YA or STFU

Collins, Suzanne (2008). The Hunger Games. NY: Scholastic.

The only thing that sucks about this book is that, on its last page, it reveals itself to be "Book One" in a series of as yet unestablished length. This means that, while much of the plot of The Hunger Games is resolved, the central conflict--and the one that would seem to motivate the series--has just been established. A dystopian science fiction story (light on the sci-fi, heavy on the dystopia), Collins' novel is set in the country of Panem, a future United States divided into 13 districts (one of which has been destroyed) and ruled by a West Coast Capitol. As a means of exerting control over its citizens, the government has established "The Hunger Games," a Survivor-like elimination game involving 24 youths, chosen by lottery from each of the 12 districts, that pits citizens aged 12-18 against each other in a fight-to-the-death competition staged in a large, wild arena. When 16-year-old narrator Katniss's sister is picked to compete in the Hunger Games, Katniss offers herself as her district's female participant in her sister's stead.

The bulk of the novel follows Katniss as she is prepared for and participates in the Hunger Games against and sometimes alongside her district's other representative, a boy named Peeta. Katniss is well-equipped to participate in the games, as she has supported her family through illegal game hunting in the wilderness surrounding her district. Temporary alliances with other players and uneasy truces abound during the dangerous game and Katniss learns that she must play to the audience of Hunger Games viewers and sponsors to succeed.

I love me some dystopian fiction and it had been a while (since I read Cherry Heaven) since I had been so enthralled by a novel of this type. The juxtaposition of the "futuristic" and the archaic worked well here (and I recognize that this is not a "new" way of presenting the dystopian future) and Collins expressed this in the tension Katniss felt as she struggled with the unfamiliar (and often uncomfortable) luxury of The Capitol. Interestingly, although this novel is definitely dystopian sci-fi (or fantasy), there is a romantic feel to the whole thing, in both the generic and the Northrup Frye senses of the word. Throughout the novel, Katniss's partner intimates his affection for Katniss and Katniss learns to manipulate this affection to the pair's benefit in the Games. In the larger scheme, there is a certain reverence for Katniss's skill in the Games and what might be exhilaration in the competition. This exhilaration is downplayed, likely for the implied audience of YA readers (and the adult critics of the same). After all, what kind of YA book would this be if it allowed its teen character to glory in her deadly victories? And yes, I'm asking that question with deliberate irony.

Posted by Amy P. at 07:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Pearson, Mary E. (2008). The Adoration of Jenna Fox. NY: Henry Holt and Co. 265 pages.

Pearson's book begins two weeks after its protagonist and narrator, the titular Jenna Fox, has woken from a one year coma. Following an accident about which she remembers nothing, Jenna is beginning her life anew, living with her mother and grandmother in California, far away from her home in Boston. Jenna must slowly put together the details of her former life and, as she idly watches the videos her parents have taken to document their daughter's youth, she struggles with the anxiety emanating from her mother and the disdain and suspicion she feels with every encounter with her grandmother. The central questions: who is Jenna and what has she (or someone else) done?

As a fan of Peter Dickinson's Eva, I was pretty sure I knew what was going on in Pearson's novel. Turns out I was half right; the novel does deal with the third-party control and sustenance of the body and the concomitant medical ethics attached to the same, but there are no monkeys in this one. Rather, the novel gradually reveals connections between characters and incidents in a surprising way (I hadn't predicted them, anyway), making the reading of the book a bit like the experience of the narrator: sudden "clicks" and discoveries.

The book moves quickly, not because it is breezily written, but because its premise and telling are so compelling. Brief poems meant to encapsulate Jenna's dreams, thoughts, and subconscious musings punctuate the book and I wasn't really a fan of those; however, when one of the twists is revealed near the end of the book, it made me wonder if it was really the voice of Jenna-the-narrator I was reading. If, indeed, I was reading the words of the character I suspect, the last poem kind of blows it out of the water. Then again, it's still kinda possible (and I hope I'm right).

P.S. I'm not normally a proponent of the book trailer, but there's a good one for this novel here: http://www.whoisjennafox.com/

Posted by Amy P. at 09:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Pfeffer, Susan Beth (2008). The Dead and the Gone. NY: Harcourt. 321 pages.

When I saw this one on the new book shelf at the library, I was like, "Finally!" I felt like everyone had read the Pfeffer's sequel to Life as We Knew It except me. This latest novel employs the same premise as Life--an asteroid has hit the moon, causing it to move closer to the Earth, which leads to devastating changes on the planet--but describes the aftermath in the New York City setting, rather than the rural Pennsylvania in which the first book is set.

When the moon is knocked out of its typical orbit, seventeen-year-old Alex Morales is at work in a Manhattan pizza parlor. His father is in Puerto Rico at a family funeral and his mother is at work in a Queens hospital, so Alex is the only one left at home to care for and comfort his younger sisters, Briana, fifteen, and Julie, twelve. As the city begins to deteriorate in ways predicted by Life as We Knew It--the electricity and phones fail intermittently, supplies dwindle, and flooding from high tides wipe out Lower Manhattan--Alex and his sisters begin to lose hope that their parents have survived and they try to make it on their own.

