Review: The Diviners by Libba Bray

age: YA
genre: paranormal
rating: 4/8 tentacles

Evie "I want to see my name in lights" O'Neill gets shipped off to live with her uncle in Manhattan after her flapper antics cause trouble for her well-to-do parents. In New York, a ritualistic serial killer whose crimes smack with the supernatural is on the loose and the police ask Evie's Uncle Will, owner of a Museum of the Occult, to consult on the case. Unknown to her family, Evie posses a supernatural power of her own, the ability to get psychic readings from objects, and she is convinced that if she uses it, she could play an essential role in the capture of the murderer. But this murderer proves to be darker and more elusive than Evie, Will, & Co. expect.

This book shares some similarities with Libba Bray's previous supernatural trilogy. Both follow the exploits of a young girl in a supernatural version of history. Unlike Gemma's story, The Diviners is written in third person, and instead of focusing primarily on one character, skips between a multitude of them. The book improves when we've had time to get to know the characters a little more. The idea of the American Dream seems to pervade the novel. Most of the characters are motivated by a desire to make something of themselves, to be famous, glamorous, celebrated. To achieve an ideal.

While the book did entertain me, I still felt that something was missing. Instead of the distant, sweeping descriptions of the era, which are scattered throughout the novel (one follows wind, blowing through the city and observing its inhabitants), I would have preferred more time spent on individual characters and more specific, more sensory descriptions of the time period filtered through the points of view of the characters. There was a little too much name dropping to convince me of the setting's authenticity and a little too much stereotype to allow me to connect fully with the characters. The only one I really empathize with is Mabel--I would have like to see more of her. I hope she plays a bigger role in the rest of the trilogy.

The story itself is creepy and mysterious, a good fall read. The plot was resolved at the end (Hooray!), but I'm still left with questions about the characters and their lives. I look forward to the unfolding of these mysteries in the next installment of the trilogy. 

Review: Quiet by Susan Cain

age: adult
genre: nonfiction, psychology
rating: 7/8 tentacles

I think it's a pretty well-established idea that the U.S.A. is an extroverted country with extroverted ideals and extroverted societal expectations.  What role, then, do introverts have in this extroverted world?  Many guides exist that claim they can coach introverts to participate less stressfully in extroverted activities, like networking or extensive socializing.  A lot of these guides are nothing more than advice on how to act more extroverted.  How to fake it.  Susan Cain's Quiet is a refreshing and much needed account of how introverts can find their place in society while remaining true to themselves and without stretching their personality and comfort zone in order to feel normal or be accepted.

Quiet contains many stories of people struggling to fit together the knowledge of who they are and the knowledge of who they grew up believing they were supposed to be.  It also contains stories of people who live in places with introverted ideals (I'm thinking of moving) and how their way of life and self view differs from introverts trapped in extroverted societies.  In these stories, we can see how qualities often looked down on in this society (reservedness, preference for small social gatherings and more abstract conversations, caution) are valued and even sought after.  We might see pieces of ourselves that we've learned to hide celebrated as an ideal.

This book makes me think about how eager everybody is to force their own values and expectations on others, with little empathy or regard for alternate perceptions or ways of life. It's sad, really. Books like Quiet and people like Susan Cain are steps in the direction of understanding and compromise between the different personality types, so I salute her for that.  I recommend this book to introverts looking for some self reflection, self-validation, the strength to live on their terms and to extroverts looking to understand their introverted friends.

Review: The Absolutely True Diary of Part Time Indian by Sherman Alexie

age: children, YA
genre: realistic fiction
rating: 8/8 tentacles

This is the diary of a young boy searching for his place in the world as he grows up on a Spokane Indian Reservation.  Sherman Alexie tells Arnold "Junior" Spirit's story with poetry and wry honesty. We follow Junior as he struggles to preserve hope in the face of adversity and, at times, tragedy. His vulnerability and earnestness make it almost impossible not to root for him. It's a fast read and includes Junior's doodles and cartoons.  Definitely worth taking the time--I recommend it to everyone. I'm looking forward to reading more of Alexie's work

Review: Spyctacher by Peter Wright

age: adult
genre: nonfiction, autobiography
rating: 7/8 tentacles

Very interesting account of a life's work in MI5. Some of the technical details went over my head but Wright's descriptions of meetings with his co-workers, allies, and informants, were fascinating. He has a knack for dissecting a person on the page and his perceptiveness allows him to comment with intelligent hindsight on the accomplishments and failures of British Security during his career.  This includes the hunt for the alleged mole in MI5, whom Wright believed was eventual Director General Roger Hollis. The intrigue! They never got a confession or any indisputable proof, but I'm convinced.

