicine.

Louisa's luck changes after her father's death. Her brother, now the man of the house, forbids Louisa from furthering her education. Her mother falls into a devastating depression. Louisa's only reprieve is when she visits her beautiful cousin, Grace, but even that will soon be taken from her, as Grace is preparing for her wedding. When Louisa's brother finds a companion position for her with the family of a friend, Louisa takes the opportunity, if only to escape the heartaches of home.

But Louisa never arrives at the home of the Woodvilles. Instead, she's dropped off at Wildthorn, an insane asylum where they insist she is Lucy Childs. Louisa - or is it Lucy? - is stripped of her belongings, forced to face indignities like being locked in a bathtub in the dark and drugged whenever she tries to argue with the staff. Only Eliza, one of the assistants, shows a hint of compassion for Louisa, and the pair form an unlikely bond as Louisa plots her escape.

Eagland paints a terrifying picture of a 19th century asylum. Abusive and untrained staff severely hinder the healing process for the patients thought curable. Worse staff and egregious conditions condemn those thought to be incurable (or just too difficult for other people to work with). Louisa's plight in the asylum was especially terrifying for me, since not being believed is one of my worst fears (outside of things that could actually kill me. Like bees). Since the book is set before people were carrying IDs with them all the time, it's easy to see how a new identity could be quickly created - but Eagland also does a good job of making us question Louisa's mental state. There are just enough hints at some potentially traumatic incident in Louisa's past that had me wondering if she really was Lucy Childs and she'd created an alternate personality in Louisa Cosgrove.

Now about that tagline. It's not only cheesy, but it's misleading, since the romance plays only a small part in the story, and doesn't even appear until near the end. Now I can't say I'm entirely disappointed in it, because surprisingly it's a lesbian romance (no mention of that in the jacket copy!), and I'm never going to say we need fewer lesbians in YA lit, but at the same time this one never quite rang true for me. By making Louisa a lesbian, it falls dangerously close to lesbian stereotypes: she's an uppity 19th century woman with an interest in masculine sciences like medicine, of course she's a lesbian. As I'm a fan of stories that eschew the "rule" that all books need a romance, I would have preferred Louisa to be a solitary character who simply formed strong friendships (and if readers wanted to read some subtext into those relationships, I would totally encourage them!).

Wildthorn was released yesterday, September 6th (Labor Day in the US). Picked up ARC for review at ALA.

Review: The Summer Before by Ann M. Martin

The book series in elementary school for me was the Baby-Sitter's Club. During spirit week in third grade I dressed up as Claudia for "favorite book character day" (spirit weeks in elementary school were always so nerdy. I loved it!) and I obsessed over the books for years - for about 5 seconds in 6th grade a friend and I tried to start our own babysitting club - foiled only by pesky facts like not knowing a lot of families with little kids. However, after sixth grade I set the books down and I don't think I ever picked them up again (I was distracted by my Animorphs obsession) - so when I started reading the new prequel, I was surprised by how much of these books I remembered!

Also, because it was stuck in my head the entire time I was reading the book (and again now that I'm reviewing it), here's the theme song for the TV show. Listen to it while you read the rest of the post and join me in my nostalgia/misery:



Told from alternating points of view like the old Super Specials were, The Summer Before shows the lives of Kristy, Mary-Anne, Claudia and Stacey the summer before Kristy has her big idea to form the Baby-Sitters Club. It's the summer before seventh grade and changes are afoot for everyone. Kristy's mom has started dating again, while Kristy is hoping desperately that her father will remember her 12th birthday. Mary-Anne is feeling stifled by her father's strict rules and wants to be trusted enough to go out babysitting on her own. Claudia has her first crush and feels she's growing up way faster than either Mary-Anne or Kristy and wonders whether they should still be friends. And poor Stacey is alone in New York City, still learning how to deal with her relatively recent diabetes diagnosis and how all of her friends seem to have turned against her. She can't wait until the end of the summer when she and her parents are moving to Connecticut.

One thing that did set this novel apart from the other BSC books is a distinct lack of description - the old books always dedicated the second chapter to giving an extensive rundown of the girls and their distinct late 80s/early 90s fashion sense (which continues to be celebrated today at What Claudia Wore). There's a severe lack of clothing descriptions here - I don't think Stacey's city-chic fashion sense was mentioned even once! The bulk of the clothing descriptions went to Claudia, naturally, but even hers seemed a little toned down. I miss my crazy Claudia :-(

Among the nostalgia, one thing I really, really enjoyed about this book, and in retrospect all of the BSC books, is how much these girls genuinely like each other. You can see why they're friends because it's actually demonstrated in the text - we aren't just told that they're friends and then they go off on their own separate adventures. I was a little concerned with Claudia's boy-interest in this book - I don't remember her being the type that would fall for a boy and ditch her friends in the process. Am I just forgetting something from the original series?

Is this a ground breaking novel? Nope. Is it a sweet coming of age story? Definitely. The writing style doesn't seem to have changed in 20+ years, which is great for the nostalgia factor for grownups returning to the series, though I don't know if this is the greatest place for prospective BSC fans to start.

