YA or STFU

Lockhart, E., Sarah Mylnowski, and Lauren Myracle (2008). How to Be Bad. NY: Harper Teen. 321 pages.

Jesse and Vicks have been best friends for a long time; their differences--Vicks is brash while Jesse is shy and Vicks is agnostic while Jesse is Christian--likely contribute just as much to their occasional arguments as to their friendship. On the spur of the moment, the two girls decide to take Jesse's mother's car to Miami to visit Vicks' boyfriend, and are accompanied by a self-invited new girl who works at the Waffle House with Jesse and Vicks. Told in the alternating voices of all three girls--Jesse, Vicks and new-girl Mel--How to Be Bad reveals all each girl's rationale, escape, and occasional rule breaking.

This novel was OK and is likely to be enjoyed by fans of Lockhart's, Mylnowski's, and Myracle's. As one who is not a devotee of any of the authors (I think they're fine, but I'm not, like, stalking them or anything), I was less than bowled over by the book and thought that, if anything, How To suffered a bit for the number of cooks in the kitchen. When noted or popular authors team up to do the whole multiple voice corresponding narrative thing (e.g. Paula Danziger [R.I.P] and Ann M. Martin's P.S. Longer Letter Later and Snail Mail No More or Jane Yolen and Bruce Coville's Armageddon Summer), the whole situation can get kinda mixed up and turn into either an attempt to create a fictional persona that represents the real authors (a la Danziger and Martin) or it can result in truly correspondent voices. In the case of How To, it seemed like there was not enough distinction among narrative voices to really support the greater story. With the exception of new-girl Mel's use of "washroom" for "bathroom" (this character was supposed to be from Canada), I had to rely on the details of the narratives rather than the narrative voices to distinguish one character from the next.

Each character had a primary conflict to resolve (Jesse had just learned that her mother had breast cancer, Vicks was concerned that her long-distance boyfriend no longer loved her, and Mel was suffering from being a lonely new girl), and, by the end of the book, all were well on their way to potential solutions. The odd thing is, in spite of the book's titular claim that being a little bad might help out a bit, it wasn't really "badness" that inspired any of the girls. Sure, they took Jesse's mom's car without her knowledge and then the three girls meandered down the state of Florida (and hit a hurricane in the process) with no real plan, but it wasn't like they Learned Valuable Lessons while knocking over drugstores or anything. A little more The Legend of Billie Jean might have helped stir things up here.

Posted by Amy P. at 07:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Mechling, Laura (2008). Dream Girl. NY: Delacorte. 320 pages.

Fifteen-year-old Claire Voyante has always had visions; however, in spite of her romantic wishes, these moments of clairvoyance have never really lead her to adventure. When her grandmother gives Claire a cameo necklace for her birthday, she promises that the heirloom jewelry will help Claire to focus her abilities. Unfortunately, Claire has issues greater than her burgeoning psychic powers to think about: she will be starting her freshman year at a new and highly competitive school where she will know no one but her former best friend and bitchy neighbor. After spending a couple of lunch hours in the bathroom, Claire finally makes a friend, a mysterious and stylish girl named Becca. Becca and Claire become BFFs; however, Claire's visions (strengthened by the cameo) seem to predict a dire future for Becca's family.

Mechling is one half of the author team responsible for the "10th Grade Social Climber" books, but don't let this literary history fool you. Dream Girl walks the line between popular and quirky in an endearing and definitely un-cynical way. Sure there are the obligatory references to New York upper class culture (Claire's grandmother is an aging socialite and Becca's family are catsup magnates); however, these descriptions seem less aspirational and more colorful, probably because the protagonist is not a "social climber" herself. Other fans of the series will probably skewer me, but I thought Dream Girl felt a lot like a softer, fluffier "Kiki Strike" book. Populated with likable, unconventional characters (many of whom reminded me of the cast of Meg Cabot's first "Princess Diaries" book--before the series took off and everyone became sort of cartoons of themselves) and colored by mystery, romance and even a little parapsychology, this book was a fun read.

Posted by Amy P. at 03:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Wallington, Aury (2006). Pop. NY: Razorbill. 288 pages.

I found this slightly older title when I was looking around for "sexy" YA fiction and prepping for an upcoming talk about the same topic. Though it was recommended as a sensual read in at least one professional (library science) article, I was disappointed that it didn't go farther with description. That said, it wasn't a bad book, and it moved quickly and in slightly unexpected directions.

