The Girl in the Green Sweater by Krystyna Chiger

Genre: Memoir
Publisher, Year: Macmillan, 2009
Flags: Adult themes
Rating: A, or Great Read
Challenge:
Premise:  Kystyna Chiger was just a child when Nazi Germany occupied her home town. Through the courage of her parents, she and her family find a way to evade capture and endure until the end of the war in the city’s sewers. An incredible survival story.

There are so many good books that deal with World War II, that describe the unspeakable cruelty and then bring to light the unimaginable courage and will to live in the face of that cruelty. And there is an endless amount of these stories. It can be difficult to be reminded of what a devastating a time it was. And it takes me off guard--every time--that such things occurred, that it actually happened, that there was a time and a place where people, millions of people . . . so many people . . . were subjected to such inhumanity, where only a fraction of those people actually survived. To think about the collection of stories that would exist if all of them could tell us of the struggle to their last moments, if they could speak beyond the grave.

It’s that thought that haunts me when I read a memoir. I’m sorry to say it, but this makes me a reluctant reader. Thank goodness for book club, or I might never have had the stomach to read this book. I’m so glad I did. This story is such a testament to the human spirit and to the bond of a family’s love. I was so moved and inspired by the Chiger family.

Krystyna was just your average little girl. She loved to play with her friends, to be outside, to spend time with her family. And when her little brother, Pawel, was born, the two became inseparable. But it wasn’t long before trouble began to brew. War was on the way, and after a difficult Russian occupation, Nazi Germany made things worse. Krystyna watched, from a child’s perspective, as the life her parents and grandparents had built was slowly pilfered away. They took everything. Soon it became apparent that living conditions would become increasingly worse, until they were all gone--until there were no Jews left. But Ignacy Chiger would not accept defeat, so when the final liquidation came, he was ready, and he took his family into the sewer, with others who fled, to find a way to outlast the war.

I think there are few of us who can really imagine the horrors that so many suffered. To read all of those fears dictated by a child--it was excruciating. I could only keep imagining my own daughter, and what it would have been like to have her childhood taken from her in such a vicious way, and I as her mother unable to do anything about it but try to protect her. One thing I feel I did not understand fully about the Holocaust before this book was exactly how the Nazis would capture Jews and kill them or send them away. Krystyna recalls the paralyzing fear of the “actions,” which was the word that described when the Nazis would show up, unannounced, and just pick up Jews, willy nilly. You either evaded through right place, right time or you could sometimes bribe your way out. For this reason, Krystyna rarely ever left her family’s living quarters, and often her father would actually hide her and her brother in a small space all day, just in case one of these actions commenced while he was away. She describes one rare moment when she was outside with her cousin, and when they heard the familiar commotion, they ran. Krystyna was fast enough; her cousin was not. Later, she looked out the window to see her grandmother and cousin together on the back of a truck, headed for who knows where. And she never saw them again. This is just one of many experiences from her story that have stayed with me.

Along with Krystyna, I felt that boundless helplessness, and yet, her family could not lose hope. They kept fighting for each other and for their lives. They resisted and resisted. And surprisingly, even after the war, they resisted some more. The emotional stamina that must claim is unfathomable to me. And I found myself thinking that if I had been in their position, I don’t know if I could have had the same strength.

It was the love they shared, the family and the friends they came to consider family, that sustained them in the long hours, the impossible conditions, the vermin, the hunger and sickness, the constant fear of discovery. And yet, they continued on, with incredible resilience. They always looked forward to the future, undaunted. Even though the conditions were beyond inhuman, they found ways to entertain each other with little plays, to engage in meaningful conversation, to try to learn new things, even while living in a nightmare.

As I came to the end of each chapter, I found myself wondering how it could possibly get worse, and yet it continued. Each harrowing tale followed after another, which made this story quite engrossing. And even though I knew from the outset that Krystyna and her family would survive whole, I still found myself unable to put the book down before I knew what had happened to her, so that I could imagine her, warm in a clean bed, surrounded by loved ones, freed from her sewer prison.

Krystyna Chiger’s story is one of the most memorable I have ever read and perhaps ever will. (Dare I say it?) This book fulfilled its purpose in that it illustrated the war and its terrible consequences. But I would also say this story affected me further than that. It spoke to me in a way that is hard to describe. I learned something about Krystyna, but I also learned something about myself.

The White Darkness by Geraldine McCaughrean

Genre: Young adult thriller
Publisher, Year: HarperTeen, 2007
Other Works: A Pack of Lies
Flags: Adult themes, tenuous references
Rating: A-, or Good w/ Minor Problems
Challenge: Outdo Yourself, Library
Premise: A young girl, Sym, embarks on an adventure with her quirky uncle to the bottom of the world. For Sym, it is a perfect backdrop to her obsession, as she loves everything Antarctic, including her imaginary friend, Titus Oates, an early explorer who died in the pursuit of their shared hobby.

So, I have this problem with walking by the awards shelf in the YA section of my library and picking up something that looks interesting to read on the side. However, these books end up taking over my life! And I can’t concentrate on anything until I’ve finished them. After this one, I’ve got to take a break because it literally commandeered my every waking thought until it finally hurdled toward an agonizing finish. Finished it in a grand total of two days. Another Printz winner, and for good reason.

Sym is in love with her imaginary friend, Titus, an Antarctic explorer who bravely died in his quest. It hasn’t been an easy time for Sym; she faces family tragedy, partial deafness, and painful shyness that makes her feel as if she will never fit in. But when she reads her books about Antarctica and allows herself to dissolve into that world of cold discovery, she feels at home, with Titus by her side. After the untimely death of her father, a family friend, Victor, steps in, a man she calls “uncle,” though they are unrelated. He’s the father figure she yearns for, and though a bit strange, she trusts him entirely. So, when he offers to take her to Paris for the weekend, Sym jumps at the chance. She could never have known that a simple weekend holiday would turn into an adventure gone horrifically wrong.

This book is packed with one nail-biting incident after another. I could hardly turn the pages fast enough. I was interested to see how the author would bring Sym’s imaginary boyfriend to life in a believable way, and I was not disappointed in that respect. Titus was arguably the most intriguing character, the way he popped up just when Sym needed him the most, with a sarcastic remark, a telling eye roll, or a shoulder to lean on. He was a perfect window into Sym’s soul--we got insight into exactly how Sym is feeling through this “inner” dialogue. Sym herself was also an interesting character, if flawed. Perhaps a symptom (no pun intended) of her mental state, Sym seemed to take a backseat in her own life. Instead of acting on her own instincts, and then knowledge as the truth become clearer, she waited and waited--even in the end when nothing could be left in question. Despite this incredible weakness, she was also strong in other ways. She immersed herself in this make-believe world, which although of her own creation, was based in reality, in Antarctica. Every fact she read, every story she memorized, was stored away in her perfect memory. It added incredible detail to her daydreams, so she could crawl into them and rest in a place she respected, where she was loved. Problems only surfaced when Sym was forced to see her Antarctica in all its harsh glory.

It’s a little unfair how I’ve judged this book because so much of what disappoints me was born of my incongruous expectations. I thought this book would be more of an internal adventure, as Sym and Titus found a way to solve life’s mysteries together. I thought Titus would take an even more prominent position than he did, present for every moment of Sym’s waking consciousness. And the novel did begin this way, but then took a sharp turn, which really shouldn’t have been a big surprise. But then more and more of what happened seemed a bit fishy, and then the story devolved into a basic psychological thriller.

If that had been what I expected, I think I would have very little to complain about. Instead, I felt a serious, yet light-hearted story turned rather dark and malevolent. I don’t know what more to say about that, than it is so. In the end, my feelings toward that chosen tone were quite indifferent. And that’s what made me not love the book in the end. I simply had lost interest in the characters, considering that they became, in my mind, mere pawns in a twisted plot.