Nonfiction Monday Review: Hungry by Crystal Renn

Found via: Amelia Bloomer Project nomination

I'm not a big follower of fashion, but Crystal Renn's name pops up periodically in any feminist discussion of beauty and body image in popular culture, as she's one of the most successful "plus size" models working today (never mind the irony that she's in the size 10-12 range - the average size for American women today). I hadn't realized she had written a memoir, but when I saw it nominated for the Amelia Bloomer Project, I knew I had to give it a read.

Renn's memoir looks briefly at her pre-modeling life, living happily with her mother and grandmother who always encouraged her to be happy more than anything else. Despite the hints at some complicated family issues, it's clear that Renn had a happy childhood.

Everything changed for her at the age of 14 when a scouting model looked at her and said she could be a star - if she lost weight. Renn says she's always been a bit compulsive and something of a perfectionist, and the scout's statement was the impetus for her perfectionist tendencies to be directed towards her body. The bulk of the memoir focuses on Renn's struggle with anorexia as she works in modeling in New York City - trying to live the dream, but never finding much success, even as her agents tell her to lose more and more weight. When she hits rock bottom, she finds the strength to get out, get healthy, and re-emerge on the scene, healthier and more talented than ever.

I've been questioning some of the Amelia Bloomer project's nonfiction nominations recently - not because they were poor quality titles, but because they really didn't seem to fall into the "birth to 18" age range the list is built for. Renn, however, is barely out of her teens herself - she's 24 now - so much of the book focuses squarely on her teen years and is written in a way that is totally accessible to teens and adults.

Renn's story is absolutely terrifying. The dominant narrative of anorexia is about girls delusional enough to think they're fat even as they're wasting away. Renn knew she had anorexia and avoided doctors even when she developed other illnesses or injuries because she knew a doctor would take one look at her and declare her anorexic. So why did she keep starving herself? It was the only way she knew how to stay working.

This is more than just Renn's personal story, however. She makes pointed criticisms of the industry and a lot of the "reforms" that have been "suggested" in order to improve the health of the women working the runways of the most important fashion shows around the world. She also gives great insights into the world of fashion that should disabuse anyone of the notion that it's full-time glamorous.

Renn's story is a powerful, positive message. When she switches to plus-size work, Renn is told that there will be plenty of work in advertising, but very little high fashion work. Renn sets out to prove them wrong, and is obviously succeeding considering how often she's been on the covers of magazines around the world. She was in the news again late last month, coming forward with allegations that she'd been photoshopped to look dangerously thin. She acknowledges in the book even that photoshopping is a way of life in the industry - getting rid of zits and stray hairs are great since fashion photography isn't about creating a documentary - but it's clear she has a strong personal line and woe to the photographer that dares to cross it.

This will definitely be of interest to anyone who's curious about the pressures of the entertainment industry - for a lot of what goes on in modeling goes on for other performers as well. It's an inspiring story of overcoming a deadly illness and not letting anything hold you back.


This week's Nonfiction Monday is hosted by Three Turtles and their Pet Librarian. Be sure to stop by and see the other nonfiction posts this week!

Review: Abe in Arms by Pegi Deitz Shea

Review copy sent to me by the author


Back in May author Lyn Miller-Lachman invited me to the Inspired by True Crime panel at the NYPL, I had the opportunity to meet another author in the audience - Peggi Deitz Shea. She told me that she had a book of her own coming out soon - Abe in Arms, and I was excited to be able to say I'd actually heard of it, thanks to Ari's Waiting on Wednesday post earlier in May. Peggi and I exchanged e-mail information, and a few weeks later I got a package in the mail - my very own copy of Abe in Arms for review!



I felt terrible when I saw Peggi briefly at ALA (we were getting books signed at the same booth) and realized that while I'd read and enjoyed Abe in Arms I hadn't gotten the review posted yet. I promised that I would have it up soon, so here we are!

Abe grew up in Liberia, a witness to the terrible strife and violence of the country's civil war in the 80s and 90s. Adopted as a teenager by a loving American family and now a senior in high school, Abe's life has definitely turned around as he has a promising future with track scholarships paving his way to a great college and a girlfriend who's crazy about him.

And then Abe starts getting flashes of life in Africa - terrible and terrifying glimpses of a past he'd done his best (both consciously and unconsciously) to forget. Through the help of his supportive father and a psychologist who won't let Abe give up, he slowly begins to uncover the horrors of his past while working through a diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

This is definitely and important and compelling story. I knew that child soldiers had been prominently used in Rwanda and Somalia's civil conflicts, but had no idea about Liberia. Liberia's existence as a country is fascinating - one of America's attempts at colonialism, during the 19th century various groups sponsored former slaves to send them "back" to Liberia, where tragically the standard story of colonialism and oppression was played out again against the native people. I definitely recommend you at least read the Wikipedia article on the country if you aren't already familiar with Liberia.

While I enjoyed the plot and the story, I found this to be a very "talky" novel - all of the characters were constantly talking about their feelings, and it seemed like there was more dialog than narration throughout the novel. As soon as an interpersonal conflict arose, the characters were immediately able and willing to articulate exactly what was wrong, which felt artificial.

Abe is a suitably complex character, and I felt his struggle with PTSD was very believable. He desperately wants to understand what's happening to him, but at the same time is terrified what his friends (especially his girlfriend and adopted brother/best friend) and teammates on the track team will think of him. When he has a flashback in the middle of a track meet, he's suitably mortified, not just scared because he doesn't understand what's happening, but truly embarrassed that now his problems are going to be the gossip of the school.

