The Graces by Laure Eve

(Photo from goodreads.com)

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Summary (from goodreads.com): Like everyone else in her town, River is obsessed with the Graces, attracted by their glamour and apparent ability to weave magic. But are they really what they seem? And are they more dangerous than they let on?

 

Ephemeral and mysterious–just like magic–The Graces fuels that simultaneously exciting and nauseating feeling that we can never fully understand our own world. The story’s landscape, dotted with ancient standing stones and beat upon by a relentless and violent sea, is especially effective in casting doubt as to humanity’s place in nature and in history. Meanwhile, the protagonist looks for a sense of belonging on a smaller scale, struggling with more immediate problems such as social isolation and self-confidence. For River, the Graces represent a chance to discover the secrets not only of magic, but of her own self-worth, and the intricacy with which these concepts are tied into her identity elevates Eve’s novel from “interesting” to “important.” In this article, Eve discusses the function of witchcraft as feminine power, a prevalent theme in The Graces. River’s growth from observer to reactor to agent is shrouded under the guise of the power conferred on her by magic, but in reality it is the development of self-awareness and the recognition of her own individuality that gives her real power–along with the ability to control it.

I will grant that this book has quite a long build-up. In my opinion, though, the payoff is well worth the wait. And Eve uses the time well, creating a mystique around the titular family while ramping up a sense of unease with regard to the narrator. River’s caginess in revealing details about herself (she won’t even tell the reader her birth name) is amplified by the tension between her and the surrounding characters, until the reader begins to doubt her reliability. And in my mind, a subversive narrator is one of the best kinds.

Finally, I cannot close without praising Ms. Eve’s writing style. Her prose is straightforward and grounded–except when it isn’t. Glimmers of poetic, ethereal language elicit the thrill of incantation, weaving magic over the reader in subtle moments that catch us by surprise. The mixture of realism and otherworldliness is confusing and tantalizing, and it draws the reader–you guessed it–under its spell.

Favorite Line: “Inside, buried deep down where no one could see it, was the core of me, burning endlessly, coal black and coal bright.”

Rating: 5/5

Crank by Ellen Hopkins

(Photo by Carla Rennick)

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Summary (from goodreads.com): In Crank, Ellen Hopkins chronicles the turbulent and often disturbing relationship between Kristina, a character based on her own daughter, and the “monster,” the highly addictive drug crystal meth, or “crank.”

I am going to start by saying: this wasn’t as hard to get through as I thought it would be. I have a friend who is a big fan of Ellen Hopkins, and she warned me that none of the books in this series could exactly be called “happy.” I actually ended up finishing it in a single day–partly because I was on a deadline for school, and partly because each poem had me eager to read the next one. This is only the second novel in verse that I have read (the first was Brown Girl Dreaming by Jacqueline Woodson), but I think it was really well done. I do have a lot of experience in reading poetry (I was an English lit major in undergrad), and I found Hopkins’s writing to be artful without sacrificing directness. She uses metaphor and other figurative language to enhance the experience of the reader, but she doesn’t hide behind these techniques to avoid brutal truths.

Hopkins also uses structure to great effect. One of my favorite things about this book is that the “title” of each poem is also usually the opening line. This basically prevents the reader from simply skimming over the titles while also helping to maintain the flow of the overall book. Hopkins also toys with the arrangement of the stanzas and lines on the page, allowing her words to convey multiple meanings simultaneously. I will say that the compact size of the book means that some of the poems are interrupted in inopportune places. This is especially unfortunate when the “shape” of the poem is relevant to its message. The reader has to sort of “cut and paste” it back together in their head in order to visualize the completed form.

With regard to characterization, I though the duality of Kristina/Bree was a very interesting approach. I have to admit that she (Hopkins or the protagonist, however you want to look at it) got me with the fifth poem (“More on Bree”). I was halfway to my psychoanalysis when she shut me right up. Bree, who is Kristina’s expression of her wilder side, did seem a bit extreme to me, but I suppose that is because my own wild side has never involved anything more exciting than that time I smoked cigarettes for like a week. So I had a little trouble relating to Bree, but I think everyone can understand that itch to let go of your inhibitions. I also deeply respect Hopkins’s portrayal of addiction and the domino effect it can have. She made me see Kristina as a very sympathetic character even while I thanked my stars that I have never found myself in her position.

