In a medieval world, Ananna is a pirate princess. Desirous of captaining her own ship one day, she bulks at the marriage her parents have arranged for her in order to advance their own political and strategic agenda. So she hops on a camel and runs away. Unfortunately, her betrothed and his family take offense and send an assassin to kill her. In the process of defending herself, Ananna saves her attacker’s life, triggering a curse that binds the two together. A long road, a series of trials bring the two closer together but this is the start of a series and the romantic aspects are muted. The writing is solid, the male lead is not an insufferable pretty boy and the plot is engaging. I’ll be picking up the sequel, The Pirate’s Wish, in June 2013.
Feathers fell from the sky.
Like black snow, they drifted onto an old city called Bath. They whirled down roofs, gathered in the corners of alleys, and turned everything dark and silent, like a winter’s day (Prologue).
In a world slightly distorted from our own – where magical creatures like faeries mesh in realistic and gritty fashion with our own world, similiar to Suzanne Clark’s Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell (a novel I love love love) - a young changling, part human, part faerie, named Bartholomew is forced to hide his existance. Meanwhile, a bumbling, well-meaning member of Parliment, Mr. Jelliby, becomes unwittingly entangled in an investigation into the murder of nine changling children. When Bartholomew is tagged as number ten, he must take action to save himself and his changling sister.
With shades of Jonathan Stroud and Suzanne Clarke and a conclusion reminiscent of Pullman’s Golden Compass, Bachmann just succeeds in making this novel his own. The writing is fluid though the story alternates settings. I would have liked more attention spent on the relationship – both political and social – between the magical creatures and the humans. The atmosphere was well-developed with strong details so that I didn’t find myself skipping small chunks (as I sometimes do when the writing is poor). I was also surprised when it ended on a cliff-hanger, finding myself simultanously disappointed but also interested in the sequel (sequels?). There are characters I’m intrigued to learn more about (Mr. Lickerish) and others that skewed the rhythm (the faery woman living in a meadow in the middle of nowhere, supposedly Lickerish’s sister?).
Advance Reader Copy from BEA | Greenwillow Books | September 18, 2012
Our friendship came all at once after that, like spring floods from the mountains. Before, the boys and I had imagined that his days were filled with princely instruction, statecraft and spear. But I had long since learned the truth: other than his lyre lessons and his drills, he had no instruction. One day we might go swimming, another we might climb trees. We made up games for ourselves, of racing and tumbling. We would lie on the warm sand and say, “Guess what I’m thinking about” (p 48).
The Song of Achilles is a retelling of the Trojan war from Patroclus’ point of view. Patroclus and Achilles were close friends and companions in the Iliad. Their bosom relationship is often described in later Greek writings as a romantic relationship, though some dismiss this interpretation. Miller takes it and runs with it, framing Achilles and his decisions in light of his sexuality. It also reveals a very human Achilles.
This is a highly readable, enjoyable book, though I expected more literary prose. I’m a glutton for mythology and this certainly satisfied. I appreciated the very godlike qualities Thetis displayed, interactions with Odyssey great Odysseus, and the understated affection between Patroclus and Achilles.
Only occassionally did the narrative faulter and I thought, “Really?” For example, Achilles makes a stunning first kill in the chaos of storming the beach crawling with Trojans firing arrows on the slow moving Greek boats. He throws a spear miraculously far, killing brutally. But in the next chapter, Patroclus states:
In less than an hour the raid would begin. I had fallen asleep thinking of it; I had woken with it. We had discussed, already, that I would not go. Most of the men would not. This was a king’s raid, picked to grant first honors to the best warriors. It would be his first real kill (p 220).
Why me? Cam would ask him, Lord Ryuu’s son. Why? It may be the answer was what he had been seeking.
And so he left them, the safety, the prison of family and friend and village. Through Castle Cross he rode on and on, north and away. And that was it–was everything and more and enough. For now (p 88).
In this serenely paced debut novel, Hinwood examines the effects of war on a community. Cam was the sole survivor from his small Downlander town of Kayforl after their loss in the war against the invading Uplanders. He returns without an arm to a community that wants answers for the deaths of its other members. Unwilling to relive the war or explain his return, Cam faces suspicion. At home, his father’s unwillingness to assign Cam work makes him feel a prisoner. He leaves for the North, for answers as to why the Lord’s son, Gyaar, spared his life.
Chapters follow different characters from Cam’s town and from the capital where the victors reside. The edges of these vignettes overlap and make a whole at the end. The plot is nuanced and the interactions are loaded with subtle glimpses into the truth of these people and their lives…
But I found myself very uninterested. The book was well done, I believe it accomplished what it set out to do, it just wasn’t a story I was interested in as a whole. Some of the storylines were more interesting than others but I didn’t feel wholly satisfied with any of them. I enjoyed the writing and the pace, I just didn’t connect strongly with the story or the individual characters to feel invested.
There is a good review from Kirkus that explains much of what is excellent about this novel. Other reviews: A Chair, A Fireplace and a Tea Cozy, Publishers Weekly, SFWP, Chachic’s Book Nook and Persnickety Snark.
I seen them squiggles before, I says to him. On landfill junk. I spit on the ground. That ain’t nothin special. Bloody Wrecker tech.
