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Hex Hall by Rachel Hawkins

Publisher: Hyperion Book CH
Published: March 2nd, 2010
Genre: YA Paranormal
Pages: 336 (Hardback)

Three years ago, Sophie Mercer discovered that she was a witch. It’s gotten her into a few scrapes. Her non-gifted mother has been as supportive as possible, consulting Sophie’s estranged father–an elusive European warlock–only when necessary. But when Sophie attracts too much human attention for a prom-night spell gone horribly wrong, it’s her dad who decides her punishment: exile to Hex Hall, an isolated reform school for wayward Prodigium, a.k.a. witches, faeries, and shapeshifters.

By the end of her first day among fellow freak-teens, Sophie has quite a scorecard: three powerful enemies who look like supermodels, a futile crush on a gorgeous warlock, a creepy tagalong ghost, and a new roommate who happens to be the most hated person and only vampire student on campus. Worse, Sophie soon learns that a mysterious predator has been attacking students, and her only friend is the number-one suspect.

As a series of blood-curdling mysteries starts to converge, Sophie prepares for the biggest threat of all: an ancient secret society determined to destroy all Prodigium, especially her.

The aforementioned prom night fiasco starts the book off, and I was laughing out loud before the first chapter was even over. Sophie Mercer is such a goofball, and has such a witty, sarcastic mouth on her, that you can’t resist her charms for very long (Though, if I ever met her in person–don’t tell me she’s not real!–I would probably be forced to smack her). When she uttered “screw that noise” I thought she was pretty awesome. When she exclaimed “holy hell weasel,” she made a fan for life.

The other characters are solid, too. Archer Cross is the hot bad boy, Jenna is the best friend/roommate (who happens to be a pink-loving, lesbian vampire), and the villainous trio of girls adds a great dose of tension. Elodie, the queen bee of the three, could have been a little more evil, though.

A little more is really my only complaint about this book. It felt like it was stripped down to its bare bones. I honestly would have liked it to be 50+ pages longer. To have even more fleshed out characters and plot. To learn even more about Hex Hall itself and how the magic in this world works. I just wanted more. Which, if you think about it, is a positive in a way, too.

Even though the details were lacking for me, I barreled through it in only a few days. Hex Hall is just fun. Plus, near the end, there was a twist that literally made me gasp and slam a hand over my mouth. Good job on that one, Hawkins! Never saw that one coming!

Rating: 3 out of 5

Add it to your Goodreads HERE.

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Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

Publisher: Harper/HarperCollins
Published: November 15th, 2011
Genre: YA Dystoptian Fantasy
Pages: 352 (Hardback)

Juliette hasn’t touched anyone in exactly 264 days.

The last time she did, it was an accident, but The Reestablishment locked her up for murder. No one knows why Juliette’s touch is fatal. As long as she doesn’t hurt anyone else, no one really cares. The world is too busy crumbling to pieces to pay attention to a 17-year-old girl. Diseases are destroying the population, food is hard to find, birds don’t fly anymore, and the clouds are the wrong color.

The Reestablishment said their way was the only way to fix things, so they threw Juliette in a cell. Now so many people are dead that the survivors are whispering war– and The Reestablishment has changed its mind. Maybe Juliette is more than a tortured soul stuffed into a poisonous body. Maybe she’s exactly what they need right now.

Juliette has to make a choice: Be a weapon. Or be a warrior.

I was supposed to hold onto this one until it was my turn to choose the next book for my book club. But when it arrived, and it was sitting on my coffee table, I was only able to resist the temptation for about a week, before I gave up on waiting and dived in. I gobbled it up in a couple of days.

Like Blood Red Road, Shatter Me has a very unique style. With Blood Red Road, it’s something you get used to within a handful of pages, and you forget it’s told in a “weird” way. Shatter Me always leaves the reader feeling a little… off. Possibly because the style isn’t consistent throughout. It was most effective in the first half of the book, I think, when we’re more or less trapped in Juliette’s head. It felt a little disjointed, a little manic. But if you were Juliette, you’d probably feel disjointed and manic, too.