I am now curious to read the other side of the story... maybe an autobiography of a KGB agent?

Review: Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose

age: adult
genre: nonfiction, craft
rating: 5/8 tentacles

Reading Like a Writer is a guide for close reading. Francine Prose dedicates each chapter to a different writing element: sentences, paragraphs, dialogue, character, detail, and more. She provides several excerpts per chapter to illustrate these aspects of writing and discusses the mechanics of each excerpt, noting what makes them work or fail to work. And ruins the end of Anna Karenina. Thanks.
 
The thing about writing, is that everybody disagrees about what makes it good--a point that Prose emphasizes as she presents example after example.  The excerpts alone (good and bad) got the wheels in my mind turning. If nothing else, Prose is an excellent curator. I liked seeing opposing writing styles smashed in side by side because they reminded me that there is no "right" way to do something. I have choices. I can learn the rules and then break them. My to-read list is longer now. Some of the excerpts made me want to read more, which made me wonder what it was about them that drew me in. Mostly conflict, I think. The promise of a good conflict. Or cleverly constructed prose. Or... something. Clarity.

Review: The Cult TV Book by Stacey Abbott

age: adult genre: nonfiction rating: 6/8 tentacles  The Cult TV Book is a compilation of essays written by people who have studied television and/or worked in the industry. Essays cover topics from what makes a show "cult" (audience investment and loyalty mostly) to fandom behaviors, levels of celebrity, and case studies on specific cult favorites like Buffy, The Prisoner, and Doctor Who. My most beloved shows have all generally been "cult" and I liked seeing old friends that no one seems to know (like Wonderfalls) name-dropped among these glorious televisory pages. A fun and informative read for anyone who has loved a television show

Review: Ghost Knight by Cornelia Funke

genre: fantasy
age: children's
rating: 4/8 tentacles

Ghost Knight is a fun story filled with murderous ghosts, medieval history, and school children sneaking around ancient cathedrals and dark crumbling cemeteries in the dead of night (no pun intended). After behaving badly towards his mother's new boyfriend, Jon Whitcroft is sent off to boarding school, where four ominous ghostly figures call him by his mother's maiden name and threaten his life. His endeavors to escape them lead to a friendship with beautiful Ella, daughter of a local ghost tour guide, and together they work to solve the mystery of the ghosts' determination to hunt Jon.

Some of Cornelia Funke's other works (the Inkheart series, The Thief Lord, and Reckless) have become favorites of mine, but Ghost Knight just didn't measure up. I'm not sure if Funke was targeting a younger age group, but it lacked the complexity of her other works and failed to conjure up a vivid illusion. The story seemed a little hazy, which made it difficult for me to feel as if I was experiencing its unfolding events along with the characters. For example, Jon attends an old cathedral boarding school, but we hardly see any of this part of his life. We watch him sneaking out of his bedroom window at night and we witness brief, ultimately meaningless conversations between Jon and his roommates, but get nothing of life at a boarding school. I think the story needed this scenic backdrop, this context, to anchor it.  I suppose there is much more telling than showing.

Funke seems to leap from event to ghostly event with little build up between. Many opportunities to create suspense weren't taken advantage of. We're just told, "Here's this guy and this is what happened to him." There's very little mystery, nothing to keep us wondering. No drama, no build-up, no suspense. We are simply pelted with ghosts.

That's the thing I didn't like about this book. It's a light and entertaining read, but it led me to believe I was getting a ghost story, and I didn't. Ghost Knight was rushed. It was shallow. I never felt like I got to know anyone besides Jon and Funke failed to cultivate that eerie mood where fear creeps around you like a mist and it always seems that someone (or something) is just out of sight, watching and waiting. My favorite thing about ghost stories is the mystery, and Ghost Knight provided very little of this.