I do, however, understand perfectly why this book won the Printz. McCaughrean is an excellent writer, and I felt completely sucked into her world, so much so that, while reading, I often felt an Antarctic chill run down my back. I felt like reading this book curled up with a wool blanket and a cup of hot chocolate, and that’s saying something when the temperature outside is nearing 100. I really wish I had read it in winter--it would have been perfectly chilling. In the end, I can still appreciate the quality of writing and the genius behind a well-thought out plot. Although not on my must read list, still time well spent.

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi

Genre: Children’s/young adult fiction, historical
Publisher, Year: Avon Books, 1990
Other Works: The Fighting Ground, The Barn, also too many to list (70+)
Flags: Teen angst
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Challenge: Library, Outdo Yourself, Historical Fiction
Premise: A young girl, Charlotte, sets sail to cross the Atlantic and join her family in America. Though the journey was planned as a convenient and speedy voyage, once on board, Charlotte realizes that nothing is as it should be.

Everything about this book is perfect. I am now left wondering why it took me so long to pick this book up. I remember hearing about it in elementary school when it first came out, and I seem to remember friends of mine reading this book as part of the curriculum, but for some reason, I never was required to. And since at that time, I was mainly focused on stories that involved “meet cutes” and simple romances that made my little tween heart go pitter-pat, what sounded to me like a pirate story just wasn’t appealing. Actually, I have memories of avoiding it. How I wish someone would have sat me down and force-fed me this book! I literally devoured it in one day.

Charlotte Doyle’s family moved from America to England when she was a little girl. Now that she’s thirteen, they are ready to make the trek back. However, the timing is not quite right, so to avoid Charlotte missing any of her schooling and carefully planning her arrangements--including chaperones--she is to meet her family at a later date. When she arrives at the dock, nothing is as it was promised. Yet, a young girl and used to being told what to do, Charlotte can hardly object when she is given no alternative but to sail anyway. Though she receives several warnings and herself feels the foreboding of impending doom, she cannot act, and therefore, seals her own fate. Mixed up in a game of cat and mouse between captain and crew, Charlotte finds herself smack in the middle of a war zone, faced with dilemmas that shake her to the core--her values, her trust, and her belief in herself. And the decisions she makes change everything.

What makes this book so perfect? In my opinion, the plot is beautifully paced. A perfect crescendo emerges as we meet the players and the tension builds. The foreshadow of dark catastrophe hovers like a mythical giant, face obscured. We don’t know what form exactly the tragedy will take, but it’s coming, of that we are certain. It not only makes the novel a page-turner, it provides the perfect environment in which Charlotte thrashes about, trying to understand her new atmosphere--the rules of this universe that is so different from her regimented girl’s school. And this produces the perfectly dynamic main character in Charlotte. She mirrors the pacing of the plot in that inside her, this same storm is raging, tension building, until she cannot sit idly by any longer.

Charlotte’s world is irreversibly turned upside down. She begins to question everything she’s ever known, she’s ever been taught. She is a product of the structured Victorian ideal, and she believes in it wholeheartedly as any impressionable girl of her age would. Her father is her master--and in his absence, the captain occupies his role as authority figure--and in her mind, a fair one, who judges the world in an absolutely flawless manner. Until suddenly, that authority starts to spiral into a crazed tailspin, leaving Charlotte dizzy and confused. And that’s when her childlike trust begins to crumble, when she must think for herself and develop a new ideal. And she takes to evaluating the world on her own terms like a fish to water.

Avi perfectly illustrates that terrible struggle when we are pushed from childhood by the realization that we are all fallible, adults alike. As children, we trust our elders implicitly, as Charlotte did. But there comes a time when the curtain is pulled back and the “wizard” is revealed as just a normal guy, pushing buttons to create an illusion of grandeur: we realize that our parents are just people, and those who we trust and love the most may not always be right. And Charlotte wisely begins to question every convention that she’s simply taken as fact for as long as she can remember. Some find that part of the story unbelievable, but I don’t agree. I’ve seen children who are thrown from childhood and grow up very quickly when faced with horrific realities of life. And that is exactly what happens in this story. I also enjoyed being thrust into this new world at sea, as Charlotte discovers it.

Avi does such an amazing (shall I say perfect?) job of describing this world with such incredible detail. I could see the ship pitching and rolling, feel the salty, wet wind on my face, experience the incredible isolation of life at sea. When I closed my eyes, I could truly imagine being aboard the Seahawk and feel the swell of the ocean.

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle is a magical journey from beginning to end, replete with a cast of colorful characters, difficult decisions, and a strong, persistent female lead. Mix all these ingredients in the hands of a seasoned writer like Avi, and you can’t expect anything less than perfection, which is exactly what he gives you. This one will be given a revered spot on my shelf.

Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta

Genre: Young adult fiction
Publisher, Year: Harper Teen, 2008
Other Works: Saving Francesca, Looking for Alibrandi 
Flags: Moderate language, teen angst, tenuous references
Rating: B+, or Mostly Good
Challenge: Library, Outdo Yourself
Premise: A young girl, abandoned as a child, finds a mysterious connection with the past in a town she thought she came to just by chance.

I was really excited to read this one. It’s my first experience with Marchetta, and I was hopeful to find another YA Australian author to add to my list of favorites. As a Printz winner and an often recommendation from several bloggers, I thought it stood a good chance of becoming a must read for me as well. Although I found this book hard to put down and I *liked* the story, I didn’t find it a homerun, I’m sorry to report.

Taylor Markham has had a difficult life. As a child, she grew up in the home of a drug-addicted single mother who abandoned her at a gas station on Jellicoe Road. She was found by a woman named Hannah, with whom she has an often turbulent relationship, and ended up at the Jellicoe School. She finds it hard to relate to her fellow students and is taken by surprise when she is chosen to lead her classmates in a territory war with the Townies and Cadets that began so many years ago. Just as she is getting started in this new role, Hannah--the only family she’s ever really known--mysteriously disappears, leaving her anxious and questioning her whole existence. With her support system vanished, Taylor finds friendship in unlikely places, all the while piecing together an old story about a terrible accident which also resulted in unlikely friendships, ones that Taylor begins to suspect may have affected her life in ways that she can’t imagine.

Marchetta is certainly a compelling writer, and I found myself very unable to put Jellicoe Road down. Let’s just say in the two days it took me to read this book, my toddler was watching a lot of Sesame Street and eating a lot of treats. If that alone could make a book for me, than Marchetta would have aced the test.

I enjoyed the complexity of the stories, and the ways in which they converged. I think what Marchetta did best was to illustrate the need everyone has of family, of belonging, of knowing that someone somewhere loves you. That connection to the past, to your own origins, is so tantamount because it gives you a place to be rooted, and then you are free to grow, to change, to become what you want to. When terrible things happen, there must be an explanation, no matter how tragic or how hurtful, as to why. There is a certain peace and calm that comes with knowledge and understanding, especially of a person’s past. Without that, Taylor was just a wisp in the wind, unable to connect to anyone, to really care about life, to look past her own strange and concealed history.

Marchetta’s characters do come off the page; they are very much alive and distinct. However, that they are realistic is not a compliment I can pay. I really tired of Taylor by the end. She is the type of character I rather dislike, in that she acts as if she can take care of herself but is completely unable, in every instance, to do so. Every bit of new truth set off either a health attack, a deep depression, or erratic and misdirected anger. Are these all normal emotions for someone who is faced with her kind of life? Perhaps, but it still bordered on a hysteria that gets old fast.

