Review: Wreck by Kristen Cronn-Mills

Wreck by Kristen Cronn-Mills

Published by Sky Pony Press
Released on April 2nd (in the US)
ISBN 9781510739031

Read 17 – 18 April 2019

Someone said to me, ‘it’s easy to write intensely sad books. All that emotion – very easy to articulate’. And that’s true to a point, but it’s also easy to descend into cliché and predictability. Which is why Wreck is so on point.

The emotional arc of Tobin’s grief never feels trite or superficial. She has always kept a tight rein on her feelings, has always been a quiet, thoughtful child, so finding words difficult when she discovers her paramedic marathon-running father has Lou Gehrig’s Disease (ALS), isn’t out of character. She spurns a lot of people’s effort to engage her (bf, Gracie #hashtagmonster and Aunt Allison), but takes support from others (Great-Uncle Paul and shy violinist Sid). She starts to tank in school, and throws her heart (metaphorically) into her beloved Lake Superior. But she never cuts herself off from these decisions, always self-aware, and mostly honest with herself and others.

This exploration of grief is slow and detailed. We see the disease catch up with Steve too too quickly, forcing Tobin to adapt to a very new set of life circumstances. Ike her dad’s carer, eventually moves in and the three of them navigate Steve’s withering muscles, as well as his damaged brain. It does take half the book to get to the really awful part of Steve’s decline, but the first part is crucial, so that we see all that is going to be lost—the closeness of Tobin and Steve, the all-embracing life he lives, the absence of her mother, and most surprising of all, the history lesson about the town where they live, Duluth.

Tobin’s family were right there at the beginning of western settlement, and Cronn-Mills deals with the ‘invasion’ in a thoughtful and honest way. Tobin’s reflections on the way the settlers explored and survived in this harsh landscape, and the interactions with the first nations people are a break from the impending tragedy, but also reflect Tobin’s inner confusion and turmoil. Her ancestors paved the way for Tobin’s life, and her love of this place grounds her and gives the story a strong and layered tapestry.

There are moments of lightness: Steve’s dad jokes, Ike’s eternal patience and forgiveness, Tobin’s attempts to create her origin story mashing together X-men and Star Wars figurines, and the six story high duck. And while these serve to illuminate the obvious—life does indeed go on, and we all grieve in our own way—there is no preparing us for the end of Steve’s life. It’s messy, it’s unfair and ultimately heroic. I was a crying mess, basically.

I did love the way that mum doesn’t arrive to save the day, nor do we get a full-on romance. This is real life, and nothing will halt the viciousness of a terrible disease. But Tobin makes us proud, and we know she’ll always have her dad guiding her way. Thanks to Netgalley and Sky Pony Press for this advanced copy. It has been out in the US for a couple of weeks now. Seek it out if you like strong narratives that don’t sugarcoat the world, that create authentic characters and situations, and that allow readers the space to explore grief in complex ways.

Noteworthy by Riley Redgate

Published by: Amulet Books
ISBN: 9781419723735
Released: 2 May 2017

Read: 28 April 2017

Noteworthy is a really good story with lots of challenging ideas. While the plot is straight forward—girl poses as a boy to successfully audition for an all-boys A Capella group—the issues around this pretense make it complex and smart. It doesn’t hurt that Redgate populates her book with an eclectic group of secondary characters, and describes Jordan’s surroundings in exquisite detail. With all the attention to the buildings of this posh elite school for the Arts, and the weather of the passing seasons, the story is slow paced. But it’s all the better, as readers not only ponder Jordan’s decisions and subsequent consequences (both good and bad), but also appreciate her reasons for doing them as more is revealed about her history, her dreams, and her reality.

Jordan Sun becomes Julian Zhang (her real-life cousin) because her singing voice is difficult to categorise. It’s often (read always) not suitable for the parts being offered the females in the theatre faculty, where Jordan has secured a scholarship. She works so hard to fulfill her academic requirements, but her parents, financially strapped and burdened by medical debts, only see that she doesn’t appear in any of the school performances. Frustrated by this failure, she auditions for the Sharpshooters, truly believing she’ll be able to sing with them, helping them to win an exciting competition (for the opportunity to be backup group on a European tour), and not get involved with the other members at all.

Yeah, right.

