I have to maintain a very small collection of “popular” YA novels in my library and am having a hard time deciding whether or not to order new, popular stuff that I think is terrible but that a lot of people seem to be reading.  I mean, I already did order that stuff.  I feel kind of like a fake telling people to check these books out.  But if people have fun reading these other things, who am i to stand in the way of their happiness? :(

Or should I only order books I like?  No, probably not.

Octopus Review
Beauty by Robin McKinley

genre: fantasy, fairy tale
age: YA
rating: 5.5/8 tentacles

Robin McKinley writes refreshingly elegant prose. I was especially taken with the descriptions of the enchanted castle; its somber, grandiose decor; and all of the opulent little details of the wardrobe magically procured for Beauty. I like the idea of the blue dress with silver embroidered birds, the hall of portraits that capture the lives of their subjects, and the haunting, animalistic images in the carved arch over the castle’s entrance.

The existence of magic in Beauty’s world is casually introduced, long before we see any evidence of it, in a way that suggests it might only be the stuff of stories. Beauty’s family, who were born and bred in the city, view the countryside and the forests as the dark homes of goblins, fairies, and dragons. The curiosity and uncertainty in Beauty’s delivery of this information smacks of superstition and I could imagine the stories as follies of the ignorant, people’s beliefs about the Unknown they fear. Like those mapmakers who wrote “Here Be Dragons” across painted seas stitched with snakey coils. This representation of magic gave the world an anchor in reality. The novel begins in a world like our own, or like ours once might have been, and we discover magic along with Beauty. McKinley’s is a whimsical, enchanting magic. Two whirling breezes try to dress Beauty in clothes she feels are too extravagant for her and the tea things and dinner plates move on their own, constantly shoving each other out of the way in an effort to present their dish to the visiting lady.

The character of Beauty didn’t make much of an impression on me. Her love of books lacked wonder and curiosity. Her sacrifice wasn’t much of one—she didn’t seem to mind giving up her life or her family although she did miss them once she was gone. She waxed on about the Greeks and learning languages and struck me as a generally stuffy and uninteresting person. My favorite characters were her father, who had such kind intentions, and the Beast. And Greatheart, who became a capital “C” Character in my mind even though he was Beauty’s horse.

McKinley’s writing style and descriptions posses a lovely, sophisticated maturity. I called her prose refreshing earlier because I’m always glad to find writing without that overly sensationalized hyper-introspection that seems to have become common. That type of writing toes the edge of a cliff, over which is a steep descent into self-indulgent blather. But there is none of that here.

There’s more summary than I would like. A balance between summary and action scenes (scenes that relay info vs. scenes during which action unfolds before us) allows the reader to experience the story with the characters at a steady pace. Too much summary creates too much distance between reader and character and too much action might overstimulate or deaden the pace. It depends. I think Beauty could have done with a few more action scenes.

This particular retelling was more similar to the french film released in the forties than to the probably better known Disney film (which I began re-watching after I finished this book). I don’t think I’ve ever actually read any version of Beauty and the Beast before so I can’t compare it to the original fairy tale (although I can say that the characters and background were supplied with a depth absent from fairy tales), but I enjoyed this book very much. I read it all in one day.

If you like this, or think you might like this, or like Beauty and the Beast type stories in general, I recommend reading East by Edith Patou.

YALSA’s top ten YA novels of 2013

Octopus Review
The Diviners by Libba Bray

age: YA
genre: paranormal
rating: 4/8 tentacles

Evie “I want to see my name in lights” O’Neill gets shipped off to live with her uncle in Manhattan after her flapper antics cause trouble for her well-to-do parents. In New York, a ritualistic serial killer whose crimes smack with the supernatural is on the loose and the police ask Evie’s Uncle Will, owner of a Museum of the Occult, to consult on the case. Unbeknownst to her family, Evie posses a supernatural power of her own, the ability to get psychic readings from objects, and she is convinced that if she uses it, she could play an essential role in the capture of the murderer. But this murderer proves to be darker and more elusive than Evie, Will, & Co. expect.

This book shares some similarities with Libba Bray’s previous supernatural trilogy. Both follow the exploits of a young girl in a supernatural version of history. Unlike Gemma’s story, The Diviners is written in third person, and instead of focusing primarily on one character, skips between a multitude of them. The book improves when we’ve had time to get to know the characters a little more. The idea of the American Dream seems to pervade the novel. Most of the characters are motivated by a desire to make something of themselves, to be famous, glamorous, celebrated. To achieve an ideal.

