Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

******CRAZY SPOILERS BELOW******

I loved the first two Hunger Games books-- they were fun, smart and undeniably propulsive. Katniss provided a fabulous heroine that served as a pleasantly proactive alternative to many of the more passive female leads in YA lit. The world was fascinating. The action was crisp, and kept coming fast enough to keep even the most reluctant readers tuned in. The series has been a fabulous tool as a bookseller, as I have yet to find a kid who hasn't liked it-- from precocious 9 year olds who read like it's their job to tear through series, to the 15 year olds who treat English class like death camp. And since I'd read both of the previous installments as ARCs, I awaited the conclusion just as breathlessly as everyone else. So my response to this final installment probably isn't fair, due to my overwhelming anticipation.
Before I launch into the many things that gave me pause, I should clarify that I still read Mockingjay in about 4 hours. Collins' style and clear prose remain, and her sensibility as a landscape builder is as strong as ever. When the novel opens, Katniss is meandering around the smoldering remains of her decimated home in District 12. Peeta has been captured by the capitol, and Gale, Katniss's mother and sister and the remaining survivors of District 12 have taken refuge in the underground prison camp that is District 13. As the story progresses, Katniss steps into the role of revolutionary symbol (not leader, a distinction that troubles her), called the Mockingjay. As she struggles with her restrictive new role, she also wavers between Peeta (who has been brainwashed by the capitol) and Gale (whose new outlook on war is disturbingly bloodthirsty). The scenes in which Katniss visits District 8 are emotionally explosive (and literally explosive, those poor people) and the character work around Finnick was sound. In fact, he ended up being my favorite character in the book. Which leads me neatly into the things I liked less.
One of the things I loved about Katniss in the previous books was that, despite her strange and horrible circumstance, she was incredibly relatable. She struggled to understand her own motives in a way that felt truly teenaged; she loved her family fiercely and she yearned, very realistically, for a different life. But the Katniss in this book was so emotionally shut down it was nearly impossible to empathize with her. This was particularly troublesome in the scenes that follow Prim's death. The whole reason Katniss became involved in the Hunger Games in the first place was to protect Prim. When she is ultimately killed, rendering Katniss's efforts in vain, I expected a much bigger emotional hit than there was. Similarly, given the amount of time she spends going back and forth between the two, when Katniss ultimately decides upon Peeta (which seemed as much out of convenience as anything else) we get a rather truncated epilogue with little passion left in it. And of course, they have babies. Why do they always have to have babies?
In both the previous installments, I ignored the fact the structure was incredibly back-loaded, assuming that was done on purpose in order to set up the next book. Huge, climactic scenes that opened up lots of loose ends tended to pop in the last 50 pages or so-- and I didn't read this as a flaw. But in the final installment, the same structure holds, to a much less satisfying effect. There was also the issue of Katniss frequently being knocked unconscious during the climax of scenes, which is really irksome given the first person constraint of the novel. It's a ploy that I've also been noticing as I read JRR Tolkein's trilogy (for the first time... I know, worst nerd ever) so maybe it's something that really only irritates me.
So maybe this was my least favorite of the series. It's still a great series, and I still love recommending it almost ubiquitously to kids and adults alike. I also had the pleasure of meeting Suzanne at a lunch for booksellers, and listening to her talk about her intentions with the novel only solidified my confidence in handing it to new readers. Did you know, for instance, that Katniss is meant to be an allegory to Spartacus? Once she pointed it out, it seemed obvious, but I certainly didn't catch it.

The Goats by Brock Cole

In the opening chapter of The Goats, two outcasts, a boy and a girl, are stripped and left on an island in a cruel summer camp tradition. Though the idea is that they will jump on the opportunity and make like wild island goats, the boy and the girl instead embark on a journey in which they find each other, themselves and love before sex.

