2012 Recommended Books for Middle Schoolers

Adventure/Mystery

Poison Most Vial by Benedict Carey

Don't Turn Around by Michelle Gagnon

Safekeeping by Karen Hesse

Tokyo Heist by Diana Renn

Secret Letters by Leah Scheier

Double by Jenny Valentine

Realistic Fiction

Laugh with the Moon by Shana Burg

See You at Harry's by Jo Knowles

My Sister Lives on the Mantelpiece by Annabel Pitcher

The Statistical Probability of Love at First Sight by

Jennifer E. Smith

Curveball: The Year I Lost My Grip by Jordan Sonnenblick

Humorous

The Last Dragonslayer by Jasper Fforde

Chomp by Carl Hiaasen

Ungifted by Gordon Korman

Cat Girl's Day Off by Kimberly Pauley

Historical Fiction

The Wicked and the Just by Jillian Anderson Coats

The Lions of Little Rock by Kristin Levine

For What It's Worth by Janet Tashjian

Tracks by Diane Lee Wilson

The Last Song by Eva Wiseman

Crow by Barbara Wright

Graphic Novels

Friends with Boys by Faith Erin Hicks

Ichiro by Ryan Inzana

The Girl Who Owned a City by Dan Jolley

Drama by Raina Telgemeier

Cardboard by Doug TenNapel

Pandemonium by Chris Wooding

 Fantasy

 Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo

 Arthur Quinn and the World Serpent by Alan Early

 Seraphina by Rachel Hartman*

 The False Prince by Jennifer A. Nielsen*

 Winterling by Sarah Prineas

 The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater

Horror/ Supernatural

Long Lankin by Lindey Barraclough

The Demon Catchers of Milan by Kat Beyer

Fracture by Megan Miranda

Transcendence by C.J. Omololu

Ripper by Stefan Petrucha

The Dead of Winter by Chris Priestley

Science Fiction

The Obsidian Blade by Pete Hautman

A Year without Autumn by Liz Kessler

Insignia by S.J. Kincaid

The Vindico by Wesley King

A Confusion of Princes by Garth Nix

Under the Never Sky by Veronica Rossi

Biographies & Nonfiction

His Name Was Raoul Wallenberg: Courage, Rescue,

and Mystery during World War II by Louise Borden

Teen Cuisine: New Vegetarian by Matthew Locricchio

The Fairy Ring, or, Elsie and Frances Fool the World by Mary Losure

Zombigami: Paper Folding for the Living Dead by Duy Nguyen

 The Mighty Mars Rovers: The Incredible Adventures of Spirit and Opportunity by Elizabeth Rusch

Art Lab for Kids by Susan Schwake

Poetry

Eva of the Farm by Dia Calhoun

The Arrow Finds Its Mark: A Book of Found Poems by Georgia Heard

Sisters of Glass by Stephanie Hemphill

Running with Trains by Michael J. Rosen

*I've read this book myself and liked it.

Children's Books about Tics

• Tic Talk: living with Tourette Syndrome, a 9 year olds boy's true story about living with Tourette Syndrome by Dylan Peters
• Hi! I’m Adam by Adam Buehrens
• I Can’t Stop by Holly Niner
• Mommy, I Feel Funny! A Child's Experience with Epilepsy by Danielle M. Rocheford

YA Review: Bitterblue

Bitterblue by Kristen Cashore Bitterblue is a sequel to Cashore’s fantasy YA novel Graceling and a companion novel to Fire. Bitterblue, the young Queen of Monsea, is the main character in this book. Unlike Katsa and Po from the first book and Fire from the second, Bitterblue has no Grace or superhuman powers or abilities.

Summary: “The long-awaited companion to New York Times bestsellers Graceling and Fire Eight years after Graceling, Bitterblue is now queen of Monsea. But the influence of her father, a violent psychopath with mind-altering abilities, lives on. Her advisors, who have run things since Leck died, believe in a forward-thinking plan: Pardon all who committed terrible acts under Leck's reign, and forget anything bad ever happened. But when Bitterblue begins sneaking outside the castle--disguised and alone--to walk the streets of her own city, she starts realizing that the kingdom has been under the thirty-five-year spell of a madman, and the only way to move forward is to revisit the past. Two thieves, who only steal what has already been stolen, change her life forever. They hold a key to the truth of Leck's reign. And one of them, with an extreme skill called a Grace that he hasn't yet identified, holds a key to her heart (Amazon.com, 2012)

Things I liked:

• There is humor. I like that. This book was very funny in parts. It certainly isn’t always funny, but especially in the beginning there were such funny things being said and discussed... sometimes very silly things.