While the book did entertain me, I still felt that something was missing. Instead of the distant, sweeping descriptions of the era, which are scattered throughout the novel (one follows wind, blowing through the city and observing its inhabitants), I would have preferred more time spent on individual characters and more specific, more sensory descriptions of the time period filtered through their points of view. There was a little too much name dropping to convince me of the setting’s authenticity and a little too much stereotype to allow me to connect fully with the characters. The only one I really empathize with is Mabel—I would have like to see more of her. I hope she plays a bigger role in the rest of the trilogy.

The story itself is creepy and mysterious, a good fall read. The plot was resolved at the end (Hooray!), but I’m still left with questions about the characters and their lives. I look forward to the unfolding of these mysteries in the next installment of the trilogy. 

The sequel to Cornelia Funke’s Reckless finally exists!  I’ve been checking her website for at least two years, waiting for news.  Fearless will be released on April 2nd.  Already out in the UK, I believe.  So excited.  Already pre-ordered my copy.

:) :) :)

I’m obsessed with these.  (watch animated book short here)

Octopus Review
Pandemonium by Lauren Oliver

genre: dystopia
age: YA
rating: 7/8 tentacles

Now that Lena has successfully fled her oppressive society, she must come to terms with losing Alex and face the new hardships that accompany life in the small, self-sustained community of runaways located in the middle of a forest. 

Pandemonium’s narrative splits into segments titled “Then” and “Now” that flip-flop between this period, set immediately after Lena’s escape, and the present, during which Lena seems to have adapted and thrived, joining fellow runaways Raven and Tack in their rebellion against an organization called the DFA (Deliria Free America).

I found myself looking forward to the “Now” segments.  I enjoyed watching the clockwork of Raven and Tack’s plan tick out, observing the smooth efficiency of the DFA meetings that Lena attended, and was intrigued by the character of Julian.  His wounded air and sense of entitlement reminded me a little of Colin Craven, who I like.  Lena watches Julian struggle with his inherited beliefs, delusions from which her own experiences had only recently distanced her—making for an interesting relationship.  In Delirium, Alex drops into Lena’s world out of the blue and radically changes everything for her, teaches her to expand her perceptions, to live.  Now it’s Lena’s turn to do the same for some one else.

I did enjoy the survival segments as well, but because I preferred the other chapters, I found myself disappointed whenever I saw the word “Then” heading a chapter.   The two threads of time are two separate stories, one informing the other, but I wish they had been presented chronologically.  I saw no reason to alternate sections like Oliver did—I don’t think this decision increases the drama of the plot, and I wouldn’t have kept getting jerked out of the story I wanted to be reading.

Delirium didn’t resonate with me and I picked up the sequel mainly out of curiosity.  I approached Pandemonium with a kind of oh-all-right-I-read-the-first-one-so-why-not mentality, without expecting to be impressed, but Pandemonium surprised me.  The plot was much more interesting than its predecessor’s, I liked more of the characters (didn’t like Hana or Alex, do like Raven and Julian), and Oliver’s descriptions were just as beautiful as her writing in Delirium.

Octopus Review:
Insurgent by Veronica Roth

genre: dystopia
age: YA
rating: 3/8 tentacles

In this sequel to the dystopian novel Divergent (Which I will review eventually, I swear.  I have notes.), we tune back in as Tris and friends cope with the aftermath of the brainwashed army attack.  Tris struggles with guilt over the death of her friend and of her parents, and attempts to navigate through a world torn asunder, unsure of who she can trust.

Most of Insurgent felt hazy and meandering. It didn’t have a solid, forward moving pace. It didn’t pull me in or hypnotize me. I read most of the story a little detached from it, waiting to be swallowed up into the world it created. I never really was. Little tiny barriers kept shoving me back out.

The lack of contractions, although a valid stylistic choice, only irritated me. The witty/romantic banter between Tris and Four felt unnatural and not as clever as I assume it was intended to be. The dialogue in general felt staged.

I’ve been noticing that a lot of contemporary YA authors write with this introspective, flowery, self aware voice that is sometimes—in extreme cases—so overly descriptive it veers into pseudo-poetry built of descriptions crafted for effect and not function. I think we get a little of that in Insurgent. There’s a lot of words flying around but not a lot of substance.