Finally, I have to say that while I definitely recommend this book, I wish the publisher had created a better quality product. When I pulled the book out of the envelope, I had to double check that I hadn't been sent an ARC because the book felt much more flimsy than a standard paperback. It didn't take away my enjoyment of the novel itself, but I thought it was weird to have a quality story in such a flimsy package as a final product.

Review: Last Night I Sang to the Monster by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

Found via: Best Fiction for Young Adults 2011 nominations



While I have mixed feelings about the existence of the new BFYA list, one thing I am very positive about is Last Night I Sang to the Monster deserves to be on all sorts of "best of" lists. It's nominated for the Nerds Heart YA contest and I hope it goes far! This is definitely a title that needs more exposure.



At 18 years old, Zach is already in rehab for alcoholism. He was brought in for treatment after suffering severe alcohol poisoning, and claims to not remember what happened just before his last drinking binge. He knows it was bad, and remembering just hurts too much. Instead he drifts through the program, remaining silent most of the time, only opening up occasionally to his roommate Rafael. Rafael is also an alcoholic, but is about old enough to be Zach's father, and is much more at peace with the rehab program than Zach is.

As Zach makes his way through the rehabilitation program in fits and starts, we learn about his life before rehab - living with a brother with anger issues and an alcoholic father who hid bottles of booze where Zach could easily find them. Adam, Zach's ever-patient therapist, helps guide Zach through his journey, but Zach is the one who must choose to be sober, and in rehab there are no easy answers.

I have so much love for everything that's going on in this book. While there are several colorful supporting characters, none of them fall into outlandish stereotype territory. Every patient clearly has addiction issues, but they are all handling sobriety in their own ways. Some have come to the center voluntarily like Rafael, but others are there on court order and plan on staying just long enough to avoid jail time before returning to their old ways.

This is also an extremely chatty novel. Zach spends a lot of time in his own head and fills the narrative with vocal tics like well, so, look and okay. It's never enough to become annoying, and it definitely adds a sense of intimacy to this story. The casual tone makes it feel very raw and immediate, like we really are in Zach's head and he hasn't had time to censor or edit himself.

One thing that really impressed me about this novel is that even though most of the cast is male, there is a lot of crying going on. Zach cries with some frequency, as do other patients and doctors. But what's striking about all of these tears is no one is torn down for it. No one is called a fag or is told that he's crying like a girl - Zach doesn't even think these things about himself. Considering how men are so often socialized to see emotions, especially ones that lead to crying, as un-manly, I thought this was remarkable. Also, Zach is Latino, and Latino cultures are often portrayed as steeped in machismo that would also discourage tears. It's always a positive thing to see difficult emotions and emotional reactions handled respectfully and realistically.

I was also impressed by Zach's journey in rehab. Without giving too much away, I can safely say that Zach's road to recovery isn't so much a clear path as it is a roller coaster. He doesn't progressively get better - at least not obviously. His story is much more along the lines of "one step forward, two steps back." While sometimes it's frustrating to see Zach slip backwards in some way, it's also great to a complex look at alcoholism and recovery.

Speaking of complex, after checking out Last Night I Sang to the Monster, I recommend checking out Liz B's list at Teacozy Beyond Pap Finn for other YA novels where "an alcoholic (including recovering alcoholic) is portrayed as something other than the evil, abusive person." A great list!

Review: God is in the Pancakes by Robin Epstein

Found via: Publisher's Weekly 5/10



While the recipe for pancakes is relatively simple (especially if you're like me and rely on Bisquick to provide two-thirds of your recipe), the recipe for a great novel is much more difficult. Robin Epstein, however, has taken disparate ingredients - coming of age, intergenerational relationships, a pinch of romance, and heavy questions of faith and life and death - to concoct a delicious story.


Grace is 15 and has just started her first real job as a candy striper at the local retirement home. The highlight of the position is befriend Frank Sands, who suffers from Lou Gherig's disease. He teaches Grace how to play cards and encourages her dry wit and humor and, unexpectedly, asks her to help him die.

Grace is bewildered and initially refuses. She has too much going on in her life with her overdramatic sister and her sleezy boyfriend, her dad who just walked out, and her best friend Eric is suddenly catching her romantic attention - along with the attentions of half of the girls in school. Plus, while he's lost the use of his legs, Mr. Sands with otherwise healthy, and medical miracles happen all the time, don't they?

As Mr. Sands takes a turn for the worse, Grace finally meets his wife Isabelle, and finds herself even more torn. Mr. Sands is obviously losing his fight, but how can she be responsible for the death of Izzy's husband? They are both her friends, and she doesn't want to hurt either of them. As she turns to a god she thought she abandoned when her father moved out, Grace finds herself wrestling with difficult decisions that are way over her head, but she is determined to handle them with all the maturity and strength she can.

I love, love, love Grace. Her voice is totally authentic, believably teen-aged without resorting to or relying on slang and pop culture references. Outside of her struggle and debate over euthanasia, her problems and the way she deals with them are totally relate-able.