High school senior Marit has had a number of boyfriends; however, when things start to get serious, she tends to freak and break up with the guys. Her best friends Caroline and Jamie suggest that Marit has a problem with intimacy and advise her to get over it by just having sex already. When Marit's sister suggests that what the virgin needs is a "friend with benefits" to "break her in," Marit decides that Jamie is the perfect choice. Although he is hesitant at first, Jamie finally agrees to have sex with Marit, and the two practice doing the deed. At first, the experience is not totally satisfying; Marit doesn't ever have an orgasm and Jamie has some staying trouble. Finally, after confessing her lack of satisfaction to Jamie, Marit finally comes. Meanwhile, Marit's starting to crush on a new guy at school and she begins to worry that Jamie is developing feelings for her.

As far as pro-sex feminism goes, this book has got it. Kind of. Sure, there's a knowing older sister who gives Marit tacit approval to masturbate (and even provides an instructional text) and supplies her younger sister with condoms and sexy music, plus, there's a pregnant girl at school who serves as a cautionary symbol. In all, the book grants its main character an uncommon (in most YA lit, anyway) agency as far as taking control of her sexual experience, safety, and pleasure go.

That said, Marit's excuse for seeking out sexual experience rings kind of false: her primary goals for her senior year involve getting a boyfriend and going to prom. Because getting over the whole fear of intimacy thing is part of making her wishes come true, the sex becomes sort of this burden to shed. And yes, I know that virginity is often perceived as a burden and, God knows, you got to get a lot of "practice" in before you're having the mind-blowing sex of the Cosmo variety. But, at the same time, it seems like the book's emphasis on intercourse is sort of at cross-purposes with its supposedly liberating message. You probably know what I'm going to say next: I wish the book had been more explicit and more varied in its definition of sexual practice. Where is the frottage? Whither oral sex?

Ok, I know that a YA book review is not supposed to be a polemic; however, when it comes to supposedly "sexy" YA fiction, I really feel like there's a huge discrepancy between its assessment, its content, and its presumed intent. I'll just stay here in my corner, waiting for the next Forever.

Posted by Amy P. at 06:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Ruckdeschel, Liz and Sara James (2007). What if you . . . Broke all the rules?. NY: Delacorte. 304 pages.

After reading (or attempting to read) this book, I realized that I had lost precious hours of my life that I could never, ever get back. I was drawn to this title's promise of a "choose you own adventure" story: the cover and back matter indicated that this romance/realistic novel would adhere to the choose your own adventure trope and that readers would be called upon to make decisions for the book's main character, Hayley. Maybe it's because I didn't read the first book in this multi-book series, but, by the time I got a chance to choose whether or not Hayley went to the popular kids' New Year's party or hung out with her alterna-friends, I didn't really care. The protagonist and secondary characters were so underdeveloped, it was hard to make good (read: perverse) choices. Unlike the old fashioned "Choose Your Own Adventure" novels, which were told in the 2nd person and featured you as the main character, this book (and probably this series) assumes we care about the main character in at least as significant a way. Not so. Additionally, unlike the old "Choose Your Own Adventure" series, the consequences of "wrong" choices were not nearly as dire. While, in the old "CYOA," choosing a wrong door could lead to your tragic and painful death, in this novel, a bad choice required merely that you "hang your head in shame" (yes! These are the exact words from many of the stories' endings!). The only reason I'm hanging my head is because I invested several hours in this lame title.

Posted by Amy P. at 05:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Brian, Kate (2007). Confessions ("Private" series). NY: Simon and Schuster. 232 pages.

OK, I am officially a sucker. After I read the first three books in the "Private" series, I thought I'd had enough. Never mind that I still didn't know who had killed Thomas, the hot but unstable guy series heroine and narrator Reed hooked up with (and lost her virginity to--gasp!) in the first book. The genuine boringness of each installment I read, the lack of characterization (I mentioned in my initial review that I had a hard time keeping all of the mean girls straight), and the "all tease, no tickle" promises made by the books' back matter pretty much convinced me that this was a series in which I didn't need to invest myself. Then, I saw Confessions at the library and I thought, "Hmmm . . . Maybe I should at least find out who killed Thomas." What an idiot (and a masochist) I am!