I found Jonah to be equally as unbelieveable, but in the opposite way. He was the ever-stalwart caretaker, which I found to be a stretch for any normal person, certainly in the case of a teenage boy. Were there mitigating circumstances? Yes. But I think even taking those into consideration, it was just a little much. No relationship can stand when one person is always giving, the other always receiving. And Taylor needed all of what Jonah could give, and more. That all being said, I still felt both characters had depth. Although there was more than one instance of eye-rolling as I was reading their interactions, I’ve got to hand it to Marchetta. Notwithstanding, Taylor and Jonah and all the other inhabitants of Jellicoe were all memorable characters.

Overall, an interesting and enjoyable story, but not one I feel devoted to. I don’t know that I would recommend this one. I think if it were to be made into a miniseries, “soap opera” would be the term to describe it. I simply didn’t feel the degree of reality and seriousness that I wish could have been there.

I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

Genre: Young adult fiction
Publisher, Year: Knopf Books, 2005
Other Works: The Book Thief
Flags: Adult themes, tenuous references
Rating: A, or Great Read
Challenge: 100 Books, Library
Premise: A young man finds himself on a journey to complete certain tasks: protect the diamonds, survive the clubs, dig deep through the spades, and feel the hearts.

I really enjoyed The Book Thief, so when a friend mentioned that she liked this book, I figured I should give it a go. Took me awhile to get around to it, slowly but surely. This one wasn't an automatic for me, but in the end, I think I liked it. I'm still not totally certain. Of one thing I am certain however, and that's that Zusak is a very talented, very brave writer. And even though I didn't love, love, love this book, I still have strong feelings for him as an author. (In the most Platonic way, of course--hehe.)

Ed Kennedy is going nowhere. He's a nineteen-year-old cabbie, making ends meet and playing cards--that's about the extent of his life. Until one day, he and his friends stumble into a bank robbery, where Ed finds himself in the unlikely role of hero. That's when he receives his first card, and his life changes forever. He faces each challenge completely empty-handed, looking and searching for ways to help the people he has to help. This time, failure is not an option. And as he meets his challenges, each one more difficult than the last, Ed finds something in himself that he never knew was there.

I loved Ed--there's something about him that is truly endearing. He's hopeless, and he doesn't care about that. He lives in the most honest way he can muster and looks for a bit a joy where he can find it. But he learns through his challenges, that that is not enough. It's not enough to live small. I think what Zusak touches on here is borrowed from John Donne. The idea that each of us is lacking something that someone else can fill, thereby making an entagled web of connections between all of our human hearts.

And when that happens, when that intricate web is woven, you find love there--great love. A love that can only develop through great sacrifice. This was the part I felt I needed a few days to marinate with, after turning the last page. Because at times this story is violent, overly so. And that part confused me. For Ed, this journey was painful in every sense--emotionally and physically. And after all was said and done, the pain tied him to each person he met in such a deep way, as that pain slowly transformed into love. But why did it have to be so painful? Why were the consequences so great? And then I realized that it wasn't the pain that formed that unbreakable human bond--it was the act of sacrifice. And sacrifice is always painful. Without pain, there is no sacrifice. But without sacrifice, there is no love. And if you take away love, then you are left empty.

Zusak illuminates these sentiments with perfect clarity, without becoming sentimental. Every page is shot through with the most beautiful poetry and lasting images. But I have to say that I was disappointed in the ending, which I felt took away from the meaning of the story and made it feel arbitrary. However, I think this has very little to do with the quality of the writer, or even the book, but rather is a symptom of the process that is a writing career. Zusak is ever improving--he can't be thought at fault because of his success. These rungs on the ladder have to come from somewhere. And in that, I can pardon this terrible disappointment, and I didn't let it ruin the experience for me. And that's exactly the word I would use to describle this book--an experience. One that won't fade for some time, I'm sure. So yes, I think I liked I Am the Messenger--I'm pretty sure I did. =)

The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes

Genre: Fiction
Publisher, Year: Knopf, 2011
Other Works: England, England and Arthur & George
Flags: Moderate language, Explicit references
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Challenge: 100 Books
Premise: Prompted by a curious package, an older man reflects back on his life and some events of his youth that may turn out to be very different than he remembers.

I got this book for Christmas last year, with a nice little gift certificate tucked in the front cover. I always get nervous when I buy a book that I haven’t read before (even though this one was technically purchased for me). Yes, it’s true—I will go and buy a book after I’ve read it from the library. That way, I spend wisely! Anyway, this one turned out to be not worth the nerves at all. It was a beautiful masterpiece, in my opinion, and completely deserving of the Booker prize. That being said, and as much as youth is discussed in this book, I would not recommend this one for younger readers.

The book opens with a group of boys, Tony being our narrator, in high school, debating ideas and philosophy. One boy, Adrian, is clearly the intellectual superior, which makes him the most popular of the group. His comments are always surprising, and yet somehow, spot on. As the boys grow up and go off the college, they grow apart, but each one tries to maintain a friendship with Adrian, Tony included. Tony experiences new things in school, the most important of which is that he gets his first girlfriend. When these two worlds collide, it will set in motion a series of events that will end in tragedy, which will come back to haunt him in his later years, revealing new information that will grip Tony with the realization that things have not always been what they seemed, that perhaps even he is not the person he thought he was.

[Disclaimer: I’m not going to talk about the actual plot points of this book because I feel you have to read them as Barnes intended. There’s an itching temptation to give away too much. And I hope that will be enough to entice you read it yourself!]

I think this book starts out sort of ordinarily pretentious. Those opening pages resemble what some have related to Dead Poets Society, and I have to admit that they did conjure up those images: standing on desks, clapping in a circle, ripping out pages, opening young minds. But it soon takes a turn, and by the end, I could see how every paragraph, every sentence was meticulously chosen—every moment a meaning. Not a word was wasted. And meaning poured forth, like a river of truth.

I love Barnes’s thoughts on the young and the old. The audacity of youth: the innocence, the dreams, the freedom. And that is juxtaposed against the reality of old age: the ordinariness of life, when dreams fall away and the everyday takes shape. He calls it comfortable, peaceable. Tony chose the peaceable way, but in the end, did he choose comfort over fulfilling his potential? Or did he really never have a lot of potential in the first place?

When we are young, we want to believe we are special; we want to believe we are good. When we think back on our memories, we see ourselves in the critical light of the time. We don’t analyze our actions and decisions with the wisdom that age brings, nor are we in any way unbiased. And Tony gets to experience the unpleasantness of questioning himself, after all those years. Here he says of youth: “What you fail to do is look ahead, and then imagine yourself looking back from that future point. Learning the new emotions that time brings. Discovering, for example, that as the witnesses to your life diminish, there is less corroboration, and therefore less certainty, as to what you are or have been.”

And yet, time marches on. It continues forward no matter what our regrets or fears. Whatever we have done with our lives, ordinary or extraordinary or rash, it is done. One event follows another, and each domino falls. And all those events are gathered in to produce a person’s character. The problem is, that the discrepancy between what I think my character entails and what others do, can be vastly different. And as time goes on, as we’ve established it inevitably will, those memories get hazy and misshapen. How can we really be sure of anything? Even something as personal as ourselves? Our own lives? Who we are.

I am going to go so far as to say that this book is genius. It’s a short read but so packed with meaning, I am still reeling from it. I know it will merit rereads in the future and continue to become only that more valuable to me. Oh, and the other thing: I loved it. I absolutely loved it.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See

Genre: Historical fiction
Publisher, Year: Random House, 2005
Other Works: Shanghai Girls, Dreams of Joy
Flags: Adult themes, tenuous references
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Challenge: 100 Books, Historical Fiction
Premise: Two girls grow into women and confront the difficulties of life together in nineteenth century China.

I first heard of Lisa See when Shanghai Girls came out. The cover was beautiful, and I'd always planned on reading one of her books at some point but had yet to get around to it. My awesome book club struck again in that one of our members made me finally make good on my intentions with Snow Flower and the Secret Fan.