Review: Higher Institute of Villainous Education by Mark Walden

genre: adventure, spy, sci-fi
age: children's
rating: 1/8 tentacles

I have read one hundred and ninety pages of H.I.V.E. by Mark Walden, and am now setting this book aside, forever.  The concept of H.I.V.E.--or, the Higher Institute of Villainous Education--promises a shift in common perspective and is what interested me in the novel. It's not often we get to see the story from the "villain's" point of view. I imagined a school full of Slytherins, where they weren't the grimly regarded slime of the student body, but the celebrated norm. I had hoped for a rollicking adventure with a silly, humorous twist.  I wanted a Percy Jackson experience, but instead found a poorly structured story populated by flat characters, whose plot dawdled and then wandered off to who knows where.

Even the class schedule at H.I.V.E. sounds fun: Villainy Studies, Tactical Education, Practical Technology, and Stealth and Evasion. I wanted to see a bunch of children learn to be hackers, spies, thieves, and strategists. I'm not sure about the class "Villainy Studies," which serves as an example of one of the reasons I didn't like the book. Walden doesn't effectively embody the mindset of a "villain," who is only dubbed as such by the "good guys." I'm sure the best "villains" don't see themselves as evil. They think they're right, that they're superior, that those people trying to thwart their plans are like little buzzing mosquitoes getting in the way. They don't think "I am a villain and that guy over there is a hero." Walden's representation of "villains" is a caricature someone on the outside of this world might conjure up. I wanted to be inside the world, looking at it from an insider's perspective.

The evil genius of our young protagonist, Otto Malpense, is witnessed by H.I.V.E., resulting in his abduction and transportation to the school. Upon his arrival, we are immediately informed of Otto's superiority to all of the other students. While they gawp stupidly at the strange new sites the institution has to offer, Otto remains unimpressed, blankly memorizing his surroundings for no apparent reason. Dr. Nero, head of the institution, notices this and marks Otto as a student to watch. Otto goes on, along with his new friend Fanchu Wing, to continuously demonstrate his perfection. I find it difficult to relate to a character who has so little vulnerability. Otto is so implausibly capable that I don't even care what happens to him because there's no risk, nothing at stake. He always comes out on top. Boooring.

Otto very quickly decides that he must escape H.I.V.E. From the moment he arrives, he observes and calculates, saving up all of the information he gathers in case it will be useful in plotting his getaway. There is a lot of obvious noticing, like the author is trying to shine a spotlight on Otto's superior intelligence. Why Otto feels he must escape H.I.V.E. is a mystery to me. The school's existence and location are highly secret and so students are allowed no contact with the outer world during their studies. Perhaps the principle of being "imprisoned" is enough to make someone want to leave, but Otto is given a room, he quickly makes friends, his laundry is done for him, he is fed, and he is going to be taught a number of skills that no doubt he will quickly master but that will likely be useful to him. Why he feels a pressing need to get out immediately is beyond me, and why a number of students quickly express the same desire is even more perplexing.

Much of the novel seems derivative. Otto is a pale, cartoonish, emotionless copy of Ender Wiggin. Franz--the fat German boy who thinks only of food isn't a copy. He IS Augustus Gloop. His father even owns a chocolate factory.

In one scene, students file into a classroom and wait for their teacher. They notice a cat seated on the teachers desk, and vaguely question its presence. Then a teacher's voice comes from the front of the room, addressing the class, and they look around bemusedly for its owner. With some incredulity, they find the voice belongs to the cat on the desk. Hmm, why does this seem so familiar?

Two hundred pages into the story, nothing has happened. Otto arrived at the school, went on a tour, got a roommate, and we saw a flashback of his life before H.I.V.E. and how he came to be at the school. I assume the plot will detail Otto & Co.'s unnecessary escape effort but because I don't understand why they're bothering to break out (they're in no danger at the school and won't suffer by staying) I don't care if their plan is successful and even sort of hope that they fail. I'm not interested in the answer to the question the plot poses and so it is time to take my leave of this story. Goodbye little book. I had hoped we might be friends but it is not to be--back to the library you go.