The style worked for me, for the most part. Some of the lines were flat out brilliant, while other lines had imagery that was so bizarre it sometimes tripped me up, caused me to remember that I was reading and I’d stop, puzzled. There were lines like, “I am too poor to afford the luxury of hysteria right now” that I loved. Then lines like, “My jaw is dangling from my shoelace” that were just… odd. I didn’t think the strikethrough font was always necessary, either (though it was laugh-out-loud-funny in at least one instance).

As far as negatives go, that’s about it: the style was just weird sometimes. Never enough that I wanted to stop reading for more than ten seconds. Never enough for me to not be completely engrossed in Juliette’s story.

I’m usually picky about worldbuilding, especially in post-apocalyptic novels. But I didn’t really mind that the world wasn’t fleshed out in this. This is Juliette’s story, and I was more than happy to spend all my time with her. In her world, society wasn’t destroyed by war or a plague. The government–The Reestablishment–swooped in to save society from itself. Which, as you can imagine, didn’t go well. The Reestablishment wants Juliette for her ability to drain someone’s life with her touch. They tore her from her family and locked her up. Think of it like the prequel to Rogue’s story, if she lived in a post-apocalyptic world.

Shatter Me takes us through Juliette’s journey of discovering the truth about her abilities, what’s really been going on in the world outside the single window of her cell, and accepting that she’s not the monster she once thought. All of the characters we meet along the way are engaging, and my god, Mafi’s dialogue is brilliant! I’ve noticed that sometimes male characters lose an element of their “maleness” when written by women, but the dialogue from everyone in Shatter Me–male, female, young, old–was perfect. (The moment Kenji uttered “son of a motherless goat,” I fell in love with him.)

I think without the intensity that’s infused into every page of this book–thanks to the often clipped, minimal style–some of the concepts might have sounded silly, or the romance element might have felt overdone. But the style actually just heightened everything. The romance was sexy as hell, without actually including sex! Which is a feat in itself, I’d say. It’s a fun, stressful intense ride, from start to finish.

While the book felt complete, a wide range of possibilities for the upcoming two books were left wide open. I have no idea what’s going to happen next, but I can’t wait to find out!

Rating: 4 out of 5

Add it to your Goodreads HERE.

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Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand by Helen Simonson

Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: November 30th, 2010
Genre: Contemporary Adult
Pages: 368 (Paperback)

I really wasn’t sure how I would feel about this book when I started. I was frankly bored during the first five or so chapters.

Part of my aversion was due to the main character himself. Major Ernest Pettigrew is, essentially, a grumpy old man. He’s 68, retired from the military, widowed, and grouchy. I found myself rolling my eyes at him. Wondering how in the world I would be able to stand a book starring such an unlikable man. He’s sarcastic (to the point of being covertly rude), elitist, and his sense of propriety is so absolute that I often found myself wanting to give him a good hard shake, tell him to lighten up.

The pace of the book is much slower than anything I’ve read lately, too, and it took me a while to find my rhythm. Which is not a reflection on Simonson’s storytelling. The main characters are all older people, living in a small village, with a “slow” lifestyle. The storytelling reflects that pace of life. It was actually refreshing, after a while, to be reading a story from the point of view of an “elderly” person that had nothing to do with the end of life, with illness, with the aches and pains of growing older. There are elements of the latter mixed in, but if anything it helped endear us to the Major more.

Mrs. Ali, a 58-year-old Pakistani shopkeeper, swoops into the Major’s life just when he thinks his life is over. Just when he thinks he’s all alone in the world. It’s through her that we really get to know the Major. He grows on you. His sarcasm loses some of its bite, and we start to see the humor in his observations and sarcastic retorts. We rejoice when he finally lets some of his decorum slip. Mrs. Ali doesn’t change him, just opens his eyes. He’s still gruff, still mildly elitist, but she’s able to soften his edges.

I ended up loving Major Pettigrew’s Last Stand. It instills a kind of hope. A hope that people are never too old to learn something new, to change their perspective. That it’s never too late to take a risk, and that it’s never too late to fall in love.