Lily and Snow Flower were born in the same month, have the same number of siblings, and had their feet bound on the same day. All of their characters match, and so they become laotong, or old sames. Together they learn many things that women need to know: how to sew and cook and clean, how to be a proper wife, and the importance of bearing sons to carry on the next generation. They pass messages back and forth and record important details about their lives on a fan in their secret women's language, nu shu. And eventually, as women, they will support one another through the most difficult of hardships. In other words, they are as close as two people can be. Until one day, a fatal mistake leaves them both heartsick and alone, cut off from each other.

I simply loved this book. I think the success of Lisa See's writing is equal parts history and narrative. That she is an expert researcher cannot be denied. It comes through on every page as the details and hardships of nineteenth century China unfold. She paints a picture in your mind, so vivid I was completely enveloped by it. In the morning, as I ate breakfast, I thought of congee. As I went through my day, I thought of the stifling confines of the women's chamber. When I did my laundry, I thought about making and intricately embroidering an entire wardrobe. And never far from my mind were the many freedoms that were withheld from women of that period.

But beyond that, See created faces to go with those truths--that way of life that so many knew. The foot binding scene was incredibly haunting, almost too horrible to read, not because of the torturous nature of the practice, although that comes through, but because it was happening to Lily--a girl who loved to run and be outside. A little girl, trying to please her mother and accept her future but still a child. When Snow Flower and Lily meet and begin sharing everything with each other, I allowed myself a sigh of relief because now they would each have love in their lives, a way to be lifted. But a terrible foreboding was always present, a black cloud over the small happinesses afforded Lily and Snowflower. For Lily tells us in the opening paragraphs of the novel that she did not value the greatest love in her life, that she pays the consequences of regret in her old age.

Really, I think this story is about the complexity of love. Love can be a great motivator for good, but can also cause the greatest of sorrows. In a culture where relationships were unduly strained, where feelings were suppressed, Snow Flower and Lily found a way to love each other as women, as equals. And yet, as that relationship endured and situations changed, that love was tested and did not always hold true. Jealousy and pride are as ugly as love is beautiful, and when they creep in, they can, in a short time, eat away at a lifetime of trust.

No matter what women of the period were subjected to, foot binding, a low marriage, an abusive husband, etc., it would definitely be a mistake to assume that those things meant that they had no power. Just because their power wasn't explicit doesn't mean it didn't exist. As much as men were considered to be superior, women's influence was felt everywhere, and they found ways to express it--through their secret writings, in the rearing of their children, in their acceptance of their fates.

I finished this book with the feeling of quiet resignation that becomes Lily as an old woman, sitting quietly, waiting to enter the next world. Hers is a life of abundance, yet some missteps haunt her year after year. We all make those mistakes in life, if we are lucky we can correct them. But often, we are unlucky, and instead we cringe and wring our hands at those memories, wishing we could go back for just a moment and act with greater thoughtfulness. In the end, this story sits in my mind like a Chinese proverb, a cautionary tale. A reminder to cherish, to be grateful, to live without regret.

Linger by Maggie Stiefvater

Genre: Young adult fantasy
Publisher, Year: Scholastic, 2010
Other Works: Shiver
Flags: Teen angst, Tenuous references
Rating: B-, or Not Sorry I Read It
Premise: Another girl meets another wolf. Plus, the continuation of the first girl and her wolf's life together. Then, things start to get sticky.

I read this book awhile ago, so I hope I can do it justice. For me, it wasn’t as good as the first in the series, but still held my attention.

Grace and Sam have happily found a way to be together. Sam has stopped shifting, which is great because he can be with Grace always, but at the same time, an entire part of his life that has in many ways been important to him, is now gone. However, he is still connected to his wolfish past, although not physically, because there are now new wolves that need to learn the tricks of the trade. Enter egotistical, terribly good-looking, spasmodic Cole St. Clair—former rock star turned depressive wolf. And although everyone has a hard time working with him, he proves to be the one person who can provide an important solution to a life-threatening problem that no one has yet encountered.

I just couldn’t get as connected to the characters (ie. Sam) as I could in the first book. Grace was always a bit lacking for me, and she seemed to turn it around a little bit. I didn’t find her spineless in this book, and maybe it was the influence of her earlier experiences that made her grow up a little. I think Stiefvater was faced with a common problem when it comes to sequels, and that is that the ending of the previous story was so perfectly tied up that the characters don’t have much to do but go through their very normal existence together. When the new conflicts crop up, the story’s momentum began to rise, and with it, my hopes.

However, this book also introduces two new narrators, one character that we’ve met before, Isabel, the other a new werewolf, Cole. I have to say that I didn’t enjoy being in either of their heads. Maybe I’m just the type of person who doesn’t get Isabel, but she seems a cookie cutter “poor little rich girl” type, and Cole, I’m sorry to say, seemed simply her male equivalent. And that fact meant that I found everything about their interactions a complete bore. The split narration in the first book was difficult enough, to double that, I think, was asking too much.

I was disappointed that this book also lacked a certain feel that the first did so well. Sam and Grace were haunted by the onset of winter. That cold weather was almost a third main character—a sort of ghostly presence that was always lurking, waiting to pounce. It gave the book an appealing creepiness that I felt was deficient in the continuation of the story. As the temperature rose and fell, so did my anxiety. I felt that sense of urgency was missing.

With all that said, Linger still held my attention, and there were plenty of bright spots of suspense that kept me turning pages. Though I wish the story would have been more concise, once I came to the conclusion, I was satisfied and happy to have spent the time. I will definitely be checking out the final installment.

The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare

Genre: Historical fiction, young adult
Publisher, Year: Houghton Mifflin, 1958
Other Works: The Bronze Bow
Flags: Teen angst
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Premise: A young girl undertakes a long journey to live with her relatives in a Puritan town in newly settled Connecticut. As she struggles to fit in, she finds a true friend in an unlikely place--a friendship that may cost her dearly in ways she doesn't understand.

This is a childhood favorite of many, but I'd never had the opportunity to read it. Unfortunately, the books my teachers picked in 6th and 7th grade were forgettable, since I truly have little recollection of what we read in class. I wish I'd had the foresight to read Speare back then, but I was too busy with The Face on the Milk Carton.

I first encountered Speare in college. We read The Bronze Bow in my children's lit class. It was excellent, and there were many times that I passed by The Witch of Blackbird Pond in the Newberry winners section of the library and thought, I should read that, but then never got around to it. I'm so glad I finally pulled the trigger.

After the death of her grandfather, Kat braves a journey from Barbados, where she was brought up, to a faraway colony in Connecticut, where her mother's sister lives. Her aunt married a Puritan and adopted that lifestyle--one which Kat has had little exposure. Her fancy dresses and numerous belongings have no place in the austere simplicity of her new home. Kat has a hard time adjusting to life in Connecticut, but then she finds solace in an unlikely friendship with an old lady. However, this friendship, one that is supremely important to her, makes waves in her community, sparking a conflict that will rise to immense proportions.

I loved Kat--she's spunky, she's passionate, and although she often makes mistakes in her new home, she's intelligent and caring. She's not frivolous. She is a perfect foil to those with whom she must learn to live, and she grows up quickly as she faces each conflict. Speare shows a detailed and, from what I know, an accurate depictation of what life must have been like then--from the scarcity of resources to the tumultuous political atmosphere to the mob mentality that fear incites.

This book is full of lively characters, wending there way through the mire of life, through prejudice, through freedom of thought and speech, through the duty one has to family and friends and how that can sometimes lead to impossible situations and decisions that are often difficult. This is one I'll be saving on my shelf to read with my daughter one day. And maybe I'll get it down a time or two, just to revisit a wonderful story.

