Book Review: Wolf Hall [2009]

Thomas Cromwell, widely known as a villain in the court of King Henry VIII, is made sympathetic by Hilary Mantel, who builds Wolf Hall exclusively around his experiences. The narrative is so closely tied to his perspective, in fact, that it is often difficult to determine which "he" is being referred to--I found that it was best to always assume Cromwell. The result is a character study of a self-made man, the son of an abusive blacksmith, who was at the center of some very important changes in law and religion.

Set primarily between 1527 and 1535, Wolf Hall traces Cromwell's path from his position as Cardinal Wolsey's right-hand man to his ascendancy at court as Henry VIII's Master Secretary. Although common-born, Cromwell functioned for many years as the calculating power behind the English throne. While the courtship and marriage of Henry and Anne Boleyn--which led to momentous changes (shepherded by Cromwell) in England's relationship with the Catholic church--is given its due, Mantel spends as much or more time on Cromwell's home life, his wards, and his relationships with businessmen and philosophers at home and abroad, focusing on the intricate workings of his busy existence. She doesn't disguise Cromwell's ambition, his love of wealth, and his belief that he can control everything, yet he still comes off sympathetically.

Conflict in the latter part of the book stems from Thomas More, the philosopher and former Lord Chancellor who refuses to support Henry's divorce of Katherine and marriage to Anne. Although Cromwell repeatedly tries to get More to swear to an oath to uphold the new order, he chooses instead to die for his faith. Mantel uses More, and many other examples, to drive home the seriousness of religious belief; in this world, it's a life and death matter. Over the course of the narrative, the church loses ground steadily, and those who had previously been branded "heretic" gain it. It's interesting to contemplate whether these changes would have taken place so rapidly had Henry not been so desperate.

Highly recommended, especially if you enjoy historical fiction. I listened to the audiobook as well as reading the paper copy, and the audio performance helped somewhat with the "'he,' which he does she mean?" problem.

Grade: A-

What to read after Wolf Hall:

• Bring up the Bodies, the 2012 sequel about the fall of Anne Boleyn, which also won a boatload of prizes.
• The Wives of Henry VIII, Antonia Fraser, a perennial favorite of mine.
• The Game of Kings, Dorothy Dunnett, is a similarly dense, but more swashbuckling character study of a fictional rogue Francis Lymond, set in 1547 Scotland. 
• The Daughter of Time, Josephine Tey--another revisionist history of a classic villain, this time Richard III.
• The Other Boleyn Girl, which featured Anne's sister Mary (also a character in Wolf Hall).
• The Swerve, which is not about the Tudors, but is also a book about the deadly seriousness of religion and great changes in the world.

The New Yorker on Thomas Cromwell and revisionist history.

Book Review Index

Best of 2012

I've read books in 2012, but reviewed very few of them here, which means that I will be able to surprise you all with my favorite picks, yes? The trouble for me is finding books that were actually also published in 2012, since I tend to explore backlist books quite often (especially as I am years behind on my TBR pile). Nevertheless, here are my choices:

 

Young Adult
The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily Danforth
A Montana girls loses her parents and believes it's because she's kissed another girl. Danforth takes the time to spin out the narrative into something substantive. Longer review here.


Speculative Fiction
The Rook by Daniel O'Malley
When Myfanwy Thomas wakes up surrounded by bodies, she remembers nothing of her past life. She has only a series of letters from her past self to guide her through a treacherous secret agency and the use of her own mysterious powers.


Lesbian Romance
Roller Coaster by Karin Kallmaker
A solid lesbian romance by my favorite author in the genre. Longer review here.

As for most expected-to-be-coveted books of the year, I am very much looking forward to the publication this month of Diana Peterfreund's For Darkness Shows the Stars, as well as Lois McMaster Bujold's latest Vorkosigan saga book, Captain Vorpatril's Alliance, for which I must impatiently wait until November!

For those interested in forthcoming books, check out this Kirkus Reviews post on the Top 10 Most Coveted Speculative Fiction Titles at BEA.


ETA: I don't know how I could have forgotten how excited I am about The Blinding Knife by Brent Weeks, which is due out in September. I burned through the first book in the series and have been waiting for this one ever since I read the last page. Suvudu published an interview with Weeks that just served to whet my appetite.

Book Review: The Miseducation of Cameron Post [2012]

Emily Danforth’s debut young adult novel, The Miseducation of Cameron Post, got several positive reviews in the mainstream media (I heard about it from NPR, but it also got a coveted starred review from Kirkus). Miles City, Montana native Cameron Post is twelve when her parents are killed in a tragic accident near Quake Lake. Because she had just kissed her best friend Irene (and liked it), Cameron feels a certain amount of responsibility for their deaths, as well as relief that they will never find out. She withdraws into a world of video rentals and creative activity centered around decorating an old dollhouse with scraps and pocketed mementos. In high school, she strikes an uneasy balance with her grandmother and conservative Christian aunt while pursuing her own small-town rebellions. . . and the friendship and attention of the beautiful Coley Taylor. When the sexual tension between Cameron and Coley comes to a head, Cameron ends up at God’s Promise, a conversion camp for gay teens. There, despite the restrictive environment, she begins to address her feelings about the loss of her parents and come to some kind of peace with herself.

There’s a lot in this synopsis that I’ve left out: the importance of Quake Lake to Cameron and her family; Cameron’s boy/friend; her first fling and lesbian know-it-all friend Lindsey; little details about the town and the landscape of Montana; Cameron’s friends at God’s Promise, including Jane Fonda and her prosthetic leg; the early 90s references; the process of the conversion therapy . . . the book is not easily summarized, which is one of its strengths. It’s a complex narrative that weighs in at around 500 pages and apparently could have been much longer (great interview, scroll down for a mention of a “lesbrarian”). Danforth deftly weaves the threads of setting and plot together in such a way that the book’s length feels justified--a slow burn--rather than oppressive.

The story is set in the author’s home town, and Danforth calls the work an “autobiographical novel.” It’s clear from the detail that her Miles City is grounded in the real Montana, even as she adapts it to suit the needs of Cameron’s story. The chronological setting of the book is also intriguing. It opens in 1989 and follows Cameron through her first few years of high school. This mirrors my own experience almost exactly; I graduated from high school in 1995. The internet looms large due to its absence--if only it were a few years later, the reader thinks, Cameron could see the larger community of people that awaits her outside the boundaries of her world. Lindsey provides a glimpse of that wider world, from her liberal Seattle enclave, but wider acceptance will have to wait until Cameron comes to terms with herself and finds her own place.