Rating: 5 out of 5

Add it to your Goodreads HERE.

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Ghostly ramblings

To any of my fellow writers out there… do you find yourself constantly watching people, wondering if a story resides there somewhere?

For my job, I’m out and about all day long. I see (and often interact with–sometimes against my will!) strange and interesting people everyday. I watch facial expressions, take in attire, strain to hear pieces of conversation. I like trying to figure out people’s stories. Not just to have additional fodder for my stories, but because people on a whole fascinate me.

I often see the same people several times a week while I’m making my pet care rounds. Like the old hunchbacked woman with the giant orthopedic shoes, totebags hanging off either arm. She has distractingly long dentures. Of the dogs I walk downtown, she always asks, “Are they friendly?” I always say yes, she always reaches down to pet them. Then she laughs and says, “They’re sweet, aren’t they?” I always agree.

There’s the man who lives around the corner from me. He’s out on his front porch talking on the phone a lot. I think it’s to get away from the 4+ children who live in is house. And/or the chain-smoking woman I assume is his wife.

He always says hi to me and my dog as we go by. Often asks me about the books I’m reading, since I read while walking Diamond quite a bit. He’s a nice guy–though I’m worried there’s something wrong with him. His stomach, more specifically. It’s not just an oversized beer belly, but it looks misshapen. Like he’s storing things under his shirt. Perhaps his kid’s toys. Wooden blocks and Tonka trucks. Sometimes I picture a baby alien bursting forth from his abdomen. Something has to be growing in there.

I saw him marching angrily through the neighborhood the other day, further than I’ve ever seen him go. He was on the phone, of course, talking loudly. “I had to leave. I’m going to the store!” he said. “I can’t live like this anymore!”

But it’s the guy I saw tonight that made me think about crafting a story. I’ve lived in this neighborhood for about a year now. I walk Diamond twice a day, the times varying greatly depending on what my work load is like. Sometimes she gets her walk at six. Sometimes we don’t go til eleven. Yet somehow, regardless of when I go, nine times out of ten, I’ll see this guy walking. We pass each other on opposite sides of the sidewalk in the same general area, night after night.

I’m guessing he’s in his late teens, early twenties. He’s got shoulder length brown hair, always down, always parted in the middle. It’s in better shape than mine, which I find upsetting. I always marvel at how straight and sleek and shiny it is as he strolls past. He’s always in black jeans and a black t-shirt hidden behind a black leather jacket. He’s always sporting heavy black boots. And I do mean always. I’ve never, in a year, seen any variation in how he dresses or how he wears his hair. Never a pony tail, never blue jeans. He’s never talking on his phone or listening to music. He’s just walking at a steady clip, a hurried bounce to his steps.

The lack of variation has started to creep me out lately. I find myself often hoping something will be different when I see him. I hope someone will be walking down the sidewalk on his side, will say something to him. But it feels like no one else sees him when he goes by. No one turns to look at him. What if only I can see him? I’ve wondered. What if he’s a residual ghost forever walking the dark streets of Sacramento?

Most people, especially when walking at night, will glance over at anyone walking in their vicinity, just to make sure, ya know, the person doesn’t look like this. But in a year, he’s never even glanced my direction. Even when we’re walking on opposite sides of the sidewalk as late as eleven in the evening.

I was slightly relieved when Diamond heard those large black boots of his crunching through the fallen leaves tonight, and she watched him as he walked by. But it was only a temporary comfort. Dogs are said to be open to seeing spirits, too! As I watched him, I wondered if his destination lay somewhere around the next corner, or if he simply vanished, reappearing again the following night to make the same, endless journey.

I could, of course, just say hi. Call out an exuberant “Good evening!” to him and see if he responds. But, at the same time, I feel like that would break the spell. I realized tonight that I like seeing him. I like wondering about where he’s going, where he’s coming from, and if he only owns one outfit. I like wondering about what his story would be if he were a ghost. And about why I might be the only one who could see him.

Maybe when I get through this latest round of revisions on my book, and I’m letting it sit for a few weeks, I’ll attempt a short story.