Here Be Dragons by Sharon Kay Penman

Genre: Historical fiction
Publisher, Year: Holt, Rinehart, and Winston, 1985
Other Works: The Sunne in Splendor
Flags: Moderate language, Adult themes, Explicit references
Rating: A, or Great Read
Challenge: 100 Books
Premise: A King's daughter is married to a neighboring country's Prince as a token of peace. However, new family ties prove difficult when conflicts arise.

First off, it took me six months to finish Here Be Dragons. You read me right. It feels decievingly light, small enough to fit in a handbag. Although it couldn't be construed as a "light" read—all you have to do is flip through to realize that it's quite substantial—this book reads heavy.

Penman chronicles the lives of Llewelyn the Great of Wales and King John of England. These two leaders connect themselves through the marriage of John's illegitamite daughter, Joanna, to the much older Welsh Prince. She lives with Lewelyn and learns the customs and ways of the Welsh. Family ties are strained however, as Lewelyn's existing children try to accept his new wife and when English interests conflict with Welsh ones, leaving Joanna caught in the middle.

Penman's extensive research of her chosen topic could not be better demonstrated. She could never be accused of not being thorough. This skill has pros and cons, however, because it makes some sections read more like a history text than a novel. But, after awhile—because you'll have the time—Penman's storytelling style becomes more comfortable. The first onslaught of names and titles causes disorientation, but then it becomes more of a parade of people, gently making their way in the background, and only the most important and memorable characters stand out. They make themselves known; there's no need to "keep track."

What I love about Here Be Dragons is similar to why I love Tracy Chevalier—an author who takes a piece of artwork, together with a few loose facts, and lets the imagination run riot. Penman does the same thing with a list of names and dates. She takes what history provides and adds motivations, political ambitions, loyalties, love. And the result is a plethora of amazing characters and carefully entangled relationships. She leads us through the spectrum of emotions: the contended bliss of a happy marriage to the endless despair of betrayal to the urgent violence of war to the heartbreaking frustration of disappointment. And I have to say that I don't know that I've ever felt so enveloped in a new world as I did in this book. I've been sucked into books before, but never have a felt so at home there, so informed. As if it were natural for me to be there, watching the events unfold.

This is not a story of a couple incidents, tied together by a few main characters. This story is a saga. And really, when you try to boil it down (if that's even possible), Here Be Dragons is about the tested and tried love between Llewelyn and Joanna. A love that thrives in the cracks of the concrete, flourishing under impossible circumstances, nurished only because neither will accept failure. Fraught with hardship, they find a way, and in their determination, a hope for the future is born. Although, in the end, I suppose the same could be said of Llewelyn and his fierce loyalty to the land, Gywnedd, to his people—in a way, he was wed to her, too.

This book is one of those that you could never sit down and read hour upon hour, although I wouldn't call it one that was easy to put down. More because of its sheer density. It's one that had to be digested in sections. It requires time to ponder. Just “one more chapter” before bed will find you reading in the wee small hours. For me, it was absolutely worth the commitment, and I am looking forward to tackling the other two books in the trilogy—sometime soon.

The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

Genre: Fiction, historical mystery
Publisher, Year: Little Brown, 2005
Other Works: Debut
Flags: Adult themes, tenuous references
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Premise: A young girl finds some curious, old documents, which point to the past. When she asks her father about them, she unknowingly re-engages a journey that began many years ago.

I’ve been wanting to read this one for a long time and finally got the chance to do it. I kept putting it off because of the sheer volume—it’s a heavy lifter, this one.  I do wish, however, that  I’d read it in the fall—it’s a perfectly creepy Halloween book. Perhaps I’ll tackle Bram Stoker’s classic next year?  Mmm, perhaps.

A historian’s daughter, who remains unnamed, finds a mysterious book and some old letters one day while looking through her father’s library.  Inside the book there is a woodcut of a medieval dragon with one word: Drakulya.  As she asks her father about the books origins, she learns the truth of her own origin: the circumstances under which her parents met, and the deadly journey they embarked on many years ago to uncover an ancient mystery.

First off, I loved everything about this book—every page.  Most of the book is written in letters from various sources.  You do have to suspend some disbelief in this because to read all those letters would have certainly taken up much of the searching time. But, in this, I am able to concede.  The book is too brilliant to be bothered by it.

You can definitely tell that Kostova is an academic—her detail-oriented nature is deftly demonstrated. She is nothing if not thorough.  And although I learned a lot more about medieval Transylvania than I really cared too, in the end, I found all that detail to really enhance the story. Until the end, you don’t see how that historical backdrop is necessary for the reader to really understand the characters—their motivations would be stilted without all that detail. And what characters they are.  I loved each one.  I read one criticism that said that the characters voices were not distinct enough (a common problem with multiple narrator novels), but I must disagree.  I found Paul’s voice to be very different from his daughter’s and completely separate from Helen’s or Rossi’s.  The characters in this book are very distinct.  Paul is your inexperienced, shy, sweet hero, caught up in something so big, yet he can’t abandon it. Helen, the cold, hardened woman, with brick-wall defenses.  The two of them, an unlikely team. And our brave narrator, naïve, yet bold—she never backs down—a little bit of both her parents. I loved every moment with each of them.  The title is still, as yet, puzzling to me. Not that it’s not fitting, but I’m still not sure who THE historian is.  Is it Paul, Helen, Rossi, Paul’s daughter?  Or is it the master himself? There’s no telling.

I haven’t said anything about the most important character: Vlad, himself.  Do you get to meet him in the flesh, horribly preserved? Well, you’ll just have to read it to find out.  But I can tell you this. Nothing about this book disappoints. Nothing.

Looking for Alaska by John Green

Genre: Young adult, contemp fiction
Publisher, Year: Dutton Books, 2005
Other Works: An Abundance of Kathrines
Flags: Strong language, Adult themes, Explicit references
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Challenge: Countdown
Premise: A boy starts new at a boarding school. He makes new friends, all of whom love to work and play hard. A tragic event changes everything.

I've been meaning to post this review for awhile. I think I read this book almost two years ago and loved it immediately, along with it's quirky author, John Green. This book definitely made a lasting impression on me.

Miles Halter, nicknamed "Pudge," arrives at a new boarding school, full of expectation. He's looking for something, something big, and finds it in the embodiment of a girl, Alaska, and a group of friends who, like him, are just trying to get things figured out, and have a little fun besides. The whole story pivots around one event: one painful and troubled realization, one hasty decision that leaves lasting scars. Before this event, there is adventure, discovery, and the same mistakes teens have been making and learning from for centuries. After—nothing is the same, regrets abound, and, felt most deeply, nothing can be done to change it.

Miles meets with a group of intelligent, misfit teens who like to do those things that all kids that age do—drink life to the lees and damn the consequences. Up to this point, Miles has had little opportunity to be reckless, and with his new life, he’s also ready for new experiences, led by a high-spirited, slightly damaged, beautiful girl. Alaska represents to him every excitement that the world has to offer, and he can’t help himself around her. He’s entranced, with the innocence that envelops every first love.

Amidst all of these physical and emotional discoveries, Miles is also looking for something more, something intangible, what he call the Great Perhaps. Although it may seem like a lot of fun and games—kids being kids, goofing off, and all that—Miles and his ramshackle group are each finding their own paths, grasping for answers to life’s biggest mysteries, the unfairness of it all and what it all means. I can understand why some don’t like this book. I suppose on the surface it could seem like the chronicles of a bunch of over-enthusiastic, irreverent, and under-supervised kids wreaking havoc, but it really is so much more than that. It’s a heart-breaking tale of a heart-breaking time in life. For me, it put into words so much that makes sense about being a teenager, about big choices and even bigger questions, about accepting adulthood. About the frustration of realizing that some questions just don’t have good, solid, scientific method answers. About making sense of the senseless.