It’s interesting that Miseducation was blurbed by Sarah Waters; the scope of Danforth’s work sometimes recalls the narrative sweep I loved about Tipping the Velvet, although the novels have very little in common. They are both lesbian coming-of-age stories, and Cameron and Nan are similarly out of their depth as they make their way through an unsympathetic and sometimes hostile world. Danforth leaves the ending somewhat open--Cameron has done some of the work she needs to do, especially where her parents’ deaths are concerned--but the book left me with a “what happens next?” complaint. I would like to spend more time with Cameron as she continues to grow up, and I wonder what’s next for Danforth.

Grade: A

Miscellaneous Thoughts:

I spent a lot of time half-thinking the title was The Miscegenation of Cameron Post, which . . . is a completely different book. Spellcheck does not like "miseducation" as a word. Of course, spellcheck doesn't like "spellcheck" as a word, either. The title recalls the album The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, which I haven't thought about in years.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: Yes

Book Review: The Swerve: How the World Became Modern [2011]

In a remote European monastery in 1417, an Italian book-hunter named Poggio Bracciolini unearthed a rare manuscript from Roman times. It was a ninth-century copy of a much older work, De Rerum Natura ("On The Nature of Things") by the poet Lucretius (c. 99-50 BCE). Stephen Greenblatt uses this rediscovery as a springboard to explore the history of human inquiry over two thousand years. This is not a modest undertaking, but Greenblatt moves with ease from the personal details of Bracciolini's experience as an Italian humanist and apostolic secretary to larger set pieces such as the destruction of Alexandria's written treasures and the excavation of Herculaneum, entombed by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius.

De Rerum Natura contains many deeply polarizing ideas, some of which are still contentious today--for example, the notion that the soul dies with the body and there is no afterlife, or the assertion that the pursuit of pleasure should be humankind's guiding principle. Greenblatt demonstrates that these ideas (along with more scientific but no less inflammatory concepts such as the existence of atoms and the idea that the universe was not centered on humanity) were not unprecedented, but grew out of the teachings of Epicurus, of whom Lucretius was a disciple. These concepts might be unsettling to our culture--still largely guided by precepts of self-denial, even if we do not adhere to them--but they were nothing short of incendiary upon their reintroduction into a Renaissance society dominated by the Catholic church. Many who embraced them after Bracciolini's discovery were persecuted as heretics.

Greenblatt leads a fascinating journey of discovery, tracing a set of ideas from antiquity to Thomas Jefferson.

Grade: A

I came to the conclusion that I was an atheist on my own, without consulting learned texts or reading up on the subject. I had some conversations with friends about faith, and was raised in a very faith-conscious place (Utah) even though my parents were not actively religious in any way. My mother had a very personal relationship with spirituality, which I never shared, and died as a Buddhist. But while listening to this book, the concepts being discussed spoke to some deep part of me, saying "You are not alone. Other people have come to these conclusions before you." It's not as if being an atheist is exactly embraced here and now in American culture. I can only imagine living in a time where thinking these thoughts, let alone voicing them, might lead to death. What a lifeline Lucretius's work must have represented to those who were almost completely isolated in their beliefs.

Random Thoughts:

I listened to the book's audio version, and (to my untrained ear) the narrator Edoardo Ballerini did a fantastic job of all those tongue-twisting Italian names.

This book was an excellent way to warm up to my 2012: Year of Nonfiction challenge, in which I am going to try to read as much nonfiction as fiction. I will talk more about it when I post about the statistics of my 2011 year in reading.

ETA: My paper copy finally came in, and it was worth it (as usual) to take a look at it even though I listened to the audio version. It has glossy photographs! And many pages of notes and bibliography at the back! And it has an index (*swoon*).

Dead Mother: No
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Book Review: Cotillion [1953]

I am an avid consumer of well-written historical romances, and Georgette Heyer is universally acknowledged as the queen of the Georgian/Regency period. I've read several of her books here and there, and recently had the opportunity to read Cotillion on a borrowed Nook e-reader. This is the first time I've actually used a real e-reader (rather than my tiny ipod touch) to read a book, and I found the experience similar to reading the paper version . . . which I also checked out from my library. I alternated between the two, and found it very easy to use the Nook, although I still prefer my books without batteries.

Cotillion is set in 1816 and takes place largely in London. However, the action begins at Arnside, an estate to which all the young, unmarried male relations of a crotchety (but wealthy) old man have been summoned. The man is Matthew Penicuik, and he wishes to provide his great-nephews with the opportunity to offer for his ward Kitty Charing's hand in marriage, and thereby inherit his entire fortune. Miss Charing herself is not particularly fond of this plan, although she has been in love with one of the intended targets, Jack Westruther, since she was young. Fortunately or unfortunately, Jack does not appear to make an offer, and Kitty concocts a scheme to become "engaged" to his cousin, Freddy Standen, in order to get to London and secure Jack's attention.

Freddy, whose judgment "in all matters of Fashion, was extremely nice" and who has an excellent grasp on proper behavior among the ton, is also acknowledged by himself and his family members to be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to practical matters. His genial good nature leads him to acquiesce to Kitty's spur-of-the moment plan, although the idea of ultimately breaking their engagement goes strongly against his sense of propriety. Kitty feels guilty about the deception, then awed as she is brought into the Standen family fold and introduced to the wonders and pitfalls of glamorous society. Kitty's impulsive, friendly behavior gets her involved in several situations that she and Freddy work together to resolve as a pair of rather unlikely cupids, even as she begins to realize that Jack may not be the man she thought she loved. Cotillion is a seamlessly woven and gently humorous novel that is sure to appeal to any Regency fan.

Grade: A

Although the false engagement plot is very well-worn at this point, it was refreshing to have both a hero and heroine neither laboring under the harsh yoke of secrets from the past nor outcast from society in any way by their poor behavior. Definitely no rake in need of reformation, Freddy is a very engaging hero, and it is refreshing to have the main male character be a dandy with no hidden reserves of physical strength or intelligence. Rather, he is kind and tolerant, muddling through when other people's scrapes are thrust in his lap. There are a few issues I could take with the book--Kitty's month in London seems to stretch forever and the resolution of her relationship with Freddy happens quite suddenly--but nothing that dissuaded me from finding the book completely charming.