The city setting of this novel distinguishes it from the first and adds elements of unpredictability to the familiar storyline. Interestingly, The Dead ends up addressing class issues in a way never tackled by Life; though he is a rare scholarship student among the wealthier boys at his Catholic school, Alex witnesses and, in some cases, benefits from the advantages of the richer students. We learn that the government--both local and national--is taking care of its elite and is working on relocating the Fortune 500 company leaders to a safer zone where the United States' government will be re-established. Additionally, some of the higher ranking and necessary city employees are being cared for at city centers while the rest of the citizens (read: the less privileged ones) have to take their chances at poorly maintained evacuation centers.

This is another riveting novel in a semi speculative fiction vein from a classic author of young adult literature (anybody besides me have a copy of Fantasy Summer?). My one critique of this one involves the novel's expectation that the reader will have read and remembered much of Life as We Knew It. In the second book, there's not nearly the same amount of explication related to the moon's shift and its effects; rather, the floods and volcanic eruptions happen, and are sort of blamed on the moon, but never really scientifically justified. It's not that I need some kind of Nature essay, here, but I would have liked a little more explanation than I got (and that I remembered, just not so clearly, from the first book). That said, it's clear that lack of information is and would be a problem in a situation such as the one described in the book; therefore, the characters'--and our--lack of full understanding might be more of a literary device. That said--again!--it seems like the characters would be very interested in finding out exactly what was going on and what scientific folks predicted would happen, so I don't get why some of the information Alex learned during his regular sessions with the battery-operated radio weren't made public to us readers.

Posted by Amy P. at 09:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Plum-Ucci, Carol (2008). Streams of Babel. NY: Harcourt. 432 pages.

Carol Plum-Ucci's newest novel is not her strongest (The Body of Christopher Creed and What Happened to Lani Garver? tie for that honor in my book); however, Streams of Babel represents a slight departure from the thriller plots we've come to expect from her and extends the scope of the novel from the New Jersey Pine Barrens to Pakistan. Told from the multiple perspectives of the teens involved, Streams describes what some begin to suspect is an act of terror: after the deaths of two adults, four young people succumb to an illness similar to that which killed the grownups. This illness is mysterious, gruesome and, ultimately, deadly and the inability of the doctors to diagnose it leads many to believe that the town's water supply may have been corrupted. Meanwhile, in Pakistan, a sixteen-year-old "v-spy," a hacker who listens in on suspected terrorist chatter, thinks he has identified the source of the mystery illness.

Plum-Ucci's technique of providing us (the readers) with only the incomplete details known by the teen characters is a good one and certainly extends the suspense of the novel. I like that she doesn't attempt to capture the adult/expert perspective here, even though many adults are featured as strong secondary characters. The emphasis on the incomplete teen perspective (even though we readers are privy to a number of such perspectives) underscores the powerlessness and even ignorance we "average American citizens" feel in the face of worldwide terror. That said, I think that dividing the narrative among six voices was a bit ambitious, and I could have done without all of these P.O.V.s. The four narratives from each of the young people infected with the terrorist virus began to get a little repetitive and the voices of these characters didn't distinguish themselves enough for me. Sure, their circumstances were different and the details of their accounts informed us as to who was speaking; however, the tone of each of these accounts was similar enough that they all started to blend together a bit after awhile.

Plum-Ucci can definitely do suspense, and this novel has it in spades. First, there's the mystery surrounding the deaths and illnesses of the folks in the New Jersey town, then there's the race to discover what, exactly, is making folks ill, then there's the anxiety over whether or not any treatment would be effective. By the end of the novel, I was like, "Woof!" I don't usually go for the obvious post-9/11 terrorist threat narrative and, while Streams would seem to fall into such a category, it wasn't over the top. A visit to the 9/11 memorial in NYC in the closing pages of the novel was a little cheesy, but would probably placate those readers who desire that kind of narrative closure.

Posted by Amy P. at 11:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Adlington, L.J. (2008). Cherry Heaven. NY: Greenwillow (HarperCollins). 458 pages.

It's been a long time since I really savored a young adult novel and this sequel to Adlington's The Diary of Pelly D. (2005) shook me out of the YA funk into which I've lately fallen. Told from the first person point of view of Luka, an imprisoned worker at a water company, and in a third person narrative sympathetic to Kat, a newcomer to the small "frontier" town in which Luka lives, Cherry Heaven slowly reveals the evil at the heart of a new community considered a model civilization. When Kat, her sister Tanka, and their foster parents travel from the war-damaged city to The New Frontier, a so-called "land of peace and prosperity" where both foster parents have found work, the sisters both anticipate and dread the relocation. Tanka, Kat's gorgeous, ditsy sister, is hoping to meet good-looking boys and, in service to this goal, quickly ingratiates herself with the small community's popular crowd. Kat is more thoughtful and less eager; however, when Tanka begins dating Aran, the son of a high-ranking community leader and business owner, she is curious about information he seems to be with-holding. Meanwhile, Luka, the imprisoned worker, has escaped the Factory and is lurking around Kat and Tanka's home, an estate called Cherry Heaven Luka's mother had designed.