If we’ve learnt anything from Glee, [insert country of choice] Idol, or School of Rock even (ha! Love that film), it’s that a group of singers-slash-musicians will always bond, will always become close, (and then get jealous, start fights, break up, get back together for the music, make money, then – but never mind all that), and as she gets to know the other boys, we see her, for the first time, really think through the implications of this charade. It’s serious, and begins to impact on other aspects of her life, but we completely understand why she persists. She now belongs. She feels part of something, and suddenly she’s more confident, standing up tall, and owning her talent. There is a physical change, as well as a positive shift in her mental attitude.

The other Sharps are multi-dimensional, even if we don’t learn as much as some as I would like (Trav, what’s your story, big guy?) We come to know earnest Eric, politically astute Marcus, sensitive, generous Nihal, and best buddies Jon Cox and Mama, and with Jordan, fall a little bit in love with the enigmatic Isaac Nakahara, and slowly, the book morphs into something more than just Jordan’s story. These boys have a lot to share, and it makes perfect sense because they become significant in Jordan’s life. It is increasingly impossible to keep her secret. She doesn’t want to lie to them. Her strong moral code fights with her need to achieve what is now not an impossible dream. It’s delicious drama.

Jordan’s commitment to the part of Julian is evident when she cuts off her long hair, hides away even more from her classmates, and blends in with the other Sharps. It’s a realistic integration, and when one of the other groups, the Minuets, start a pranking war, Jordan is all in. There’s a nice bit of tension here, with serious Trav ordering the boys to not engage, and Isaac, bold and righteous, refusing to bend. I found some of the actions really questionable, and I wanted justice for the Sharps–why not go to their faculty sponsor? Some other adult? But of course, as in these matters, it’s up to the teens to sort out the mess. But it does get very messy by the end. Very.

The issues that plague Jordan include obvious ones, such as betraying the Sharps—will they forgive her? And the school’s reaction—will they expel her? Through to more complicated—by dressing as a boy, is she dishonouring genuine trans kids, who experience discrimination just trying to be their true selves? This interior dilemma is articulated well, and although it doesn’t dissuade Jordan from continuing, it weighs heavily on her mind. When there’s some flirting and kissing with both a boy and a girl Jordan finds herself wondering, could she be bi-sexual? It’s so confusing and complicated, but Redgate keeps us following along. We are never confused or put off by events or actions, because we believe Jordan’s frustration, and we accept her self-questioning, and actually, we applaud her for it, and believe she will find answers (they take a long time to come).

By the last section (all beautifully named by musical tempos), I was delirious with worry about Jordan’s discovery. I couldn’t see how Redgate could pull it all together, but of course she does. The resolution is even better than I imagined, and I believed every minute of it. I haven’t spent any time talking about Jordan’s Asian ethnicity (#ownvoice), or her family’s real struggle with poverty. Set against a background of white privilege and wealth, Jordan’s awareness of social strata is another welcoming consideration. It’s excellent to see a different sort of kid being portrayed—one with artistic ideals and talents, and who fights tooth and nail, despite overwhelming odds. I also didn’t go into detail about the flashbacks to Jordan’s life before, with a boyfriend, who on leaving school dumped her unceremoniously. Michael was someone who she gave herself over to completely, and is now left solitary. It’s part of the reason the deception works, which is a poignant thread running through the novel.

Look, I loved this book a lot. I hope it reaches many hands. And I will keep an eye out for more books by Riley Redgate. Highly recommended for readers who love their main characters intelligent and stubborn, who like their romance on the back burner, and their friendships at the forefront. It’s basically a school story, but one that will have readers running off to YouTube to watch back-to-back A Capella performances by groups with terrifically punned names. It’s also an ensemble piece, much like the Sharpshooters themselves—a perfect blend of voices, coiling around each other lifting, rejoicing, and complementing so that all the elements of story—voice, setting, plot and emotion—work in harmony (too much here? Probably).

Copy provided by publisher via Netgalley and read with glee (squee). Released on 2nd May.

Review: The Last Thing You Said by Sara Biren

The Last Thing You Said by Sara Biren

Published by: Amulet Books
ISBN: 9781419723049
Released: April 4 2017

Read on: April 3 2017

The last thing Ben said to Lucy after the death of his sister, and her best friend was cruel and untrue. It hangs over both of their heads for most of the novel, and while the book is a strong depiction of grief and guilt, there are elements that could have been stronger.