• The librarian. His name is Death (rhymes with teeth). There are a lot of librarians in books written for youth and, while it is true, that many of them are heroic, lovely model human beings, some are not. The one fault I always found with the Harry Potter series was that Hogwarts had such a mean and vindictive (and old) librarian. Whenever I run across a mean librarian in fiction I imagine that the author is getting her revenge on some real-life librarian who did her wrong as a child or who refused to help her while she worked on her first book. The librarian in Bitterblue is different. At first he starts out as the stereotypical old-school, sour librarian, but so extreme that he makes me laugh. Out loud. As the book goes on and I get to know him more I came to understand where his behavior comes from; what shaped him into the dour person he has become. He wins me over as he wins over Bitterblue herself and he becomes one of my favorite characters in the book. Whatever you do, don’t skip over the list of characters at the end of the book as Death wrote it and it is also incredibly humorous – in a witty, biting kind of way.

• Cashore is a master of creating real and honest relationships on the page - relationships that I, as a reader, feel a part of. I actually went back and re-read Graceling and realized that even though I love so many things about the book the parts I treasure the most (and like to go back and reread) are the sections where Po and Katsa are becoming close. There is a quality of openness and honesty in those sections that takes my breath away in Graceling (for sure), but also here in Bitterblue.

• The theme of this story is not as original as the themes in the two previous books, but that isn’t necessarily a criticism. While Graceling is about a young woman with extraordinary physical prowess learning to face the only real fears she has – fears around loving and trusting and Fire turns teenage angst about appearance on its head by creating a character that possesses shocking, otherworldly beauty, but who desperately wants people to know her inner self, Bitterblue is a somewhat more standard young woman’s coming of age story. But Bitterblue is not just any young woman growing into adulthood she is also the leader of her country – a country that is coming out of the long shadow of the her father’s devastating tyranny. Although this is a fantasy novel, I felt like the problems that Bitterblue faces are not so far from reality… say if she happened to be the new leader of North Korea or Albania or Romania after the fall of communism instead of the Queen of Monsea.

I didn’t fall head over heels for Bitterblue as I did for Graceling which seemed so wildly new and eye-opening when I read it for the first time. However, I did thoroughly enjoy reading this book – which deals so much with honesty and truth and the cost of lies and I certainly heartily recommend it.


Citations: Amazon.com. (May 1, 2012). Available at: http://www.amazon.com/Bitterblue-Graceling-Kristin-Cashore/dp/0803734735/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1336419409&sr=1-1.

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YA Review: Drawing From Memory

Say, A. (2011). Drawing from memory. New York, NY: Scholastic Press.

In his new visual memoir, Caldecott Medal Winner Allen Say, tells his life story from his birth in Yokohama Japan in 1937 until he leaves Japan for the United States in 1953 at the age of sixteen. Portions of this book read like a traditional graphic novel with a regular distribution of panels and text, while other sections have a more varied layout and incorporate a variety of images including hand drawn maps, photos, old postcards and comic book panels. The author writes briefly about when and where he was born, where he lived during World War II and how, after his parents marriage falls apart, he was moved around from relative to relative. By the time Allen Say was twelve years old he lived alone in a small apartment in Tokyo and attended a private junior high school. The heart and focus of the story (and the vast majority of the pages - 40 out of the 57 pages) show us the three years that he spent as apprentice to the master cartoonist Noro Shinpei – the man who would become his, “spiritual father” (p. 59). He kept his apprenticeship secret from his family who did not approve of artists. At the end of those three years, when he was sixteen years old, Allen Say moved to the United States. A detail rich Author’s Note at the end of the book fills in more information about how he developed the idea for this book and includes additional photographs and artwork.