The author of more than fifty books, including detective novels, Heyer's masterful grasp of setting and the rhythm of language shines most brilliantly in her Regencies. The wry, understated humor in Cotillion had my lips twitching on any number of occasions:

The Chevalier's fingers, writhing amongst his glossy brown locks, were fast ruining what had been an admirable example of the Brutus, made fashionable by Mr Brummell. Freddy watched this with pained disapproval. It did not seem to him to serve any useful purpose; it was, in fact, a work of quite wanton destruction.

For a book that was published more than fifty years ago, Cotillion holds up incredibly well, and feels much more authentic and well-formed than most of what's published today in the same genre. If anyone reading this loves Regency romances and hasn't read something by Heyer, I would be truly sorry to hear it.

ETA: While she was dying, my mother embarked on a project to re-read (or read for the first time) all the Heyers she could get her hands on, which meant that I spent a lot of time getting books from several Salt Lake City libraries and creating a master list so we could track what she had read.

Additional reading:  
The Private World of Georgette Heyer, by Jane Aiken Hodge
Georgette Heyer's Regency World, by Jennifer Kloester

Book Review Index
Dead mother: Yes

Book Review: In the Woods [2007]

I've been intrigued by Irish author Tana French's The Likeness ever since I spotted it in reviews several years ago, but never had a good opportunity to pick it up. Then, a few weeks ago, Nancy Pearl said on Twitter: "Wish I could read Tana French's In the Woods again for the first time." In the Woods precedes The Likeness in French's fictional world, and Nancy Pearl's recommendation is more than enough for me, so I immediately requested it from my library on CD and checked out the book as well. This turned out to be a good thing, because I spent the next week listening to the CD in the car and then picking up where I had left off in the book, and vice versa--behavior that I reserve only for books that completely absorb my attention.

In the Woods is a first-person narrative from the perspective of Rob Ryan, a detective in Dublin's murder squad. Rob and his partner, Cassie Maddox, are young and confident, and their relationship has a special closeness rarely seen between platonic friends. Cassie is one of the few people who knows that Rob is actually Adam Ryan, one of three children who mysteriously disappeared in the Dublin subdivision of Knocknaree in the 1980s. Adam was the only child to reappear, his memory of events blank and shoes filled with blood that wasn't his own. When the book begins, another murder at Knocknaree brings Rob full circle on a case that involves a dead girl about the same age as he was when he disappeared. The results are devastating for Rob, his relationship with Cassie, and the family of the dead girl.

In the Woods is much more than a police procedural, it is a book steeped in nostalgia, both for Rob and Cassie's intense relationship, and for the more distant past--the friends that Rob has lost, and the experiences that he can never share with them. French evokes an elegant yearning with her prose; her lines are by turns wittily sarcastic (Rob's "voice") and deeply evocative, especially when she speaks of places:

It was like stumbling into the wreck of some great ancient city. The trees swooped higher than cathedral pillars; they wrestled for space, propped up great fallen trunks, leaned with the slope of the hill: oak, beech, ash, others I couldn't name. Long spears of light filtered, dim and sacred, through the arches of green. Swathes of ivy blurred the massive trunks, trailed in waterfalls from the branches, turned stumps into standing stones (272).

While his official presence on the case is a textbook example of conflict of interest, Rob's need to pursue the demons of his past is understandable, if misguided. He has spent the bulk of the time between the incident in the woods and the present distancing himself from the little boy he once was, and the emotional and psychological consequences of that action are unknown, even to him.

Grade: A

I definitely agree with Nancy Pearl: I would really like to read this book again for the first time. It was such a great balance of humor and suspense and nostalgia. I wish all books were as moving and intriguing.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: No

Book Review: Pale Demon [2011]

I'm a big fan of Kim Harrison's Hollows series featuring Rachel Morgan, so I jumped on the chance to read an advance copy of the ninth in the series, Pale Demon, through NetGalley. This would be the second time EVER that I have read a book entirely in electronic format (the first was Rampant, so the bar was set extremely high), and it ended up being a great way to read the book at even the smallest opportunity! I found myself reading it on my portable device while walking up the stairs at work, while waiting for traffic so I could cross the street, in line at the grocery store . . . possibly in my car while waiting for the light to change (can't confirm that one).

The premise of Pale Demon is deceptively simple: Rachel has to get from Cincinnati to the west coast to get her shunning by the Coven of Moral and Ethical Standards revoked. She can't take the plane, so she ends up road-tripping as Trent's protector--he has reasons of his own to go that direction--along with Ivy and Jenks. What could possibly go wrong on this bizarre reinterpretation of the classic American family experience? Plenty, as the (spoiler) former St. Louis Gateway Arch could tell you, if its rubble could talk.

Although the road trip offers plenty of excitement, the real fireworks start in San Francisco when Rachel makes her case before the witches' council. Her identity as a witch has come farther into question over the last several books, and Pale Demon goes even farther down that path as she battles a day-walking demon released by Trent and saves Al from an attack by her lover, Pierce. Rachel finds herself more and more in sympathy with (some) demons and using ley-line magic to survive and protect those she loves. This, unfortunately, is also the reason she's been shunned by the witches' council. Will Rachel accept her identity as a demon, or end up cutting all her ties with the ever-after?

Grade: A

I was very pleased about the direction of Pale Demon, its cast of characters, and its ambiguous ending. Harrison doesn't let longtime series fans down with a placeholder novel, but instead crafts a narrative that keeps pushing at the boundaries of Rachel's identity and the world as she knows it. I'm eagerly awaiting an opportunity to read the next book!

Random Thoughts:

As far as digital books go, I wouldn't say that I'm completely sold on the format (insofar as , but as the kind of person who always wants to have a book on her person, I am definitely on board with their portability. I will never have to be without a book again! As long as I have enough battery power . . .

My review of the previous book in the series, Black Magic Sanction.


Dead Mother: No
Book Review Index

Book Review: The Knife of Never Letting Go [2008]

I can't pinpoint it exactly, but I'm pretty sure I picked up The Knife of Never Letting Go (on audio) because Jen told me to. I am very suggestible these days, so blog posts that praise things I'm already interested in reading have a tendency to spur me into action. It's a very difficult book to write a quick summary of, and I guess there may be spoilers below, depending on your definition of the term.