Review: Beauty by Robin McKinley

genre: fantasy, fairy tale
age: YA
rating: 6/8 tentacles

Robin McKinley writes refreshingly elegant prose. I was especially taken with the descriptions of the enchanted castle; its somber, grandiose decor; and all of the opulent little details of the wardrobe magically procured for Beauty. I like the idea of the blue dress with silver embroidered birds, the hall of portraits, and the haunting carved arch over the castle's entrance.

The existence of magic in Beauty's world is casually introduced, long before we see any evidence of it, in a way that suggests it might only be the stuff of stories. Beauty's family, who were born and bred in the city, view the countryside and the forests as the dark homes of goblins, fairies, and dragons. The curiosity and uncertainty in Beauty's delivery of this information smacks of superstition and I could imagine the stories as follies of the ignorant, people's beliefs about the Unknown they fear. Like those mapmakers who wrote "Here Be Dragons" across uncharted territories spotted with snakey coils stitched across painted seas. This representation of magic gave the world an anchor in reality. The novel begins in a world like our own, or like ours once might have been, and we discover magic along with Beauty. McKinley's is a whimsical, enchanting magic. Two whirling breezes try to dress Beauty in clothes she feels are too extravagant for her and the tea things and dinner plates move on their own, constantly shoving each other out of the way in an effort to present their dish to the visiting lady.

The character of Beauty didn't make much of an impression on me. Her love of books lacked wonder and curiosity. Her sacrifice wasn't much of one--she didn't seem to mind giving up her life or her family although she did miss them once she was gone. She waxed on about the Greeks and learning languages and struck me as a generally stuffy and uninteresting person. My favorite characters were her father, who had such kind intentions, and the poor Beast. Oh and Greatheart, who became a capital "C" Character in my mind even though he was Beauty's horse.

McKinley's writing style and descriptions posses a lovely, sophisticated maturity. I called her prose refreshing earlier because I'm always glad to find writing without that overly sensationalized hyper-introspection that you may have seen me complaining about recently. That type of writing toes the edge of a cliff, over which is a steep descent into self-indulgent blather. But there is none of that here! I find more and more that I generally prefer YA and children's lit published between the sixties and the early nineties. (This one's pub. date is 1978.)

There is a bit more summary here than I would like. A balance between summary and action scenes (scenes that relay info vs. scenes during which action unfolds before us) allows the reader to experience the story with the characters at a steady pace. Too much summary creates too much distance between reader and character and too much action might overstimulate or deaden the pace. It depends. I think Beauty could have done with a few more action scenes.

This particular retelling was more similar to the french film released in the forties than to the probably better known Disney film (which I began re-watching after I finished this book). I don't think I've ever actually read any version of Beauty and the Beast before so I can't compare it to the original fairy tale (although I can say that the characters and background were supplied with a depth absent from fairy tales), but I enjoyed this book very much. I read it all in one day.

Review: Pandemonium by Lauren Oliver

genre: dystopia
age: YA
rating: 7/8 tentacles

This is a sequel, there will be Delirium spoilers.  Don't read the review if you haven't read the first book.

Now that Lena has successfully fled her oppressive society, she must come to terms with losing Alex and face the new hardships that accompany life in the small, self-sustained community of runaways located in the middle of a forest.   

Pandemonium's narrative splits into segments titled "Then" and "Now" that flip-flop between this period, set immediately after Lena's escape, and the present, during which Lena seems to have adapted and thrived, joining fellow runaways Raven and Tack in their rebellion against an organization called the DFA (Deliria Free America).

I found myself looking forward to the "Now" segments.  I enjoyed watching the clockwork of Raven and Tack's plan tick out, observing the smooth efficiency of the DFA meetings that Lena attended, and was intrigued by the character of Julian.  His wounded air and sense of entitlement reminded me a little of Colin Craven, who I like.  Lena watches Julian struggle with his inherited beliefs, delusions from which her own experiences had only recently distanced her--making for an interesting relationship.  In Delirium, Alex drops into Lena's world out of the blue and radically changes everything for her, teaches her to expand her perceptions, to live.  Now it's Lena's turn to do the same for some one else.

