YA New York

It’s no secret that I have Opinions about assembly-line books. You know the kind, devised by old white men sitting around a board table.

“What do the kids these days want? Rich, naughty Upper East Side school girls! Rich, naughty Upper East Side school girls who are also vampires! Rich, naughty Upper East school girls from the nineteenth century! Yes!”

The old white men agree that this is what kids today want, and then an editor writes up an outline and sends it off to a starving writer who is desperate to be published.

It makes me cry. I have this whole concept of the-writer-as-artist in my mind, of the book as a baby borne of its author’s imagination and ink, and I suppose that’s old-fashioned.

But the worst part is … sometimes these books end up being good. Case in point, Simon Holt’s The DeVouring. (more…)

Darlings,

I just couldn’t wait any longer. I know the year is not yet over, but I’ve received galleys taking me all the way up through the end of December, and while there have been many, many fantastic books this year, none have captivated me as much as E. Lockhart’s incredible story of a 15-year-old girl who crosses social boundaries when she infiltrates an all-boys’ secret society.

Frankie begins her sophomore year at Alabaster Preparatory Academy and is almost instantly noticed by one of the hottest guys on campus — one who never seemed to know she existed the previous year, though she crushed on him even then. It’s an auspicious start to the school year: she is “in” with the most goofy, glamorous, interesting crowd on campus. Only she isn’t, really. Because she is nothing more than a girlfriend. She can never be a full member of the tribe, and she knows her boyfriend is keeping secrets from her. He asks her not to be so “sensitive,” tells her how cute she is, and generally treats her like gold.

But Frankie isn’t satisfied. She wants to be known as brilliant and funny. She wants to be respected. And so she infiltrates the Loyal Order of the Basset Hounds, a secret society to which her own father once belonged.

The Disreputable History gets right to the heart of what it means to be only a girl, even in these supposedly liberated times. But while Lockhart explores social issues that we could debate for hours on end, her work is by no means overwrought. It’s funny, insightful, and honestly the best book I’ve read this year. Indeed, it’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. (The evidence of this novel’s awesomeness is quite compelling, and clearly an opinion shared by many others: not only did Oprah choose The Disreputable History as one of her inaugural picks for her teen book club, but the novel is also a National Book Award finalist.)

Back in the good old days, I wrote a newspaper column on the best “trashy” books out there. I focused mainly on chick lit and some of the more goofy teen books. Just before Lockhart’s novel The Boyfriend List came out, a publicist was kind enough to send me a copy. I remember reading it and thinking, “This won’t do. This won’t do at all. It’s just not trashy enough. It’s too good.”

And as her career has progressed, Lockhart has proven to be extremely skilled in writing books that get to the heart of things. Important things, like why young women are so often treated like dolls rather than equals. Fly on the Wall, one of Lockhart’s other awesome books, examines some of these same issues with a clever twist in which the protagonist, Gretchen, turns into a fly after reading Franz Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, then spends most of her time on the wall in her high school’s boys’ locker room.

The Disreputable History takes Lockhart’s exploration further, and it’s not only an interesting dissection of teen social boundaries, it’s also a genuinely enjoyable read. Frankie’s pranks — which I’ll leave you to find out about for yourselves — are brilliant and funny and generally make you wish you could pull some of them off yourself.

In fact, I have to say that if it weren’t for the fact that this novel is pretty much perfect as it is, I would be begging for a sequel. Thanks, E., for sharing such an awesome story with us.

Oh, and if you haven’t already gotten yourself a copy? Do so immediately. I mean, even Oprah says to read it. So hurry up, and then come tell me what you think.

Much love,
brina

Laurie Halse Anderson has done it again. The author of Speak — a book I highly recommend you read if you haven’t already — has now written a truly terrific novel about the American Revolution.

Oh, no. That, again, you say? As if you haven’t already spent enough time memorizing dates and places and learning about tea parties in Boston. As if you want to hear another tale about lobsterbacks and the heroism of our founding fathers. Well, guess what? This … is not about that.