Todd Hewitt is the only boy in Prentisstown, which, as far as he knows, is the last outpost of a planetary colony in which all the women and most of the men died from a mysterious disease caused by the world's original residents, the Spackle. The remaining men are afflicted with what's called "Noise," essentially broadcasting their thoughts and feelings for all to see. As Todd approaches manhood under the care of his foster parents Ben and Cillian, he copes as best he can with the rage and despair he sees in the Noise around him. When Todd discovers the unthinkable--a girl--at the outskirts of Prentisstown, his life changes immediately and irrevocably. Ben and Cillian send him off toward another settlement with his talking dog, a map and a long-prepared pack, and a book filled with his mother's words. The town's fearsome preacher, Aaron, launches a maniacal pursuit and nearly kills both Todd and the mysterious girl, Viola, who turns out to be the survivor of a crashed scout ship from another wave of colonizers. Viola and Todd have only each other to rely on as they try to make their way--through wilderness and unexpected settlements, through their vast differences and Todd's ignorance and countless close calls just ahead of Aaron's madness--toward some kind of safe haven.

This is the kind of book where so many bad things happen to the characters that the positive developments seem transparent or coincidental by comparison to the driving, merciless chase. It reminds me of The Hunger Games in the brutal, unapologetic way that good people kill and good people are killed. I say "as far as he knows" about Todd above because almost all of the truths that he takes for granted when the book begins are systematically stripped away as he and Viola flee from Aaron and the rest of the Prentisstown men. Todd  grows enormously as a character during the course of the book, and the growing pains are sometimes quite difficult to experience with him.

Grade: A-

I would recommend this book to fans of dystopian fiction, as well as fans of horror movies (I am looking at you, Amanda!) because of the way that Aaron keeps coming after Todd and Viola like a homicidal maniac, even after sustaining incredible damage. It's also a great study of the relationship between two young people, and how it changes under pressure and over time. I do not recommend it for people who don't like violence, especially against innocents; I was crying in the car on several occasions.

Random Thoughts:

In addition to being horrifically fascinating and an intriguing exercise in worldbuilding, I read the book as a sharp commentary on fundamentalism. The colonist group that included Todd's parents and foster parents were religious settlers, leaving in the face of persecution to find a new home where they could make a different way of life. There are settlements where this translates to a surprisingly female-ascendant system of government, and then there's Prentisstown. Todd's home is a place where learning has gradually been eradicated to the point where he doesn't even know how to read, probably because it makes it easier for Mayor Prentiss to perpetuate his version of history. The prevailing view of women, judging by later events, sees them as objects for raping and killing, and Aaron, the book's scariest character, is the Prentisstown man of God.

The book was written in a grinding first-person present tense that really lends itself both to the audio format and the fast pace of the action. Having picked up the print version, I see that I missed out on a few font tricks having to do with Noise, but it was nothing that wasn't capably translated in the audio, which I highly recommend.

I'm currently taking a break before tackling the second book. I actually have it in the car, ready to go, but the first one was so exhausting to read that I've been listening to other things instead. I'd like to continue the series, because it's highly recommended, but it may take me a while to work up to The Ask and The Answer. I need to take a break from books that I want to use the word "brutal" to describe.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: Yes, many

Book Review: Madensky Square [1988]

Before a moving article was published on the occasion of Eva Ibbotson's death in October, I would have said that I was extremely familiar her adult catalogue (and a few of her children's books, such as The Star of Kazan). After all, I'd read A Countess Below Stairs, A Company of Swans, The Morning Gift, and A Song for Summer. I'd tracked down and devoured Magic Flutes even before it was republished as The Reluctant Heiress. So when Laura Amy Schiltz revealed that Madensky Square "was Eva’s favorite among her books. It is also mine. It is one of the mysteries of publishing that Madensky Square is the only one of Eva’s adult novels that hasn’t been reprinted," I was stunned. I raced to find a copy, wondering how I could possibly have missed it. Thank you, interlibrary loan! 

Madensky Square is probably the most "adult" of Ibbotson's adult novels, both in terms of some darker subject matter and the occasional frank discussion of sex. That being said, it's still an Ibbotson novel, and its pages abound with charming, engaging characters. Plot lines are neatly wrapped up and there are delicious standalone sentences. The novel is written in first person as a journal kept by dress shop owner Susanna Weber from 1911 to 1912. In a thriving pre-World War I Vienna, Madensky Square is not just the location of Susanna's store and living quarters, but a thriving community populated with quirky characters who are deftly captured with a few artful sentences. Susanna, while undoubtedly at the heart of Ibbotson's narrative, puts others' stories before her own. We learn about the mysterious Polish orphan across the street who does nothing but practice the piano; her best friend's grief at the death of her married lover; the struggles of a plain girl whose mother is a militant intellectual; and her anarchist shop employee, Nini, whose actions have sad consequences she hadn't anticipated.

Susanna herself is enormously sympathetic; she is the 36 year-old mistress of a prominent military man, and struggles with the knowledge that the daughter she gave up at birth has been raised by a kind and loving family. She is acerbic when it comes to dresses made by the rival dressmaker across town, but supportive to nearly everyone else. The action of the story culminates in the threat of street expansion (a symbol of looming modernization) from the officious Herr Egger, who has dreams of naming rights. Also lurking is the knowledge, on the part of the reader, that World War I will soon sweep through and forever change the radiant and bustling culture that Ibbotson has recreated. Although things are wrapped up neatly at the end of the book, the ending isn't entirely happy, for which I was grateful. I was left with the sense of bittersweet enjoyment that one gets when reading a good book for the first time--knowing that it will end, but realizing that it can be experienced again.

Grade: A

Random Thoughts:

Although it seems to be categorized as "romance," it's not a romance in the modern sense of the word, but more in the old-fashioned sense of the French "roman" or story--it's a character and community study, rather than a man-woman love story, although that element certainly exists in it.

I'm not sure it was my favorite of Ibbotson's books, but it's probably my second favorite after A Countess Below Stairs. Although I loved the characters, as a staunch vegetarian I couldn't quite like the conversion of a veg to meat-eater through the mechanism of a few tempting meat morsels.