Oh no my dear, it’s good Wrecker tech. Noble even! From the very beginnings of time. Those squiggle, as you call them, are letters. Letters joined together make words. And words tell a story. Like this one (p 121).
Sometime in the future, the world has been devastated by the Wreckers and their technology. Along the banks of a dried-up lake, Saba lives with her twin brother, Lugh, her father and her younger sister, Emmi. Since their birth, Saba and Lugh have been inseparable.
Then some men ride into town on the heels of a dust storm, snatching Lugh away and killing their father. Saba sets out to find Lugh, accompanied by a persistant Emmi. Together, the pair brave the cheats, robbers, and slavers of Hopetown – the nearest settlement – where they learn Lugh was taken by a man who calls himself the King. They are helped by a handsome rogue named Jack and a band of female fighters called the Free Hawks. Along the way, Saba discovers she is a ferocious fighted herslef and she forms a bond, albeit reluctantly, with her sister and Jack.
The minimalist style of this novel appealed to me immediately. Saba’s dialect (she is illiterate) was also a welcome change. These two factors led to a quick reading of this seemingly long novel. The action starts immediate and rarely slows.
It wasn’t until the later episodes, when I believe the world building was crossing over to improbable, that my adoration wavered. Giant, flesh eating worms with claws? Too Tremors and where the heck did it come from. No other mutant animals until this point. Lugh’s (easy) rescue and the Tonton’s actions? Where was the basis for that? I was left scratching my head. Even the casualties seemed required and unnatural (and the King’s death – ridiculous!).
When Jack rode away, I thought of the poem “My love is like a Red, Red Rose” (read it on WikiSource). Oh, he loves her so much! Then he rides away leaving only promises. Hum. Highly suspect.
Lots of adventure, well-written and it includes the steamy but brief romantic scenes adolescent girls love. I think this will be enjoyed by both boys and girls.
ARC | Margaret K. McElderry Books | June 7, 2011 | ISBN 978-1442429987 | 464 pages | Ages 13 and up | $17.99
I rose to stand, lifting my lantern, and I thought: as surely as one of these lanterns can light the next, so has the fire in him rekindled the fire in me. Where once I died down to nothing, I was alive again, and all was his doing. I was afire with him, and for once the thought was not terrible (p 197).
Stuck in a loveless marriage, Judy enters into a sensual affair with sixteen-year-old Zach, a new student at the Waldorf school where Judy teaches kindergarten. What begins as a mutually titillating experience soon becomes destructive.
The story begins in Germany when Judy is a ten-year-old child. She finds solace from her mentally ill mother and adulterous father in a neighbor’s barn. There she is befriended by an older farm boy, Rudy, with physical prowess. As they bond over sled rides and their mutual dislike of German fairy tales, a subtle sexual undertone emerges and the two share an overly friendly kiss.
But it isn’t until Judy’s self-medicated and disassociated husband, Russ, uncovers Judy’s dark passenger that the reader begins to understand Judy is malicious and unstable.
Coleman’s language, the novel’s pacing and alternating perspectives combine to make an engrossing read. There is a depth to Judy’s character that had me at turns commiserating then chastising then sympathizing all over again. Her logic, at the beginning, seems rational. When she pinpoints the moment she becomes a child molester (forcing an unwilling Zach), the reader is tempted to agree – forgetting she has been molesting him from the first.
While Zach’s persepctive was interesting, he really never rose about ‘horny teen’ in my estimation. Not to say his brutality didn’t give the book more dimension. But he was in a circumstance he had little control over and was every bit the victim. Altogether a fascinating, well-structured and evenly paced read.
School Library Journal’s blog “Adult Books 4 Teens” recommends it to high school students.
Library copy | MIRA | ISBN 978-0778312789 | Ages 18 + | 338 pages | $15.95
Someone watched him.
She had been sleeping – a long, troubled sleep. And something – She did not yet know what – had woken Her. Partially. She couldn’t move, though. Not yet (p 65).
Frankie was the first to notice. Four years ago, Frankie went missing. Some people in town began to forget that he ever existed. But not his sister, Wendy. She clung to his memory even as pictures of him began to fade. Then Frankie, disfigured and mute, was found and returned by Clive. But his scars have memories and he knows things.
Clayton Avery notices too. His ears are ichy, like there’s a bug in them. But he doesn’t understand why and his father, the richest man in town, dismisses him angrily. Then it becomes clear Mr. Avery would like to Jack dead.
The Mostly True Story of Jack is a good first offering by debut author Kelly Barnhill. The opening sequence gripped me but my attention waved as the novel lengthened and the foreshadowing was too thickly laid. The underlying themes of friendship and storytelling (i.e. knowing most of the story) were well done, but the magical elements were poorly developed compared to other fantasy books I’ve enjoyed. I didn’t feel transported to a magical community.
Is it Newbery worthy? Not according to Nina Lindsay. While it is a book I could easily booktalk and recommend, I’d also say it falls short of Newbery standards.
Advance reader copy (print) | August 2, 2011 | Little, Brown Books for Young Readers | 336 pages | Ages 9-12 | ISBN: 978-0316056700 |$16.99