I did enjoy the survival segments as well, but because I preferred the other chapters, I found myself disappointed whenever I saw the word "Then" heading a chapter.   The two threads of time are two separate stories, one informing the other, but I wish they had been presented chronologically.  I saw no reason to alternate sections like Oliver did--I don't think this decision increases the drama of the plot, and I wouldn't have kept getting jerked out of the story I wanted to be reading.

Delirium didn't resonate with me and I picked up the sequel mainly out of curiosity.  I approached Pandemonium with a kind of oh-all-right-I-read-the-first-one-so-why-not mentality, without expecting to be impressed, but Pandemonium surprised me.  The plot was much more interesting than its predecessor's, I liked more of the characters (didn't like Hana or Alex, do like Raven and Julian), and Oliver's descriptions were just as beautiful as her writing in Delirium.

Review: Insurgent by Veronica Roth

genre: dystopia
age: YA
rating: 3/8 tentacles

Sequel alert: beware of spoilers for Book 1.

Most of Insurgent felt hazy and meandering. It didn't have a solid, forward moving pace. It didn't pull me in or hypnotize me. I read most of the story a little detached from it, waiting to be swallowed up into the world it created. I never really was. Little tiny barriers kept shoving me back out.

The lack of contractions, although a valid stylistic choice, only irritated me. The witty/romantic banter between Tris and Four felt unnatural and not as clever as I assume it was intended to be. The dialogue in general felt staged.

I've been noticing that a lot of contemporary YA authors write with this introspective, flowery, self aware voice that is sometimes--in extreme cases--so overly descriptive it veers into pseudo-poetry built of descriptions crafted for effect and not function. I think we get a little of that in Insurgent. There's a lot of words flying around but not a lot of substance.

I would hazard that most of my hazy meandering feelings came from being trapped in Tris's thoughts and fears and regrets. In Divergent, we live in Tris's world, experiencing it through Tris. In Insurgent, we live in Tris's head, which is not as interesting.

I floated through the book, until about the last third, when my interest was finally sparked and I sat up in my seat, eager to read ahead. It wasn't until Tris was faced with a clear goal and an intriguing obstacle to outwit that I thought, "Yes. This is what I wanted. This is why I liked Divergent." Insurgent needed more immediate conflict, more tension. And the twist! Oh, the twist. How frustratingly unoriginal. Maybe Roth will do something to the freshen the idea in her third novel, Detergent (a guess), although none of the millions who've already used it in movies, books, and probably television have, so I daren't dream.

Review: Fever by Lauren DeStefano

Oh boy, look at THIS tangle of thorns. Ugliest book cover ever.

genre: dystopia, sci-fi-ish
age: YA
rating: 3/8 tentacles

Sequel alert: beware of spoiling Book 1.

Fever begins just after Rhine and Gabriel have escaped the mansion--their extravagant prison--and we follow them as they attempt to put more and more distance between themselves and the cold science of Vaughn's evil. This type of action calls for a quicker pace than Wither with more focus on plotting and less of that honey-slow description featured in the first installment of the series.  The nature of Fever's plot calls for more movement and a faster pace. Give me action! Give me adventure! Give me... a voyeuristic prostitution tent swathed in vagueness? Wait.

I definitely preferred the second half of the book to the first. There's a kind of slow cloudiness in the beginning, after the initial post-escape excitement. Typical on-the-run adventures primarily move move move. Characters get to one place, interact with people, figure stuff out, go to another place. That's what I expected from Fever Gabriel and Rhine dawdled at times and didn't do much finding out. Like none, actually.

There's definitely some juicy stuff later on. ( Hint: remember how Linden seemed to have no idea that his beloved brides were kidnapped by his father? How he obliviously lavished them with all sorts of luxurious gifts, how he blindly hoped for love? In Wither, I got the impression he almost expected gratitude from his "wives," a repulsive expectation, considering the violent way the girls were extracted from their lives, torn from their families. They witnessed the cold-blooded execution of the other girls, not deemed good enough to belong to Linden. I wanted that violence to be shoved in Linden's face. I wanted his stupid delusions to be shattered into pieces, his stolen happiness punctured.)

