YA or STFU

Cassidy, Anne (2007). Looking for J.J. NY: Harcourt. 336 pages.

When seventeen-year-old Alice Tully spies a "missing girl" poster featuring a photograph of herself at age 10 and advertising a reward for information about a girl named Jennifer Jones, she fears that the past she has worked hard to keep hidden is about to resurface. Seven years earlier, Alice--AKA Jennifer, known as J.J.--was found guilty for murdering her best friend and neighbor. Now newly released from a juvenile facility and living under an assumed name, Alice wonders who is looking for her and why.

The story of J.J. is told in flashbacks appearing throughout and punctuating the Alice-centric narrative. As we learn about Alice's childhood shuttled between her grandmother's house and a series of foster homes, and in the dubious and intermittent care of her irresponsible mother, the "tragedy foretold" becomes if not excused then understandable. Like Werlin's The Rules of Survival (2006), Cassidy's novel is descriptive but not romanticized and depicts, in part, a rather harrowing existence.

The narrative shift from the past to the present ratchets the tension in this semi-mystery; unfortunately, the rather sudden conclusion neither resolves nor balances this. While I can see this ending as a stylistic device that is meant to underscore what would seem to be Alice's abrupt "disappearance," (I'm going to go ahead and tell you how it ends) as J.J./Alice is forced to assume a third identity so that she can live in peace, I found myself turning the last page looking for the real ending. This is not to say that the book failed; in fact, I found this one more satisfying than Gail Giles' similarly themed Right Behind You (2007). I sympathized with Alice a bit more than I could with Giles' narrator, in spite of Cassidy's third person narrative. Ironic, no?

Posted by Amy P. at 02:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Miller, Kirsten (2007). Kiki Strike: The Empress' Tomb. NY: Bloomsbury USA. 350 pages.

Oh, man, I love the Kiki Strike books! The Empress' Tomb is the second in Kirsten Miller's series following a rogue group of young teen girls who call themselves the "Irregulars" and, with the guidance of their mysterious leader Kiki Strike, foil the sinister plots of some of Manhattan's most dastardly crooks. Narrated by Ananka, the Irregular who is probably the closest to Kiki, the new novel (like the first book in the series) is 99% narrative and 1% instructions to the young reader cum spy.

In the second book in what I hope is a protracted series (and, if Miller's "Kiki Strike" website is any indication, the Irregulars have a lot more evil to encounter), Manhattanites take notice when both graffitti-ed images of large squirrels and large squirrels, themselves, begin to show up on the city streets. When the squirrels seem to be signaling the Irregulars, Ananka and her friends become involved with an old enemy--Lester Liu--and some new complications--a potential romance with the squirrel-handler for Betty, the Irregulars' mistress of disguise, for one. The new installment is long (350 pages) and complex though very satisfying; the various plot strands ultimately come together in a conclusion that somehow doesn't seem pat. Although the primary conflict involves some comicly eccentric characters, these figures are not introduced in a way that would render them stock pieces and even these secondary figures have quirky depth.

Like the old Christopher Pike novels (think Chain Letter and Weekend, not Whisper of Death), the "Kiki Strike" books are sophisticated pieces that don't pander to their youthful audience. It is Miller's authorial empathy for her teen characters and her authorization of their subjectivities (even as their maturity seems to belie their age) that make this book a pleasure to read.

Posted by Amy P. at 01:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Cheva, Cherry (2008). She's So Money. NY: Harper Teen. 290 pages.

High school senior Maya dreams of leaving her Michagan home and her job at her parents' restaurant to attend Stanford with her best friend and, until her parents go away for the weekend, it looks like her dream is not far from becoming reality. When her parents leave her in charge of the restaurant, a surprise visit from the health inspector leads to the issue of a large--$10,000--fine and Maya is certain that her "just this once" ignorance of all the closing cleaning duties are to blame. Certain that her family doesn't have the money to pay the fine and reluctant to confess to her parents, Maya and Camden, a popular boy she tutors, develop a rapidly expanding homework service and begin taking students' money in exchange for completed homework assignments. As business booms and Maya and Camden have to hire and manage a number of employees and clients, Maya discovers an unexpected fringe benefit: semi-popularity and status as Camden's sort of girlfriend.