This is one I’m definitely putting on my list of what to read with my daughter when she reaches teenagehood. Not only was it brimming with meaning, but was also a joy (and a sorrow) to read. Green is an excellent writer, and the story was well-paced, creative, and compelling. I’m looking forward to reading his other books.

Ender's Game by Orson S. Card

Genre: Young Adult Sci-Fi
Publisher, Year: Tor Books, 1985
Other Works: Shadow series, Homecoming series
Flags: Moderate language, teen angst
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Premise: Alien attack! A young boy is slated to save the world.

"Early to bed and early to rise makes a man stupid and blind in the eyes." Haha. I have to agree, Mazer. Just a little random quote for you. I don't read a whole lot of science fiction, but I've heard for years that I had to read this book. And, I have to say that it didn't disappoint.

In this book, we’re transported to a future where the earth is under an imminent attack of an alien species that threatens to wipe out humanity. To prepare for the coming war, the government trains special children, kids who exhibit the “right” qualities to be successful military commanders, to fight their enemy. Ender, at a tender age, is taken from his parents and sent to Battle School. He has a rough go of it. The adults deliberately prefer him, so most of the kids at the school hate him and he’s bullied from the beginning. As the adults at the school push him to the brink, they force him to learn (and learn fast) at an accelerated level. Ender also learns what he’s made of in his experiences, and it is punishing to him, mind and body. In the end, the fate of the human race lies squarely and heavily on his shoulders.

This book addresses a lot of heavy topics: ones that left me with a lot of questions. Ender is a full-on intricate character, and seeing the world from his view was an interesting ride. On a purely entertainment-value level, I was completely sucked in by Battle School. It took me a little while to catch on, but then I could hardly put the book down. When Ender became commander, I was riveted by his army's battles. I think Card did an excellent job of describing something so well that I could enjoy every aspect of the action even though I've never had any experience with the military. It had a sort of Lord of the Flies appeal in that Ender was more or less left to his own devices, especially in his social relationships, which was particularly unfair since the adults used tactics to make Ender's peers hate him. In growing up, there’s the moment when you realize that your parents may not actually know everything, that being an adult doesn’t automatically make you wise. Ender is forced to this realization much too early, so he has to develop resources to react to his environment—the ordeal he’s being put through—and also figure out who he is and what he wants at the same time. And even though the children in the book are so young, and seemingly too mature for their age, I don't actually think it's too far off considering what children go through during war time. Of course, perhaps in a different way, since we don't see armies being stocked with children much, but I think there are events that when children are forced to experience them, they grow up very quickly. (Notwithstanding the potty humor which was certainly true to form in my opinion!) Ender is a child in body, but what he’s experienced in his short life—what he’s forced to by his circumstances—outweigh his immaturity. As I've gotten older I've learned, that the hierarchical struggle for popularity/power doesn't end with junior high or high school. It's not a childish thing, it's a human phenomenon.

That Ender's social life should be used as a tool to mold him into a leader and a killer was very interesting to me and not one that I had considered. At first it didn't make a lot of sense to me, but in the end I understood. And it left me with questions. Is it really necessary? What if the adults had been kind to Ender? What if they hadn't isolated him or pushed him to the brink of his limits? Is such treatment really needed to order to glean talent? And yet, he was still able to make friends, but only in a way. What the adults also took from Ender was the ability to trust another human being. As a child, he innately trusted adults, who are supposed to be the people who look out for you, help you. But that trust his forever breached, and it has a devastating effect on Ender, who quickly turns from an impressionable child to a wary and careful one. And the result is that there wasn't one relationship in Ender's life that wasn't dysfunctional. So, they end up with the exact mix of what they need in a battle leader, but what of the personal expense?

With the stories final twist (it’s a goodie!), I was left feeling conflicted and empty. War is complicated, and in the end, it’s about people. Part of me wishes the book could have played out like your run of the mill alien action movie, because then the answers to hard questions would be straight forward and easy. The aliens are pure evil and want to annihilate humans, so you get ‘em where you want ‘em and bang!: big smiles, slaps on the back, cigars, fade to black. But you know, that's not real life. In a real war there are always two sides. There are families, cultures, languages, civilizations, on both sides. It's never so cut and dry: good guys vs. bad guys. Though that's the way it is often portrayed. Bad guy beats on good guy, good guy struggles, good guy kills bad guy, everyone is happy. With war comes responsibility and difficult burdens.

Final note: this book has zero love interests. Still loved it.

The Gendarme by Mark T. Mustian

Genre: Fiction, historical flavor
Publisher, Year: Amy Einhorn/Putnam, 2010
Other Works: Debut
Flags: Adult themes, explicit references
Rating: A-, or Good w/ Minor Problems
Premise: An old man is troubled by disturbing dreams--memories of a past he has never known as a gendarme, forcing Armenians out of Turkey. As the dreams continue, he is given a full picture of a past life, including a beautiful Armenian woman, who he loved. As he comes to the end of what he remembers, he is left with many questions. Questions that haunt him.

I found The Gendarme equal parts interesting and disturbing. I knew nothing about the Armenian genocide, and although I was glad to be enlightened to those events, it was definitely a tough read. But, this book left such a lasting impression that I’m glad I kept enduring.

Emmett Conn fought in WWI and was injured. Through some sort of twist of fate, he ends up recovering and moving to the United States, and he gets married and has children—a normal, unremarkable life by many. However, in his old age, as he’s becoming ill, he is beset by strange dreams where he’s remembering a past life. At first, he can’t understand how the cruel gendarme from his dream, ushering suffering Armenians out of Turkey, could be him. But the dreams begin to paint a picture that he knows must be true. And at the center of these memories lies a beautiful woman.

I thought this was a creative plot line, and although not a page turner, it kept my interest as I was shifted back and forth between present and past. With the amnesia, we were able to get inside a war criminal’s head without the inherent evil and hate. This fact leaves the reader with a difficult conundrum: what to do with Emmett? Do we hate him, or can we forgive him? By all accounts, Emmett led an ordinary life after his accident, even a benevolent one, considering that he faithfully took care of his ailing wife for so long. But, after he comes to know of his past, and us too, it’s hard to look at him in the same way. And yet, he’s still the same person. That dichotomy is what makes him such an intriguing character. I wonder that the author is somehow illustrating that piece of human nature—that we all have this part of our personalities there, ready to be activated . . . or deactivated, as with Emmett. Are we all of us capable of such heinous crimes? No matter what good a person does in the world, could that same person be capable of the same level of action on the opposite, the evil, side of the spectrum?

And then there’s Araxie, this arrestingly beautiful Armenian woman. Emmett somehow comes to believe he must protect her at all costs. And his dreams do not put his mind at rest about what’s happened to her. What should he do with this information now, that he’s in his 90s? What could he hope to do for her now? How could he go his whole life long, practically, as one person, to find out that he’s someone else entirely. Someone who probably should have spent his life in prison. He is decent enough to know that. He hasn’t abandoned all the values and morals that govern human decency just because he once had none. And yet there are sparks in his character, in his sordid past, that make you stop and wonder where in fact he went wrong. What along his path led him to be vicious, when he is capable of compassion, at least in Araxie’s case. Perhaps compassion could only be compelled from him in the face of a strong and beautiful woman. Although if he was to be as he should have been, as a gendarme I mean, a pretty face should have only made him the more cruel. It is his love for Araxie that becomes his saving grace. It redeems him as a character. When normally I would find him repulsive, in fact it is hard not to do so, I find his determination to save one woman very courageous.

By the book’s description, I was expecting the main part of the text to be somewhat of a travelogue. For Emmett/Ahmet to find out his true identity and make for Turkey in search of Araxie. To spend weeks and months there, leaving no stone unturned, and then learn of himself and his past as he went from place to place. But, I have to say that I find Mustian’s creation much more realistic and meaningful. What Emmett spent his whole life looking for, his past, is both terrible and beautiful. It’s a perfect puzzle, one which he will never be able to untangle. One he can only vaguely believe. One he will always regret. Perhaps that is the reason his dreams make him act crazy.

