Review: Rae Carson, The Girl of Fire and Thorns

This is the second book I've read in the last week that was published in fall 2011 and is about a 17ish year old girl in a richly imagined fantasy alter-universe with the title "PERSON of NOUN and NOUN." (The other book was Daughter of Smoke and Bones. Hopefully I will get around to reviewing it one of these days. It wasn't bad.)

This is the story of Elisa--a deeply insecure, overweight princess, who happens to be the bearer of a thing called the "godstone" which is a giant jewel type thing somehow attached to her bellybutton. Godstone bearers come around once in 100 years and they are expected to perform some heroic act of service for their people. No one understands why fat, boring, depressed Elisa of all people would be chosen to bear the godstone, but alas. She has an arranged marriage to a powerful king in a neighboring country and pretty early on things get intense; there are attempts on her life (because people want that godstone!), a kidnapping, guerrilla warfare, a typical underdeveloped YA-style romance, a transformation from fat/ugly to thin/super hot (because obviously a fat girl couldn't be the heroine of an entire book, who would want to read about a fatty for hundreds of pages on end? Gross much?), and an epic battle at the end.

Certain things about the book were really great. It's a page turner; I read it in two nights for hours at a time. The world Carson has created, while similar to our own, is fascinating in the ways that it differs. There is no modern technology (no electricity, no cars, etc.), yet the gender distinctions that exist even to this day in the real world between men and women are virtually nonexistent. Elisa masterminds battle strategies, directing warriors and statesmen alike in the art of war, and no one bats an eyelash that a woman would have this role. I also like that we're given no explanation what exactly this world is. The "Lengua Classica" that the noble people speak is basically Spanish, the religion people follow seems like a Jesus-less brand of Catholicism, rich with bizarre ritual and history, and the terrain is similar to that of our own world (deserts, jungles, etc.). It could be a postapocalyptic world, or it could be a fantasy universe altogether--I like that the author doesn't spell it out and leaves it up to our imagination.

The animagi were very well done. I could really picture them with their terrifying glowing blue eyes and their white hair and their evil creepiness, standing in a row with glowing amulets getting ready to burn people alive. Very scary bad guys----very effective. I wish we could learn a little more about their history though; were they former bearers themselves or did they snatch the godstones in their amulets off of others? Did they start as normal people who just got caught up in the lust for power? Maybe Carson will give us more info later in the trilogy.

I liked Elisa as a main character, though I agree with some other reviewers' complaints that it's disappointing that she only comes into herself after she has a dramatic weight loss and transforms into an attractive person. While on the one hand I commend Carson for what no other author in this genre I'm aware of has ever done---having a fat female protagonist---it's unfortunate and not sending a great message that she had to lose all the weight and become physically attractive before she began demonstrating admirable character traits and acting like a real leader. Oh well.

I thought the romance was bland and lacking depth. Like so many of these books, it happened way too fast and was all telling, no showing. I felt that I had a pretty good idea of who Elisa was as a character, but her love interest was completely undeveloped, and the few scenes they shared together before the romance flared up were pretty passionless and dull. I could see no reason why the love interest (forgetting his name at the moment, sorry) was attracted to her because all the author did was tell us he was attracted to her; there was no showing. Elisa's attraction was easier to buy--as a fat chick obviously she is starved for love and would be into anyone who showed an interest. Humph.

That said, I appreciate that the romance was by no means a central component of the book. This is a story about a warrior princess who goes from being pampered, insecure, and basically useless, to becoming a brilliant political leader and military strategist, and that is the main point, not her romantic interludes. This is a nice change from a lot of other YA books (not that I don't love a good set of star crossed lovers, don't get me wrong).

SPOILERS:

The ending seemed very lame and contrived to me. It was also extremely confusing. I'm still not sure what happened, so forgive me if I'm getting it wrong. One minute, all hell is breaking lose--the animagi have broken into the castle and have Elisa & her family surrounded. The next, Elisa has a revelation about godstones and realizes if she grabs five of them and like, attaches them to the flowery bath tiles in her bathroom--tiles that were designed by a former bearer and conveniently are mere feet away from the room where everyone happens to be gathered when the animagi attack--then a very magical thing will happen and wonderful white power will shoot forth and cripple her attackers.