But which way should I go? A ghost boy who’s trapped wandering the same street, night after night, or a living boy who floats through life unnoticed?

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Wherever Nina Lies by Lynn Weingarten

Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: February 1st, 2009
Genre: Contemporary YA
Pages: 320 (Paperback)

Its taken me a while to formulate my thoughts on this one, even though I finished reading it over a week ago. I read all but ten pages of it in a day, simply because putting it down was painful. I had to know what happened next. I remember being in the car, the book lying on my passenger seat. I would peer over it every time I stopped at a red light. “I’ll read you soon,” I told it. “I promise.”

The summary: Ellie’s sister Nina disappeared two years ago. No explanation. Gone without a trace. Everyone has given up on Nina ever returning, but Ellie’s sure she’s out there somewhere and is determined to find her. The discovery of a drawing (Which reminded me of The Amanda Project, in a way), clearly done by Nina, sets the plot in motion. With Sean–a boy Ellie barely knows–the pair set off on a quirky, hilarious road trip. The random clues left by Nina, the kooky characters, and mystery of Sean’s past keep the pages turning.

I absolutely adored Ellie from start to finish. The love of her sister and her desire to find her was very genuine, and, as a reader, I wanted her to find Nina just as desperately as she did. When I first met Sean, I immediately fell in love with him, too. Honest, goofy and armed with a zany sense of humor that often had me laughing out loud.

I was completely loving this book to the point that I was irritating all my friends with zillions of  “Zomg! You needz tah read dis book!” texts. (Okay, I don’t actually use text speak.)

Then came the twist… around page 230 or so. A major twist. One that I did not see coming at all, and I felt as blindsided by it as Ellie did. At one point I was clutching the book in one hand, and my head in the other.

And it’s the twist that’s left me feeling unsure, all these days later. Did I dislike where the book ended because I, like Ellie, had completely different expectations than what ultimately happened? Did I feel betrayed somehow because I trusted the author and her characters so completely, and then felt like the rug was ripped out from underneath me? Or did I just not like the path the book went in?

I’ll probably forever be on the fence.

Rating: 4 out of 5

Add it to your Goodreads HERE.

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You win, Nano!

NaNoWriMo is here again. I decided not to kid myself this year, and didn’t sign up. Because, really, when one attempts the same thing three times and fails spectacularly, something is probably amiss. My last attempt was so laughably bad that I gave up after two weeks because the idea of continuing with such a nonsense story made me a little queasy. (Though, of course, when I went back to read it a year later, it wasn’t that bad!)

A writer buddy of mine had a great idea, though. (Which I promptly stole.) Instead of writing 50k of new material, she’s going to revise a chapter a day of her WIP during November instead. NaNoEdMo, as it were. Except, you know, five months early. Whatever. Then I made this:

I’m knee-deep in revisions of the first half of my novel; I think the second half is more or less solid. If I can just get through chapters 13 – 20 or so, I should be in good shape! It would be fantastic to be done with it by December so I can start querying again in January. Ah, querying…

I changed the first chapter and now I’m cleaning up the destruction in the plot-snowball’s wake… felled trees, buried vehicles, crushed bodies. It changed character dynamics, dialogue, the order in which information is given. Egads! But I think I’m that stage of overthinking, which results in lots of fretting and not enough writing. I need the abandon of Nano, the frenzy of just getting it done. Then I can force my friends and critique group to read it for the 400th time go over it with a fine tooth comb. Because at this rate I’ll never finish. (Finish is a relative term, of course. I’ve thought I was done with this darn thing at least three times now!)

So you win, Nano! In a weird sort of backwards way. I will feed off of the energy of all the nanoers who are furiously typing right now. I will get this stinkin’ book edited in November!

Happy writing!

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Matched by Ally Condie

Publisher: Dutton Juvenile
Published: November 30th, 2010
Genre: YA Dystopian Romance
Pages: 366 (Paperback)

Seventeen-year-old Cassia is excited to attend her Matching Ceremony, to find out who her Match will be, who she will ultimately marry and start a family and life with. Though she’s never thought of him in that way before (because she wasn’t allowed to), when her best friend Xander’s picture appears, Cassia is thrilled. Xander is smart and handsome and knows her better than anyone else.