Reading this book, I felt as though I was able to experience through Allen Say’s simple use of language and illustration what life was like for him as a young man in post-war Japan. The sentences were spare, but conveyed so much meaning. For example, “When the war ended four years later, everything was broken” (p. 13), sums up the entire situation simply and completely. This sentence appears on the page next a photograph of the author, age 4, smiling broadly and holding a toy gun. The juxtaposition of the child’s joy with the sentence’s statement helped me to see how a young child could be oblivious of the destruction around him. Another example of Allen Say’s pithy writing, “When I was drawing, I was happy. I didn’t need toys or friends or parents.” (p. 9), made me think that as a child Allen Say was not often happy, or that happiness was elusive for him. He found a place of safety and joy in the act of drawing and yet it was also a place of loneliness. The poetic sentences, combined with the mixture of illustration techniques, pulled me into the story of a very young man who is emotionally alone in the world and who longs to be an artist. I remain haunted by the image of his spare one room apartment with the bare light bulb in the center of the ceiling. Using both written and visual storytelling techniques, the author helped me to feel his excitement on the day he moved in and “floated with joy” around that room and I felt his isolation when he returned to it alone one evening and found that it, “felt cold and lonesome.”

Sometimes, as an adult and as a teacher, I can feel that my students are not really paying close attention to what I say to them. And yet, in this story Allen Say remembered every little bit of encouragement that adults gave him - from the first affirmation of his first grade teacher, “Mrs. Morita said that my ability to draw was a wonderful talent. No one had told me that before” (p. 13). to the final goodbye from his mentor, “Be true to your art, Kiyoi, and journey well” (p. 56). I realized reading this poignant story how much the words I say, to encourage or discourage, matter to the young people I interact with.

YA Review: 30 Days to Finding and Keeping Sassy Sidekicks and BFFs

Hantman, C. (2009). 30 days to finding and keeping sassy sidekicks and bffs: a friendship guide. New York, NY: Delacorte Press.

Clea Hantman’s lively little pink and black handbook on how to make and sustain “girlfriend-ships” takes a close look at what it really takes for women to have great relationships with other women. The book is organized into four sections - “friendship basics,” taking it to another level, “the major pitfalls and obstacles of friendship today,” and the final section on how to elevate your friendship to, “Mount Everest” heights (p. 3). Each of the four sections is divided into chapters with a grand total of 30 chapters – one per day for the thirty-day duration. Each chapter in this book delves into a theme, offers some advice and provides a daily activity to put the theme into practice in your life. Just for fun, the author includes a daily topical haiku at the beginning of each chapter; often these poems are quite humorous. At the end of each chapter there is a musical selection for the day with a brief annotation detailing how it applies to the theme since, “music magnifies our feelings and self discoveries” (p. 3). Extras at the end of the book include playlist suggestions and a BFF Movie Marathon list. This book isn’t perfect. Some of the material may be a little too much (too silly, too sappy, too cheesy), but looking past the flaws it does examine some valuable topics in an engaging and effective way.

This book struck me as quite “self-help-y,” but it does manage to avoid being preachy. In part, I think that this is because it is not directed at teens only, but really to anyone and everyone who is interested in having great friendships. In fact, I found this quirky book very funny and enjoyable to read. I particularly like that the chapters are short and easy to digest. The language of this handbook is so informal and hip, that I felt as if I was sitting down over coffee with Clea at our local coffee shop and we were talking about women and friendship rather than reading a "how-to" guide. The author is constantly including herself in her daily challenges in a self-depricating way that makes her seem more like the girl-next-door than some professional authority figure. I found that the daily exercises and activities she recommends were legitimately helpful for me. I really liked this book because so often I can forget that friendship is based on the simple basics like kindness, interest in others and openness to new people and is not all about how I look or what I wear.

One of my favorite chapters was on kindness. Kindness is so obvious it is easy to overlook and Clea points this out. Talking about kindness could be so sickeningly sappy, but not in this book. I found that the author’s openness and honesty about her own shortcomings made it easier to be honest with myself while I was reading. Clea writes, “But even I can admit that there are times when I’m not so kind. You know when? When I’m overtired or stressed out, maybe when I haven’t had any coffee. Maybe no one was kind to me that morning. And you know that kindness begets kindness. It’s one of those pay-it-forward, contagious-yawn things” (pp. 24-25). This passage seemed like a page out of my own life and made me think about how challenging it is to be kind when I’m not feeling it. In the end – mixed in with all the fun – I find that I like the message that Clea is putting out there: kindness will make me more real friends than the right haircut or the right purse. In fact, the entire book resonated with me because it was making a real argument for taking the focus of relationships off the superficial and onto issues of character that really matter.

YA Review: Soul Surfer

Hamilton, B., Bundschuh, R., & Berk, S. (2004). Soul surfer: A true story of faith, family and fighting to get back on the board. New York, NY: MTV Books.