Cole pulls no punches in this startlingly sexual (yet complete devoid of actual sexual activity) story. The opening chapter reads like a rape scene. The boy and the girl, humiliated and terrified, spend the opening three chapters naked in each other's company. The boy, who the reader gathers has not quite hit puberty yet, notes that the girl has pubic hair where he does not, but no more is made of it. Cole's hand is purposeful and spare, but not overbearing. The kids maneuver their way off the island and into the world, journeying from a place of strict social hierarchy and embarrassment to a place in which they at least know they have one another.

I loved this book. The story of sexual awakening is practically ubiquitous in YA, a genre defined by coming of age stories, yet I've never read one this honest, this head on. I was shocked to find that this book was originally published in 1989, and had simply come back to our store as a new edition, though I guess I shouldn't be-- sex is sex and growing up is growing up no matter when it's written. Still, the novel holds up, and it doesn't cease to be startling, which is much more interesting to me than the shock value of a limousine deflowering scene (Gossip Girl) or a vamp's ice cold hands up the prom queen's skirt. I finished this book nearly a month ago, and haven't stopped thinking about it since. The central relationship is that complicated, the social structure is that intricately wrought, the emotional landscape is that evocative.

If I got to chose one book that I've read this year to MAKE kids 12-15 read, this would be it. Elegantly crafted, dangerously insightful, I hope this new (and much improved) cover of The Goats gets all the attention it deserves.

Forthcoming Titles: ARC Reviews

One of the best parts about being a bookseller is getting to sift through all the ARCs that we get shipped to the store from various publishers. I've never grown out of the stage in my life in which free=awesome, and so the novelty of ARCs has not worn thin for me yet. Reviewed below are three ARCs I've read in the last couple of months that I got a kick out of:

My threshhold for paranormal romance is very, very low, but I was invited to a dinner with Andrea Cremer, the author of Nightshade, by the awesome Penguin sales rep so I read it despite the subtitle: She can control her pack but not her heart, which gave me serious pause (as did the cover, which has more sparkles than I can reasonably tolerate). And even though I didn't end up making it to the dinner it was worth the read. Cremer utilizes the now familiar trope of one girl/two-different-but-both-attractive guys to nice, tense effect, and despite the fact that I am not interested in the subject matter, and did not even particularly care for the sentence level writing style, I was still sucked into the story, in which romance and twists are plenty. The protagonist, Calla, is an alpha female set to mate with the alpha of a rival pack (Ren) in order to create an alliance, and her strength and comfort with her own power made her an appealing lead. But, of course, there's a new boy at school, who's smart (as his pedantic in and out of class eruptions are meant to illustrate) kind and handsome, and Calla finds herself struggling to give herself over to Ren, the cocky, lady-killer, babe-wolf with whom she's been matched. Lust, suspense and monsters aplenty ensue, Calla makes her choice, and a sequel looms on the horizon. A fun, light read with the page-turning propulsion of romance, I would totally recommend this book to lovers of Twilight, Shiver and other vamp/wolf/angel/fairy/zombie/ghost/whatever romances.

Also from Penguin (Dutton, specifically) is Matched, a new romance/dystopia from Ally Condie, which I picked up due to the promise that: "This is a perfect dystopian novel, sure to be a hit with fans of The Giver and The Hunger Games" from Colleen Conway, field sales. While I in no way agree that this book has the same appeal of The Hunger Games, I do see Colleen's point about the Giver; and indeed, Matched reads something like The Giver, if The Giver was wrought with all the teenaged romantic angst that I could handle. Like Nightshade, Condie utilizes the one girl/two guys trope, and again, to pleasantly tense effect. Set in the future, people in Matched are, just as the title promises, matched with the person they will marry by a system of people and computers, and the protagonist in Matched is pleased to find that she has been matched with her handsome best friend. But, just like Nightshade, another boy pops up in her life, and she has trouble giving herself over to the boy with whom she's been matched. However familiar the story, the writing style of this book is lovely, with elegant descriptions and passages of dialog that kept me tuned in, even as the critic in me whined about the overuse of the love triangle in YA. The future Condie imagined is one of cold plastic, tightly controlled art (only 100 poems, 100 songs, 100 paintings remain) and lives that was compelling, and, I imagine, particularly resonant for teens who may feel as though too much of their lives are controlled by outside forces. Come November, I will be pleased to recommend this book as a gift who kids who love dystopian novels.