Her friendships with Mr. Sands and Izzy, however, are what make this novel stand out. Neither of the adults talk down to Izzy or noticeably treat her as a child - which is perhaps why Mr. Sands feels it's okay to saddle the girl with such a burden as asking her to help him die. Grace keeps coming back to his request over the course of the novel, and there are no easy answers. It's impossible to say whether Grace's ultimate decision is the right one, but it's easy to understand why she felt it was the right one at the right time. Right up until the end, it was impossible to tell what Grace was going to decide.

The running motif of pancakes is fun - Grace used to share post-church pancake brunches with her father and sister, but that tradition falls by the wayside when her father walks out on the family. While Grace questions her faith in God, especially as he seems to refuse to give Grace any answers, she never questions pancakes' ability to make people feel better.

Review: Hoppergrass by Chris Carlton Brown

Found via: BBYA 2010 nominee

I added this to my to-be-read list before the final BBYA list was announced in January. It didn't make the final cut, which I'm pretty sure I agree with.

It's 1969 and Bowser has been sent to the Hill, a Virginia juvenile detention center. While the Hill is ostensibly integrated, the boys incarcerated there strictly adhere to racial divisions; while they might work together as assigned, black boys and white boys don't mix otherwise.

Until Bowser and Nose, one of the leaders of the African American boys, have a face off in the bathroom. To the rest of the Hill, Bowser and Nose act like enemies; privately the two become close friends, sharing stories of how they ended up on the Hill.

Until a white boy, Evan, is killed in an accident while on work duty. Shorty Nub, a sadistic and racist supervisor who has already attempted to beat Nose to a pulp once before, tries to blame Nose for the accident, calling it nothing short of murder. Bowser knows Nose, and doesn't trust Shorty Nub, and becomes obsessed with unveiling just how truly sadistic Shorty Nub is while exonerating his friend.

There's some great things about this book, but it reads as a very shallow story. While there are important and serious themes of friendship and racism, the story never digs very deep into them. The imagery is shallow (like the recurring hoppergrass - grasshoppers that Nose temporarily keeps in glass jars) and feels like it was just stuck on in an attempt to make the story a little deeper.

I did really like Bowser's character - it's absolutely impossible to tell whether he's playing the system or if he really is mentally unstable. We do know when he is telling the truth or not about events that happened, but then he'll do something like eat handfuls of paper and cigarettes. Is he crazy, or just trying to make everyone think he's crazy? Should he be held in a psychiatric hospital or is he fit to rejoin society at the end of his sentence? I really enjoyed that unstable element about him.

Bowser and Nose are about the only fully fleshed out characters in the story. Some of the other boys on Hill are interesting, but then the adults are once again quite shallow. They are all either evil or saints. Mr. Woodrow, one of the saints, is the closest to a well-rounded adult character. Miss Lovitt, the librarian that Bowser works with, is just about the only other decent character in the story, but seems to function as little other than a plot device. The not-so-good characters just get one evil trait after another piled on top of them, as if the author thought we wouldn't really believe they were bad guys unless they were some of the evilest people on the planet.

Review: The Great Death by John Smelcer

Found via: Notes from the Horn Book Jan. 2010

Two things caught my attention that made me pick this book up: Native Americans and a survival story about girls. Oh, and the setting isn't some Wild West trope; instead it's 1917 Alaska. So, three things.

Millie and Maura are sisters living in a quiet, out of the way village in Alaska. They rarely have contact with anyone from other villages, let alone non-natives, so when a white man visits their village one day, the girls (and everyone else) are fascinated.

And then an illness sweeps through the village. One by one, everyone in the village succumbs to a smallpox epidemic, leaving only Millie and Maura untouched. As winter approaches and the girls are alone, they know they must start walking, hoping to find shelter in either the next village, or in the small city that has popped up down the river. They gather as many supplies as they can carry, and set off on the treacherous trek, relying on the skills their father taught them, hoping they can make it to safety before the worst of the winter strikes.

Author John Smelcer's website claims that this is a young adult novel that can be enjoyed by all ages, but it really feels more like a middle grade novel, and it has some stylistic quirks that I don't think will be ignored by the average older reader. While there is some interesting survival information included, I found the narrative style made it difficult to tell whether it was the girls or the narrator who was giving us this information. The book seems to be written in a third person limited view for most of the story, focusing on Millie the older sister, but every once in awhile we'd jump to Maura's POV, and then we would learn stuff that I don't think the girls could have told us, like just how many degrees below zero it is outside. Their survival gear was listed when they set out, and a thermometer wasn't mentioned!

Millie and Maura are definitely a believable pair of sisters. Millie is resentful that she always has to take care of Maura, but she certainly loves her sister. Maura for her part can be whiny, but once it's just her and Millie she pulls herself together for the most part. Both of their faults come out occasionally during their journey, which made for a richer story - just because you're suddenly in danger doesn't mean your personality is going to do a complete 180. Maura is going to complain and Millie is going to get angry, but because they're family and they love each other they get over it and focus on finding their way to safety, even when it seems impossible.

While I was searching around for some other reviews on this title, I uncovered a bit of a controversy around the author. Apparently Smelcer insinuates he is of Native ancestry when in truth he was only adopted by his Native step-father. I encourage you to read that blog post and the comments, as they have some interesting thoughts on cultural appropriation and definitions of race.