I have to say, this book took dedication to finish. It’s none of it easy to read. I enjoyed the pace, although I found some parts starting to lag. Overall, I found it a very thoughtful read, and I’m sure I’ll be thinking about it for some time still.

A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass

Genre: Young adult
Publisher, Year: Little Brown, 2003
Other Works: Leap Day, Jeremy Fink
Flags: None
Rating: B+ or Mostly Good
Premise: Mia is a girl with special abilities--she sees color where others don't. She struggles to find out what this ability is and what it means to her.

I really liked the idea of this book, the main character being a girl, Mia, who sees color in numbers and words. At first, I didn’t realize that this phenomenon, named synesthesia , is a real thing—something that occurs in the actual world in which I live. I thought it was the invention of a creative author, and that the story would unfold similarly to a fantasy novel where the main character has special powers. Although Mia does sort of view her colors as magical, her condition is definitely real. And very cool. I loved Mass’s writing style, somewhat matter-of-fact but very smooth and moving at times. And she really made middle school come alive again for me! Whether that’s a good thing, I’m still not sure. My favorite “middle school” passage includes a schoolmate who covers a so-called “dirty book” with a paper sack cover and a description of a group of boys eating disgusting combinations of foods at lunch, ending with one going to the nurse because he swallowed a dime. Oh how I don’t miss those days!

Mia has a secret. She has seen colors connection with letters, numbers, words, and sounds since birth, but she’s never revealed this to her family since a bad experience in the third grade. Finally, she decides she has to tell her parents. Many trips to doctors ensue as her parents try to make sense of something that seems so strange. Mia feels no less nervous because she’s waited so long to know what causes her colors. As she learns more about synesthesia, Mia learns more about herself and she gets caught up in what her ability means for her, ignoring everything and everyone else in her life. Then something happens that teaches her an important lesson.

I loved Mia’s family. I felt Mass did a wonderful job describing each one and their quirks, her goofy dad, too-cool-for-school older sister, superstitious little brother, and a mom who just doesn’t seem to understand (isn’t it always the way?), then last but not least her loveable, wheezy cat. I have two cats of my own and couldn’t help feel connected to the pet-love plot line. Sometimes it’s weird to think how domesticated animals become part of the family, but they really do.

I loved the beginning and the end of the novel, but the author sort of lost me in the middle. Although her discovery of her “ability” was definitely a good thing, I felt the story sort of dwindled for me, and I started to wonder what the book was really about. I had a hard time figuring out what the purpose of the book was. Was it supposed to show how Mia was discovering herself in finding out her own abilities and seeing them as strengths? Learning about how her synesthesia could be enhanced by certain activities was interesting for me, but I was left wondering how it furthered the themes in the story. Throughout, I had an increasingly harder time liking Mia as she became more and more self-absorbed. Perhaps I was wanting this book to be something it’s not.

I still found many moments to enjoy in this novel. Mass is a gifted writer, and although this book may not have been my favorite, I’m interested to see if I might like one of her other books better.

The Help by Kathryn Stockett

Genre: Fiction
Publisher, Year: Amy Einhorn Books/Putnam, 2009
Other Works: Debut
Flags: Moderate language, Adult themes
Rating: A, or Great Read
Premise: A young college grad collects stories from black maids working in 1960s Mississippi. As she tries to work on the sly, conflicts arise.

This was a book club pick, and I was able to get it read right before the movie came out. I actually got the book at our Christmas party, so it was ready and waiting for me in hardback, which I rarely buy.

Skeeter, a level-headed girl who doesn’t quite fit in, returns home after graduating college. Even though her mother hounds her to get married and her friends seem interested in little else besides their families and the goings-on in their small southern town, Skeeter wants to be a “serious” writer. When she learns that her beloved maid has mysteriously quit without a word, she decides to look into it and finds inspiration. She decides to give the black maids in her town the chance to speak their minds and see their stories in writing. But as she works with the maids and tries to stealthily find a way to publish the book, racial tensions mount.

I quite liked this book. Although it wasn’t a page turner for me, I really fell in love with the characters, especially the two main maids, Aibileen and Minny. Aibileen is a simple and wise woman. She’s experienced her own personal tragedies, which although difficult, have solidified her trust in God and her belief in herself. She’s a courageous, yet loving woman. Where Aibileen is quiet, Minny is loud. They are opposites in many ways. Although Minny knows how to speak her mind, she is still ruled over by a drunken husband, who finds a way to take out his frustration on her. She’s the no nonsense sort, though she considers consequences, weighs their importance, and always sticks her neck out for those she trusts and cares for. For me, the topic of racial inequality holds so much suffering that Minny provided a level of vengeance that I found satisfying.

The only complaint I could have is a sort of perpetuation of the white savior attitude. But with this book, it’s hard to determine if it was intentional, or if that idea even fits as it does with other books and movies. The black characters are given a voice only through Skeeter, a white woman. However, she doesn’t doctor what they say or editorialize. Other than wanting their stories to be heard and wishing she could live in an equal world, I don’t know that she’s really swooping in to save the day. However, the maids are still maids, while Skeeter is trying to make a name for herself (in a way) through their sacrifice. And although the situation for Skeeter is uncomfortable, it’s nothing in comparison to what the maids have to fear. It’s just something that didn’t quite sit right with me.

This book has many narrators, which I think can sometimes be a mistake. But Stockett was able to create very different voices with each of the characters, so that each was distinctly recognizable. I really admire that ability and find it to be rare. The writing was very polished and felt true to life. Although I didn’t live through the time of civil rights, I felt I could relate to the characters and their experiences. Their voices resonated with me, each in a different way. Overall, a good experience.

Shiver by Maggie Stiefvater

Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
Publisher, Year: Scholastic, 2009
Other Works: Lament
Flags: Teen angst, Tenuous references
Rating: B, or Decent
Premise: A teenage girl obsesses over a wolf in the woods. This isn't just any wolf--the animal saved her from a terrifying experience as a child. One day, she finds out that her wolf has a secret.

I went into this book with very little expectation. I had heard it was Twilight-esque in many ways, which is a fair categorization, I would say.

The story opens with a girl, Grace, remembering when she was brutally attacked by a pack of wolves. One wolf in particular, she remembers clearly—the wolf who has been watching her from the woods behind her house ever since. He stalks her and she stalks him right back. A local tragedy sets events into motion that will reveal a secret and change Grace’s life forever.

It’s not too difficult to figure out that Sam, the mysterious wolf, is actually a werewolf—part human, part animal. I thought the rules that Stiefvater invented for her wolf species were very interesting and unique, considering that the subject of werewolves is a variation upon a theme as so many fantasy books are. I enjoyed reading about Sam because he was so consistently conflicted. His wolf life, although not the nature to which he was born, has become so a part of his being, that although it is somewhat of a curse, it is slowly becoming a comfort. He has been so often a wolf, that that form is beginning to feel like home. His loyal family, his good memories, most of his joys as a being are tied up in running with his wolf pack. All except for one—Grace.

Grace as a heroine, however, I felt was lacking. As with Twilight, I felt like the lead female role was not a strong one. By the end of the book, I didn’t feel as though I knew her well, and what I got to know of her wasn’t very appealing to me. She was at times wishy-washy and getting mad over seemingly insignificant things. And although the book starts from the premise that Grace and Sam have been “dating” over six years by watching each other as woman and wolf, I didn’t find that premise very convincing. It seemed like the two were automatically “in love” without the falling part. I would have enjoyed a little more of the getting to know each other and a little less description of passionate kissing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a sucker for a love story. But, I would have liked to see them know each other and connect on an emotional level.