So, anyway, the drama that drives the first four books in the series centers around the mysterious murder of one of the BMOCs at Reed's exclusive private school. A fish out of water--a scholarship student among richies--Reed somehow insinuates herself among the cream of the crop at her new school and gets invited to hang with the mean (but powerful) girls and live in their exclusive dorm. Reed hooks up with Thomas (the aforementioned BMOC), then he goes missing, then he's found murdered, then she hooks up with his best friend, then his best friend is accused of the murder! Drama! The whole time, the clique at the dorm are alternating playing mean girl tricks on Reed and gifting her with designer clothes, taking her to exclusive parties, and getting her drunk on expensive alcohol. What?

Finally, it starts to look like the Stockholm Syndrome Sisters are somehow behind Thomas's death. What's Reed to do? Those bitches are her ticket to the upper class! In a dramatic (not really) final scene, the real killer is revealed. But, because none of the characters have any depth or distinction, you have to be a real idiot to buy the guilty party's confession. At least now I know who did it. I can stop reading now. I don't want to spoil it here for anyone who might be a fan of the series, but if you want to know the guilty party, just drop me an email. You'll thank me for not having to suffer through book four in the "Private" series.

Posted by Amy P. at 07:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Brian, Kate (2006). Private, Invitation Only, and Untouchable. "Private" series (books 1-3). NY: Simon Pulse.

This relatively new series by Kate Brian would seem to have everything a cheap reading date like me could want--rich bitch characters, an exclusive private school setting, adolescent intrigue, the promise of a mystery--however, the first three books didn't really do it for me the same way the "Gossip Girl" series does. I'll admit it: I initially read the books out of order (I read book #2 before I read book #1). But even when I did finally get myself oriented, I just didn't find this latest mean girls series to be that satisfying.

The first book in the series begins with fifteen-year-old Reed's arrival at an exclusive private boarding school. A lower-income Pennsylvania girl, Reed's scholarship to the prestigious Easton Academy is her ticket out of town. When Reed spies a group of uber-wealthy, popular and--it would seem--powerful girls on campus, she sets her sights on becoming one of Them. Turns out, the girls are interested in Reed, too, and by the end of book 1 in the series, have accepted the newbie into their exclusive clique and set her up in their posh dorm. She even gets a hot boyfriend. By the end of the book, however, the boyfriend has disappeared, and the next two installments detail the mystery surrounding his disappearance.

Like I said before, the "Private" books seem to have all the ingredients that made Cecily von Ziegesar's "Gossip Girl" series the smashing success it is; however, author Brian seems to have left something important out of the mix: the heart. Say what you want about "G.G.," I think that series has balls, wit, and even humanity; "Private," on the other hand, does not. It was hard to distinguish Reed's girl crushes from one another and I had to keep going back to their beginning-of-the-book descriptions to figure out who was who. I thought that as I got to know the cast of characters better, I'd sort all those bitchy girls out in my head, but I was wrong. By the end of Book 3, I still had to consult the first pages to figure out who was talking.

On a more prurient level, by reading Book 2 first, I was privy to some sexy information readers of Book 1 would have to wait until the latter part of the first book to discover: Reed gets devirginized! Unfortunately, for all the attention paid this event in retrospect, the whole shebang is barely described when it happens. How disappointing! I was hoping that "Private" would at least have some hot sex going for it (It is called "Private," after all). Something tells me this one isn't going to be optioned for a TV series . . .

Posted by Amy P. at 03:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

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)

Naylor, Phyllis Reynolds (2007). Dangerously Alice. NY: Atheneum. 294 pages.

Okay, okay, I know: at this point in time, 19 books (22 if you count the "prequels") into Naylor's "Alice" series, people are starting to talk about formula. And, yeah, I have to admit that the books to have certain formulaic elements (thank God Naylor finally got rid of the summary beginning involving Alice's mistaking her aunt for her mother!); however, I'm still a fan of the series. Maybe I'm drawn in by the progressively more graphic accounts of sexuality (though Naylor is no Judy Blume or Norma Klein on that front), maybe I'm comforted by the not-so-subtle didacticsm. Either way, I'm along for the "Alice" ride.

In the latest installment, Alice has entered her junior year of high school and, as she nears the final lap of teenager-hood, she's watching the old gang change and grow away from each other. Suddenly, old pals Jill and Karen are slutty, cigarette smoking snobs and the boys at Mark Stedmeister's pool just want to drink beer. Recognizing that her changing attitude towards her friends is the likely sign that she's turned into a goody-goody, Alice tries to put a little pizazz into her life and begins to date a "fast" boy from the school newspaper. Meanwhile, her attempts at independence seem to be shot down all over the place by her father and stepmother.

