Ravenous Bookshelf

Rating: 4 / 5 stars.

I've heard about Holly Black in terms of awesomeness before, but I've never really gotten into her modern faeire tale series with Valiant, Tithe, and Ironside. It isn't that I doubted the reviews, but each time I picked up one of her books they failed to really grab me...the timing just felt off.

And then I went to the ALA Annual Conference in DC, and saw the lines for White Cat. I decided enough was enough! No more lollygagging! I would enter the world of Holly Black and not look back!

Oh man.

I was so not prepared for the awesome. First off, White Cat is a con man's story, which means it's full of twists and tricks and glorious lies. Second, this is a world of magic, where certain people -- called workers -- have the ability to curse others by touch alone. There is a ban on 'working,' and the government is eager to have mandatory tests to determine who has this ability (which workers are understandably eager to avoid). So everybody wears gloves, just to be safe. Meanwhile, a lot of workers are drawn into a black market world by their talents, recruited - and someones forced - to work for crime syndicates with their mojo.

The main story centers around Cassel, who seems like a decent guy. Okay, so maybe his mother's in jail for scamming rich guys out of their fortunes (with a little help from her emotional 'working' magic), and his brothers might be sort of working the black market with their talents for luck and broken bones, respectively, but Cassel doesn't have the working talent, so he's not in the family business. Instead, he's going to boarding school, becoming an upright young man and keeping out of trouble...except for that little betting pool he's operating on the side. Oh, and that time he murdered a girl in cold blood.

Um, yeah.

It took me a little while to get into this story, but once I was hooked and the con games got going, well -- I finished this one in a day. And kept making these shocked noises that disturbed my fellow passengers on various transports, because by the end my head was spinning off. I mean, I sort of saw one twist, but then there was another, and then I did not see that coming and oh what? -- so I just had to sit back and enjoy the ride.

As a narrator, Cassel was hard to warm to, especially given his habit of envisioning killing his ex-girlfriend as a sort of litmus test for Evil. (Cassel: Hmm, does the thought of strangling this girl fill me with horror? ....Yes...okay, so, still not evil!). But it was through his interactions with his family -- his crazy, criminal, messed-up family, that I really started to sympathize with him. By three-quarters of the way through the story had really kicked into gear and I was with Cassel to the end, whatever that turned out to be.

I'll stop babbling to avoid spoilers, but I can say now with confidence: Holly Black's reputation of awesome is fully justified. And con games + mobsters + prickly, difficult characters + magic = win.

Rating: 4.5 out of 5 stars.

First, a disclaimer.

I do not like zombies.

I don't enjoy zombie movies, I do not read zombie books, and I generally fail to see the appeal of the shambling dead.

But Grant's book has zombies and bloggers, and that combination was enough to hook me. Her prose, her universe, and most especially her characters' relationships kept me hooked, even though I knew -- I knew! -- according to the Rules of Zombieworld, that This Would Not End Well.

So Georgia Mason and her brother Shaun live in a world that has defeated the common cold, cured cancer...and accidentally unleashed an epidemic of the living dead.

Oops.

Georgia and Shaun grew up with this world, so the constant terror isn't actually new -- and it's fascinating to see how American society has adapted to the constant threat of having one's face chewed off by deceased friends and relatives. Usually this involves hiding indoors and testing your blood a lot.

Georgia and Shaun are constantly outside, instead, because of their jobs -- they are among the elite bloggers in the news/entertainment industry, and their entire lives revolve around drawing the ratings. After the Rising, the main media lost the peoples' trust and respect, largely because of their denialism and reports of Zombies, Pshaw! -- meanwhile, ordinary citizens were blogging about How to Kill That Thing Moaning in Your Yard.

So Georgia and Shaun go gallivanting about, bringing the latest news and thrills to the general populace hiding in their secure compounds, and garnering minor celebrity status in the process. So much status, in fact, that their blogging team is selected to cover the presidential campaign - by accompanying Senator Ryman, candidate for the GOP, on the trail to the convention.

I was fascinated by Grant's take on the media, politics, and everyday life in an atmosphere of constant fear -- even more so because it seemed utterly plausible and strikingly similar to today. But mostly I loved the relationship between Georgia and Shaun. They win the award for Best Sibling Relationship I've read so far -- bickering, bantering, covering each others' backs, and being unabashedly honest about their love and trust in each other.

If I wanted to be really analytical, I could talk about the parallels of zombie virology (Grant has crafted a fascinating model of infection) and the 'viral' spread of information among people with the blogging universe, crowdsourcing and communications advancements...but mostly?

Georgia + Shaun = Love.

This is the first in a series, so be prepared to be left wanting more (alas! for the Rise of the Series has sorely tested my Waiting Skills).