In the autobiography Soul Surfer, Bethany Hamilton tells her own story of being attacked by a shark and loosing her arm at the age of thirteen. Bethany tells us about the morning of the attack from her perspective. Included in this personal tale are a great many details about what life is like for kids growing up in a rural corner of Hawaii and about what kind of commitment it takes to become a professional athlete. The book is organized into chapters some of which are directly about the shark attack, Bethany’s rescue and surgery and her recovery. The other chapters – interspersed throughout – go into the story of Bethany’s family and how they ended up in Hawaii, Bethany’s faith and what it is like, “being kind of famous” (p. 155).

Although, I had heard a tiny amount about a surfing teenager from Hawaii who had lost her arm to a shark, I went into this book knowing little more than those scant details. For me the book reads as if Bethany was sitting right next to me telling her story and I would not be surprised to learn that the book was written from recorded interviews. As Bethany described the morning of the attack I felt like I was right there floating on a board in the water next to her which was both thrilling and a little creepy, “The waves were small and inconsistent, and I was just kind of rolling along with them, relaxing on my board with my right hand on the nose of the board and my left arm dangling in the cool water. I remember thinking, ‘I hope the surf picks up soon…,’ when suddenly there was a flash of gray.” (p. 3) Every detail about that morning seemed gripping to me and I was completely fascinated by how Bethany managed to get back to the beach and how her friends helped her get to the hospital.

There were times when the book veered off into territory that wasn’t as interesting to me – details about Bethany’s favorite foods and activities, for example - but overall I found the description of life on rural Kauai to be completely fascinating. As I read the book, the details about Bethany’s working class family and her parents dedication to helping their daughter achieve her surfing dreams blew away all of my assumptions about what kind of people become professional athletes. I had thought that for sure you had to be pretty well off financially to be able to focus so early on a sport, but at least in Bethany’s case I was wrong and my respect for Bethany and her family and their commitment to her career grew. One part of the book that I really appreciated was Bethany’s honest discussion of her faith and how it helped her through the loss of her arm. Most discussion of faith that I can remember reading in contemporary popular writing is heavily ironic or cynical. I was struck by Bethany’s openness and honesty about how her faith in God comforts and motivates her. Personally, faith is important to me and I found it refreshing to encounter a young woman who also finds real practical courage from her belief.

YA Review: What I Saw and How I Lied

Blundell, J. (2008). What I saw and how I lied. New York, NY: Scholastic.

It is 1947 and the War is over. Fifteen year old Evie (Evelyn Spooner) lives in Queens with her knockout mom, her stepfather Joe and his mother, the grumpy Grandma Glad. Joe had served as an army sergeant in World War Two, but now that he is back home he owns and runs three appliance stores. One day in September, Joe decides they should take a trip to Florida. After a four day drive that grows quieter and hotter the farther south they go, Evie and her family finally arrive in Palm Beach. Unfortunately, everything is boarded up and closed tight until the season officially begins in the winter. The Spooners settle into Le Mirage, the one open hotel in town and become friendly with the Graysons, a sophisticated couple from New York. Then a handsome young man named Peter Coleridge shows up saying he knew Joe in the War and things begin to spiral out of control.

Although Blundell captures all the details of the time period perfectly with the smoking and the lipstick, the cocktails and the late 1940s slang, it is not the picture-pefect setting or the realistic dialogue that won me over. Sometimes historical fiction can be interesting despite a mediocre story, just because the time period is unfamiliar and I'm learning about a time and place I know little about. Not the case for What I Saw and How I Lied. In a way this story could have been set anywhere or anytime and it still would have had the same emotional weight for me. I was blown away by what is at the heart of this book - the universal story of a girl yearning to be considered a woman. The path to womanhood turns out to be a lot different than Evie imagined. At first, being an adult seems to be all about how you dress and who you kiss. Although Evie thought she understood the grown-up world, what she finds out is that she missed key details or misinterpreted what she did see. "I'd noticed things on the way down, too. I'd seen it all - the way he took off his hat, the way he lit her cigarette, the way she walked away, her scarf trailing in her hand. Flower petals and a pineapple vase. Now I had to look at it again. This time without me in it, wanting things to go my way (pp. 2-3). By the time Evie and I realize what has really been going on all along, the truth is devastating,crushing,humiliating and ultimately maturing. At the beginning of the book being an adult woman seemed so glamorous and sexy, but by the end it was so much more than what you can see on the surface.