This is a typical "Alice" entry, complete with funny asides from brother Lester, bizarre conversations with Alice's nutty aunt from Chicago, and the obligatory masturbation scene. That said, I love every minute of each sweet and reassuring book in the series. For all the repetitive elements (do we have to hear about Pamela's hair again?), there are what seem like genuinely real moments of conflict and confusion that raise the character of Alice up from modern mouthpiece to well-realized creation. And, though the afterschool-special plot point near the end of the novel did seem a little tired, I was glad to see it serve as motivation for a very real and kinda testy conversation between Alice and her stepmother that didn't just tie up in a neat little bow.

Posted by Amy P. at 04:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Clement-Moore, Rosemary (2007). Prom Dates from Hell. NY: Delacorte Press. 308 pages.

Soon-to-graduate high school senior Maggie has made a career out of avoiding the popular crowd and living on the fringes of her high school's social world, at least, as far as her jobs at the school newspaper and yearbook will allow. When Maggie notices some odd accidents at her school--made odder by the paranormal goo left at the scenes of said accidents--she becomes convinced that someone has placed a revenge curse on select members of the student body. Fortunately, Maggie has a bit of "The Sight" and an "in" with a local paranormal-studies college student to help her get to the root of the problem.

Ever since Buffy the Vampire Slayer, it's like every young adult novel that deals with a ghost-fighting female teen has to have an ironically hip and sarcastic narrative (yes, I'm talking about you, Meg Cabot and your "Mediator" series, and you, Jennifer Barnes and your "Platinum" books). Prom Dates is no exception. The plot is a bit more complex than your average story of this ilk and, I have to say, the ending was a bit of a surprise. This type of novel would not be complete without a glimmer of love interest and the torn-between-two-potential-lovers plotline is not unsatisfying, though a bit rote.

Posted by Amy P. at 08:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Abel-Fattah, Randa (2007). Does My Head Look Big in This? NY: Orchard Books. 360 pages.
When practicing Muslim and eleventh grader Amal decides to adopt the practice of wearing a hijab, or headscarf, as an expression of her faith, she is somewhat surprised at the difficulty she encounters both at school and in her neighborhood. Even Amal's family discourages her and expresses concern for her safety; however, Amal remains strong and convinced that she can wear the hijab with style (even in conjunction with her school uniform). Once the visual marker of her faith is in place, Amal is surprised at the amount of subtle and not-so-subtle prejudice she faces. Conversely, the hijab also connects her to her faith in a new way and, she observes, to other women who wear the scarf as well.
I liked the mixture of school story and religious journey and the realistic way Abel-Fattah portrayed Amal's school and religious communities. There were two sub-plots that seemed a little heavy-handed: the first dealt with Amal's attempts to befriend a Greek neighbor and the second with the familial difficulty faced by another Muslim friend raised in more traditional environs. These issues aside, Does My Head Look Big was a thoughtful piece not unlike Blume's intro. to religion novel, Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret.

Posted by Amy P. at 11:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Perkins, Mitali (2007). First Daughter: Extreme American Makeover. NY: Dutton Children's Books. 277 pages.
Sameera "Sparrow" Righton is the adopted Pakistani daughter of the very white Republican presidential candidate and has returned to the United States from her British boarding school to visit relatives and observe the campaign as it begins to heat up. After seeing some papparazzi photos taken of her looking pretty worse for wear after an overnight flight, Sparrow is excited to be made over by her father's team of public relations people. One designer wardrobe and team of hair and makeup experts later, Sparrow is the model president's daughter. There's only one problem: the PR team wants to add Sparrow's voice to her father's campaign by setting up a cheesy blog in her name. In retaliation, Sparrow starts her own semi-secret blog and (surprise!) ends up generating more youth support for her father through this grass roots effort than the Heavies in PR ever could.
It's really cool that more and more novels featuring South Asian characters are being published and this book by Perkins does a good job of incorporating some serious identity politics with popular literary convention. From the brief plot summary (above) you can probably guess at some of the internal conflicts; however, the central issue, detailing Sparrow's attempt to resolve her "All-American" identity and her Pakistani heritage is quite good and reads like a lighter Born Confused (Hidier, 2004). In an extra twist of irony, Sparrow discovers that she can outmaneuver the papparazzi by dressing in traditional South Asian garb, and uses this disguise to move freely in public. That the most conspicuous dress becomes a cloak of invisibility is both a dig at our Western tendency to fail to particularize "costumed natives" as well as an interesting argument for what some deem to be the restrictive garments associated with some South Asian women's wear.
According to Amazon, a sequal to this novel is coming out in 2008 and I'm totally planning to read it. Maybe in this one Perkins will address some Republican policy.