Stiefvater definitely had moments of brilliance in this novel. I could really feel the slow creeping of winter’s cold hand. I’m all too familiar with the dreading of snow, and I think she captured that beautifully. The violence that the cold triggered with the werewolves was really mesmerizing and was so tangible for me. Through her words, I felt the pain as the wolves experienced it. That is the beauty of the split narration of the novel, which I think fit just right.

I’m interested to see what the next books will bring, as there is a sort of momentum from this first novel. I definitely liked it enough to keep reading!

Matched by Ally Condie

Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy
Publisher, Year: Dutton Juvenile, 2010
Other Works: Crossed (out in 2011)
Flags: Teen angst
Rating: A, or Great Read
Premise: A teenage girl begins to question the things she's always accepted as fact when her Society's proven method of "matching" up marriages seems to go awry.

I went into this book sort of tentatively because there was someone I talked to who had read it, I can't remember who now, but they said that it was a creative story, but the writing wasn't that great. I couldn't disagree more. I thought the writing was excellent! A breath of fresh air, honestly. Condie's writing is smooth as silk. It has a musical quality to my ear.

Imagine a place where the Society (central government) directs every aspect of its citizens lives: what to eat, what to wear, where to go, and especially those important decisions like who to marry and what career path to follow. We first meet Cassia, a teenage girl getting ready for her all-important Matching Ceremony, where she will find out who she will marry one day. She is thrilled and surprised to discover that she’s been matched with her best friend, Xander. Such a match doesn’t happen often as most couples are formed from different areas of the country where you’d have no opportunity to know anything about your match before the fated day. However, when Cassia enters the chip into her computer to learn what it says about Xander, a new face flashes across the screen. Another boy she knows, Ky, and now her curiosity about him cannot be suppressed. As her mind is filled with questions, she begins to realize that perhaps things she has accepted since childhood about her surroundings are not all that they seemed to be. +/-

Although I liked Cassia overall, I liked Ky as a character much better. He is a person true to himself. While Cassia is still trying to figure out who she is, Ky has never been more certain of the metal he’s made of. As Ky’s past unravels, I find myself, along with Cassia, greedy for more. He was just the right mixture of vulnerability, strength, and mystery. I loved how Cassia had to figure out in stages what his game was. How he wasn't always what he appeared to be.

I am always amazed how these writers can come up with such an interesting alternate reality. At first, it takes a little time to buy into it. To accept the terminology, the system, and the pills without raising an eyebrow. However, once I was on board, the story and all its little intricacies started to come together, and I realized how creative it was. I have always had this experience with these type of books, and I really am happily surprised that there are writers out there who can keep reinventing the dystopic wheel.

Although I enjoyed the novel, I wish there had been stronger motivation for Cassia to start thinking outside of the box when it came to the Society. I think in several cases, her loyalty to what she’d been taught since birth about her country/government would have been more difficult to break. I had a hard time believing that Cassia would flip on the society so quickly when she'd been brought up with its ideals for so long.

Secondly, I tire of these love triangles sometimes, especially when both parties don’t get a fair shake. Honestly, I can't say whether I like Xander because I simply don't know enough about him. Cassia and he obviously have a long history together, which she knows, but we aren't privy to. I don’t feel like, for me, the inner tension between the two characters is strong enough. I need to really waffle between the two, and, at least from my perspective, there is a clear choice. If there's going to be a love triangle, then I'd at least like the opportunity to weigh both on their merits equally and see which is really the one found wanting. Perhaps this one-sided-ness is by design, and we will get to hear more about Xander as the story continues; I hope so.

Overall, Matched is a fantastic story, a quick and easy read, but one you can really sink your teeth into. A real winner in by book. And the sequel is out this fall!

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold

Genre: General Fiction
Publisher, Year: Little Brown, 2002
Other Works: Lucky
Flags: Adult themes, tenuous references
Rating: A+, or Must Read Now!
Challenge: Countdown, Library
Premise: A young girl is murdered. She narrates the story, looking down from heaven on her family and friends as they cope with her loss.

I’ve been meaning to read this book for some time now, but I’ve been almost scared to pick it up, given the premise. I was afraid it would disturb me, in a Law and Order SVU–sort of way. Really, you can’t broach the subjects of rape and murder without disturbance, but I was impressed with Sebold’s take. She definitely pushed the envelope, but in a way that made life just that much more meaningful and precious. I still can’t stop thinking about it.

The book starts out with an introduction: “My name is Salmon, like the fish; first name, Susie. I was fourteen when I was murdered on December 6, 1973.” A sinking feeling of dread follows this proclamation, as we know when Mr. Harvey approaches Susie and asks her to follow him that she won’t be coming back. But, she knows it, too. As she relates the story, she tells us, in hindsight, what she should of done and how she should have acted, if only she’d known. It’s heartrending, it really is. And there’s nothing to be done to change it. Unfortunately, it won’t be the last time, as the reader, that you’ll feel the burn of regret. +/-

Susie finds herself in heaven after the tragic assault. She can’t help but look down on her family almost every moment, to see how they are coping and living their lives after her demise. They try to move on, to get past it, without forgetting Susie. But, Susie never gets any older, never says or does anything new--she’s simply a presence and lurks in the dark corners of their minds. It’s hard for Susie to watch and be able to do nothing--all while her killer runs free.

It’s a heart-pounding tale; one you will find yourself unable to put down or stop thinking about. Although this book centers around a terrible death, the story is really about life and family and loved ones. It’s about making connections with others. It’s about how sadness can break us, and then faith puts us back together. Those relationships are never quite the same, but they are significant because they were not easily formed--that’s what makes them lovely.

Pride of Baghdad by Brian Vaughan

Genre: Graphic novel
Publisher, Year: Vertigo, 2006
Illustrator: Nico Henrichon
Other Works: Ex Machina (BV), Fables (NC)
Flags: Adult themes, tenuous references
Rating: C-, or Major Problems
Challenge: Library
Premise: Lions escape from the zoo after the bombing of Baghdad.

I’m trying to read more graphic novels, and this one seemed promising. I'm sorry to report that this one did not go over as well as the first. Although the good has to be weighed with the bad. Unfortunately, it wasn’t all I was hoping for, and it left me scratching my head a little, wondering exactly what the author was really trying to do with this book.

Pride of Baghdad documents the adventures of a group of lions once they’ve been sprung from the zoo during the bombing of Baghdad. The group consists of a male, two of his ladies (one old, one young), and a little cub. Conflicts arise as they leave the smoldering heap that used to be their home and venture into the city. They have to find food and shelter, all while not quite understanding what has happened. In the end, the lions fail to find a better life. +/-

First, I have to say that Nico Henrichon's artwork in this book made it for me. I wish I could give the illustrations a different rating because, honestly, they were the best part for me. The facial expression of the lions was really wonderful, even their eyes were expressive. I still can remember those vivid red and orange colors splashing the pages. It made the events more tangible.

However, the writing for me was a little . . . strange. That’s really the only word I can think to describe it. Vaughan made his characters into such a bizarre mix of human and animal, that I wasn’t sure at all what he was trying to get at. He decided to include the idea of gang rape in the book, clearly not something found in the animal world (at least to my understanding), and yet, there’s another scene of “lion sexuality” that seems distinctly animalistic in nature. Honestly, both seemed rather extraneous to me. In another part of the book, the lions pontificate over whether they should eat an obviously dead human being, but then leave an entire bear carcass to rot, because they want that particular individual to “suffer.” Are they driven by hunger, or not?

The book is obviously a thinly-veiled metaphor of the Iraq war, but I found the characters confusing. And the moral-driven plot becomes so abundantly clear in the end, it kind of made me gag. I mean, really? Is the Iraq conflict so cut and dry? I don’t know, maybe I just didn’t get it, but this one just didn’t do it for me.