Lastly was the new graphic novel from Scholastic, Ghostopolis by Doug TenNapel. Set in a fuzzily defined Underworld, Ghostopolis is the story of fatally sick boy Garth, and Frank Gallows, the ghost hunter who accidentally sends Garth to the land of the dead. As Garth goes on an adventure, learning his full potential and getting to know the soul of his prodigal grandfather, Frank and his ghostly ex girlfriend Claire Voyant go on the search to bring Garth home to his poor, terrified mother. Though the story and the setting often make little to no sense, I kept reading because the humor and the drawing style were to appealing that I couldn't make myself put it down. I was particularly fond of Frank's face, which ranges in emotion from weary to irreverent, to deeply in love. The limited palatte of colors suits the Underworld nicely, and utilizes more warm hues than one might have imagined would work for the land of the dead. I'm not exactly sure who I should recommend this book to, other than aspiring illustrators, but I'm pleased to see it on our shelf just the same.

Shiver by Maggie Steifvater

Shiver is better than Twilight.

I can't say I understand the whole finding werewolves sexy thing, (dogs/dog-like behavior = sexy... not for me) but I can say that this nation wide bestseller does offer some fun, page-turning paranormal romance that the tweens drooling over Taylor Lautner will enjoy. Or already have enjoyed, since it's been on the NYT bestseller for ages now. Human Grace and werewolf Sam fall in love, share tense moments, etc, etc.

What I much preferred about this novel was that, unlike Bella and Edward, Grace and Sam do not get tunnel vision for one another. Their friends and families still matter, and have a profound effect on the plot. So rather than spending 400+ pages trapped inside a hormonal, one track mind, Grace and Sam both keep hold of the lives they had before they had one another. Oh yeah, there's also way less sexual guilt, and no creepy Rosemary's Baby birthing scene. Of course, that could still be coming, since Shiver's follow-up, Linger, comes out this summer.

It's not my favorite book I've read this year, but I did tear through it like I was getting paid to read it. Which I wasn't. So if you're looking for a gift for that 13 year old with a Team Jacob tee shirt on, or just looking to fill the supernatural romance void for yourself, give Shiver a go.

Leviathan by Scott Westerfeld

Adventures in badassery!

Scott Westerfeld, the author of the fun, body-image-centered trilogy, Uglies, Pretties, Specials, the vampire series, Peeps, and puzzle-horror series, Midnighters, has a new book out, the beginning to a very promising new series. Leviathan, a steam-punk retelling of WWI, is a rollicking start to what I'm hoping is going to be Westerfeld's best series yet! Perspective switches every two chapters between an unseated prince (Aleks), who has been humbled by his parents' deaths, and Derryn, a cross-dressing girl in the British Royal Navy. Driving both characters is the need to keep their true identities secret, and when their paths cross, their central tensions blend in compelling and juicy (yes, juicy) ways.

Like all Westerfeld's novels, Leviathan kicks off the action immediately, and I was hooked from page one. This world of Clankers (large, mechanical war vehicles) and Darwinist Beasties (hybrid war animal-machines) is so much fun that even though I was seriously pissed when I realized that this book was the first in a series (I shake my fist at you, Scott Westerfeld!!! Now I have to wait???) I can't say I'm not excited to spend more time in this world. For those readers that enjoyed Hunger Games, His Dark Materials, or Eon, this book might be a go. Like Hunger Games, this book moves quickly. Like His Dark Materials it occurs in a world that is at once an alternate past and a possible future. And like Eon, it features a strong, cross-dressing lead, succeeding in a man's role.

I am a little embarrassed to admit I didn't actually read this... I listened to it on audio on the drive from Seattle to San Francisco, as read by the (badass) Alan Cummings (who does an AWESOME job, seriously, AMAZING) but I liked it so much I'm going to read a hard copy, too. I suggest you do, too!