YA New York

My first thought reading this awesome tome in August of last year: No one in the world could possibly have such an encyclopedic knowledge of music. No one, that is, except for the cofounder of Amoeba Music, Yvonne Prinz. If you’ve ever been to the Bay Area, and you care even a little bit about music, you’ve been to Amoeba.

It’s a freakin’ oasis. And a place not unlike Amoeba — on Telegraph Avenue in Berkeley — is where we meet The Vinyl Princess. Her real name is Allie. Actually, her real name is Alberta. But that’s a long story.

Okay, so here’s the story: Allie loves vinyl. She loves records. She detests MP3s. And so, in the break between her junior and senior years of high school, she starts her very own blog, The Vinyl Princess.

The book itself is a love story, of sorts. There are guys in bands, hot guys who drop by the record store, guys Allie’s mom dates, guys Allies’ best friend dates … it’s just a big ol’ barrel of boys, this book.

Some of them, of course, are jerks. I’ll leave you to figure that part out on your own.

What’s really outstanding about Prinz’s novel, though, is the music. You need to be a music lover to enjoy The Vinyl Princess, but don’t even try to be as knowledgeable as our heroine. She knows it all, and Prinz’s entire book could serve as a sort of top 10,000 list.

I’ve been meaning to post this review for ages, ever since I had the honor of meeting Yvonne in August. I also have a (partial) interview with her that I intend to post ASAP (i.e. before the world ends). For now, please go read and enjoy Yvonne’s latest, and I’ll be back with more … eventually.

Much love,
brina

Mermaids are in. They’ve been in for awhile now, did you know? I’m telling you, there are mermaids just about everywhere you look.

And no, I honestly don’t think I’m giving much away by revealing that Hannah, the first book in the Daughters of the Sea series, is about mermaids.

I mean, look at that picture. Mermaid alert!

Having said all that, this particular tome is an interesting read. Hannah is an orphan who, at the tender age of fourteen, is turned loose from a Boston orphanage to find her own way in the world. Unfortunately, her own way takes her to Kansas, where she becomes terribly ill.

Because mermaids aren’t supposed to go so far from the sea.

Although, of course, she doesn’t know yet that she is a mermaid. We know it, because of the cover and the fact that normal people don’t shed salt wherever they go. But Hannah doesn’t.

Anyway, she is promptly sent back to Boston, where she becomes a scullery maid for one of the city’s wealthiest families. The situation makes for an interesting plot, mermaid or no. I found myself thinking of Sara Crewe several times while reading the novel: a little princess, reduced to a mere scullery maid.

But it is through Hannah’s work that she’s able to discover certain things about herself. Like her natural ability to play the harp. Or to swim. Or to draw the attentions of a particularly attractive gentleman.

After reading Hannah, I’m quite eager to see what’s in store for us next. My only concern is that the book seems a bit young (perhaps because of the humongous print?), but by young I mean Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, not Golden Books. In other words, Lasky’s work is definitely within the YA realm.

Next time you’re browsing at your local bookshop, do take a peek at Hannah. If you’re like me, you’ll read the entire thing in about forty-five minutes. And then you can come tell us what you think, aye?

PS. No, really. Mermaids. They are the now thing. Agree? Disagree? I want to hear your opinions.

Okay, I’ll admit it. When I found out Emily Wing Smith had written a YA book, I was … jealous.

I was jealous because, about a million years ago, Emily Wing went to the prom with my boyfriend. That was before he was my boyfriend, of course, back when the two of them were growing up in Bountiful and West Bountiful, Utah. It is a town that is so Mormon that the students get a break during public high school to go attend seminary, which is the Mormon version of … intensive Sunday school, I guess. Or, if you’re Jewish, it’s probably more like Hebrew school. ‘Cos you only go to Sunday school on Sundays.

Adam just got home from a trip out west to see his family. He brought Emily’s book back with him, and I’m so glad he did. In addition to being a fantastic read, The Way He Lived gave me an inside look into the suburb where Adam and Emily both grew up.

Also, there’s a character in the book named Adam who (a) wears sweatpants all the time and (b) takes public transit. You should know that in suburban Utah, very few people take public transit. But Adam — the real life Adam — did take public transit. And he wore sweatpants.

Emily, if you should read this, I want you to know that Adam has upgraded to nice-fitting jeans (dark wash), American Apparel T-shirts, and good old-fashioned Chuck Taylors. Oh, and his scraggly goatee? Is now a full-on, awesome beard.

But her book isn’t really about Adam. She just slipped him in as one of the characters she seems to remember fondly from her walks down memory lane.

Instead the novel — I would call it a novel, though it resembles a collection of short stories — is about how seven different teenagers cope with the death of their friend/lover/brother, Joel. Emily’s writing is fantastic, and she deals with all sorts of complex issues: suicide (not that Joel’s death was one; I’m really not giving anything away here), homosexuality, mental illness. It’s the part about mental illness that really sucked me in, because you can tell that Emily wrote truth, which is the best kind of writing there is.

It’s a good book. A great book. Blurbed by Sara Zarr and Carrie Jones. And worth reading. A little jealousy might be natural, too, if only because Emily is so very talented. But it’s the good kind of jealousy, the kind that propels the reader along his or her own road, instead of the kind of jealousy that makes a person fester.

So. Go forth and read. Look here for an interview with Emily’s high school friend, Adam, who probably has many more insights than I do. And who also can’t escape his impending interview. I know where he lives. (Insert evil cackle here.)