So go out and read Feed. Even if you've never read a zombie book; even if you have an allergy to the ambulatory departed....read this. You won't regret it.

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars.

The second in Marr's dark faery tales, this novel centers around Leslie, a damaged girl who finds herself pursued by yet another faery monarch -- unlike the callous-but-shiny Summer King, however, Leslie has a more menacing suitor.

Well, not exactly suitor. You see, faeries regard mortals as instruments or playthings, to be used and then discarded -- so if you're expecting a story of True Love Converts Evil To Mushy Lovemuffin, think again.

Leslie has suffered horrific trauma at the hands of her own brother, who became mixed up in drug dealers and used her to pay off a debt. Now she is haunted by nightmares and a constant boiling panic; more than anything, she wants to be free of the terror -- she doesn't want to feel anything at all. When she sees the tattoo design in Rabbit's parlor, it calls to her, promising safety from all of her feelings, offering power and control.

She wants it. She's going to get it, etched deep into her skin, a part of her forever.

But she has no idea that Irial, the Dark Faery King, has very specific plans for that tattoo, and the girl who wears it. Plans that will likely lead to her destruction. But another faery, Niall, has suddenly taken notice of Leslie, and finds himself inexplicably driven to protect her - despite his own ugly past.

This was an enjoyable read, and quite surprising in many places -- several times, I thought it was going along one love-triangle route, but the characters kept surprising me. In part, I think this was because the romance element wasn't really driving the plot. Instead, this book was really about self-determination and how the choices we make shape not only our futures but ourselves. You can never go back to who you once were, and each of the characters make choices that are as much about themselves as they are about being - or not being - with others.

It was quite refreshing, actually, after all of the Edward-obsessed-Bella clones that have been running riot through the genre, more concerned about how the boy feels about her than her own sense of self (let alone self-preservation).

And there is a nice element of menace in this series, with ample evidence that these are the nasty, old-school faeries. If Twilight made vampires cuddly, Marr reminds us that her faeries are foreign, compelling, seductive, and above all dangerous.

So kudos! I'd be interested in picking up the third in this series, to follow this intriguing cast of characters some more.

Daeyln wants to die.

No, Daelyn is determined to die.

This isn't just typical woe-is-me teen angst, that wish for the hard stuff to be over, to get out -- of high school, a small town, a boring home...
Daelyn wants out of life. She's tried before, and failed. She is not going to fail again.

Another 'darker' novel that addresses a twisted problem with sensitivity and some creativity, too, By the time you read this doesn't try to manipulate you with any of the obvious tricks. Daelyn's matter of fact, deadpan narration may put you off at first, but I found it increasingly compelling and far more disturbing than any weepy tirade. Daeyln tells you simply how it is, and the awfulness speaks for itself.

Trauma is involved, but it's more than one single, horrible event -- it's a long, grinding torture of ridicule and abuse that is often casually dismissed under the catchall term 'bullying.'

But this goes way beyond the stereotypical 'give me your lunch money.' Peters shows the suffering and agony that can fester in a 'safe' suburbia when you pack a bunch of hormonal teens in small spaces, and then give them IM and facebook so they are never truly out of contact...

There is a bit of manipulative trickery when Daeyln meets Santana, an annoying dork boy who insists on showing her his pet rat and simply will not leave her alone. If you have seen or read any teen coming-of-age tearjerker ever, you will instantly know what's up with Santana. But Peters manages to make this more than the typical device - part of this is Santana himself, who cheerfully acknowledges his own manipulativeness. He's a person, not a life lesson, and so is Daelyn - which is why the story itself resists any easy categorizations.

Excellent in psychological depth, this is another heavy read that is well worth the discomfort of the ugly subject - you'll keep reading because you care about Daelyn, and she may just surprise you in the end.

Rating: 4 / 5 stars

One night, Ingrid went home, got in the bathtub, and slit her wrists, and her best friend Caitlin has no idea why. Reeling in the shock of Ingrid's suicide, Caitlin tries to hold together in a world that seems horribly unreal and nonsensical; her parents whisper and gaze with concern. The school year is restarting soon. Caitlin will have to go back.

And then she discovers Ingrid's journal hidden under her own bed.

Her friend didn't leave a suicide note; but she did leave a message. Caitlin struggles to decipher the reasons behind a life severed, in the process finding herself again.

This book takes on an awful event with clear vision and compassion, and while reading it was wrenching at times, there were moments of aching beauty as well. Quiet and understated prose forms a perfect complement to the oft-overwrought subject of teen anguish, and Caitlin's discoveries unfold like true revelations -- I was with her the whole way, and I felt like I knew these characters as intimately as childhood friends.