Knowing about this controversy, however, doesn't really change my thoughts on the book. It's an enjoyable enough story, though the narrative style left me feeling quite distant.

Review: Dirty Little Secrets by C.J. Omololu

Found via: Publisher's Weekly 1/11

I have a huge backlog of books that need to be reviewed, but I keep holding off because it seems like if I blogged them all now I'd have two week's worth of posts about books that I essentially didn't like. Or I liked a ton of the book...but then there was one GLARING THING that makes me unable to actually recommend a book. I certainly don't think I have to give positive reviews all the time, but I also don't want to be a total downer.

So I'm very happy to report that I loved Dirty Little Secrets, was totally unable to put it down, and finished it in just a couple of hours. Seriously, I started it on the train ride home today (at five) and finished by nine - and that includes breaks taken for dinner, websurfing, and talking to my husband.

Lucy's family has a secret. A giant, hulking, dirty secret. Her mom is a compulsive hoarder and has filled the house with piles of newspapers, old clothes, and just plain garbage. Lucy has lived like this for most of her life, and is now 16 and practically counting the days until she can escape from her mother's grip, like her two older siblings have already done.

After spending the night at her best friend's house (Lucy can never allow friends to visit her garbage-filled house), Lucy returns to find her mother dead in the hallway, her inhaler just out of reach and a six-foot pile of National Geographic magazines collapsed on top of her. Lucy spends the next 24 hours desperately trying to make the house presentable before calling for help; she can't stand the thought of her family becoming a freak show on TV with headlines like "Woman Dies Surrounded by Squalor." As she unearths forgotten shopping sprees and school projects she gives us glimpses into life with her slowly deteriorating mother and the heavy toll growing up with a hoarder has taken on Lucy's relationships with peers and her siblings. Lucy's refuge inside the house is increasingly invaded by suddenly nosy neighbors, her annoying older sister, and best friends who are dead set on setting her up with the cutest boy in school. The tension mounts hour by hour as cleaning years of debris seems increasingly hopeless, and Lucy feels her options for protecting her mother's secret are running out.

This book led to some very visceral reactions from me. I'm really glad I'd finished dinner before Lucy found the maggots in the living room (omg, is there anything more disgusting in the world than maggots? Even the word makes me shiver). And it's been awhile since a book made me say "Holy shit" aloud when I reached the climax. Lucy's story is complicated; as she struggles with how to make the house somewhat presentable, you have to ask just what is her motivation? Is she trying to protect her mother? Her family? Or just her reputation at school? Is she more concerned with whether Josh will like her after he knows of her home life than she was with her mother's well being? How justified are Lucy's feelings about her mother, considering the years of verbal and psychological abuse her mother subjected her to? And what made her mother treat her like crap - was it something to do with the illness that caused the hoarding, or would she have been abusive towards Lucy no matter what?

This is a compelling story, but by no means an easy one. Lucy has a lot of struggles, some serious and others frivolous. At first I was totally annoyed by the more frivolous distractions presented by Lucy's best friend and the cute boy, but this is a well crafted novel and eventually their inclusion serves an important point for Lucy's development. I highly recommend this book for anyone looking for a heavy family drama, even though most of the family is actually absent while the book is taking place.

Review: Border Crossing by Jessica Lee Anderson

Found via GalleyCat

Books about mental illness can be tricky things. It's easy to go over the top or get overtly sentimental and sad about such a debilitating condition. But I was still curious about Border Crossing, in no small part because it's also about a person of color. "Issue" books often seem to want to focus on only one issue at a time - thus characters default to white. Here, Anderson has created a compelling half-Mexican teen protagonist who is also struggling with the onset of schizophrenia.

Manz, the son of a Mexican immigrant father and a white mother, has never had an easy life. When his parents worked as apple pickers, they were moving constantly. After his father's death, he and his mom settled down, but life didn't get any easier. She's a hard drinker who's had a series of boyfriends. She seems to have settled down somewhat with Tom, but there are still lingering problems - like memories of the child she miscarried several years ago.

Now, Manz wants nothing more than to get out of his small Texas town, populated with lots of people who don't take kindly to having a Mexican, or even a half-Mexican, in their midst. Manz works as a day laborer, along with his friend Jed, in order to earn as much cash as he can towards getting the hell out of Rockhill.

But as the summer wears on, Manz finds himself becoming increasingly paranoid. People are listening to his thoughts and laughing at him behind his back. His friends and family are concerned about him, but the voices tell him they actually want him dead. He begins to wonder if maybe it really would be better if he were dead, and if maybe these were the same thoughts his dad was having before his fatal car crash.

Anderson does a great job weaving Manz's identity as a Mexican-American into his illness - Manz is paranoid immigration officers will think he's actually an illegal immigrant and deport him, or worse. It adds an element of personalization to the story - this could only be Manz's story, no one else's. One thing I would have liked to see, however, is a more immersive experience; even though it's a first person story, it's very clear to the reader when Manz is giving into the paranoia. I would have loved to see the lines between fantasy and reality much more blurred, so that the reader becomes part of Manz's delusions.