But later, when she’s reviewing Xander’s microcard on her port at home, Xander’s face disappears and is replaced–momentarily–by one of another boy. Soon she is falling for someone not slated to be her Match and she doesn’t know what to do about it.

(If you’re sick of the plethora of love triangles in YA right now, don’t be scared away by the plot of this one. Because it really isn’t about a love triangle. Cassia’s given the choice between practicality and love. And from the start, you know which way she’ll go.)

Matched has been compared to The Giver quite a bit. While I remember loving The Giver, I don’t remember the story itself very much so I can’t say whether or not I agree with that. What it reminded me of was Divergent, if we’d been given a close-up view of what Abnegation was like, rather than Dauntless. Not that everyone in Matched is selfless, but in the sense that they’re all uniform: they dress in muted colors, they all eat the same bland food, they don’t question, they accept. The Citizens in Matched just blindly agree with the rules and regulations the Society has set out for them, because the Citizens believe that the rules are for the benefit of society as a whole. That following the rules will lead them to “optimal results.”

In most dystopias I’ve read with a governing body such as the Society, I usually feel a sense of unease from the get-go. I often find myself wanting to take the MC by the shoulders, give her a good, hard shake and tell her to snap the hell out of her blind devotion. But Matched is different. Though there is an inherent level of creepy, its treated in such a matter-of-fact way that it isn’t creepy. Which makes it creepy in a backwards sort of way. (The container of pills they all carry around was forever creepy, though. A green, blue and red pill–the effects of which remain a mystery, as they are only to be taken if the Society deems it an emergency.)

Meals are devised for you based on what will keep you healthy. You’re selected into vocations based on your skills. Your mate is chosen based on observations and predictions made by the Society. (Which, for anyone who’s participating in the godawful wonderful world of dating, this doesn’t sound so bad. It’s like eHarmony on steroids.) They choose Matches that will result in the best offspring. And, as a reader, you buy into the idea that it’s an effective system when you see how happy and in love Cassia’s parents are.

Everyone dies at the age of eighty. There is no disease; no one dies prematurely from cancer, for example. You know you’ll be given eighty years to live your life… to be Matched, to have children, to have a job that you’re good at. People are happy. So, again, why is this so bad? The fact that it isn’t completely repulsive is what makes the book so interesting. Everything is controlled, calm, peaceful.

But a seed of doubt is planted when Cassia sees Ky’s face instead of Xander’s. And instead of the usual feeling of “Thank baby Jesus! Now she sees the light!” we get the fun of seeing how this new snag in her perfectly planned life starts to unravel everything she’s ever thought about her world. We experience it with her.

The majority of the novel’s “action” takes place during Cassia’s internal struggles. And while not a lot happens in the book per se, I still managed to gobble it up in two days. I think Cassia’s realistic introspection is what drew me in, as well as her observations of the people around her.

What I loved the most was the concept of predetermination. The idea that the Society gives you choices (you can become a Single rather than be Matched, for example), but ultimately, they’ve studied everything about you to the point that they can predict your actions. You’re given a choice, but they already know what that choice is before you make it. So how much freedom do you really have?

And I love that Cassia is honest enough and in tune with herself enough to question her own feelings and explore where they come from. Wondering how much of her is hers alone, and how much of her is a product of the Society. “I can’t tell him that it was his face on the screen that morning after my Match Banquet–the mistake–that made me first begin to think of him this way. I can’t tell him that I didn’t see him until they told me look.”

I still can’t say that I loved this book, though. There was something missing, a disconnect. Mainly when it came to Ky and Cassia’s interactions. I knew how Cassia felt about him because she told us as much. But I didn’t necessarily feel it. I wanted to be as emotionally invested in their budding romance as they were. But that part fell flat for me. At times the book felt like it was more about the message than the characters, which was a bit of a letdown.

That said, I’ll definitely be picking up Crossed!

Rating: 4 out of 5

Add it to your Goodreads HERE.