We get both Ben and Lucy’s points of view. Ben is drinking himself to numbness, taking advantage of other girls’ sympathy for him, and trying to deny his feelings for Lucy. We see his thoughts oscillate between wanting to move on from Trixie’s terrible death to blaming himself entirely that he wasn’t able to save her. When Lucy starts to date Simon the Renter, Ben’s jealousy and anger force him to confront some cold hard facts: about himself, his family, and his future.

Lucy hasn’t been able to move on either. But her memories of Trixie are happy, and full of Trixie urging her ‘to be brave’ (especially in regards to taking a risk with Ben). Lucy has made a new friend, Hannah, whose support and compassion help. Her family is also suffering and it’s good to see both Ben’s parents and Lucy’s parents grapple with how to deal with their traumatised children.

I was disappointed that every conversation between Lucy and Ben (up to the final moments, of course) is poisoned and hurtful. It’s hard to like today’s Ben, but Lucy remembers a kind boy, a protective boy, and her loyalty to him is commendable. That does fit with his behaviour today, as he believes he doesn’t deserve Lucy, but I wasn’t convinced he needed to be so awful to her. We do observe him treat other people well, so he shows positive traits too. As well, Ben is fascinated by rocks, and the author uses the idea of inuksuk – a Native American traditional tower of rocks perfectly balanced to create a natural sculpture – as a metaphor for Ben finding the right path. It’s poetic and hopeful.

Image: http://www.flickr.com/photos/wonderlane/2365145519

 

There is a lot of reference to drinking, smoking and sex, but in context, it works within the confines of grief-addled hearts. Fortunately, Ben’s father realises his actions affect his son, and Lucy’s parents start to listen to their daughter, when she opens up to them. Guthrie, Ben’s best friend, and five year old Emily whom Lucy babysits, add depth to a slow moving story that is reliant on readers’ sympathies and desire to see this pair find their way back to each other.

Thanks to Amulet Books and Netgalley for approval of this advanced copy. The Last Thing You Said is released (in the US on April 4, 2017.

Recommended to readers who like their contemporary sad, but with a happy and hopeful resolution. The romance is halted and there is a lot of communication, but friends are around to make the two be honest. The setting is a small lakeside town, with much discussion around fishing and restaurants which make up Ben and Lucy’s summer jobs.

 

Review: Just Fly Away by Andrew McCarthy

Just Fly Away by Andrew McCarthy

Published by: Algonquin Young Readers
ISBN: 9781616206291
Released: March 28 2017 (US)

Read: March 31 2017

Andrew McCarthy was always my favourite brat packer, so I couldn’t resist requesting his YA novel from Netgalley. It took me too long to get to it, so I apologise that this review isn’t out before the book, which was released on March 31, just a few days ago.

I have been interested in comments at GR that basically say ‘why is this middle aged man just now starting to write from a young girl’s point of view?’ I found an interview with McCarthy on the Publishers Weekly site, and think he answers some of these questions quite satisfactorily.

The story itself is not new, but the 15 year old protagonist Lucy is fresh and flawed. She is quite immature, and doesn’t handle the abrupt change in her family life very well. She seems to immediately ditch her one friend and take up with another which leads to her meeting Simon, a goofy, wise boy, who swiftly becomes an anchor to the angry lost Lucy.

McCarthy’s style is factual and descriptive. Lucy’s narration tells us she is angry with her father and her rebellious, often selfish actions reflect this. It takes a lot to warm to her, and I found I was halfway through the book before I liked her. But I did like Simon straight away, and thought McCarthy created other interesting and authentic secondary characters, who add depth to the novel, including Lucy’s grandfather and her younger sister who is hiding a secret of her own.

Lucy’s literal and figurative journeys show how unpredictable and fragile life can be. She spends a lot of time in her own head, sorting through her emotions, and she often falls short of our expectations. I wanted her to be less judgmental and more forgiving, but ultimately she proves to be a worthy and admirable hero. She’s actually quite strong and when she finally listens to the people around her, Lucy is also compassionate and pro-active. There are a couple of scenes with Thomas that are quite affecting.

Thanks to publishers and Netgalley for approving my copy to read.