There's also a subplot involving Jed's family that just felt unnecessary in the context of the larger story. Jed has an abusive father, and Jed is the only one that stands up to him. But this has no larger influence on the plot; it's not like Jed's father's violent tendencies play into Manz's paranoia or anything. I felt it ultimately detracted from Manz's story.

Back on positive notes, I also like how this doesn't have a pat ending. Manz isn't cured by the end of the book, though he is in treatment. Anderson does a good job of showing that medicines and therapy aren't a magic cure, and that Manz still has a long way to go in the treatment of his illness.

Also positive: not a whitewashed cover!

Good on Milkweed Editions - who sound like very cool publishers. They're a non-profit that "publishes with the intention of making a humane impact on society, in the belief that literature is a transformative art, uniquely able to convey the essential experiences of the human heart and spirit." Which is pretty darn awesome if you ask me.

Review: The Comet's Curse by Dom Testa

Found via: Jen Robinson's Book Page

I've read several reviews on this one...and of course the one review that I want to link to now is the one I never saved! Argh. How frustrating.

Also frustrating: How myself and that one unfindable reviewer seem to be the only ones not enamored with The Comet's Curse.

In the not-too-distant future, the comet Bhaktul passes near enough to Earth that its tail passes through our atmosphere. However, instead of being just another fascinating astronomical event, it turns out that Bhaktul was carrying microscopic particles in its tail that are fatal to humans over the age of 18.

As adults around the world start to die in droves, Dr. Zimmerman is one of the few who realizes that instead of wasting time trying to develop a cure before all the adults die, his energy should be focused on saving at least a sliver of the human race. And so the Galahad project is born - choosing 251 teenagers to be sent on a 5 year space flight to begin colonizing another planet.

The teenagers are the best and the brightest 15 and 16 year olds from around the world, and the best of the best make up the Council that will govern the ship and the crew. Guiding the Council and helping to maintain the ship is Roc, the ship's smart-alec computer system.

But on Earth, not everyone is happy with Dr. Zimmerman's plans. Whether they disagree with his methods of choosing a crew, or his focus on space, they write letters and protest and use everything within their means to foil the launch. Nothing seems to succeed - that is, until a few days after the Galahad has launched, and there are mysterious sightings and incidents of vandalism throughout the ship. Just when the Galahad crew thought they were safe, it seems a new problem has followed them on board.

I've mentioned before that I really like stories where all of the adults are gone. I'm sure a psychologist would have a field day with that, but there you have it. However, The Comet's Curse left way too many questions and leaps in logic for me to really remain interested. It seemed like all of the adults were just giving up on Earth as soon as the Bhaktul virus/plague/epidemic began - negating the fact that all of these children and teenagers still had several years to live before the virus would even start affecting them. This isn't like other stories where when you turn 18 you immediately sicken and die - Dr. Zimmerman lasts more than two years before even starts to fall ill. Plus I really doubt imminent death is the factor that's going to convince teenagers to stop having babies.

Also never explained: why 251 teenagers? That seems like a really small number for repopulating a civilization. In Battlestar Galactica they were concerned about repopulating and they had more than 100 times more people than the Galahad carried!

This is supposed to be the beginning of a six part series, but I really don't see how the drama is going to hold up for six books. This book is told half through flashbacks from the development of the Galahad project - but those flashbacks cover the entire development, so there's nothing else to add there. After the crew dispatches the danger presented in this particular book, it seems like there are only so many more options for drama and they would get old well before book 6.

On a positive note? This isn't a future where America saves the world. The crew is definitely multi-cultural, and the Chinese-born second in command is even featured on the cover. Unfortunately many of the characters felt thin, and the romances that Testa is setting up have all the heft of a soap opera (really: one guy observes the girl he likes hugging another guy in a moment of triumph and immediately decides that she really must like that guy. Never mind no one knew this guy was in close enough proximity to hug as well, or the fact that they were celebrating not being dead - if I'd just averted a disaster, I'd be hugging whoever was closest too, whether I liked them, or liked them, or not).

If you're a fan of the "all adults are gone/dying" genre, you might want to give this one a try, if just to satisfy your own curiosity. It's a short read so it wouldn't require too much of an investment. If you're not already a fan of the genre, however, there are plenty of other titles you should seek out first!

Review: Liar by Justine Larbalestier

Ever since the cover controversy that surrounded this book earlier this year, I've been dying to get my hands on this book.

And then, once I'd had my hands on it, I was dying for a friend to get it so we could discuss it! This is a book that begs for a group to read it and then meet for coffee to discuss it.

Micah is a liar. She tells us that on page one. But she also swears she will tell us the truth. The whole truth. The really real truth. But lying is a hard habit to break. So as Micah tells us her story, of her secret romance, her eccentric extended family, and a mysterious family illness, we are forced to read between the lines and try to figure out just what is true about Micah's story - if anything is at all.

I really can't say more than that because it is SO IMPORTANT that you read this book without spoilers. Justine has pulled together one bizarre book, with so many twists and turns that even after reading it twice and talking via AIM with a friend (who read it in just two sittings at the book store!) I still have no idea what "really" happened.

It's the holidays, so if you're picking up this book for yourself, pick up a second copy to give to a friend as a gift. You'll both be thankful when you finish that you have someone to talk to!