In truth, this felt like a sort of lame, fanfictiony imitation of the end of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, when the Ring is destroyed and there's that massive power wave that ripples through Sauron's army and incapacitates the enemy. The difference is, we knew all along what needed to be done with the Ring, because Tolkien sets the whole thing up brilliantly, whereas in this book, this magical bath tile + godstone idea turns up out of the blue and just seems a little too convenient. Like the author got herself into a deep pickle and knew she wanted the good guys to win but couldn't figure out how, so she just made some random stuff up at the end. Felt lazy.

Over all though, an enjoyable read. The fact that I read this straight through cannot be overlooked. I enjoyed it as I was reading it, even if I complain now. Still, don't think I'll be bothered to read the sequel. 3 stars.

Review: Richelle Mead, Bloodlines

aaaaand SHE'S STILL GOT IT. Phew. I was really nervous about Richelle Mead's new book series. To be honest with you, I haven't been reading much YA lately, but I have been counting down to this book's release since Last Sacrifice came out in December.

Ok ok ok ok ok ok. I haven't reviewed anything in awhile, deep breaths. Well. I'll start with the negative, which is worth mentioning, though in the end, upon reflection, did not really impact my over all opinion that much. Richelle I love you but some aspects of this plot were pretty predictable. I knew from the start that Lee was shady. And that obvz the alchemists were involved with the magic tatz. And the fact that this picks up so soon after Last Sacrifice was a bit weird. I'm glad Richelle was sensitive to this and didn't have Adrian and Sydney jump each others' bones immediately. Any of her colleagues would have. But she has patience. And skill! So much skill.

The truth is empirically this: no one else writing in this genre (YA paranormal) understands HOW TO BUILD A FREAKING CHARACTER. Richelle gets it. Sydney has a completely different voice than Rose. She is calm, focused, organized, diligent, thoughtful, where Rose is a maniacal force of death. Both are wonderful characters, but they are so different and so realistic in their separate ways.

Adrian is a vivid, incorrigible, infuriating, yet ultimately smoky hot character. Dimitri is another level altogether: solemn, passionate, and so deadly serious about the things that matter to him.

Point out one character in the Morganville Vampire series or House of Night, or even TWILIGHT, that has half so many traits, that comes to life even remotely as much as any of Richelle's secondary characters, let alone her leads.

Mmmm. So yes I was annoyed with a few plot things but in the end I loved the book. I love Sydney, Jill, Eddie, and the whole crew. I love Adrian more now than I ever did in Vampire Academy. I'm serious: no other writer in this genre has the ability to make me care even 10% as much about the characters. It is inspiring!

Now we have to wait for May though....blegh.

Review: Jenny O'Connell, The Book of Luke

Well. It has been awhile. But I am back, for the moment. Something about the summer just makes me want to read YA novels, and something about YA novels makes me want to blog about them. Especially bad ones. I just cannot resist.

And honey child, this one was a rough peach. Where to even begin. The narrator, we are told, is a senior in high school. Yet oddly she has the voice of a middle aged mom. Occasionally, the author throws in vulgar language that is supposed to resemble the way actual teenagers talk (i.e. "What a dick move!") but the result is actually just jarring because it doesn't remotely match the other 90% of the narrator's language.

Backing up, let's discuss the premise. Emily is nearing the end of high school when her father lands a new job and decides to move the family from Chicago to Boston, a traumatic move for any kid, most especially one who is in the middle of her senior year of high school. Emily does not take it well. Unwilling to embark upon a long distance relationship, her beloved football player boyfriend dumps her the morning of the move, and she boards the plane to Boston teary eyed, preparing herself for what will inevitably be a lifetime of pain and sorrow. Fortunately, on her first day at the new school in Boston, she reunites with her former best friends, Lucy and Josie, who appear to be among the most popular girls in the school (turns out Emily actually grew up in Boston and had only left it for Chicago three years ago). Only Josie too is in a rut, having recently been dumped over email by her boyfriend, Luke, a dreamboat lacrosse player. Coming to the obvious conclusion that all guys suck and know nothing about girls, the trio decides to write a handbook, The Guy's Guide to Girls, in order to train guys on how to behave like homo sapiens instead of mutant toads. It's not long before they take it one step further and decide Emily should go undercover and seduce Luke and "train him up" using the handbook, so that Josie can then win him back once he's been reformed and live happily ever after. You can guess where it goes from there, complete with complicated emotions, betrayal, and many many tears shed.