No, this story is about Isabel, a teenage slave who becomes the property of a wealthy New York family when her owner dies. It’s about a young woman who has no allegiance to rebels or loyalists, who is caught up in a war that offers to freedom to others, but not to her.

I have to say I learned a lot from this book — it’s chock full of New York history, stories about how the war impacted people right here in my hometown. And it’s also a wonderfully told chronicle of those who want to be free. Loyalists, rebels, women, children: no one in this novel is having an easy time of it. Laurie’s characters, even the more villainous ones, are multi-faceted, and did I mention that her research is exquisite? Because it really is.

Oddly, this title is listed as middle-grade fiction. I’m not slamming middle-grade stuff, not at all. Indeed, there are times when I wish I could read and review everything, because I do get quite a bit of middle grade fiction that is worthwhile. But I’m surprised because I think this is a book that will resonate with the YA audience and even with an adult audience. It’s smart, and detailed, and moving … and it is not at all “young.” In fact, one of the thoughts that has stayed with me since I read Chains is that it would be a perfect book to use in the classroom. I could see it being taught in ninth grade English, and I could see students really learning from it.

But alas. I am not a curriculum expert, or even a teacher (although I do tutor high school seniors who are working on college admission essays … but that really isn’t quite the same). Still, if I had the opportunity, I would recommend this tome to teachers all over the US. Indeed, I’d buy copies for every eighth grade history teacher and ninth grade English teacher and pray that some of them would use it in class.

Laurie’s book is most certainly in my top five for 2008. I’ve decided not to make a formal top five list, because there have been so many fantastic books this year. But seriously? Chains is one of the best YA books I’ve ever read, not just one of the best books I’ve read this year. It’s fantastic, and kudos to Laurie for exploring the domestic, female, under-appreciated side of the American Revolution.

Much love,
brina

PS. Oh, and more proof this book rocks? It’s a finalist for the 2008 National Book Award. Yay, Laurie!

Amy Kathleen Ryan has written a fabulous book chock full of phrases that make me want to hop out of my chair and shout joyously. Indeed, I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to review Vibes, because I loved it from the moment I got it.

I only have the galley (meaning the version I read was not the final version), but before I even tell you what the story is about I want to present my favorite sentence in the book, which I hope was not edited out:

Video games were invented by demons riding dragons through the depths of a computer-generated hell rendered with excellent graphics so that I can see every drop of my blood on their three-pronged spears.

Now, while I personally have a great affinity for some video games, I love how Amy paints a picture with her words. And how her protagonist, Kristi, so often expresses her dissatisfaction with phrases telling us “X was invented by …” These particular gems are witty and vivid and not overused.

So. The book. It’s about a girl who thinks she’s psychic. She hears other people’s thoughts. And what she hears is basically that everyone hates her, or that members of the opposite sex can think of nothing but her breasts. Kristi goes to one of those high schools we encounter often in books but rarely in real life: a wacky alternative place where the students sit around in a circle at “morning meeting” and have a principal who is an endearing but completely nutty aging hippy. Kristi hates it, mostly because she is a misanthrope and hates everyone because she believes they hate her.

Of course it doesn’t turn out that way in the end, but I won’t tell you anything else lest I spoil it for you. Okay, just a bit: Vibes is one of those books that uses a supernatural theme without being the least bit supernatural. I’d place it more in the category of angsty teen chick lit — which, of course, is my very favorite category.

It’s a super-fun book, Vibes is. And just think: this is my first post back, and this is the first recommendation I’m making. Which is to say, if you are in the mood for something funny, smart and light-hearted, you should go grab Amy’s book. If you’re not in the mood for something funny, witty and light-hearted, you’ve obviously lost your bearings and should go read Amy’s book anyway.

Much love,
brina

I’ve been waiting impatiently for today. Very impatiently. Because, you see, although today is the official release day of Matthue Roth’s new book, Losers, it’s been on sale in stores for awhile. But you know the rules: No reviews before the release date.