And if you don't have a discussion partner handy, you can always check out the spoiler post Justine set up on her blog. Seriously, though, it's full of spoilers, so if you haven't read the book yet, avoid that post at all costs! Are you reading the non-spoilery parts of Justine's blog yet? She probably has one of my favorite author-blogs on the 'net. She and her husband, Scott Westerfeld, alternated days for giving writing tips during NaNoWriMo, and Justine consistently has some of the smartest blog posts on topics like race and gender in YA lit that I've seen on the web. I highly recommend it.

Review: Going Bovine by Libba Bray

Found via: NYC Teen Author Festival
Winner: Printz Award 2010

I got my first glimpse of Going Bovine back during the NYC Teen Author Festival, at the I Have Seen the Future... event. Libba Bray cracked us all up with Cameron and Gonzo's adventures with the Church of Everlasting Satisfaction and Snack 'n' Bowl.

The rest of the book was just about as crazy and ridiculous as that excerpt she read. If nothing else, the book is consistent.

Going Bovine stars Cameron, a 16 year old slacker who wants nothing more than just to get through high school. He really doesn't care about his classes, his job, his family responsibilities, his hobbies...he's just muddling through. Until he gets a devastating diagnosis of Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease - aka Mad Cow disease. A punk rock angel named Dulcie appears to Cameron in his hospital room, telling him he must take his roommate, a paranoid dwarf called Gonzo, on an epic quest to save the world from an inter-dimensional rupture, and find a cure for Cameron along the way.

Honestly my first reaction at the end of the book was "What the hell did I just read?!" This book is 99.58% ridiculous, with that last .42% made up of the occasional deep meaningful insight into the meaning of life, the universe and everything. But it's a fun-ridiculous, not a why-did-I-just-read-that, it-served-no-purpose ridiculous. Be open to the ridiculous and the weird, and you'll enjoy Going Bovine.

Review: Going too Far by Jennifer Echols

Found via: BBYA 2010 nominated titles

The annotation for this title reads "Meg is the blue haired girl in a small town, John is the cop who picks her up one night, and the relationship that develops causes all sorts of problems."

I was adding this to my library request list at "blue haired girl," because that was me, from 5th grade through high school. Okay, it was more often green, and only a streak, as opposed to a whole head like Meg does (my hair was waist length - no way Mom was going to help me turn all of that green). And much to my parents' relief, I was never picked up by the cops at night, but I still felt, just from this annotation, that Meg was a girl after my own heart.

And I was right: I loved Meg throughout the book, even when she made it hard to be lovable.

Meg is counting the days until she can get the hell out of her little Alabama town, away from her parents who seem hell bent on shackling her to their little restaurant. She's just days away from spring break of her senior year - a spring break that is going to take her to see the ocean for the first time in her life - when she, her boyfriend, and the class valedictorians are picked up by the cops on the forbidden railroad tracks. Eric, Meg's boyfriend, gets let off easy, thanks to his father's money, but Meg and her friends are sentenced to ride with the various emergency departments for the week of spring break, so they can learn their actions have consequences.

Meg is assigned to ride with the police for the week, specifically with the enigmatic, handsome, and young Officer John Avery. He's the opposite of Meg in every way: serious, clean cut, and with a pathological need to follow and enforce the rules. But despite this, and despite all of her better judgment, Meg feels a connection, and wonders if she might be falling for the police officer, and if he might be falling for her.

Meg and John were both great, well rounded characters. Echols teases out the hints about the darker sides of these two: both Meg and John have demons to contend with, and neither is going to show their hand to the other unless pushed. Echols taunts us with hints about what makes these two tick, but withholds the payoff until it has the greatest impact on the story, the characters, and the reader. It's an extremely rewarding read.

I have just one complaint: who the heck photoshopped the cover? Check it out on Amazon - that is the worst 'shop of an eyebrow ring I've ever seen. Would it have been so hard to find a pierced model? Or give her a clip on hoop ring? Or leave off the ring entirely, since I don't recall Meg ever wearing an eyebrow ring? I usually don't give covers a second look, but this one made me cringe every time I looked at it.

Review: Forever Changes by Brendan Halpin

While reading this book, I couldn't help but have flashbacks to middle school, when I was obsessed with Lurlene McDaniel books. That's not to say that McDaniel's books and Forever Changes actually have anything in common - they're really quite different, except for starring teenagers with terminal illnesses - but I think the worry was always there in the back of my mind that at any moment this well written book would descend into narm.

Thankfully, it didn't.

Brianna is a senior in high school with cystic fibrosis. After having watched another friend with cystic fibrosis die recently, Brianna is probably the only person in her AP calculus class that isn't obsessing over getting college credit for the course. She loves math, and is incredibly good at it - so good her father keeps pressuring her to apply to MIT - but Brianna knows there's a very real possibility that she won't live to get her high school diploma, let alone a college degree.

But she also tries not to focus too much on her own mortality. She is an "illness mentor" to Ashley, a freshman who also has cystic fibrosis and looks up to Brianna to help her with everything from giving her the confidence to audition for the school play to coping with her parents' impending divorce, and good illness mentors keep the mentee's spirits up, not bring them down with thoughts of death. Then there are Brianna's best friends, Melissa and Stephanie, who provide Brianna with a daily dose of Munchkins from Dunkin' Donuts (seriously, did Dunkin' Donuts sponsor the book? Because there were lots of Munchkins eaten during this book) and constantly need Brianna's help to shepherd them through their math homework.