I really wanted to like this book--I love popular fiction--but this Alloy-produced offering fell short. First-time young adult novelist Cheva draws a convincing picture of teen afterschool life--hanging out in the tutoring room, driving around aimlessly, chaging into your "work shirt" at the start of your part-time shift--and this contrasted with the plot, which became more and more fantastic. Maya's sudden acceptance into the popular crowd and her budding romance with Camden did not seem like logical outcomes to her predicament. Add in a peripheral student, a guy named Leonard who has a crush on Maya, and his attempt to blackmail Maya into dating him, and the whole thing gets even more outlandish. Then, there's the ending, which involves equal parts confession and two expressions of heartbreaking loyalty. Yak!

And another thing: what's up with the characterization of Maya? From the first sentence, we are told she is the first generation daughter of Thai-American restaurant owners; however, aside from the Thai nature of the food served at the family establishment and the looming threat of being, in Maya's words, sent back to Thailand for failing her parents, the Thai thing seems kind of stuck in there for no reason. I'm not saying that every book with an Asian or first generation character has to deal with The Problem, but it does seem like Maya's ethnicity is the elephant in the room. Coupled with the fact that the girl in the cover photograph looks more caucasian than Asian, I'm curious about this issue. I guess this is just one of those culturally neutral books the critics are talking about. Which leaves readers (or just me) to ponder the question: can a book ever be truly culturally neutral?

Posted by Amy P. at 01:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Powers, J.L. (2007). The Confessional. NY: Knopf. 304 pages.

After a brutal fight at a Jesuit boys' school pits its students of Mexican descent against its Anglo students, the politics of border-town living creep into the lives of a group of teens. Following the May 5 suicide bombing of a bridge linking Mexico and his town of El Paso, Catholic high school student Mac Malone writes a letter to the local newspaper suggesting that the town cancel its planned Cinco de Mayo celebration to honor the one-year anniversary of the bombing. Mac's letter generates controversy in both the town and his school and, after a bloody fistfight with a Latino classmate, Mac is found stabbed to death on his front lawn. Powers' novel, told from the points of view of Mac and his friends, explores this violence and its repercussions as each person looks for Mac's killer.

Powers' first young adult novel is a mostly successful look at the racial tension that seems to be heightened in this post-9/11 era of border security. Powers draws parallels between the Iraq war and the broad American "fear" of people who appear to be of Middle-Eastern decent and notes the racial profiling that continues to plague the open borders of Mexico and the United States. That said, it almost seemed like these issues were a bit too great for a multi-voiced narrative that really spun off of an argument-turned-racially-motivated-war at a Texas Catholic high school. I'd rather have seen the micro explored further without having our attention constantly drawn to the macro, if you know what I mean. While many of the narrators' stories were well described and distinctly voiced, by the middle of the novel I was needing the top-of-the-page tip-off to remember whose story I was reading. A lot of folks have been talking about the "frank" and "realistic" language, but, to be honest, I didn't think the story was told in terms that were that gritty. These criticisms aside, I was surprised at how quickly I moved through this book. The pacing really is superb and influenced not by short chapters (the bad writers' friend) but by truly suspenseful content.

Posted by Amy P. at 11:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yang, Gene Luen (2006). American Born Chinese. NY: First Second. 234 pages.

I'm always reluctant to read an award-winner because its very status as an acclaimed book colors its own reception. Thus, I waited a LONG time to read Yang's 2007 Printz award winner and 2006 National Book Award finalist American Born Chinese. As someone suspicious of the young people's literature prize racket, I was surprised to find that Yang's graphic novel actually deserved all the acclaim. Three interwoven and seemingly unrelated stories--about a magical Chinese monkey king, a Chinese-American boy, and a visiting and sterotypically Chinese character named "Chin-kee"--gradually come together to form one story of race and identity.

Yang's paneled images occupy about one-third of each page and rely on the number and division of panels to inform pacing. While a consistent artistic style is applied in each of the stories, many of the panels in the "Chin-kee" story are framed with the words "HAHAHAHA" and "CLAPCLAPCLAP," features that underscore this story's satyric elements. That said, the storyline featuring "Chin-kee" is probably the most disconcerting, as it depicts a number of Asian and Chinese stereotypes in high relief. While the word-frames do let us know that these images are not to be taken seriously, as we read the "laughter" and "applause," we are somewhat implicated in its generation and, as members of the story's reading "audience," held responsible for the perpetuation of these stereotypes. This tension between story and reader and real audience and created audience is the both notable for its strength and incredibly successful.

Yang's website, "Humble Comics," provides further information about American Born Chinese, Yang's other comic work, as well as links to some of the educational websites he has created.

Posted by Amy P. at 11:32 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)