Short stories aren't really my thing, but I now have A Glove Shop in Vienna & Other Stories in my TBR pile. Once I am done I will either declare myself (once more) an Ibbotson master, or start reading her adult novels all over again.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: Yes

Book Review: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks [2010]

I am not very comfortable with stories about mothers dying of cancer. It hits way too close to home, and it's something I'd prefer not to think about at all. Ever. However, since I know that approach is not only unrealistic, but unhealthy for me as well, once in a while I challenge myself with something that I know will probably be painful. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, by Rebecca Skloot, met that criterion, as well as being well reviewed and available on CD: Win-win-win! I have also been trying to read a bit more nonfiction lately, especially since I enjoyed The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher so thoroughly.

Immortal Life is the kind of "relaxed" nonfiction in which the author-narrator takes us on a voyage of discovery that infuses dry, scientific facts with the flavor of human interest. Journalist Skloot had been fascinated as a student by the mystery of the woman behind the HeLa cell line, which has been used to develop the polio vaccine and test cancer therapies, and for a host of other biomedical advances over the last sixty years. Scientists have spent entire careers working with HeLa, but virtually none of them (not to mention the general public) were aware that the relentlessly growing cells originated from an African-American woman named Henrietta Lacks.

In 1951, Lacks was diagnosed with cervical cancer, and a doctor at the Johns Hopkins clinic removed part of the tumor (without her knowledge or consent) before she was treated with radiation therapy. The sample of her cancerous cells grew "like nothing anyone had seen, doubling their numbers every twenty-four hours, stacking hundreds on top of hundreds, accumulating by the millions." Scientists had been struggling to develop self-perpetuating cell lines for years, and Henrietta's cells provided them with an endlessly growing crop on which to perform experiments (some of them vicious and illegal, such as when Henrietta's cancerous cells were injected into healthy patients without their consent). HeLa, as the cells became known, soon spread to laboratories around the world.

In the meantime, the Lacks family had lost Henrietta to a brutally painful death from uremia soon after radiation treatments failed to cure her cancer. Her autopsy revealed that tumors "the size of baseballs had nearly replaced her kidneys, bladder, ovaries, and uterus. And her other organs were so covered in small white tumors it looked as if someone had filled her with pearls." Her children, most notably Deborah Lacks, around whom Skloot frames her story, grew up knowing almost nothing about their mother. It was decades before the Lacks family (struggling to survive in Baltimore) was made aware of the existence of HeLa, which by that point had become a profit-making enterprise and scientific standard. Deborah's brothers reacted with anger, but Deborah was fueled by a desire to discover everything she possibly could about her mother and her dead sister, Elsie, who had been institutionalized and died in the 1950s.

As Skloot comes to a careful truce with the Lacks family and helps Deborah on the slow and painful road to knowing her mother, she intersperses chapters on the scientific developments of cell culture and the discoveries it facilitated. Skloot strikes a careful balance between ethics and the importance of scientific research as she investigates the history of informed consent and presents the "science" part of the story in approachable prose. The combination of these informational chapters with the narrative of Henrietta and Deborah is amazingly effective. I would definitely recommend The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks to anyone interested in accessible nonfiction, the history of medicine, African-American history, or just someone looking for a good, moving story. I admit, I cried more than once while listening in the car.


Grade: A

Random Thoughts:

One of the most amazing things about this story is the fact that so many of the principals were still alive, despite the fact that Lacks died in 1951. For example, Skloot was able to interview the doctor who examined Henrietta and removed her cells. Lab assistants, researchers, family members, and others who were touched by Lacks (or HeLa) were still available for Skloot's research. The book was at least ten years in the making, and at times yielded some amazing and improbable discoveries, especially where Deborah's sister Elsie was concerned. It makes me wonder what on earth Skloot will write about next, since she became a primary character in Immortal Life.

Skloot is donating proceeds from the sale of the book to the Henrietta Lacks Foundation, which has just given out its first grants to some of Henrietta's descendants.

I listened to the book on audio CD, and the narrator was certainly able, but I would also recommend picking up the book to see the eight  pages of color photographs, which do a great deal to bring life to the people that Skloot describes.

I may be the only one who thought this, but if there had been another season of The Wire, they could have centered it around the interaction between Johns Hopkins and the citizens of Baltimore.

Book Review Index
Dead Mother: Yes

Book Review: The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher [2008]

I have not read much nonfiction in 2010, in contrast to my somewhat regular consumption in 2009, but Kate Summerscale's The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher: A Shocking Murder and the Undoing of a Great Victorian Detective has been on my TBR list for several years now. When the folks at Unshelved noted that the audio version was narrated by Simon Vance, that was all the incentive I required to put it on my holds list immediately.¹

In a country house in 1860, three-year old Saville Kent was brutally murdered and his body disposed of in a privy, most likely by a member of the household. Suspects in what came to be known as the Road Hill Murder included Saville's father, governess, and siblings. After local police bungled and obstructed the investigation, detective-inspector Jack Whicher was sent from London to work the case, which had gained fervent national interest due to detailed and sensational newspaper accounts. When Whicher identified Saville's sixteen-year old half-sister Constance as the murderer, but was unable to produce anything but circumstantial evidence, his career was seriously jeopardized and the family's privacy was permanently shattered. The solution to the mystery, unraveling in the eye of a scandal-hungry public, took intriguing twists and turns over the course of the next century.

The book is nonfiction that reads more like fiction. On the surface, it's about a crime committed in Victorian England, but Summerscale uses the murder to tease out the complicated relationships between public and private spaces, between the working and middle classes, between husband and wife and first families and second families, and most importantly to examine the rise of the detective, both historically and in popular literature. Along the way, the reader learns word origins, peculiarities of Victorian behavior, historical tidbits, and a little bit about the religious controversies of the late 1800s. A fascinating read.

Grade: A-


Random Thoughts:

As an ex-Victorianist-in-training, I often had the sensation that I was reading someone's dissertation, particularly because she tied it so strongly to detective and sensation fiction like The Moonstone and Lady Audley's Secret. Therefore, I spent a lot of the book thinking about how much grueling research Summerscale must have conducted in order to generate such a well-nuanced depiction of not only the crime itself, but the overall atmosphere of Victorian society. She uses weather reports, railroad schedules, portraits of the people involved, and other primary sources to set the scene with minute details for each stage of the investigation. One of the reviews described her approach to the material as "fastidious," and that pretty much nails it. The voracity of Victorian appetite for sensation (fed by and resulting in a constant stream of newspaper articles) no doubt gave her an absolute wealth of information from which to generate her story. The overwhelming amount of information about the case also points to a public fascination--on the level of an OJ or similar trial today--with murder and scandal that clearly did not develop as recently as one might have theorized.