Blegh. This book is trying to compete with books by Jennifer Echols and Simone Elkeles. And it just does not measure up. The main problem is that the characters are one dimensional, on the occasion that they possess any dimensions at all. Emily is a true bore. She's a "nice girl" who is fed up with being nice, since all it did was get her dumped, and so she decides to be mean, by seducing Luke as an experiment. Her first interaction with Luke is a disaster. She invites him to go with her to a dance and he says ok. But then he stands her up and she is humiliated in front of half the school. The next day at school, she asks him why he didn't go to the dance. He starts to blow her off, but then is stunned by her apparent cool over the whole thing. Unlike most girls who we're apparently supposed to believe are just high maintenance irrational maniacs, Emily doesn't throw a fit over Luke's rude, dismissive behavior. She tells him it's no big deal, she understands. And Luke finds it irresistible. From that moment he's hooked.

Barf barf vom. What kind of lesson is this teaching the girls of today? If your guy blows you off or fails to do something he said he was going to do, stifle your disappointment and act like it's no biggy? Otherwise he's going to think you're crazy and move on to the next bimbo and you'll wind up desperate and alone for all eternity with no companion save your own insanity? Just splendid.

The Guy's Guide to Girls is shallow and repetitive too. Each chapter begins with a little blurb from the Guide. Things like "brush your hair once in awhile," "Use an umbrella," "Let girls have a chance at the remote control," and "Don't rewatch the same sporting event a hundred times" are about as deep as it gets. There are two entries devoted to condemning dudes who play "air guitar" yet don't even know how to play a real guitar. THE HORROR. I don't know, it just struck me as pretty lame for a book based on the premise of two heart-broken girls trying to reform the opposite sex. Your earth-shattering tips are things like brush your hair? Put down the air guitar? Mehhhh.

There is zero chemistry between Luke and Emily. A few scenes where she wipes ketchup off his chin are about as sexy as it gets. Neither character has a real personality. Luke seems like he could be interesting. He was a pudgy, nondescript kid up until sophomore year, when he suddenly morphed into the hottest guy in school. There's a bit of mystery there, and while you're reading you kind of expect to uncover some dark secret about Luke that would explain why he changed so much. But nope. Nothing.

Fortunately, everything is tied up at the end in a neat bow. I will say no more. Read this one only if you've exhausted the entire cannon of Simone Elkeles and Jennifer Echols and anything else decent. It was a struggle for me to even finish.

2 stars

Review: April Lindner, Jane

Jane Eyre is one of my all time favorite novels. The first time I read it, I was in high school, and I liked it so much that as soon as I (weepingly) finished the last page, I immediately began rereading it. I've probably read it a dozen times since then (addictive personality, what?) and each time it evokes new emotions, new questions. Why does Jane, the most sensible person in the world, not try harder to get a direct answer out of Rochester about the mystery in the attic before agreeing to marry him? Is Bertha's madness purely due to genetics or does Rochester has some culpability for bringing her out of her natural habitat in the exotic West Indies into oppressive Victorian England? What does it say about gender in 19th Century England that Jane and Rochester can't get together until Rochester has been made a cripple, robbed of his physical robustness and independent lifestyle?

April Lindner's Jane is a modern day, YA-geared take on Bronte's classic, in which Jane Moore is a 19 year old nanny to ultra-famous rockstar Nico Rathburn. It just so happened that I was in the midst of an 8th or 9th honeymoon with the original (inspired by the new Masterpiece Theater adaptation, by far the best one out there in my opinion) when I heard about this book. I preordered Jane on my Kindle and counted down the days until it was released. After which I sat down and read it in one sitting (yesterday).

Jane is enjoyable and frustrating at the same time. Lindner does do justice to the main characters - although perhaps more so to Jane than Rathburn. I was impressed, for the most part, at how well both characters' voices translated from Victorian English into modern day American vernacular (though I did miss phrases like "Deuce take me!"). Rathburn is still prone to the vulgar outbursts and ironic quips that have made female readers of the original swoon for nearly 200 years--and Jane still responds to him with that calm, succinctly worded logic that we all wish we could possess in the face of such a dead-sexy (if occasionally violent) master.

While I do adamantly believe that it's essential in these types of projects for the characters to stay true to the original, I find it irritating when the plot is a direct replica. And this is where Jane failed for me. Every single scene that happened in Jane Eyre is replicated in Jane, such that it's impossible to ever, for even a moment, stop comparing the two. And in doing so, Jane, of course, always falls short. The whole idea of turning Rochester into a rockstar was a creative spin on the 19th century English aristocrat concept, but that's about where Lindner's imagination ends. She should have been bolder, more confident in her own creative abilities, and less chained to Bronte's plot in its every minute detail.