I would hazard that most of my hazy meandering feelings came from being trapped in Tris’s thoughts and fears and regrets. In Divergent, we live in Tris’s world, experiencing it through Tris. In Insurgent, we live in Tris’s head, which is not as interesting.  Because she never takes any action to resolve her guilt or confront her fear (until the very end, maybe), these thoughts grow tiresome to read about.

I floated through the book, until about the last third, when my interest was finally sparked and I sat up in my seat, eager to read ahead. It wasn’t until Tris was faced with a clear goal and an intriguing obstacle to outwit that I thought, “Yes. This is what I wanted. This is why I liked Divergent.” Insurgent needed more immediate conflict, more tension. And the twist! Oh, the twist. How frustratingly unoriginal. Maybe Roth will do something to the freshen the idea in her third novel, Detergent (a guess), although none of the millions who’ve already used it in movies, books, and probably television have, so I daren’t dream.

Octopus Review:
Fever by Lauren DeStefano

genre: dystopia, sci-fi-ish
age: YA
rating: 3/8 tentacles

Fever begins just after Rhine and Gabriel have escaped the mansion—their extravagant prison—and we follow them as they attempt to put more and more distance between themselves and the cold science of Vaughn’s evil. This type of action calls for a quicker pace than Wither with more focus on plotting and less of that honey-slow description featured in the first installment of the series.  Give me action! Give me adventure! Give me… a voyeuristic prostitution tent swathed in vagueness? Wait.

I definitely preferred the second half of the book to the first. There’s a kind of slow cloudiness in the beginning, after the initial post-escape excitement. Typical on-the-run adventures primarily move move move. Characters get to one place, interact with people, figure stuff out, go to another place. That’s what I expected from Fever, but Gabriel and Rhine dawdled at times and didn’t do much finding out.

There’s definitely some juicy stuff later on. ( Hint: remember how Linden seemed to have no idea that his beloved brides were kidnapped by his father? How he obliviously lavished them with all sorts of luxurious gifts, how he blindly hoped for love? In Wither, I got the impression he almost expected gratitude from his “wives,” a repulsive expectation, considering the violent way the girls were extracted from their lives, torn from their families. They witnessed the cold-blooded execution of the other girls, not deemed good enough to belong to Linden. I wanted that violence to be shoved in Linden’s face. I wanted his stupid delusions to be shattered into pieces, his stolen happiness punctured.)  I love the scenes with Rhine and Linden.  That is some fantastic, complicated stuff.  Linden might be my favorite character.

He’s much more interesting that Rhine’s erm… consensual “love” interest.  Oh, Gabriel. What to say about Gabriel. Not much. There’s not much about him to discuss. He’s blonde, and likes Rhine, and is possessive. That’s all I know. He is the paper kite at the end of the string in her hand. If she lets go, he is nothing. He has no characteristics beyond his attachment to Rhine.

Gabriel’s bland character contaminates his romance with Rhine (also bland). I blame his possessiveness. They don’t seem to have any actual affection for each other. Yes, Rhine shows concern for Gabriel when he’s drugged out of his mind. But I think she mostly just feels guilt that she tore him out of one hell only to drag him right into a more horrific one. She feels obligated to protect him, to rescue him from the terrors of this world she’s inflicted upon him. I don’t see any evidence that Gabriel cares for Rhine, other than the way he glares at those who try to touch her, like a dog snapping at a stranger who wants to take his toy. The guilt is good. I like the guilt; it creates ambiguity and conflict. What I’m not sure I like is Gabriel’s flatness. Even if their relationship is a sham, I’d like him to have a little more depth.  The problem is that I’m not sure what their relationship is supposed to be.

What it all comes down to is this: Wither entranced me, this book doesn’t feel finished. Nothing pulls the plot forward and I spent most of my time with Fever just waiting, and just as things picked up, the novel ended.

Octopus Review:
City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare

genre: paranormal
age: YA
rating: 3/8 tentacles

I have mixed feelings about City of Lost Souls, mainly because it didn’t meet the expectations built up by the previous four books in The Mortal Instruments series.  I wanted to like it, I really did, but there are just too many problems. 