All right. The story takes place in Philadelphia, centering around a high school kid named Jupiter. Yes, it’s a funny name for a funny kid who immigrated to the US from Russia when he was a child. It seems to me that anyone named Jupiter is destined to be bullied.

Which Jupiter is, of course. On the first day of school, a bully gives him a nice little beating and demands that he “share” his locker. But somehow, things start to get better as a result of Jupiter crashing a party and making a place for himself, one that allows him to mingle with members of just about every clique in the school. And throughout it all, we get to experience his hilarious mishaps with him.

What’s amazing about Matthue’s book is that it’s not only funny, but also a pretty decent breakdown of high school cliques. Of how the people in them are maybe not so evil. Of how everyone, even the bullies, are just trying to find a place for themselves. So yeah, it’s a little heartwarming and fuzzy, but in a good way. A really, really good way. Indeed, I was so charmed by this novel that I went out and got myself a copy of Matthue’s memoir (not YA), and am working my way through it right now.

I’ve also got an interview with Matthue that I was hoping to post today but will have to post a little later in the week. So watch for that, coming soon. And for now, go get yourself a copy of Losers, yeah?

Justine Larbalestier’s new book is totally doos. (That last word there, it’s not a typo. It’s a Justine-ism that means brilliant, awesome, and incredibly cool.)

The set-up: How to Ditch Your Fairy takes place in a world where … you know … people have fairies. And it’s a pretty regular thing. Our heroine, Charlotte Steele (better known as Charlie), was born with a parking fairy, which seems pretty benign. Like, I would totally want a parking fairy, because I live in Brooklyn — in an area that is not as accessible by public transit as I’d like it to be — and I have to move my car every morning for alternate side of the street parking. Not only is it a pain in the arse, it’s also gotten me a ton of parking tickets.

But see, Charlie hates her fairy, mostly because people are incessantly asking her to go places with them in their cars. And sometimes they don’t even really ask. They demand.

Enter Fiorenze, a classmate who is stuck with a fairy that makes all boys her age fall madly in love with her. You can imagine this would rock for about ten seconds before it drove you crazy, right? I mean, yeah, it would be great if every cool guy I met was into me, but … no, it wouldn’t actually be great. It would suck.

Both Fio and Charlie are getting into loads of trouble at school, all because of their fairies. So of course they both go looking for ways to rid themselves of these pesky parasitic creatures. (I don’t know. Are fairies parasites?)

All in all, Justine’s latest is wonderfully enjoyable, hilarious, frustrating, well-written, and just … worth every penny. Because, see, I bought it. Yes, I bought it for full price, dammit, and I’m glad I did. Otherwise I’d never have gotten the chance to read something so unstoppably fun. And I only dropped it in the bathtub once, so it’s not completely ruined, either. Just a tiny bit waterlogged.

A few things I thought of as I was reading: 1. Justine gives Libba Bray full credit for the title. 2. There is actually a character in the book with the last name Bray! 3. I want a fairy. 4. In the glossary Justine writes about a story fairy, who turns all your experiences into excellent stories. But, she says, the hard part is writing the stories, not getting the ideas. 5. This means I must have a writing fairy, and pronto. Anybody got one they’d be willing to swap for my afternoon nap fairy? If so, just drop me a line, yeah?

All right, folks. Another sci fi dystopia has hit the shelves, and it’s a good one. The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins is going to suck you in and swallow you whole, I swear.

Summary: The United States fell apart at some point, seemingly hundreds of years ago. First there were weather disasters (floods, droughts, all the usual stuff), and eventually a new country arose, called Panem. The nation was divided into thirteen districts, but there was a rebellion, and district thirteen was completely obliterated.

But, and here’s where it gets interesting, the diabolical government (located somewhere I imagine is near what we now call Denver) has chosen to remind citizens of their treason every year by hosting the Hunger Games, in which two teenagers from each district — for a total of twenty-four “champions” — must go into an arena and fight to the death until one comes out alive.