Let's consider for a moment another modern day adaptation of a 19th century English classic: Clueless. Here, the characters are recognizable to those in Emma, and by the end of the movie they basically end up at the same place as they did in Emma. But along the way there are numerous variations, so that you really can forget for huge gaps of time that you're watching a "remake." Clueless can stand alone as a great movie in its own right, whereas Jane will never be more than a carbon copy of Jane Eyre.

That's not to say Jane isn't a fun read, or a thought-provoking one either. I liked Lindner's interpretation of the relationship between Rochester and Bertha (Bibi, here). Bibi is not just some lunatic with a genetic disorder - she's a woman that Rathburn actually deeply loved, once upon a time, and, we're led to believe, could love again if she could ever be cured from her insanity. Rathburn's negative influence (through the drugs, alcohol, and generally wild lifestyle of a rockstar) on her was a direct cause of her descent into madness, and he has never been able to forgive himself for it. The true history of Rochester and Bertha is one of the biggest mysteries of Jane Eyre and I found Lindner's take on it very interesting and believable.

For me, aside from the boring scene-by-scene imitation of Jane Eyre, the other low point was the final few chapters. Without giving away any spoilers, I'll just say that these final chapters seemed rushed and lacking in feeling compared to the rest, which was very disappointing for me, as I am always overcome with emotion when reading the final chapters of Jane Eyre.

3/5 stars

Review: Susan Beth Pfeffer, The Last Survivors trilogy

3.5/5 STARS

I was in various stages of non-completion of several books, including: City of Bones (which I've been trying to finish for almost a month now - something must be wrong with me but I just can't get into it!) and Sabriel (have been trying to read this once for a decade but haven't made it past the 3rd chapter yet), when I arrived at work one day and saw that a friend had left Susan Beth Pfeffer's moon trilogy on my desk. Drawn in by the yummy promise of postapocalyptic doom + teenage angst, I abandoned everything else I was reading and dove in.

Unlike some end of the world science fictiony trilogies we know of, this one actually does contain three books: Life as We Knew It, The Dead and the Gone, and This World We Live In. The premise, if not groundbreakingly original, does make for a pretty nail-biting read, from the first page to the last. An asteroid hits the moon and knocks its orbit closer to earth. This might not seem completely catastrophic at first - until you remember that thing about the tides and how the moon is responsible for them. So a closer-to-earth moon = higher tides. Which means places like Florida, California, or New York City, for example, get tsunami'd out of existence within minutes.

The first book is a series of journal entries by Miranda, a 16 yr old basically normal girl who lives with her mom and two siblings in Pennsylvania. She starts writing in the diary a couple days before the asteroid situation happens, intending to use it to record typical 16 yr old type problems like when will I get a boyfriend? Why is my mom so protective - I'm practically an adult, you know! Will the 82 I got on my math test prevent me from getting into a good college? etc. Then the asteroid hits the moon, and things begin spiraling out of control. It's a slow spiral at first. Sure, there are news reports estimating casualties in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions, in coastal areas. Which is devastating but feels a long way off. Life goes on kind of as it did before at first...until food begins to run out, and former friends and neighbors go into survival mode and turn on each other. Bodies begin to pile up. Volcanoes erupt in places like Montreal and Nevada, pouring ash into the atmosphere so the sun can't penetrate and there is frost in August. With no electricity, oil, or gas supplies, and rumors of a horrible flu epidemic, Miranda and her family aren't sure whether hunger, cold, or sickness will kill them first.

In some ways, these books reminded me a bit of the Hunger Games. Miranda has a bit of Katniss in her - she's prickly and can be selfish and fickle. She has a dry sense of humor. She's very protective of her family. But at the core, her own emotions and happiness are what matter most to her. She did feel like a real person to me, even if not always an immensely likable one, so she gets points for that.

By the third book, things are so grim that family members are contemplating murdering each other just to put their loved ones out of their misery. That reminded me a lot of "The Hanging Tree" theme in Mockingjay. That "Hanging Tree" song was one of the most haunting parts of the book - definitely got to me more than all the blood and gore of the "pods."

But I digress. This moon trilogy is a quick read - you really can't put it down - but it's not as creative or deeply felt as The Hunger Games or Catching Fire (can't really lump Mockingjay in there...am still so upset over it). For one thing, the 2nd "companion book" in the trilogy has basically the exact same plot as the first one, only it's told from the perspective of a boy in New York.