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Blood Red Road by Moira Young

Publisher: Margaret K. McElderry Books
Published: June 7th, 2011
Genre: YA Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy
Pages: 459 (Hardback)

Oh, how I loved Blood Red Road! I barreled through it in a day and a half; I couldn’t put it down. In a sea of YA post-apocalyptic novels, this one sticks out for a number of reasons. While this is set sometime in the future, we don’t know exactly when. The Wrecker society (us) of the past is long gone. Did famine, war or disease wipe the Wreckers out? We don’t know. There is only one line about it, rather than having the plot hinge on it. I like not being given the details of what happened. It’s set so far in the future that the details don’t really matter anymore.

Then there’s the style. I have yet to read a YA told in such a unique way. Minimalist, poetic, and told in the dialect in which Saba, our heroine, speaks.

“We ain’t had a drop of rain fer six months now. Even the spring that feeds the lake’s startin to run dry. You gotta walk some ways out now to fill a bucket. Pretty soon, there won’t be no point in callin it by its name.

Silverlake.”

This was risky on Young’s part, especially as a debut novelist, as the style alone could turn readers off. It’s a little strange initially, and the first bout of “serious” dialogue comes off as almost comical. But it was never truly off-putting or jarring. Give it ten to fifteen pages and you’ll be so sucked in that you won’t notice anymore. It’s that well done.

And then there’s Saba herself. She’s not immediately likeable. Which is actually refreshing. Most heroines in YA fantasies and dystopias are flawed, are broken in some way. But Saba’s different in that she has a rough, semi-unlikable personality on top of everything else. She’s grouchy, rough around the edges and has a borderline-disturbing obsession with her twin brother Lugh. Their younger sister, Emmi, gets the brunt of Saba’s hostility, and for a while I sympathized with her more than Saba. I wanted to shake her, much like Lugh had wanted to, to tell her to lighten up. The kid’s only nine!

But, at the same time, Saba’s determination to find her brother, and her seeming lack of fear (read: she’s a bad ass), are what initially keep me invested in her, grouchy attitude and all.

While the book’s setting, the pockets of gruff, dirty people populating the various shanty towns, and the band of Ass Kicking Girls all make for a great adventure story, Blood Red Road is just as much about Saba. About her finding her place in a harsh world essentially on her own and out of the shadow of her brother. A shadow she’s happily hid in since the day they were born. Once she sets out on her own adventure, she discovers things about herself she never would have considered had she not been forced to leave her life in Silverlake behind.

The more you get to know Saba, the more you root for her, the more you hope she’ll succeed, even though her edges never soften completely.

“I’m gonna try to be a better sister to you, Emmi.

“It’s okay, she says. You don’t havfta. I’m kind of used to you the way you are.”

Saba wouldn’t be Saba without the bad attitude. She’d probably snap at you if you did something she didn’t like, or punch you in the face if you looked at her the wrong way, but she’d also risk her life to save the people she cares about.

And you can’t help but love her for that.

Oh, and one more thing: Jack. Sweet, tough, beautiful Jack with his “jimswagger grin.” I don’t think I’ve had a crush this strong on a fictional boy since Peeta Mellark! Now if I could only read him out of the book…

Rating: 5 out of 5

Add it to your Goodreads HERE.

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Hello, blogosphere!

I’m really not sure how to kick this whole thing off. So I will start with something random.

A few months ago, my mom and I went on a mini vacation to the beach. While we were walking along the shore, I spotted a wine bottle. Every time I see one, I hope there’s a message in it. From a kindred spirit from a faraway land (or a hottie ala Sawyer from Lost; I’m not picky). This bottle indeed had a message in it! It had a rubber cork, though, and I almost couldn’t get it open. This was slightly maddening. Then I discovered that the Mysterious Message was in a plastic bag. Even more maddening! For future reference, getting a plastic bag out of a wine bottle when the only tools you have for extraction are limp strands of kelp is no easy task.

But I finally got it!

The strangest thing about this? The 3rd of October is my birthday! (I found the note in August.)

I’m a sucker for (purposefully) bad poetry.


And that’s your bit of randomness for the day.