The pros of reading The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher in print form include the photo pages, as well as voluminous end notes that reveal the scholarly approach behind Summerscale's fiction-esque narrative. The pros of listening to the audio book: Simon Vance. The audio version also has an insert that depicts the floor plan of Road Hill House, which is pretty cool, even though you wouldn't necessarily be scanning it while driving.

For more about how the book was written, see Bookslut's lengthy interview with Summerscale here.

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Dead Mother: Yes

¹Seriously, I am strongly considering checking the catalog for whatever Simon Vance has narrated and putting it on my list. I know him primarily as the dreamy voice of the Temeraire series, but I am more than willing to listen to him talk to me on just about any subject. Needless to say, I follow him on Twitter.

Book Review: Howl's Moving Castle [1986]

I am slowly but surely making my way through a theoretical list of books I should have read many years ago, and Howl's Moving Castle was definitely on that list. Reader, I very much enjoyed it! But I am getting ahead of myself.

Sophie is the eldest of three sisters, and expects (according to well-established fairy tale rules) to live an unadventurous life as a hat shop owner. However, fate intervenes in the form of the nefarious Witch of the Waste, who sees something potentially powerful in Sophie (that she can't quite see herself) and transforms her preemptively into an old woman. Despite being physically ancient, Sophie is incredibly stubborn and resilient, deciding that she will set off to seek her fortune. She ends up working as a housekeeper for the peculiar Wizard Howl, who appears to do nothing but groom his appearance and court women whom he discards as soon as they return his affection. Howl lives with his apprentice, Michael, in a floating castle with doors that lead into several different places (including Wales), powered and maintained by the magic of a cantankerous fire demon, Calcifer. With the Witch of the Waste looming as a formidable opponent (and cast-off lover), Howl does everything he can to avoid responsibility and a potential appointment as Court Wizard, even as he courts one of Sophie's sisters and circumstances threaten to put the little household directly in harm's way.

Grade: A

Howl's Moving Castle is a fascinating mix of traditional fairy tale, romance, fantasy, and comedy. The characters and setting are slowly and deliciously developed, and it's totally the kind of story where the dog that you help in the first act comes back to repay you in the third and everything is sorted out tidily.

Random Thoughts:

I'm not sure how I feel about the connection between Sophie's world and ours through Howl's doorway into Wales. I suppose creating the connection is a way of making the reader relate more sympathetically to Howl; seeing his family did give his character a necessary depth and humanity. However, it brought up a whole bunch of unanswered questions for me, such as how do people in our world learn how to cross over? Can non-magical people do it? What are the rules of magic in Ingary, anyway? Are they different in our world? And so on.

I am a sucker for chapter titles that start with things like "In which"--some of my favorites were "In which Howl expresses his feelings with green slime" and "In which there is a great deal of witchcraft."

I have the movie in my possession, I just haven't gotten around to watching it yet. I will update this post if/when I do.

ASK THE READERS: Should I read Castle in the Air and/or House of Many Ways?



Dead Mother: Yes (see above re: fairy tale)
Book Review Index

Book Review: Ascendant [2010]

I am an unabashed fan of Rampant and Diana Peterfreund, so I was exceptionally pleased to have the opportunity to read the sequel, Ascendant, before its publication. I put up a review over at Team Unicorn, because . . . unicorns, duh!

Grade: A-

Dead Mother: No, but maybe that would make Astrid's life easier.
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Book Reviews: His Majesty's Dragon [2006] and Throne of Jade [2006]

I've read several books featuring dragons over the years: McCaffrey, Wrede, heck, even those Eragon books, and of course the beloved Dragonlance books of my youth. I eventually got to a point where I felt I had probably read enough dragon books to fill my quota. I admit, I was utterly wrong, possibly even crazy! Thank goodness Naomi Novik had the unexpected and brilliant idea to combine dragons with the general time period of the Napoleonic wars. In the first of the series, His Majesty's Dragon (published as Temeraire in the UK), Novik introduces us to Captain William Laurence, a stiff-necked Navy man who finds himself unexpectedly bound to a dragon hatchling (taken from a French ship) whom he names Temeraire. While this event means the end of his successful naval career, his hopes of marriage, and a fragile peace with his father, Laurence comes to love Temeraire and grows accustomed to his new position as an Aviator in the flying division of the British military, despite their more relaxed approach to life. With the threat of Napoleon's invasion looming from the other side of the channel, Laurence and Temeraire must train quickly to have any hope of performing their duty to defend England's shores.

In the direct sequel, Throne of Jade, Temeraire's provenance as a Chinese dragon (intended as a gift to Napoleon) becomes an issue with national security implications as the Chinese government demands his return, much to Laurence's dismay. Temeraire, Laurence, and their crew set off by sea on a diplomatic mission to China, encountering perils both at sea and on land. Once they reach the Orient, however, they find that dragons are treated as equal to humans in China--and Temeraire has a place among the rarest and most powerful dragons in the land. Will Temeraire and Laurence be parted forever on a foreign shore? [Spoiler alert: There are at least four other books in the series.]

Grade: A

Random Thoughts:

I am going to say the words "man-dragon love" to describe these books without irony or sexual innuendo, because the relationship between Laurence and Temeraire is adorable and loving and definitely the anchor of the series. I love it when they read together! However, Novik also writes well-rounded and (individually and collectively) awesome secondary characters that are a pleasure to encounter in the pages.

I like the way that Novik plays the strict, duty-bound Laurence against the innocent enthusiasm of Temeraire; it leads to a series of interesting discussions between them about property, the state of women, slavery, government, military service . . . Laurence begins to realize that perhaps his blind faith in duty and love of country may be somewhat misplaced.

Aerial battles between dragons, in which they fly in formation and are crewed in an ingenious manner similar to (but totally cooler than) naval ships, are the best thing EVER.

As usual, I listened to these books on audiobook (but then also read them in paperback when I was out of the car and couldn't help myself from finding out what happened next). The narrator of the series, Simon Vance, does an excellent job, especially considering all the accents that he is called on to perform.

Anyone have any other dragon books to recommend, now that my mind has been reopened?

ETA: Reviews of other books in this series here and here.