From the very first chapter it was clear that there would be a revelation later in the story. The surprise for me was that that revelation was not about murder or death. Instead, it was all about an inner revelation - the shock of seeing the truth of a situation. It was about being a kid one minute - naively thinking that things were one way - and in the next minute turning a corner and suddenly realizing that you are "a sap" (p. 218) and what you thought you understood was completely wrong. The most powerful aspect of this book for me was what Evie choses to do once she finally understands the truth. In the end Evie shows some real grown-up courage that I hadn't seen coming.

YA Review: The White Darkness

McCaughrean, G. (2005). The White Darkness. New York, NY: HarperCollins Pub.

In Geraldine McCaughrean’s The White Darkness we are inside the mind of Sym (Symone), a 14-year-old social outcast at the secondary school she attends in London. Her schoolmates consider her to be “a misfit weirdo” (p. 42) with oddities such as her hearing aides in both ears, that she has never had sex and that she has an unusual and highly opinionated uncle Victor. This uncle, speaking to Sym's geography instructor, says, "You learn your subject, then regurgitate it year after year! Around and around, staler and staler. Like astronauts drinking their own piss" (p. 10). Even worse than all that, Sym lets it slip that she has an imaginary friend. Her imaginary friend is Captain Lawrence Oates, nicknamed Titus, an explorer who died 90 years ago and who was a member of Scott’s doomed trek to the South Pole. The story begins after the death of Sym’s father, when her eccentric uncle whisks her away, first to a weekend in Paris, then to the place the two of them have been dreaming about their whole lives - to the Antarctic.

I thought this book was very strange. The world Sym inhabits is so dreadful, every person in it so appalling and horrid, I don’t blame her for having Titus as an imaginary friend. I found Sym to be a sharp observer and her descriptions of people can be funny and cutting like here when she first gets a glimpse of the other people on their Antarctic tour: “ They were, for the most part, bronzed and polished; their watches showed Pacific time and the phases of the moon. Most seemed to own handheld computers, cameras with lenses as long as my forearm, and tiny mobile phones. (The richer you are, I’ve worked out, the smaller your telephone and the bigger your telephoto lens)….They were rich in years, too: The majority were over sixty” (p. 51). In my opinion, the author gives Sym a gift when she plunks her down in Antarctica. Suddenly Sym doesn’t stick out at all – everyone is clumsy in the Antarctic apparently, “Even when we climbed down from the plane onto the blue ice, and tottered and slithered and clung to each other, helpless, out of our element, I could only laugh: Usually it’s just me falling over my own feet” (p. 76).

It isn’t like Sym is perfect. She isn’t. Sym is sympathetic. And I love Titus as much as she does. Odd as it may sound, he is a true friend. Everything Sym believes to be true – even all the awful things she thinks about herself – are called into question as, little by little, in a very peculiar and unsettling way, the truth about uncle Victor is revealed. “The whole idea creeps up on you like pack ice-pressing in and pressing against your head, then crushing the hull and tumbling inside” (p. 4). That passage perfectly describes the strange sinister creepiness I started feeling when uncle Victor first took her away for the weekend in Paris. I was worried for her – afraid that Nabokov’s Lolita was about to happen. It turns out much worse and much more epic at the same time. And Sym rises to the occasion. All of her detailed knowledge of the Antarctic and of the many expeditions to the South Pole ends up coming in quite handy. I was so afraid for her, but it turned out I didn’t have to be. She isn’t as useless as she thought she was. In fact, she’s amazing. And she’s only 14.

YA Review: If I Stay

Forman, G. (2009). If I stay: A novel. New York: Dutton Books.

A half an inch of snow cancels school one winter day in Oregon, and Mia and her family head out for a drive to visit friends and family. In the midst of the happy and comfortable family outing, a terrible accident occurs and Mia finds herself watching the paramedics as they try to keep her alive. As Mia follows her own body in the ambulance, and later to a hospital in Portland, she is faced with having to make the choice about whether to let go and die or to fight on and live.