This fifth installment reads more like fan-fiction than professional writing: self indulgent, lacking focus, and poorly edited. Clare spends too much time on cliched descriptions of make-out sessions and telling us what her characters are wearing.  Providing detailed descriptions of a character’s ensemble every single time he or she enters a scene is an amateur’s mistake.  If the outfit is relevant or contributes to characterization, these details help readers visualize the scene, but too much of this information bogs down the story and distracts readers from what matters. This line, for example, does not work:

“As she came in, Alec looked up and saw her, and sprang to his feet, hurrying barefoot across the room—he was wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a torn collar—to put his arms around her.”

The color of Alec’s sweatpants is not important and doesn’t warrant interrupting the action to tell us about them. Shoving this information in ruins the flow of the narrative.  Sadly, this line is not the only one of its kind.

This oversharing is one of the many ways CLS lacks focus. I often found myself thinking, “What, this again? Get to the good part!”  Clare spends an inordinate amount of time on the trivial exploits of secondary characters. Maia and Jordan’s scenes were all pretty much gooey teen romance, which I’m not a fan of to begin with (personal preference), and dislike even more when it contributes nothing to significant characterization or plot.

The plot (Clary and friends’ attempts to find Jace and Sebastian and then stop Sebastian’s nefarious scheme) often got buried under the aforementioned makeout sessions and fashion commentary, but when it wasn’t, when we were right in the thick of things—the book was pretty good. There was a lot of interesting development with Sebastian’s character and his relationship with Clary. My favorite scenes were with Sebastian. He’s a fantastic—I don’t want to say villain, because Clare makes things nice and grey for us. A very dark grey, but grey nonetheless.

The climax stood out as the strongest part of the novel.  I wish Clare had written the rest of it with the same clarity and focus.

The City of Lost Souls possesses an entertaining plot that has been sucked into the quicksand of Clare’s surprisingly amateurish writing.  The novel could have used some more editing to really reach its potential, I think.

Octopus Review:
Dramarama by E. Lockhart

genre: realistic fiction
age: YA
rating: 5/8 tentacles

Sarah Paulson is bored with her life in what she sees as a dead-end middle-of-nowhere sort of town.  She gives herself a dramatic makeover, changes her name to Sadye,  and heads off to a summer theatre camp with her best friend Demi, convinced that her fortune is about to change, that the world of theatre will nurture her true self and allow her to grow into the sensational human being she knows she’s meant to be.  But theatre camp isn’t quite the dream Sadye expected.

One of Lockhart’s talents is making readers empathize with her protagonists. Even though I didn’t like Sarah/Sadye, I felt enragedly frustrated on her behalf as she fought to prove herself at a summer semester of drama school. She was like a little mole who kept popping her little mole head out of its hole, blinking in awe at the dazzling world of theatre, only to get whacked on the head by a mallet-happy drama instructor.

I pronounced “Sadye” as “Sad-yuh” in my mind. I knew it was supposed to be Sayd-ee from the moment I saw it but my brain wanted to say it the way it was spelled. Should have gone with Sade, Sadey, Sadie, Sady… there are so many options. Sad-yuh doesn’t work for me.

The novel is interspersed with transcripts of the tape recordings Sadye and Demi make of their adventures at drama school.  The format is clever but boring.  Dialogue included in these segments feels flat and mostly uninformative and I had trouble following the conversations.

I’m not particularly interested in theatre, but the details of life at drama school entertained me and made me feel like I was looking into a secret world. I liked the ambiguous portrayal of friendship vs. competition and mindlessly following orders vs. creative collaboration. Dramarama is enjoyable, but not as good as Frankie Landau-Banks, which I constantly recommend to everyone.

Check out NPR’s Top 100 Teen Books at npr.org.

—————

FINALISTS I RECOMMEND:

The Harry Potter Series by J.K. Rowling (obviously)
The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins
The Fault in Our Stars by John Green
The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien
The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
The Book Thief by Maarkus Zusak
The Giver Series by Lois Lowry (except The Messenger, didn’t much like that one)
His Dark Materials Trilogy by Philip Pullman
The Princess Bride by William Goldman
Lord of the Flies by William Golding (not to be confused with the above)
Paper Towns by John Green
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes
Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher
Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli
A Separate Peace by John Knowles
My Sister’s Keeper by Jodi Picoult (the only Picoult book I will ever recommend)
Graceling by Kristin Cashore
Treasure Island by R.L. Stevenson
The Gemma Doyle Trilogy by Libba Bray
The House on Mango Street by Sandra Cisneros
The Chocolate War by Rober Cormier
I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak
Feed by M.T. Anderson
Betsy-Tacy Books by Maud Hart Lovelace (childhood favorites)