Our heroine is Katniss, a poor girl from district twelve, the poorest of the districts. She’s had to make it on her own for various reasons, and so she has learned to hunt and to identify edible plants, which makes her a better contender than she knows. And of course she ends up as one of the “tributes,” or sacrifices from each district to the games.

The beginning of the book starts out with a Shirley Jackson-esque type of lottery, except that in this lottery your chances of being picked are higher if you’re in danger of starvation, because you can enter your name extra times in exchange for simple things like food.

But as Suzanne weaves the story, she delves into a lot of issues. Poverty, obviously. Inequality. And then she also brings up some positive traits that are completely un-expected. Generosity, concern. I mean, really. What teenager wants to kill twenty-three others so she can go home and continue to live?

There are a host of movies that explore the insane urge some humans have to prey upon one another, notably The Most Dangerous Game, but none of them (at least none I’ve seen) explore class barriers in the way Suzanne’s novel does.

And, though it’s weird, you can’t help but get into the game itself after awhile, hoping to see Katniss survive, hoping that a few other characters will make it too, hoping that this impoverished but determined girl from a place that is detested by the wealthy can prove herself. And then, maybe, that she can challenge in the government in some way, that she can become an agent of change.

I’ve read a lot of fantastic books this year, and I keep coming back to you and telling you, “You’re going to love this one! You are! It’s amazing, I swear!” Well, The Hunger Games falls into that category, too. But let me tell you: I read probably three or four times as many books as I review. (If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.) I only recommend books I really enjoyed, and this is one I heartily recommend. It reminds me of so many other works of great dystopian fiction — of Scott Westerfeld, Robin Wasserman, Margaret Atwood (an adult author whose novel Oryx and Crake is one of my all-time favorites, although I could go on about her books for about a million years if you’d let me). And yet it’s unique in its approach.

Let me put it to you this way: The Hunger Games is a really compelling read, and one that takes place in a future you could actually imagine. It’s tragic and yet hopeful. And I’m excited to see what else Suzanne is going to bring us, because a little bird told me that The Hunger Games will not be a stand-alone novel. (Also, the last words in the book are “End of book one,” which is a dead giveaway that there will be a book two.)

So please. Go read it, and soon. And, even if you don’t love it as I did, come back and tell me what you think.

Buy The Hunger Games from Amazon.com.

There is not always a cure for insomnia, but usually a gal can find something to make it bearable. Like a book that’s been sitting on her shelf for the last two weeks, just begging to be read.

Death By Bikini is the first in a trilogy by Linda Gerber, and it would have been the perfect beach read if I’d gotten myself a copy back in May. Then again, I’m not much for the beach. Sand, you know. Anyway, beach or no beach, Death By Bikini is the sort of lovely mystery you can gobble up in an hour flat, with a twist of chick lit and a hint of more to come.

Aphra lives with her dad at a private island resort, with the closest city accessible only by helicopter. Together, she and her father run the perfect tropical paradise escape. But over the course of a few days, things at the beach go completely haywire, resulting in Aphra running for her life and trying to save a few others while she’s at it. Better yet, she begins to solve the mystery of why her mother left four years ago and hasn’t so much as sent a letter since. And of course there’s a cute boy by Aphra’s side to heat things up.

The first book I thought of when I read this was Helen Fielding’s Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination, though the villains in Gerber’s novel aren’t quite so transparent. But wait! What I’m actually saying here is good, because I adore Helen Fielding, Mother of Chick Lit, and there aren’t many books I’d compare to hers.

Let’s see: It’s 5:30 a.m., and my brain is admittedly not up to the task of writing well about anything at the moment. But I can say a few things. This novel is fast-paced, fun, and maybe just a little scary. (What’s a mystery without a nice chunk of danger?)

Oh! And it’s a paperback, which makes it even more compelling for the gal who’s on a budget.