Mia narrates this strange story, with its many flashbacks, in an honest teenage voice, sharing every awkward and embarrassing moment she has lived through. She brings us with her back in time as she remembers significant moments with her quirky and loving family. I became so fond of her former punk rocker Dad, who traded in his leather jack for vintage suits, bow ties and a job as a middle school English teacher. As he makes ten-year-old Mia laugh through her tears when she is paralyzed with stage fright, I was laughing and crying too. I wanted to hang out with her hipster mom with her cool, eclectic outfits and her fierce loyalty that often got her into trouble. And then there was Mia’s sweet, much younger brother Teddy who loves Alice Cooper and who needs special magic kisses that only his older sister can give. Even though Mia’s family is already gone by page 15, her vivid, emotional memories of them make them so real that I felt some of the ache of loss she must have felt.

Music is woven into every aspect of this story and each song or classical piece that is referenced adds its history into Mia’s story. Mia’s dedication to the cello is what her boyfriend Adam first notices about her. Their first date is to see Yo-Yo Ma in concert. Music – the right music – is important to Mia’s family. Mia recalls her mother’s rage when she was in labor with Teddy and the midwife offered, “We have some lovely Enya. Very Soothing”(p. 154). For Mia’s mom, it had to be the heavy, heavy sound of Melvins or Earth – no substitutions. Even the car accident is described in musical terms, “A symphony of grinding, a chorus of popping, an aria of exploding, and finally, the sad clapping of hard metal cutting into soft trees” (p. 15). Mia and her mom talk about her relationship with Adam in terms of music, “Just like with music, sometimes you have harmony and other times you have cacophony.” (p. 210). There is only one time in the story that the use of music – well, falls flat, for me. The first time Mia and Adam do more than kiss they go up to her room and Adam tells her, “I want you to play me like a cello.” Sorry, but that just seemed silly to me.

I kept asking myself how a book about so much loss and pain could be so funny, but sometimes there is humor in truth even in truly awful situations. The humor keeps the story from getting too sappy, like when best friend Kim tries to reason with the unconscious Mia: “Please don’t die. I can understand why you’d want to, but think about this: If you die, there’s going to be one of those cheesy Princess Diana memorials at school, where everyone puts flowers and candles and notes next to your locker… I know you’d hate that” (p.67-68). The wisecracking comments of Mia’s parents also helped me to appreciate and love them as Mia remembered them in flashbacks. As Adam and Mia head out on their first date, Mia’s mom calls out the door, “Don’t you kids get too crazy. Bad injuries at the last Yo-Yo Ma mosh pit” (p. 37). By the end of the book, I felt like I’d been up all night in the hospital waiting room, listening to Mia tell this story and laughing and weeping with her along the way.

As a side note, disregard the prominent marketing message on the cover of the paperback: “Will appeal to fans of Stephanie Meyer’s TWILIGHT. – USA Today.” Aside from taking place in the Pacific Northwest and being a story about a teenage girl this book has no vampires and very little in common with the Twilight series.

YA Review: Notes from the Midnight Driver

Sonnenblick, J. (2006). Notes from the Midnight Driver. New York: Scholastic Inc.



This book is a wild and hilarious ride with high school junior Alex Gregory through a minefield of topics such as teen drunk driving, divorce, emphysema and estranged families. “As insane as it looks in retrospect, I was fully convinced on that particular Friday evening last September that stealing my mom’s car and storming my dad’s house was a brilliant plan.” (p. 1). Alex goes on to crash his mom’s car into a neighbor’s lawn gnome, get arrested for drunk driving and ultimately end up having to serve 100 hours of community service at a local nursing home.

What makes this story such a rollicking good time is that Alex is telling us the story – uncensored. The story rolls right along and we are inside Alex’s head and get to hear all of his thoughts and comments about everything and everyone he encounters. Occasionally the story is told through letters that Alex writes to the Judge overseeing his sentence, but mostly it is told straight-up by Alex himself. If you enjoyed Sonnenblick’s “Drums, Girls and Dangerous Pie,” you will appreciate the similar style and irreverent humor in this story along with the experience of being inside the mind of an adolescent boy. Alex is not the most popular kid at school, he is no star athlete or musical prodigy, instead he is just a regular guy and the humor and the charm of this story comes from his honesty and his blundering attempts to befriend and assist the curmudgeonly Solomon Lewis, a resident at the nursing home where he is assigned. In the midst of all the regular pressures of high school and the added strains of his parents’ acrimonious divorce, Alex pours a lot of his time and energy into playing the guitar. His interest in and commitment to music becomes an integral part of the story as the book progresses.