Another thing I found disappointing was the way certain relationships developed in the third book. The most powerful relationships in the first two books were those of family. The love and sacrifices of Miranda's mother for her children, of Alex Morales for his bratty sister Julie, and so on. The way these family members cared for each other reminded me - (sorry to keep going back to it) - of Peeta's love for Katniss. Pure and strong and certain. But in the third book, a few characters begin forming new romantic attachments that seem whimsical and not grounded in anything other than hormones. And suddenly it is these new relationships that matter more than anything - more than the family ties that have allowed these characters to survive against all odds for the last year.

But...I guess people can't be expected to act rationally in a world where half a can of sardines is considered a hearty meal and picking valuables off bloated corpses in the street is a savvy trick for survival.

Ok I have rambled on long enough. I do recommend these books. They're not classics in the genre the way things like The Hunger Games or The Giver are, but they're definitely worth reading.

Review: Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay (Hunger Games, #3)

I intentionally waited five days after I finished Mockingjay before writing my review, thinking this would give me time to process my thoughts and emerge from the cloud of doom that began smothering me about one chapter in and didn't let up again, ever.

Well, five days out, the cloud is gone. In its place? Numbness. Actually, numbness might be giving it too much credit. I think apathy might be more accurate. When I finish a really great book, like the first two in the Hunger Games series, or the 7th Harry Potter book, I don't want to read anything else for awhile. My thoughts and emotions are too tied up with the book I just finished -- I either want to reread it again immediately, or just meditate on it for awhile. Reading something new right away is unthinkable.

**SPOILERS***

Not so with MJ. My interest in MJ faded before I even finished the book. Suzanne Collins systematically beat out of me every last smidgeon of emotion or investment in the story. I was so drained by the end, I really did not even care who Katniss wound up with. I could vaguely remember being pro-Peeta at the end of Catching Fire. But Peeta is unrecognizable in this book; he's brainwashed into a monster. Until, of course, that cheesy epilogue where he is magically cured (aside from those sporadic bouts of Having To Grip The Chair).

Yes, I thought the epilogue was cheesy. The cute little domestic life Peeta and Katniss have finally arrived at, and the two paragraphs or whatever it is that Suzanne bothers to describe it in, seemed forced and insincere. It's like throwing a dog a bone after you beat it within an inch of its life. (Dear Reader, you are the dog.)

***END SPOILERS***


I think I liked Katniss in the first two books, but Mockingjay made me forget why. Her character is all over the place. This may well have been intentional on the author's part--another statement, I suppose, about the horrors of war, etc--but it made for very tedious reading at times. Katniss would spend paragraphs justifying every decision she made. I had a hard time following her reasoning, but suddenly she would arrive at a conclusion like, "Therefore, I have to be the Mockingjay!" or "I vote yes!"--which she seemed to be indicating was, of course, the only possible conclusion she could have ever reached. Rather than sit back and try to follow her reasoning, I would sigh and turn the page, hopeful that it would all be over soon and I could just go to bed.

For me, it was that feeling of "when will this all be over, please let it be soon" that was the ultimate failure of the book. When I am reading a really great book, I never want it to end. With Harry Potter, I would get increasingly angsty as the page numbers stacked up, knowing that it would be over all too soon. With Mockingjay, I just wanted it to stop. I grieved and grieved and grieved - until, about 50% in, I became basically desensitized.

Now, I know there are plenty of professional literary critics out there who, if they were to read this, would make some sneering comments about how literature's not just meant to amuse and please you, little girl. To which I would reply: get over yourself, butt-munch. If I wanted to feel hopeless and numb all the time, I'd watch the news more, or I'd read contemporary adult "literary fiction." I can handle some darkness, but it needs to be tempered with hope.

3/5 stars (because it's still well written and I <3 FINNICK!!)

mockingjay dunzo

It's 2 am and I've just finished Mockingjay. I had better not review it now because of a) deep fatigue and b) SERIOUS ANGST AND DEPRESSION. I need to think on this a bit. But my initial reaction is not one of extreme enthusiasm! Katniss ....ugghh - who is she really? The book was just so freaking dark! I mean that's to be expected to an extent in a series that involves kids having to murder each other. But good lord. It really did devolve into an utter blood bath and the darkness never lets up.

Anyway...I will write a full review in another day or so when I have had a chance to process this. But let the record show I am feeling very conflicted about the whole situation at present.