Over the course of her senior year, Brianna also develops special friendships with Adam, a fellow AP Calculus student who introduces Brianna to the psychedelic music of Love, a rock band their calculus teacher may or may not have been part of back in the day, and Mr. Eccles, the aforementioned calculus teacher who ponders the infinite and mortality with Brianna in the face of his own health problems.

While it is a bit of a cliche, with encouragement from her friends and her father, Brianna ultimately applies to MIT, even though she still has reservations not only about her chances of getting in, but her chances of seeing graduation day. And on top of the concerns over her MIT application and increasing amount of homework, plus helping her dad with the bookkeeping for his new side business of customizing motorcycles, Brianna can feel herself slowly getting sicker.

My biggest gripe with this book is that I feel it's going to feel incredibly dated in a few years. Will Not Another Teen Movie and Kyra Sedgewick on The Closer be as recognizable in five years as they are today? (Of course the reference to Jack Sparrow is a timeless inclusion ;-) Not every book has to be written with longevity in mind, perhaps, but some of these pop culture references felt rather forced.

What surprised me in how much I liked it was all of the math that was in the book. Brianna is constantly trying to figure out the force, speed or volume of everyday activities and items in her life. While she never seems to be able to figure them out exactly, it was a different way (for me) to look at math. And then Mr. Eccles actually had the ability to make math sound vaguely interesting. Not that I would have wanted to be in his class (I failed Advanced Algebra twice before finally passing it, and imaginary numbers ticked me off - the whole point of math is supposed to be that it's concrete, right?), but he certainly put a philosophic bent on calculus.

Additionally, let me reassure you that despite my earlier reference to Lurlene McDaniel, her books and this one really have nothing in common. Brianna has a lot of spunk to her, and while she does reference having sex as one of the things that was on her "Things to do before I die" list, she certainly isn't obsessed with having a boyfriend and being a perfect angel. She talks back to her dad, goes out to parties, and usually has a fairly pragmatic view of her death - rarely does she descend into self pity.

I also have to say, that while I saw the ending coming, and parts of it seemed a little too pat and perfect, it also had me with tears in my eyes while I was on my break at work.

Review: Looks by Madeleine George

This is a slim book, but it's not a fast read because of it's length: it's a fast read because of the engrossing and unique tale Madeleine George spins about two girls and their struggles with their bodies, making friends and, of course, high school.

Meghan Ball is the fat girl - at least, that's what poet Aimee Zorn dubs her before she learns Meghan's name. Meghan has perfected the art of invisibility - she's so large that people treat her as if she were part of the scenery, or perhaps mentally disabled, and will say things around her they would never say if anyone else were listening.

At first there's only one exception to her powers of invisibility: the school's jock hero J-Bar has made it his personal mission to harass Meghan as much as possible - so long as he thinks the only witnesses are his jock friends.

The second exception is new student Aimee Zorn, who is as thin as Meghan is fat. Meghan sees a kindred spirit in Aimee, as if their polar opposite physiques could make them an unstoppable team. Years of perfecting invisibility, however, seem to have robbed Meghan of her ability to speak to the enigmatic new girl, so all Aimee sees is the fat girl - someone worthy of pity thanks to the merciless teasing from J-Bar Aimee witnessed.

Aimee joins the literary magazine and becomes fast friends with the editor, Cara, while Meghan lurks in the shadows of Aimee's life, first desperate to befriend her, then desperate to warn her away from Cara. When Aimee doesn't heed Meghan's warning, she realizes that she needs the fat girl's help - and an unstoppable team is born.

Surrounding Aimee's and Meghan's story is a colorful cast of characters, from Aimee's slacker ex-almost-step-father, to Mr. Handsley, the advisor for the literary magazine, passionate fan of the Caesar (as in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar) and enemy of jocks everywhere, to the incredibly obtuse Ms. Champoux (like the hair soap) who is probably the worst morning announcement reader ever.

Now, I'm not a fan of poetry, but generally I loved the poems that are scattered throughout this book. There are some great contrasts in poetic styles, from the cliche'd bit of high school poetry about birds first submitted to the literary magazine by one of Cara's simpering devotees to the rough, raw and ragged poetry that Aimee digs out from her weak little frame. They're great poems (or not so great poems used for great contrasting effect) and are used in just the right amount to keep from overwhelming the prose.

I also loved how Aimee's anorexia was treated, for Aimee is never actually diagnosed with anorexia through the entire book - she merely has allergies. To everything. So she doesn't eat. Lots of YA books have been written about girls with anorexia, but for such a complex disorder so many books reduce it down to one cause with one pattern of behaviors.

And finally, Mr. Handsley may be my favorite fictional teacher ever. Sure, I knew I was going to like him when he was so passionate about Julius Caesar (not my favorite Shakespeare play by a long shot, but it's more fun than Romeo & Juliet), but then he kicked a kid out of class for calling another kid a faggot and I just about cheered. I would have liked a lot more of my high school teachers if they'd had the guts to do that!

This is a great book about standing out from the crowd, and how living one's life as if one were invisible isn't actually a life at all.