Notes from the Midnight Driver is very funny, but it is not merely funny. In an interview recorded at the end of the paperback edition of the book, the author says, "the whole thing popped into my head, pretty much complete.... the idea came to me: What if a really good kid did something bad, and then refused to take responsibility?" To some degree, Sonnenblick is attempting to teach a few lessons with this book which might have put me off if the story wasn't so much fun to read.

YA Review: A Northern Light

Donnelly, J. (2003). A Northern Light. New York: Harcourt Children's Books.

It is 1906 in the rural North Woods of Upstate New York and sixteen-year-old Mattie Gokey has aspirations. She wants to earn a high school diploma, go to Barnard College in New York City and become a writer. But her mother died of cancer and she is desperately needed at home to help her Pa with the farm and her three younger sisters. Before she died, her mother wrested a promise out of Mattie to stay home and take care of her siblings and she wonders if she has to keep that promise.

I enjoyed that this was no simple linear tale. In fact, because A Northern Light jumps back and forth in time it creates a feeling of suspense, especially around the mysterious death of Grace Brown. I enjoyed how gritty and raucous a story this is, filled with the overlapping voices of each character. There are so many wild and crazy characters that come and go throughout A Northern Light and flesh out the story. Mattie cares about all of these unique characters in this rural North Woods community and through her eyes we come to care deeply about them too. Told in Mattie’s truthful, young storyteller’s voice, this is a no-holds-barred sometimes beautiful, sometimes brutal look at life in the back woods at the turn of the 20th century.

For me, one of Mattie's most endearing traits is her profound affection for words and language. In her own storytelling, Mattie is careful to capture the rhythm of the vernacular. Mattie has strong opinions about how writing should reveal truths and not paint what she considers silly, fairytale dream worlds. Everyday Mattie chooses a word from her dictionary as the word of the day – a device the author uses to signal when a chapter is a flashback. Mattie reveals so much of herself in this daily ritual, her passions and her joys and her tenacious love of the written word. “’Isn’t that just perfect?’ I said. ‘Fractious. I repeated, relishing the bite of the f, teeth against lip. A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.’” (p.15)

I was particularly struck by how many depictions of women at every stage of life there are in this book. Each woman included in the story is making a choice about how she is going to live her life. Mattie lets us into her head as she studies each one of these women; as she notices the joy and the heartbreak that their choices have brought them. Even though her days are filled with hard physical labor from dawn to dusk, Mattie is always thinking and grappling with the choices set before her. There are no happy endings, no neatly tied up plots and “happily ever after” in the stories Mattie writes. Likewise, there are no simple solutions in the lives Mattie witnesses in her rural community. So many people in her life have plans for Mattie, her Pa, her handsome boyfriend Royal, her best friend Weaver and her brilliant teacher Miss Wilcox; so many people pushing and pulling her in every direction. In the end Mattie is the only one who can make the choice about how she should live her own life.

YA Review: Z for Zachariah

O’Brien, R. C. (1974). Z for Zacariah. New York, NY: Atheneum.

“I am afraid. Someone is coming.” (p.1)

And so begins a haunting story that unfolds slowly as entries in the journal of 15 year old Ann Burden over the course of one spring and summer. Ann has been living alone in her sheltered valley for over a year since “the War” and the end of civilization. One spring morning she writes in the old composition book she uses for a diary, “I was wrong. I am not the only person left in the world. I am both excited and afraid.” (p.5). She is wary and cautious about another person, uncertain if he will be friendly and safe or a new danger.

Science Fiction of the 1970s variety, harking back to visions of post-nuclear apocalypse, Z for Zacariah has been carefully set into a generic 20th century time frame. Although the story avoids specific references to an exact era, it still manages to feel dated, perhaps because the story is so simple and plausible without the Twenty-first century trappings of horror and fantasy. The world outside Ann’s valley, a wasteland where everything is dead and levels of radioactivity are not survivable, is not unlike the similar waste in Jonathan Maberry’s Rot and Ruin, but here there are no zombies. Instead, the dangers Ann and the stranger face are invisible, but just as deadly – radioactivity and the inherent weakness of the human character.