Finally, although I really liked the direction Hopkins took the conclusion of the novel, it felt quite rushed to me. I would have liked to see at least one detailed instance of Kristina’s relapses so that the ending didn’t feel so much like an abrupt shift to a wrap-up montage.

Favorite line: “I could always say ‘no.’ / Couldn’t I?”

Rating: 4.5/5

If I Stay by Gayle Forman

(Photo by Carla Rennick)

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Summary (from goodreads.com): In the blink of an eye everything changes. Seventeen year-old Mia has no memory of the accident; she can only recall what happened afterwards, watching her own damaged body being taken from the wreck. Little by little she struggles to put together the pieces- to figure out what she has lost, what she has left, and the very difficult choice she must make.

I always claim to be the kind of reader who prefers lighthearted escapist literature, but here I am following my review of Speak with the heartwrenching If I Stay. While I don’t often seek out emotional or angst-ridden novels, I’m discovering that they can be infused with a certain soul-expanding beauty that just cannot be found in other genres. Gayle Forman’s If I Stay, which I am probably the last of my circle of YA-obsessed acquaintances to read, is full of such beauty. What surprised me, however, is that it is not only the obvious, life-or-death scenes which bring the emotions so close to the surface. Honestly, I got more choked up over Mia’s love and devotion to classical music than I did over her relationship with Adam. And the combination of both? That really got to me. Forman uses Mia’s passions–her family, her best friend, her cello–to introduce the reader to Mia’s relationship with Adam and to amplify its emotional impact.

The other thing that really struck me is the fact that, even though the entire premise of the narrative–that a person could exist outside their comatose body and make the drawn-out decision to survive or not–could be seen as a spiritual or supernatural construct, Mia’s thoughts and memories are so solidly grounded in the living world that I have to consider this a realistic piece of fiction. Mia’s character, even in it’s in-between state, is too human to be called simply a “ghost” or a “soul.” The topics Forman manages to cover–from the day-to-day problem of feeling like an outsider among your peers and family to the painful topics of death and loss–are extremely relevant and relatable. I would definitely recommend this book to teens. Besides excellent prose and characterization, it offers the chance to consider some very intimidating issues within the safe environment of fiction.

Favorite line: “Then, in third grade, I’d wandered over to the cello in music class—it looked almost human to me. It looked like if you played it, it would tell you secrets, so I started playing.”

Rating: 5/5

Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson

(Photo by Carla Rennick)

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Summary (from goodreads.com): “Speak up for yourself–we want to know what you have to say.” From the first moment of her freshman year at Merryweather High, Melinda knows this is a big fat lie, part of the nonsense of high school. She is friendless, outcast, because she busted an end-of-summer party by calling the cops, so now nobody will talk to her, let alone listen to her.

I never thought I would be able to call a book about such a serious topic “a joy to read,” but that’s what this was. Melinda’s snarky commentary on the farce that is the public high school experience moved me to laughter over and over again. Anderson writes her protagonist with such strength and personality that–even as it becomes increasingly clear that something awful has happened to her, and even though her relationship with her parents becomes more and more tense–I forgot to feel sorry for her. She teeters on the edge of a depression and isolation that so many people–teenagers and adults–find overwhelming, but she is not crippled by it. Anderson’s supporting characters are just as well-crafted and captivating. Melinda’s parents, teachers, friends, and even her enemies, surprise Melinda and the reader with their humanity, their imperfections, and their growth. Finally, I really appreciated the symbolism and imagery throughout the book, literary tools used incredibly effectively even while the author pokes fun at the English class tradition of force-feeding interpretation to skeptical freshmen. Overall, I recommend this book to both teens and adults, even those who–like myself–tend to shy away from depictions of the more painful realities of life.

Favorite line: “[Maya Angelou] must be a great writer if the school board is afraid of her.”

Rating: 5/5