It's not that I dislike Linden.  I actually like him a lot--he's a great character. Much more interesting that Rhine's erm... consensual "love" interest.  Oh, Gabriel. What to say about Gabriel. Not much. There's not much about him to discuss. He's blonde, and likes Rhine, and is possessive. That's all I know. He is the paper kite at the end of the string in her hand. If she lets go, he is nothing. He has no characteristics beyond his attachment to Rhine.

Gabriel's bland character contaminates his romance with Rhine (also bland). I blame his possessiveness. They don't seem to have any actual affection for each other. Yes, Rhine shows concern for Gabriel when he's drugged out of his mind. But I think she mostly just feels guilt that she tore him out of one hell only to drag him right into a more horrific one. She feels obligated to protect him, to rescue him from the terrors of this world she's inflicted upon him. I don't see any evidence that Gabriel cares for Rhine, other than the way he glares at those who try to touch her, like a dog snapping at a stranger who wants to take his toy. The guilt is good. I like the guilt; it creates ambiguity and conflict. What I'm not sure I like is Gabriel's flatness. Even if their relationship is a sham, I'd like him to have a little more depth.

What it all comes down to is this: Wither entranced me, this book doesn't feel finished. Nothing pulls the plot forward and I spent most of my time with Fever just waiting.

Review: Reality is Broken by Jane McGonigal

genre: nonfiction, gaming, life improvement
age: all!, adult
rating: 7/8 tentacles

I spent a large portion of my childhood glued to either the television screen or computer monitor playing all sorts of games with the ferocity of a baby drug addict. Reading Blaster, Kings Quest VII: The Princeless Bride, Super Mario Bros, Super Smash Bros, Mario Kart, Mario Party, Paper Mario, and (especially) Final Fantasy VIII are some of my favorites. I understand the joy that comes from abandoning one's self to the rules and world of a game, from working hard under the constricts of those rules to achieve an arbitrary goal, the path to which is strewn with obstacle after obstacle. I understand the determination, the absorption, and the focus it takes to achieve those goals as well as the pleasure of these comparatively small successes, the pleasure of simply escaping.

McGonical, herself a game designer, wonders why so many gamers choose to spend their time working toward virtual successes that have little value in the "real world" when they could dedicate themselves to equal but more practical productivity in their lives. In her exploration of the human love--need, even--for games, McGonical references a wide variety examples ranging from Jacks to Tetris to Words with Friends to World of Warcraft to sports. She then suggests applying the structure of game-play (a clear goal, clear instructions, and direct feedback) to real life projects and work. I think this is a fantastic way to give ourselves the sense of purpose often found in games.

A lot of what McGonical says here can be applied to books. A good book allows us to live vicariously through its characters, who often accomplish great things that might feel more important or more consequential than the trivialities of our everyday lives. Books, in addition to games, offer an alternate reality that is in many ways more satisfying than real life. I find this both sad and wonderful. Reality is Broken is ultimately a dissection of the reasons we seek escapist ventures, why we choose the methods of escape that we do, and how we can mold our worlds into places that mimic the games that fulfill us and provide us with such satisfaction.

McGonigal's prose is deliciously clear. She writes with entrancing and efficient simplicity. Her book was a joy to read and provided some fascinating insights into the psychology of gaming, the awareness of which will now influence the way I organize my work projects and my life.

Review: City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare

genre: paranormal
age: YA
rating: 4/8 tentacles

*OH, RIGHT.  THIS IS THE FIFTH BOOK IN A SERIES. THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS FOR PREVIOUS BOOKS.  PROBABLY NOT BUT YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.*

I have mixed feelings about City of Lost Souls, mainly because it didn't meet the expectations built up by the previous four books in The Mortal Instruments series. This fifth installment reads more like fan-fiction than professional writing. Clare spends way too much time on cliched descriptions of make-out sessions and telling us what her characters are wearing. Really, there is no need to provide detailed descriptions of a character's ensemble every single time he or she enters a scene. Maybe a few times is okay, if the outfit is relevant or contributes to characterization, but lines like this are too much:

"As she came in, Alec looked up and saw her, and sprang to his feet, hurrying barefoot across the room--he was wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a torn collar--to put his arms around her."