On the one hand, Z for Zacariah is old fashioned and slow paced, with languid descriptions of the natural world, often reminding me of the historical fiction novel, The Island of the Blue Dolphins because of the similar isolated situation of the female protagonists and the extensive descriptions of their plans and day-to-day work - indeed, the valley is not far from being an island that Ann is castaway on. On the other hand, as the story develops, there is an ever-increasing sense of menace and dread as Ann begins to realize the extent of the stranger’s paranoia and delusion. In the face of this threat to herself and her home, I found it difficult to appreciate Ann’s gentleness and passivity. Perhaps especially after having grown accustomed to the current batch of popular post-apocalyptic novels for young adults which have introduced me to some “super-empowered” female heroines like Katniss from The Hunger Games or Katsa from Graceling. Ann may not be a superhero, but she shows remarkable shrewdness throughout her ordeal and her voice rings true as she writes her story, revealing her secret hopes and plans and her struggle to stay true to her own inner moral compass.

YA Review: The Name of the Star

Spoiler Alert.
The following review gives away some aspects of the story that you may not want to know ahead of time. Stop reading now if you want to read the book and be completely and totally surprised.

Johnson, M. (2011). Shades of London Book One: The Name of the Star. New York, NY: G. P. Putnam’s Sons.

Rory (short for Aurora - a family name that only her grandmother actually uses), an eighteen year old native of Bénouville, Louisiana just outside of New Orleans, signs herself up for her senior year of High School at Wexford, an English boarding school in east London, while her law professor parents take their sabbatical year teaching in Bristol. Her arrival at school in late August coincides with a murder in the neighborhood that has all the hallmarks of a Jack the Ripper imitator and the English press is going wild. As Rory begins to settle in at Wexford - navigating the very English boarding school world of dorm-mates, prefects, and required sports - the Jack the Ripper murders continue and Rory has an encounter with a man who may be the perpetrator – an individual who happens to be invisible on any of the CCTV videos capturing the murders. The murderer, it turns out, is a ghost and Rory can see and hear ghosts.

Although the direction of this young adult ghost story is fantastic, the details of teen life and language ground it firmly in reality. Like any teenager dropped into a new school in a new country, Rory feels like a fool often and makes a lot of social mistakes. She seems to take it mostly in stride as she does here one morning at breakfast when her friends are talking about November 5th and Guy Fawkes Night: “It was clearly one of those mornings when I was particularly American. That happened sometimes.” (p.158) Rory has a lively sense of humor and often uses her southern American identity to her advantage such as in a conversation with her roommate Jazza when they are sneaking out of their dorm at night: “And if we get caught, I will claim I made you go. At gunpoint. I am American. People will assume I’m armed.” (p.97). Even as she begins seeing and talking with people that no one else can see and then meets the members of a top secret branch of the London police called the spooks (or the shades or even the London Graveyard) who share the ability to see ghosts, she remains a believable young person trying to figure out who she is and how she can use her supernatural abilities. Rory begins to build real friendships with Stephen, Callum and Boo (Bhuvana), the members of the elite secret police branch, as the investigation continues and as additional murders are (eagerly?) anticipated by the overactive British media. Not all the ghosts are bad either, some of them are even friendly and helpful so soon Rory is building connections and relationships not only with her Wexford cohorts Jazza and Jerome (an attractive prefect and Ripper know-it-all who she keeps making out with), but also, secretly with the London spooks and with people who happen to be dead (a.k.a. ghosts). Although it is ghosts and not zombies, in The Name of the Star, there are some similarities with Rot and Ruin by Jonathan Maberry. In both books the teen characters face normal teen issues such as dating and their relationship with authority while simultaneously being forced to deal with the paranormal in life-and-death situations. Although the combination of “English boarding school” and the supernatural might lead the reader to expect a Harry Potter-like adventure, this adolescent story takes place in a realistic contemporary London and the solutions are all technological not magical.

A creepy, present day ghost story-murder mystery with strong ties to Victorian London and dangerous supernatural events, this book was one that I found hard to put down. I was interested in these characters and truth be told, I really wanted to find out how they were going to manage their paranormal problem. I ended up staying up until midnight to finish the book in one long push to the end and when I finally reached the conclusion and turned out the lights, I was thoroughly spooked. In my experience, only the best ghost stories make you afraid of the dark.

One side note: I knew nothing about this book when I opened it up to read – having avoided reading the back or the flaps because they often give away too much information about the story. Because of this, I had no idea that this was the beginning of a series and I was therefore completely unprepared for the typical unsatisfying ending of a series book. The end raises more questions than it answers and leaves the reader wanting more.