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MY NEW READING LIST:
* = books I already own

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien*
Tuck Everlasting by Natalie Babbit
The Absolutely True Diary of A Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie
The Call of the Wild by Jack London*
Go Ask Alice by Anonymous
Howl’s Moving Castle by Diane Wynne Jones
Abhorsen Trilogy by Garth Nix
Dune by Frank Herbert
Earthsea Series by Ursula K. Le Guin
Song of the Lionness Series by Tamora Pierce
Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs*
Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury
Unwind by Neil Shusterman
The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle
Crank Series by Ellen Hopkins
The Immortals Series by Tamora Pierce
Daughter of Smoke and Bone by Laini Taylor
Weetzie Bat Series by Francesca Lia Block
Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson

So I guess there’s about half I want nothing to do with.

Octopus Review: Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

age: YA
genre: period, romance, paranormal
rating: 4.5/8 tentacles

**SEQUEL ALERT: BEWARE OF SPOILING CLOCKWORK ANGEL**

Our demon-killing, shape-shifting, cane-carrying, magic-wielding, corset-wearing, book-quoting friends are back!

Okay so let’s start with things I didn’t like so we can end on a positive note.
I found the plot of this novel to be much less well-crafted than Clare’s other work. I particularly like The Mortal Instruments series for its forward-moving plots that are centered on some kind of mystery or adventure—like where’s mom and who are these weirdos with pictures on their arms? I enjoy romance when it’s a subplot, but this trilogy’s romance is creeping into the forefront, greedily elbowing the actual plot out of its way. In Clockwork Prince, the Magister and the clockwork angel and Tessa’s unique abilities all take a backseat to her love triangle with Will and Jem. The romance is a spicy bonus but I’m reading the book because I want to know the secrets behind the Magister’s sinister scheming, why Tessa can shape shift, and who her parents were.

The one thing about Tessa that makes her interesting, that makes her stand out as a character, is the fact that she’s a shape shifter and had no knowledge of this fact until some demon sisters trained her to do it properly. She should be using this ability, exploring its possibilities. This is what I was looking forward to when I read Clockwork Prince, but Tessa only shape shifts three times in the whole book: twice because it’s part of a plan and once in the heat of battle. Why isn’t she sneaking around in other bodies, getting into scrapes, and spying on people? Why isn’t she using her skills for peronal gain or even just out of personal curiousity? It’s such a fun, promising idea that I’m surprised Clare didn’t do more with it. The subservient role of women in this time period lends itself to unique opportunities in this plot line.

I also had minor issues with some historical aspects of the novel. There was a kind of half-way attempt at period dialogue, but all Clare really did was use “shall” and get rid of contractions. I’m pretty sure that people used contractions in Victorian England. I think, with period speech, you either have to do research—which isn’t too hard, read some old letters or something—and really go for it, or you have write in the present day vernacular (avoiding obvious anachronisms) and it will just be understood that the character’s words are being translated in storytelling. Like in the movie Everafter. It’s set in medieval France, and yet everyone speaks with vaguely old-fashioned diction in English accents. It’s understood that the speech was adapted to aid the audience’s understanding. Maybe that’s what Clare was doing, but something about it felt off, or forced to me.

Clockwork Prince could have done with a little less classics-quoting. On the one hand, it’s interesting to know what was popular at the time and the books mentioned help set a historical backdrop. On the other hand, it’s a bit of a pet peeve of mine to read books that constantly quote other books. It feels a little bit like name dropping, or like a cheatery way to give the characters more depth.

Ta da! I’m done complaining.

I did like Clockwork Prince. Not as much as Clockwork Angel and definitely not as much as The Mortal Instruments, but I enjoyed it. It’s the kind of book that has this magnetic pull to it, that makes you think about it constantly when you’re not reading it, that makes you count down the minutes to the end of your work day even more urgently than usual because you have a book to get home to, that makes you stay up reading late into the night. I’m trying to think of specific praises to balance out my review full of criticisms and the robot battle scene was pretty cool and the Jessamine thing was intriguing (and oh my god I forgot to complain about Will’s secret but this is getting long), but I think this addictive quality is so wonderful and rare that it balances out all of the little flaws on its own.

And so my morning begins.