Dead Mother: No on both counts, YAY!
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Book Review: Shades of Grey [2010]

Shades of Grey, by Jasper Fforde, is the second novel I have read recently that takes color and makes it a central and essential function of the story (the other was Warbreaker). Maybe this is a new trend to watch? Fforde, well-known for his absurdly clever Thursday Next series, takes a leap in a different direction into post-apocalyptic dystopia, as the world of the novel (Chromatacia) is organized into a strict and self-policing color hierarchy. People are ranked according to the colors they are able to see, with purple being the highest and grey the lowest. Set in the United Kingdom of a far, far distant future--after the "Something That Happened," whatever that might have been--Shades of Grey explores a society entirely bound by the sometimes nonsensical rules attributed to a figure known as Munsell. Rules such as: "Unicycles are not to be ridden backward at excessive speed" and "All residents are required to make sacrifices for the good of the community." In the world of the Collective, free movement and independent thought are frowned upon, advanced technology is being progressively phased out, marriages are arranged to result in the most highly colored offspring, the landscape is plagued by lightning and giant swan attacks, and there is a severe shortage of spoons.

We are introduced to these and other curiosities (some tantalizingly familiar, such as a passing mention of "Chuck Naurice") through the first-person narration of Edward "Eddie" Russet, who has been sent to the Outer Fringes to conduct a chair census as a punishment. His father, who accompanies him on the journey, has been sent to replace the previous Swatchman (essentially a doctor who administers carefully chosen color swatches to heal the sick), who died unexpectedly. When Eddie arrives in East Carmine (place and person names in the book all have some color-based significance), he falls in love with aggressive and chromatic-hating Jane Grey, who threatens to kill him several times and actually attempts it twice. Despite being half-promised to Constance Oxblood back home, Eddie finds himself falling rapidly into life in East Carmine--making friends and enemies, learning the ins and outs of the town and its eccentrics, and becoming increasingly invested in the ongoing mystery of the Swatchman's death. Unfortunately, Eddie's propensity for questions (intelligent or not) and kind heart are not qualities that are likely to lead to a long and healthy life as a productive citizen of the Collective. And neither is his attraction to Jane. Fforde has created a fascinating and somehow believably absurd world which conveys enough glimpses of our own to make you wonder whether anything would ever make the Earth's population trade religious faith for the religion of following the rules.

Grade: A

Random Thoughts:

I also enjoyed the portrayal of librarians a great deal, although it was deeply sad that the constrictive nature of the Collective lead to their guardianship of empty shelves where books used to sit. Ah, bureaucracy.

The idea of "megafauna" quite frankly makes me giggle, as does this Bestiary of some of the creatures mentioned in the book, including bouncing goats. Fforde somehow manages to be completely silly and satirically pointed at the same time. There's also a lovely history of barcodes available.

This is a book that I both listened to in the car, and then read on paper when I didn't want to stop and have to wait to find out what happened next. It had the same narrator as The City & The City, which was a little weird at first (since I had just recently finished that one), but it turns out that John Lee is a pretty kick-ass narrator who can sell whatever material he's given. I enjoyed both versions, and would recommend them both. 

I wonder if this book might find some interest among a YA audience, as the story has some "coming of age" elements, and Eddie is only twenty. Either way, I do look forward to reading the rest of the series.

Dead Mother: Yes
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Book Review: Catching Fire [2009]

My consumption of Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins, has been so long delayed that most of the people who read this review will probably be surprised that I hadn't managed to read it until now. I did, in fact, possess an Advance Reader's Copy of the book before its publication in 2009, but it was sadly lost somewhere in transit between Amherst and Springfield (luckily before that happened I had the chance to share it with others). Somehow this meant that I just . . . didn't get around to reading it, even after it was published, even after everyone raved about it, and even after the name and cover of the third volume in the trilogy was released. [cue dramatic music] Until now.

As the middle volume of the series, Catching Fire nevertheless manages to hold its own against the high standard set by The Hunger Games. The story picks just before Katniss and Peeta depart on their Victory Tour as winners of the last Hunger Games. A threatening visit from President Snow leaves Katniss with the firm belief that she must make her "relationship" with Peeta as real as possible for the cameras, or her entire family (and love interest, Gale) will be at risk. As they make their way through the districts and try to resume quiet lives at home, signs of political unrest continue to appear, often associated with the symbol of the mockingjay that Katniss wore during the Hunger Games. As President Snow reveals a brutal twist to this year's games, Katniss and Peeta find themselves embroiled once again in a fight for their lives, this time against The Capitol itself. Collins revisits a lot of favorite characters and also introduces a bevy of new ones for us to root for as she moves Katniss inevitably closer to open rebellion.

Grade: A-

The book is a little slow in the beginning, setting up the fast-paced cliffhanger conclusion and, presumably, the gripping series finale. I listened to it on audio CD, and the narrator was above average, although it was difficult at first to reconcile an older woman's voice with my mental image of the character. I am not sure which side of the love triangle I prefer, but I definitely appreciate that, unlike in the Twilight series, there is still some mystery as to which one Katniss will end up with (assuming they aren't all dead by the end of the third book). Another thing I appreciate about Collins' writing is the fact that some or all of the major characters could feasibly die in Mockingjay, given the sheer volume of character death and/or dismemberment in the first two books.

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Dead Mother: [Spoiler alert?] No

Book Review: The Price of the Stars [1992]

I decided to put a hold on The Price of the Stars, written by Debra Doyle and James D. MacDonald, after reading this article on swashbuckling science fiction heroes from the past 100 years. I mean, just look at that cover! She is wearing a red eye-patch! Anyway, reading this book was definitely one of the better decisions (reading-related or otherwise) I've made recently; it was the perfect combination of action, adventure, romance, humor, magic, and techno-geekery to help me celebrate the turning of the year.

Beka Rosselin-Metadi is the youngest child of a powerful politician and the head of the galaxy's military forces, both of whom were responsible for essentially saving the universe at some point predating The Price of the Stars. Given the weight of all that prestige, and the fact that she is slated to inherit her mother's title as ruler of a now-dead planet, it's little surprise that Beka left town as soon as possible to become a freewheeling starship pilot. However, after her mother is assassinated on the Senate floor, her father tracks her down and offers her a bargain: his prized ship Warhammer for the names of those responsible. With the assistance of a mysterious stranger, she assumes the alternate personality of a ruthless (male) gunslinger with a reputation for violence and begins her hunt, uncovering in the process the shape of a much larger conspiracy that may stretch into the sinister Mageworlds themselves.