I don't think the color of Alec's sweatpants is important enough to warrant interrupting the action to tell us. Shoving that in there ruins the sentence.

It's one example of the many ways that this novel lacks focus. I often found myself thinking, "What, this again? Get to the good part!" Mostly during the scenes between Maia and Jordan. I felt like there was an inordinate amount of time spent on the trivial exploits of secondary characters. Maia and Jordan's scenes were all pretty much gooey teen romance, which I can't stomach, especially when they're written without any originality. My public library put a sticker on the book's spine with a spooky ghost and the word "Horror." A more accurate sticker might have shown the torso of a man whose muscles rippled under his tightly fitted shirt. There's a couple of those floating around CLS.

The plot--Clary and friends' attempts to find Jace and Sebastian and then stop Sebastian's nefarious scheme--often got bogged down with the aforementioned makeout sessions and fashion commentary, but when it wasn't, when we were right in the thick of things--the book was pretty good. There was a lot of interesting development with Sebastian's character and his relationship with Clary. My favorite scenes were with Sebastian. He's a fantastic--I don't want to say villain, because Clare makes things nice and grey for us. A very dark grey, but grey nonetheless.

To sum up: entertaining plot, surprisingly amateurish writing. Could have used some more editing to really reach its potential, I think.

I'm being a little generous with my tentacles.  According to my chart, poor quality of writing, even with a decent story, deserves a 3 out of 8 but because I'm a fan of the series and it did get a little better towards the end, I'll throw in one more, out of the goodness of my heart.

Review: Dramarama by E. Lockhart

genre: realistic fiction
age: YA
rating: 5/8 tentacles

Sarah Paulson is bored with her life in what she sees as a dead-end middle-of-nowhere sort of town.  She gives herself a dramatic makeover, changes her name to Sadye,  and heads off to a summer theatre camp with her best friend Demi, convinced that her fortune is about to change, that the world of theatre will nurture her true self and allow her to grow into the sensational human being she knows she's meant to be.  But theatre camp isn't quite the dream Sadye expected.

One of Lockhart's talents is making readers empathize with her protagonists. Even though I didn't like Sarah/Sadye, I felt enragedly frustrated on her behalf as she fought to prove herself at a summer semester of drama school. She was like a little mole who kept popping her little mole head out of its hole, blinking in awe at the dazzling world of theatre, only to get whacked on the head by a mallet-happy drama instructor.

I pronounced "Sadye" as "Sad-yuh" in my mind. I knew it was supposed to be Sayd-ee from the moment I saw it but my brain wanted to say it the way it was spelled. Should have gone with Sade, Sadey, Sadie, Sady... there are so many options. Sad-yuh doesn't work for me.
The novel is interspersed with transcripts of the tape recordings Sadye and Demi make of their adventures at drama school.  The format is clever but boring.  Dialogue included in these segments feels flat and mostly uninformative and I had trouble following the conversations.

I'm not particularly interested in theatre, but the details of life at drama school entertained me and made me feel like I was looking into a secret world. I liked the ambiguous portrayal of friendship vs. competition and mindlessly following orders vs. creative collaboration. Not as good as Frankie Landau-Banks, which I constantly recommend to everyone.

Review: Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare

age: YA

genre: period, romance, paranormal
rating: 4.5/8 tentacles

**HERE BE SPOILERS. MAYBE. NOT FOR THIS BOOK, FOR CLOCKWORK ANGEL. THIS IS A SEQUEL SO, BE WARNED AND STUFF**

Okay so let's start with things I didn't like so we can end on a positive note.

I found the plot of this novel to be much less well-crafted than Clare's other work. I particularly like The Mortal Instruments series for its forward-moving plots that are centered on some kind of mystery or adventure--like where's mom and who are these weirdos with pictures on their arms? I enjoy romance when it's a subplot, but this trilogy's romance is creeping into the forefront, greedily elbowing the actual plot out of its way. In Clockwork Prince, the Magister and the clockwork angel and Tessa's unique abilities all take a backseat to her love triangle with Will and Jem. The romance is a spicy bonus but I’m reading the book because I want to know the secrets behind the Magister’s sinister scheming, why Tessa can shape shift, and who her parents were.