If you’re looking for a good, light read — the sort of thing that’ll take your mind off AP physics and your evil gym teacher — please do consider checking out Death By Bikini. You won’t regret it.

Buy Death By Bikini from Amazon.com.

The other day I was listening to WNYC, and Leonard Lopate was doing an interview with this Pulitzer Prize-winning author who had just released his first book for teens, and I was like, “Why doesn’t anyone send me books by Pulitzer Prize winners, huh??” Then, like magic, a copy of Oscar Hijuelos’s book, Dark Dude, arrived in the mail.

I just got around to it last night, and in fact I’d been thinking maybe I wasn’t up to the task of reviewing a book by such a formidably literary author. But then I was like, “What? What? Seriously, Sabrina, you have got to be on drugs, because you have read plenty of great books in your life, and you shouldn’t be afraid to tackle something just because it’s got the words “Pulitzer Prize” on freakin’ cover.”

And then I dived in, and I didn’t come up for air until I had read the entire tale of Rico, a teenager in New York City some time in the late sixties or early seventies who gets hassled by everyone because he’s Cuban but looks white. Rico is obsessed with sci fi and comic books, and he lives in a neighborhood where a lot of things can go wrong and a lot of people have a lot of bad luck. And — I swear I’m not spoiling anything here — he eventually decides to ditch New York and run off to Wisconsin in search of a better life.

Okay, once again I’m going to go on a little bit about required pre-reading. You need to read The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain before you enter into the realm of Dark Dude. You need to because Hijuelos refers to Huck Finn again and again throughout his fantastic novel, and this story is kind of like a modern-day Huck Finn, and you’ll understand why once you’ve read both.

When I was listening to the interview with Hijuelos, and I must admit I didn’t get to hear much of it because I had to turn the radio off about two minutes in, I gathered this much: Hijuelos himself is of Cuban descent, and he was born and bred in New York City. So, while I don’t know how autobiographical this story is, it does seem certain that Hijuelos put some of himself into it, or at least some of his understanding of what it was like to grow up at a certain time, in a certain place, with a certain ethnic background. What I mean is, the story rings true.

It’s also beautifully written, and an enormous pleasure to read. Heartbreaking, as the best stories always are. Short-listed for my “best of 2008″ list — which seems to grow longer by the day. Unique, too. There are no vampires or zombies, there is no hint of chick lit about it, and if you asked me to compare it to another book, the only one I would be able to come up with is the aforementioned Mark Twain masterpiece.

I don’t do ratings here, because I only review books I enjoy, and I recommend them all sincerely. But if I were awarding gold stars here, Hijuelos would have to get all five. Now, stop dawdling on this here website and get to reading, yeah?

Buy Dark Dude from Amazon.com.

It seems this autumn is going to be chock full of glorious books. Yesterday Carol Snow released her first novel for teens, Switch.

Claire Martin is a perfectly normal 15-year-old girl in Sandyland. Except for the fact that her dead grandmother has been lurking in her bedroom since she was an infant. Oh, and also except for the fact that whenever there’s a big thunderstorm she switches into someone else’s body. The thunderstorms are usually at night, and she usually has only to go to sleep to wake back up in her own body.

But one day she finds herself in the body of a gorgeous (but snobby) summer visitor, and she can’t seem to get out.

It’s a fun story, well-told, and most definitely an enjoyable read. Indeed, I remember being quite annoyed when I received the book in May, swallowed it down whole, and then looked to see that the release date was in September. “I’ll never make it to September,” I thought. But here we are — I kept the book in a safe place, and last night I re-read it to refresh my memory. It’s still as much fun now as it was in May.

Oooh. And Carol has another book set in Sandyland coming next year, though from the looks of it, it may not be a sequel. (Question: Where is Sandyland? It’s a sleepy beachside community with no movie theater, but with lots of summer guests. I kept imagining the Jersey shore, but then when I re-read it I thought maybe it was somewhere in California. After you read it, will you tell me where you think this Sandyland place is?)

Buy Switch from Amazon.com.