Posted by Amy P. at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Johnson, Maureen (2007). Girl at Sea. NY: Harper Teen. 336 pages.
First of all, what's up with the anonymous female torsos that decorate, like, every single one of Maureen Johnson's novels?
In a semi-travelogue a la Johnson's Thirteen Little Blue Envelopes, another teen girl is called to Europe. This time, the star of the story is seventeen-year-old Clio, an aspiring artist who just snagged her dream job at the best art supply store in Philadelphia. When Clio's mother gets an opportunity to travel for her doctoral (I think) studies, Clio's estranged dad steps in and invites Clio to spend the summer with him on a boat in the Mediterranean. Sounds like a sweet deal, right? Unfortunately, Clio's dad is kind of flaky and irresponsible and, when Clio gets to Italy to meet him, she discovers he hasn't changed one bit. The supposed father-daughter summer is actually a working trip for Clio's dad who, with his new girlfriend, her daughter, a semi-hot research assistant, and Clio's dad's business partner, is on a secret trip for undersea treasure. Lucky Clio is elected chief cook and bottle washer and soon finds herself embroiled in a love triangle with her dad's girlfriend's daughter and in a battle of trust with her dad.
I liked this novel SO MUCH better than Johnson's Little Blue Envelopes. Just the right amount of angst and suspense in a setting that, given the fictional circumstances, doesn't even inspire that much wanderlust. All of the characters are well drawn and well rounded, even the dad's girlfriend, who was in danger of becoming the stereotypical evil stepmother type. Way to go, Maureen!

Posted by Amy P. at 10:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Cabot, Meg (2007). Pants on Fire. NY: Harper Teen. 260 pages.
Sixteen-year-old Kate is a big ol' liar. She's managed to snag the most lusted after boy in her town, but, at the start of Meg Cabot's new novel, narrator Kate is cheating on Mr. Hunk with another guy and contemplating taking up with a third. While Kate's no slut, she does like the kissin' and, until her old friend Tommy comes back to town (she kisses him, too), has never really contemplated doing anything more than locking lips. Tommy's appearance is a big problem: not only is he in line to be Kate's secret smoochee number 2, he's also returned to a town that turned against him four years prior, when he exposed a cheating scam perpetrated by the beloved football team, the Quahogs. As the official girlfriend of a Quahog and a competitor for the Miss Quahog crown, Kate knows she should stay away from Mr. Persona non Grata, but she . . . just . . . cant.
To be honest, I was hoping for a bit more from this new Cabot book. Maybe because I LOVED the way Cabot handled the issue of sex in Ready or Not and because the new novel is called Pants on Fire, I had misguided hopes that this would be a semi-sexy read. Instead, noone got beyond first base and the primary theme seemed to involve Being True to Yourself, which, everybody knows, is a big yawn. That said, I can never come right out and diss a Meg Cabot book because they are just fun to read. And this one is no exception.

Posted by Amy P. at 10:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Lockhart, E. (2007). Dramarama. NY: Hyperion. 311 pages.
Though not technically an outcast at her midwestern high school, Sarah knows she is somehow bigger than her Ohio town. When she meets Demi, a gay, black newcomer, they develop an intimate friendship characterized by all things dramatic: Sarah changes her name to Sayde, and the dynamic duo bond over their mutual love for musical theatah. Sayde is sure they will be tremendously successful at the exclusive drama camp they've been looking forward to attending all year, and she's half right: Demi, with his great looks, grace, and genuine talent quickly becomes known as a rising star while Sayde is relegated to the corps de ballet. Not as comfortable at camp as she'd hoped, Sayde questions the camp's sometimes grueling methods and begins a parallel process of questioning herself and her friendship with Demi who, she's beginning to realize, she may never have completely known.
Lockhart's newest novel is an atypical take on both the camp story and the "a star is born" trope and raises a number of intriguing questions about the roles we perform every day. Told from Sayde's perspective, the narrative is sympathetic and features just enough of those truly embarrassing moments of growth that, at the time (and, to some degree, in retrospect) are just painful enough to render themselves learning experiences. A couple of times in the story, Lockhart introduces what seem to be key questions surrounding Sayde's and Demi's relationship, most notably when the two uncomfortably address Demi's race and his sexuality. I would have liked to see a little more exploration of both of these topics; however, the lack of resolution there is true to the narrative perspective.

Posted by Amy P. at 10:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)