Recommended to readers who like their contemporary stories full of ups and downs, characters who don’t behave how they should, and a quirky and sweet romance. Family is the main ingredient here, and Lucy’s shows the importance of communication and the dangers of keeping secrets. There is some sexual content and some reference to drug use, but it’s not gratuitous or condoned.

Released in the US last week, March 28.

 

Review: The Inexplicable Logic of my Life by Benjamin Alire Saenz

The Inexplicable Logic of my Life by Benjamin Alire Saenz

Published by: Clarion Books
ISBN: 9780544586505
Released: March 7 (US) May 1 (Australia) Houghton Mifflin Harcourt Books

Read: March 6 2017

There’s a lot that’s celebratory and inspiring in Saenz’s books. They are full of love and honesty, and while the characters go through many troubles and upheavals, they are surrounded by good people who love them.

But there are problems too. Issues that I miss are pointed out in other reviews, so if you are interested in looking at, and considering aspects of the book that have offended others, there are lots of 1 and 2 star reviews at Goodreads.

I want to focus on what’s good about this book because there’s plenty of that. Sal lives with Vicente, a gay man who was best friends with Sal’s mother, was there at Sal’s birth, and who agreed to look after him after Sal’s mother dies. Theirs is a particularly effective and affecting relationship. Sal recognises that not everyone is lucky enough to have what he has–an open and trusting bond that grows even stronger over the course of this long and somewhat rambly book.

Both Sal’s best friends, Sam and Fito both have mothers who neglect them, and no strong father influence in their lives. It’s fitting that Saenz includes Sal’s grandmother Mimo, because really most of the females  lack any substance of positive representation. We can say they love their children ‘in their own ways’, but really that flatters them, and I am not sure they deserve even that.  Sal is constantly wondering how two smart and resilient young people could have developed from such tough childhoods.

He wonders about that, because he is also focused on his own genetic makeup. He has started to get into fights, and spends a lot of his internal monologues wondering how much darkness he has, as part of his DNA, considering Vicente is not at all violent or rough. Nurture versus nature. It’s a terrific exploration, and Sal’s concluding thoughts are worthwhile and true.

The three teenagers suffer too much grief. If I have a quibble, it’s that there is so much death in this book. But it gives them a chance to be there for each other, to gather their sadness and longings, and to look forward, to try to make the best of the good things they have. I am happy to say that Sal acknowledges when moments are happy, and doesn’t dwell on the bad times. Instead he tries to have perspective and hope.

There’s all sorts of diversity, inclusiveness, and great flawed characters, both adult and teenaged. It is a long book, with little plot, charting the days of Sal’s final year of high school. The three friends grow and learn, and are ready to face their futures by the end. It’s lovely.

Thank you to Clarion Books and Netgalley for approving this book. Out in the US earlier this week, and available in Australia in May.

Recommended to readers who enjoy their stories full of warmth and love. They must also accept that death is a natural and inevitable progression, and that some people’s lives are harsher and more unjust than others. There’s a lot of discussion about parental responsibility, and the meaning of friendship, and it’s light on romance and melodrama.

 

 

 

Review: Traitor to the Throne

Traitor to the Throne (Rebel of the Sands Book 2) by Alwyn Hamilton

Published by: Faber & Faber (Allen & Unwin Australia)
Released on: February 2 2017
ISBN: 9780571325412

Read: December 23 2016

Trying to defeat your despotic father’s large and powerful army with your small but dedicated band of rebels is a big task. No sooner have you managed to triumph in one part of the country, then a protest in another part is soundly beaten, and you must re-group. This is what faces the Rebel Prince and his band of merry misfits, part-djinn children, and hopeless romantics. They carry a fire, that’s certain, but success is determined by choices, and their youth, inexperience and lack of resources means their task is overwhelming.

Which is why Traitor to the Throne works on many levels.

Amina has developed a lot over the course of the first book. Now aware of her Demdji powers, her confidence is growing. Assured of Jin’s love initially, she is now rethinking their relationship when he keeps his distance, both physically and emotionally. She has meet people who are now her family and her loyalty to them is unrivaled. But there are small disputes among the Rebel Prince’s cohorts. We see Amina and her friends defy his orders, mostly as a counterpoint to the Sultan himself.