LaCour also deftly weaves this story of loss and healing around a central absence -- Ingrid herself, who we only meet through Caitlin's memories and her own journal. Lost and gone, she seems vibrantly alive in both Caitlin's words and her journal entries, which are delicately rendered in handwritten script and interleaved with illustrations. Ingrid is both compelling and endlessly elusive, and I longed to know her more as Caitlin mourned her loss -- this is a story about connections lost and made, misunderstandings and deep kinship and new, tentative trusts. Caitlin explores the gaps that prevent us from truly knowing even our closest loved ones, even as the novel shows the beauty of our impossible attempts to bridge those divides.

So please don't be put off by the 'depressing' subject matter; if you can handle the heartache, this novel will reward you fully, in a way that is far more satisfying and fulfilling than any simple answers.

Rating: 4 / 5 stars.

I don't generally venture into the crime/thriller genre; I usually avoid books of horror and murder because a) I am a total wimp and b) I'm not all that interested in the characters, anyway. So I've tended to equate these books with cheap teen slasher flicks: sensationalist violence-fests with cardboard characters falling to the axe one by one.

And then, a couple of summers ago, I picked up Sharp Objects.

And I was snared.

It was deeply disturbing and haunting but so compelling that I couldn't stop reading. The narrator's voice grabbed me, dragged me into her world, and I just had to keep reading, because I cared about her, and I needed to know, even if there was a monster under the bed, even if the truth was going to be awful and ugly...

So then Flynn came out with Dark Places, and I did it all over again.

I blame it entirely on her main characters. Ordinarily, I could easily avoid a story about the massacre of a family in a Kansas farmhouse one frigid January morning -- I don't want or need to know the bloody details. But I made the fatal mistake of opening the book and reading the first pages, and Libby Day took my hand and pulled me into the dark.

Obviously I want to avoid spoilers, so I'll just say that this book is beautifully structured and well-paced, with Libby's present-day investigations interspersed with flashes of the past, shifting to different characters' points of view almost hour by hour, leading up to that fateful morning. The impression is that of watching an awful Rube-Goldberg machine, all of these small moments interlocking and triggering further reactions, leading up to that horrible disaster.

For me, there was a terrible beauty in this motion, how misunderstandings and lies and simple stupid mistakes churned up this deep ugliness and violence in this seemingly-tranquil setting. Even knowing what was going to happen that morning, I found myself reading and chanting to myself, no, no, no, please...

Finally, I know this sounds odd, but there are also moments of stunning beauty in this book of horror and tragedy. And maybe that is what kept me reading, too. Because in Flynn's novels, nothing is ever simple, nothing black-and-white. That challenging complexity makes this a highly recommended read...though I don't think I'll try to re-read it anytime soon.

So please, Flynn, give me a bit of a breather before your next book. Odds are I'll be picking that one up, too.

Rating: 4.5 / 5 stars

I believe I wrote earlier about my deep and abiding love for Shiver. The same applies to Linger, only more so.

So first: if you have not read Shiver, please please please go read it now. And I envy you, because then you'll have Linger to look forward to.

Beware, then, for slight spoilers ahead!

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This book involves werewolves and True Love and teen agony, but do not be fooled! It is a deeply felt, poetic work, with characters that seem to just burn off the page and oh, I do believe I am embarrassing myself.

I do not want to overhype, and I realize that my Cup of Tea is not everyone's, but I defy you not to love soulful, awkward Sam and rational, slightly emotionally-blocked Grace. They are back and their lives are not the Happily Ever After Now That We Are Together.

For one, Sam is still getting used to his humanness, struggling to trust that he really is cured, feeling the possibilities of life with Grace ahead but terribly afraid of losing it all. And he is perhaps right to be afraid...

I do not want to give things away, but I particularly loved the other character action in this book -- I couldn't even call them 'secondary,' because they are so vivid and this really is an ensemble piece instead of a straight single-couple piece. We get more of Isabel, deeply damaged after losing her brother, and Isabel gets .... Cole. One of the new werewolves, he has a troubling habit of showing up naked on her doorstep.

Oh, Cole. You beautiful, infuriating screwup. Watching these two wounded people snipe and weave and argue with each other was one of the unexpected joys of this book. I look forward eagerly to further developments with these two, who are enough to justify a spinoff book of their own.

Obviously, I didn't want this book to end. I was deliberately rationing myself, savoring each page in a variety of settings: libraries, airports, etc. And then it ended (if there is a Theme to these books, it runs very much along the lines of Nothing Gold Can Stay, or Change, Change, and Change Again).

So... to paraphrase Oliver Twist: Please, Miss... I want some more. Next book, please?