Doyle and MacDonald present the story from five primary points of view: Beka, her equally talented brother Ari, the urbane medic Jessan (himself secret royalty), the Adept Llannat, and the much put-upon Commander Gil, aide to General Metadi himself. The characters are engaging, and the plot--well, here is the best recommendation I can give it (and I am aware that this will immediately date me): The Price of the Stars reminded me of the original Star Wars, except the female characters were infinitely more kick-ass, the dialogue was better, and the worldbuilding felt like it had the weight of serious thought behind it. And I am a big Star Wars fan. Also, the fight scenes were awesome.

A delicious romp through space! Bring on the next book in the series.

Grade: A

ETA: I'm sure this book has its share of flaws, but I was too busy being entertained to notice them.

Dead Mother: Y

Book Review: Soulless [2009]

When I was ordering paperbacks a months ago, I immediately added Soulless by Gail Carriger to my cart, because I knew from its description alone that it would be completely awesome. And of course, I was right. Soulless is utterly charming. I am charmed. If it didn't have multiple holds on it, I would keep it to read again instead of releasing it back into the library system. However, I am generally kind and don't want to prevent other patrons from enjoying it. I am, however, considering buying my own copies and forcing them on various friends, if this review doesn't immediately make them want to read the book. Which it should, because I have impeccable taste.

Alexia Tarabotti is regrettably (in the eyes of her family and the London ton) a half-Italian spinster who combines bluestocking tendencies with the unnerving habit of speaking her mind. She is also lacking a soul, a fact known only to those in the supernatural community, including the ill-mannered (but strangely appealing) Lord Maccon, alpha werewolf and head of the government's Bureau of Unnatural Registry (BUR). Being soulless, or preturnatural, grants her the ability to negate other supernatural powers. After an unfortunate incident that ends in the staking (with the help of her wooden hair stick and trusty weighted parasol) of an unregistered vampire, Alexia and Lord Maccon's paths cross and re-cross as the BUR attempts to get to the bottom of a series of disappearances in the supernatural community. Populated by endearing secondary characters, plenty of electricity between the leads, a fully-realized and enchanting alt-Victorian London, and abundant descriptions of couture, comestibles, and steampunk gadgetry, Soulless is a feast for the senses and, so far, my favorite book of 2009.

Grade: A (obviously)

Random Thoughts:

This was much more like a romance novel than I initially thought it would be. For me, this was excellent, as I love a good romance--however, anyone looking for hard urban fantasy should be prepared more for an Amanda-Quick-ish supernatural.

I was reading this book while walking around the house carrying a fretful baby. Carriger's turns of phrase often made me grin like a madwoman. I can't wait for the sequel to come out, and you can bet that I'll be ordering it for the library.

I don't generally ever choose the werewolf in any situation where such a choice is possible. For example, Edward beats Jacob (although--what a choice . . .), and for me Jean-Claude is always preferable to Richard. However, suddenly Lord Maccon has appeared and provided some weight to tip the scales toward the furry side. Here is a werewolf whom one could embrace wholeheartedly, if one were of an appropriately soulless state. Not to say that I wouldn't embrace Lord Akeldama--he is adorable, and one of the few fully realized gay characters who (spoiler alert) does not get killed that I can remember existing. I just adore his army of foppish, yet secretly capable, minions.

The author's website.

Book Review: Ash [2009]

I have read and enjoyed Malinda Lo's work on AfterEllen for many years now, so it was with great pleasure that I heard of the imminent publication of her first young adult novel, Ash. A reworking of the Cinderella story, Ash draws heavily on fairy tale tropes but colors them with a darker, almost gothic flavor.

Aisling ("Ash") is young when her mother dies unexpectedly, and somewhat puzzled when her father remarries and brings a City lady and her two daughters to live in their quiet village. After her father's startling death and their subsequent removal to her stepmother's house, she finds comfort in tales of the fairies, who are said to thrive in the adjacent Wood. These stories emphasize that, when dealing with those of the other world, a price must always be paid. Moved at first by her absolute certainty that her mother must still be alive, Ash delves deeper and deeper into the Wood, eventually becoming acquainted with the mysterious Sidhean, a fairy with an unknown agenda. Although she is drawn to him and finds their odd friendship the only remedy for an increasingly abusive relationship with her stepmother, she also becomes intrigued by the King's Huntress, Kaisa. She is torn between her certain knowledge that Sidhean can take her away from all earthly struggles, and the golden glow of her interactions with Kaisa. However, in order to enter the world of the Huntress, she strikes bargains with Sidhean that could put her newfound life in jeopardy. Though the plot sometimes moves at an agonizingly slow pace, this is one fairy-tale reimagining that is definitely worth a thoughtful read.

Grade: A-

Random Thoughts:

Lo also develops an interesting tension between the "old ways" (primarily female and earth-oriented, represented by the greenwitches) and the book learning of the "philosophers," who tend to be men.

After thinking about it, I would say that agency is one of the most important themes of the book. Ash spends a good deal of the narrative having things done to her, and must learn to make her own decisions and deal with the consequences of her actions.

Interview with Malinda Lo on AfterEllen.

The author's website.

Book Review: Saving Francesca [2003]

Some list somewhere of YA literature "for adults" recommended Saving Francesca, by Melina Marchetta, and it has the distinction of being the book I was reading during that whole labor & delivery thing. Therefore, my recollection of it is a little fuzzy--however, I do remember liking it! Francesca is accustomed to struggling with her vibrant, overbearing mother, until the day that Mia doesn't get out of bed. To make things worse, Francesca is the only one in her group of friends to begin 11th grade at St. Sebastian's, a formerly all-male school still adjusting to its transition to co-ed status. As Francesca's family falls apart, she loses touch with her old, shallow friends and finds herself bonding with an unlikely group of girls and boys. She is embroiled in an initially adversarial flirtation with House leader William Trombal, who unfortunately already has a girlfriend.

The strengths of Saving Francesca are both the subject mattter (the ripple effect of Mia's depression strains Francesca's relationships with her father and teachers in addition to her mother) and the slow, deliberate filling out of characters through Francesca's sometimes unreliable narration. Francesca's eventual group of friends isn't just a clique-y group of girls as in many teen school-based novels, but a mix of slightly outcast boys and girls whom circumstances have thrown together. The characters are fresh and vibrant, and the ending brings the story to a satisfying full circle.

Grade: A

The author's website. I especially like the Australian part--she lives in Sydney.