For much of the book, Amina, captured and without magic, observes the way Ahmed’s father rules, and there are moments when she almost admires his actions, and herein lies the opportunity for Hamilton to open a conversation on leading and ruling, and the moral ambiguities faced by all people. It’s a little uncomfortable really. We want our villains to be evil, and to have our main character show sympathy for this treacherous man is confronting. During this part of the story, Hamilton dials back on the action, slows the pace, and takes the opportunity to fill the pages with myths and stories of the history of her world. Some readers will love these tangents, while others will rush through them, looking for the excitement and thrill of the inevitable clashes between the opposing forces. While I appreciated Amina’s downtime, I was always preparing myself for the bad times to come (They did. They were.)

There are many new characters introduced, and we lose some dear friends. We also meet up with some who had seemingly been lost to us in the first book. Structurally, Traitor to the Throne is tighter, cleverer, as it builds to its shattering climax. All the pieces seem to be in play now for the final and desperate conclusion to the series. While the first book played on a mash-up of the ‘Old West’ elements inserted into a magical Arabian setting, Traitor to the Throne focuses the tone on a political intrigue genre, with the two sparring armies trying to one-up the other in spying and counter-spying. The stakes are high, and Hamilton deftly highlights how much and how many innocents suffer in war-time.

This advanced copy was approved by Netgalley, via the publisher, and read with thanks. Released everywhere on February 2, 2017.

Recommended for readers who love their fantasy series twisty and complicated. For every one thing where the rebels succeed, there are four more where they don’t, ensuring the rebellion is hard fought. While there are some romantic moments, it’s isn’t a priority, given the characters are more focused on surviving battles and betrayals. The rebel group is diverse, have snarky conversations, and depict true loyalty to Ahmed and each other. The second book in what I believe is a trilogy.

 

Time is Precious: Slow vs Fast paced books

Lots of elements can influence the speed of a book. The amount of action. The amount of time passing. The narrative voice. The use of language. The inclusion of dialogue. Any number of other things. Which is better? You’ll probably find most young people want speed, action, and a clear forward movement. But there’s something to be said for a book that isn’t about pace, or direction, or purpose. A book more concerned with character, with thought, with mood has just as much intent, interest, and insight. A book like that forces you to slow down, and appreciate words, sub-text, and nuance. It can be illuminating.

Two books that are measured and considerate are The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily Danforth (February, 2012), and It Looks Like This by Rafe Mittlefehldt (December 2016). They both explore gay conversion therapy, an effective way to handle such delicate a subject matter. Terrible, horrible acts like this need to be explored in an empathetic and open context. Giving readers plenty of time to be acquainted with the protagonists is a positive way to develop that context.

Danforth spares no detail, no dialogue, no description to show us the extent of Cameron’s situation. The novel starts with her as a 12 yr old, losing her parents tragically, and it’s another 4 years before her Aunt Ruth sends her to Promise. On the first page, there is a depiction of the summer heat that immediately has readers slowing down to capture the mood. Cameron shows her mixed feelings about her homosexuality, and through the myriad expressions of her acceptance, readers are given many opportunities to slow down and think about what and how she ultimately arrives at that place of self-worth.

Mittlefehldt uses other devices. Or doesn’t use them. He leaves out any quotation marks around dialogue, jolting the reader out of any sense of comfort or familiarity. The author is not taking us on a merry ride, reinforced by the subdued tones. We are given Mike’s point of view, and yet he reveals nothing to himself (and consequently to us) about his same-sex attraction for almost half the book. Mike finally admits to being gay, but the price of acceptance might be considered too high by some. But thankfully, Mittlefehdlt doesn’t give us a quick resolution. He treats Mike with dignity, and we leave him in a better place.

The conversion plot plays a different role in each book. For Cameron it’s a way to find some like-minded souls, who give her the freedom and support. For Mike, it’s a way to confront his fears. Unfortunately, the trope that someone needs to die in order for others to realise the error of their ways plays out too often in LGBTQIA lit, but it’s difficult to complain when it’s this type of message that hits home more powerfully.

Slow-paced books aren’t for everyone, nor can we read them all the time. But to pick up a book that provides space for contemplation, and to appreciate sublime language use is something we should all try at some point.

Thanks to the hosts of the #rainbowblogchallenge for the prompt.