The one thing about Tessa that makes her interesting, that makes her stand out as a character, is the fact that she's a shape shifter and had no knowledge of this fact until some demon sisters trained her to do it properly. She should be using this ability, exploring its possibilities. This is what I was looking forward to when I read Clockwork Prince, but Tessa only shape shifts three times in the whole book: twice because it's part of a plan and once in the heat of battle. Why isn't she sneaking around in other bodies, getting into scrapes, and spying on people? Why isn't she using her skills for peronal gain or even just out of personal curiousity? It's such a fun, promising idea that I'm surprised Clare didn't do more with it. The subservient role of women in this time period lends itself to unique opportunities in this plot line.

I also had minor issues with some historical aspects of the novel. There was a kind of half-way attempt at period dialogue, but all Clare really did was use "shall" and get rid of contractions. I’m pretty sure that people used contractions in Victorian England. I think, with period speech, you either have to do research—which isn’t too hard, read some old letters or something—and really go for it, or you have write in the present day vernacular (avoiding obvious anachronisms) and it will just be understood that the character’s words are being translated in storytelling. Like in the movie Everafter. It’s set in medieval France, and yet everyone speaks with vaguely old-fashioned diction in English accents. It’s understood that the speech was adapted to aid the audience’s understanding. Maybe that’s what Clare was doing, but something about it felt off, or forced to me.

Clockwork Prince could have done with a little less classics-quoting. On the one hand, it’s interesting to know what was popular at the time and the books mentioned help set a historical backdrop. On the other hand, it’s a bit of a pet peeve of mine to read books that constantly quote other books. It feels a little bit like name dropping, or like a cheatery way to give the characters more depth. Maybe today, reading Victorian novels implies a certain level of intelligence, but back then, they’d have just been making their way down the bestseller/new publication list. I don’t know, I think I’m getting tangled up in my own presumptions but I still dislike reading about people reciting quotes.

Ta da! I’m done complaining.

And despite all of this, I did like Clockwork Prince. Not as much as Clockwork Angel and definitely not as much as The Mortal Instruments, but I enjoyed it. It’s the kind of book that has this magnetic pull to it, that makes you think about it constantly when you’re not reading it, that makes you count down the minutes to the end of your work day even more urgently than usual because you have a book to get home to, that makes you stay up reading late into the night. I’m trying to think of specific praises to balance out my review full of criticisms and the robot battle scene was pretty cool and the Jessamine thing was intriguing (and oh my god I forgot to complain about Will’s secret but this is getting long), but I think this addictive quality is so wonderful and rare that it balances out all of the little flaws on its own.

Review: The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

age: YA
genre: real life, cancer, humor, sadness (those are genres, right?)
rating: 7/8 tentacles

I don’t know what to say about this book except stupid vague things like “really really good” and “you should read it.”

This is John Green’s first novel told from a female perspective and done so quite successfully, in my opinion. Despite being about kids who have cancer, this book is not one of those melodramatic cancer-fighting-child-hero books. It is understated and sweet and personal. It’s funny. Although Hazel facetiously refers to herself as a professional cancer patient, the disease takes a backseat to her personality, her fears, and her desires. And then there’s Augustus Waters and Peter Van Houten and Amsterdam.

Augustus uses his Cancer Wish take Hazel on a trip to Amsterdam in search of Peter Van Houten, the author of An Imperial Affliction: Hazel’s favorite, but ambiguously concluded novel. It strikes me as sad that someone like Hazel has become fixated on a story that, for her, has ended too soon, when the threat of her own premature end has hung over her head for all the years of her illness. Growing up in hospitals and support groups will have introduced her to other cancer kids who didn’t make it and their mourning parents. Hazel’s entire world is built of stories ended too soon. It’s like her quest to find out what happens after the last page of the book is actually a quest for reassurance that stories don’t really end.

I think it’s safe to say that my reviews are generally full of complaints, but I don’t have a single complaint about this book. The characters are lovely, the writing is of high quality, and the story moves forward consistently. I felt connected to the characters and their lives as I read. I was made to care about them.

I read this book quickly because I was absorbed in the story and wanted to know what happened, but I’d like to read it again, a little more slowly, just to soak in the words.