Like The Diary of Pelly D., Cherry Heaven makes clear allusions to the Holocaust, particularly to the populations of Europeans living near concentration camps and ghettos who claimed ignorance of genocidal atrocities. The futuristic setting and its evocation obscure what could be an obvious allegory, however, and these details are part of what make the novel exquisite. Adlington ratchets up the suspense as Luka's plan to exact revenge on the leaders who imprisoned her in the Factory begins to play out, and as Kat uncovers details related to a ten-year-old murder on her family's new property. Admittedly, the end of the novel is a premier example of deus ex machina and the epilogue is clearly intended to satisfy Pelly D. readers; however, the novel--which could really act as a stand-alone and not a sequel--was so effective that I could almost excuse its denoument in favor of its climax.

Posted by Amy P. at 11:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Westerfeld, Scott (2007). Extras. NY: Simon Pulse. 417 pages.

Set nearly five years following the events described in Westerfeld's "Uglies" trilogy, Extras describes a world changed by Tally Youngblood and her Special friends and a futuristic city in which popularity is a commodity. Aya Fuse is the fifteen-year-old sister of one of her city's most popular "kickers" (bloggers-cum-reporters who send news and entertainment stories to the city's feeds in order to increase their own popularity ratings) and, though she is a kicker in her own right, cannot compete with her brother's popularity. When, as she is trying to produce an undercover expose of a group of tricksters known as the Sly Girls, Aya discovers what appears to be an underground missile launch, and the story she kicks to the feed leads to her instant notoriety. Unfortunately, the owners of the missile launch--creepy surgically altered humans with monkey-like hands and feet--are less than pleased, and, with Tally Youngblood in their heels, mysterious missile "freaks" decide to come after Aya and her friends.

Like the other books in Westerfeld's "Uglies" oeuvre, Extras moves quickly and features the made-up slang for which Westerfeld is famous ("truth-slanting," "sense-missing"). The market economy of fame is an especially intriguing conceit, and the addition of a locally famous character known for the foundation of a clique called "Radical Honesty," the members of which submit to brain surgery that prevents them from lying , earns the book cool points as well. Extras is also notable for its recognizable setting; unlike the "Uglies" books, which could be set in the U.S. or Australia, this novel is set in Japan. As the characters (and the citizens of the world around them) try to make sense of the differently stratified world (no more Ugly, Pretty, Crumbly hierarchies), they begin to adopt behaviors and customs from the "old world" in an attempt to create personal or national meaning. Thus, mentions of paper cranes, bowing, and manga become sort of incongruous touchstones in the futuristic fantasy setting. Like good science fiction is supposed to do, Extras forces us to turn our gazes from the made-up world to our own and, more so with this newest installment of the series than with previous books, the comparisons are both obvious and meaningful.

Posted by Amy P. at 05:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Nelson, Blake (2007). They Came From Below. NY: TOR/Tom Doherty Associates. 299 pages.

OK, I think I'm just going to have to stop expecting Blake Nelson to write another Girl. It's unfair to him and it's unfair to me; we both just have to realize that that moment of brilliance can never be reproduced. That said, Nelson's new novel, a semi-fantasy, semi-science fiction, is pretty fucking cool. When I describe the premise it's going to sound a little lame, but, believe me, this book works.

It's the beginning of another summer and Emily is heading for Cape Cod to spend time with her MIT professor father and hang out with her summer friend, Reese. The two girls are hoping to slip back into their routine of pizza slice specials at the local pizza parlor, days at the beach, and evenings scamming for guys. After a mysterious glowing object is washed up onto the beach and Emily's father is called to consult on its appearance and two rather unusual boys appear in town, the girls and Emily's father become involved in an alien invasion of sorts. Only these aliens are from the sea. Turns out, these new guys have morphed into humans in an effort to rescue their "alien" friend, the glowing blob that came ashore after an environmental disturbance down below.

In Nelson's semi-deadpan style, this sci-fi/fantasy-lite doesn't hit you over the head with sci-fi/fantasy details or environmental awareness didacticism, the way it could in the hands of someone less capable. It's the descriptions of Emily's interactions with these aliens and their unintended effect on humans that really captivates. There are some high-speed car chase moments in the spirit of E.T.; however, even these aren't super-cheesy. I think the thing is, you can read this book and really believe in it, which is an accomplishment in itself. In Girl-style, Nelson leaves the ending a little open; however, as with Girl, we never know if the story will be continued by the author, himself, or by us readers, in our heads.

Posted by Amy P. at 05:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)