Book Review: Long Lankin by Lindsey Barraclough

“Beware of Long Lankin…” is an old English song that warns of a sinister creature who seems to have a penchant for eating babies.  When Cora and her younger sister Mimi are essentially dumped on their elderly aunt in a very isolated village in England, they don’t feel very welcome.  Aunt Ida is absolutely rigid in her house rules, and the girls feel stifled and desperate to get back to London.  They don’t understand their aunt’s fear, and when Cora and some village boys begin to uncover the evil that lurks in the town’s history, she begins to understand what her aunt dreads so much.

Barraclough’s novel doesn’t waste time in setting up the creeping feelings it lends its readers.  From the instant Cora and her sister Mimi are dumped with their Auntie Ida, the girls feel unwelcome.  Their aunt tells them in no uncertain terms that they are to keep the doors and windows locked at all times, no matter how hot it gets inside the cottage.  They aren’t allowed to explore the house or go down to the marshes–especially when the tide is out.  All of this helps to set the stage for the stifling, restrictive feeling the book puts its characters and readers through.

Of course, kids being kids, the rules get broken, and with the help of some local boys looking for summer distractions, things go quickly awry.  Barraclough has multiple points of view narrating the story, and they all work exceedingly well, but this is especially true in the case of Auntie Ida.  As frustrated as Cora and the reader are with Ida’s unwillingness to talk about what’s happening or why she is the way she is, her narrative pieces help unravel the hard, awful life she’s lived.

So many elements of the book work together to create a truly memorable, creepy read, but it’s worth noting that Barraclough keeps her prose tight and her narrative authoritative.  Even though the actual horror isn’t fully exposed until well into the second half of the book, most readers won’t mind: the suspense is that good.

This is a creeping horror story for sophisticated readers looking for something to really sink their teeth into (please, ignore the pun).  Barraclough’s dark, atmospheric novel runs a little long, but the building suspense and vivid characters help to carry the plot towards its chilling conclusion.  Many reviews have already said it, but it bears repeating: be prepared to read the last 100 pages all in one sitting).

Recommended.

Long Lankin by Lindsay Barraclough. Candlewick: 2012. Library copy.

Book Review: Tiger Lily by Jodi Lynn Anderson

Tiger Lily is tough and wild and maybe a little magical.  Adopted into a tribe in Neverland, she’s always on the outside.  When she meets the elusive and captivating Peter Pan, she finds herself drawn to him.  It doesn’t take long before Tiger Lily is willing to risk everything in her world–including those she loves–in order to be with him.  Things in Neverland are constantly changing, though, and Tiger Lily’s future isn’t guaranteed to be happy.

A retelling of Peter Pan whose jacket flap summary plays up a potential love triangle could easily be dismissed as more of the paranormal romance that’s flooding the YA market these days.  Fortunately, Jodi Lynn Anderson’s Tiger Lily surpasses all expectations and ends up being a haunting, lyrical tale of one girl’s self-discovery.  Coincidentally, it’s one of the best YA books of the year.

Narrating this dark, oftentimes slow tale is the miniscule and totally mute Tinkerbell, who becomes obsessed with Tiger Lily. She follows her around and watches as the events of Tiger Lily’s fifteenth year unfold.  While Tinkerbell is virtually powerless against humans, she has a strong voice that helps bring the characters and the setting to life.  It is difficult to get inside Tiger Lily’s head, but Tinkerbell helps the reader understand her actions and motivations.  The supporting characters are well drawn, complicated, and deeply flawed.  Everything about the book’s characterization is excellent, and sophisticated readers will devour this story.

The book is a richly re-imagined take on Neverland, and although it is much darker and much more sinister than readers are familiar with, there’s something completely captivating about it.  Although the novel moves at a fairly relaxed pace, there’s still an undercurrent of tension that makes it impossible to put this one down.  The ending is sad but fairly satisfying.  Anderson is at her best with this most recent offering.

Highly, highly recommended.

Tiger Lily by Jodi Lynn Anderson. Harper Collins Children’s Books: 2012. Library copy.

Book Review: Masque of the Red Death by Bethany Griffin

Araby lives in a world that is quickly decaying.  A deadly virus has wiped out most of the population, and those who are left are still in danger of contracting it.  The wealthy can afford masks that keep them from becoming infected, and they spend their time avoiding reality in lavish nightclubs like the Debauchery Club, where Araby goes most nights with her best friend.  Araby goes to find her own version of oblivion, but one night, she finds Will, one of the club’s bouncers.  Then she finds Elliott, who’s a wealthy aristocrat.  Both boys have their own agendas, and it isn’t long before Araby finds herself swept up into a building rebellion.  What does she have to lose, really?

Well, if this book is any indication, she doesn’t have much to lose.  Bethany Griffin’s neo-Victorian steampunk novel is a loose retelling of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Masque of the Red Death.  Unfortunately it’s not nearly as interesting as Poe’s work, despite Griffin’s attempts to make the story edgy, sexy, and dangerous.  A lack of time and place make this novel somewhat confusing–and a convoluted plot only complicates things.

There’s no sense of when or where this story takes place.  Although readers can infer that the city is some version of New Orleans, there’s no telling if the world is supposed to be an alternate universe, set sometime in the past, or set sometime in the future.  While this won’t bother every reader, it certainly bothered this one.  Some sense of where we are in time would be helpful, as there were weird inconsistencies throughout the novel.

However, the novel is incredibly atmospheric, and this helps readers forget that they have no idea where they are in time.  The novel’s atmosphere is gloomy, dreary, and palpably dark.  Griffin does a fantastic job of making the setting feel suffocating.  Unfortunately, that’s where the good stuff ends.

Araby is a total bummer, as far as narrators go.  She provides a completely self-absorbed narrative that feels fairly authentic–in terms of voice, at least.  Her guilt over the loss of her brother is crippling, and while it provides much of the reasoning behind her actions (or lack thereof), it also makes for exceedingly dull reading material.  When the big reveal behind her guilt is revealed, one can’t help but feel as though it’s all just a little overblown.

To make matters worse, there’s a predictable love triangle.  At first it seems as though Araby and Will are meant to end up together, with Elliott acting as a distraction as they plan the rebellion.  But by the end of the novel, Griffin has blurred the lines between the boys and Araby’s feelings for them, and it becomes increasingly clear that we’re supposed to be as torn as she is.  The problem is that Elliott sort of blows and Will is kind of awesome, so there’s no real dilemma present.

A cliffhanger ending feels a little rushed and leaves way too many questions unanswered, but it certainly sets up the novel’s sequel.  It’s not one I’ll be rushing out to find, but it might work for some readers (especially those who haven’t read Poe’s original).  Readers looking for more of the same post-apocalyptic love-triangle stuff might find some fun here, but I thought this one was a total drag.

Masque of the Red Death by Bethany Griffin.  Harper Collins: 2012.  Borrowed copy.

 

Book Review: Goddess Interrupted by Aimee Carter

Kate Winters survived the seven tests and has ascended to immortality.  As the new wife to Henry (Hades), god of the Underworld, she still struggles with Henry’s closed-off personality and secrets.  As he becomes more distant, Kate struggles with her feelings for him and the very real possibility of losing him–and the life–she’s fought for.  When the gods start preparing for a war with an evil that could destroy them all, Kate must navigate the maze that is Tartarus.  All of this leaves Kate with one question: what if immortality isn’t forever?

Well, then it’s not really immortality, is it?

The sequel to last year’s The Goddess Test finds Kate, Henry, and all the other Greek gods (still prancing around with their confusing, unnecessary, modern names) exactly where they were in the first book.  A lack of character development, a plot that feels like complete and total overkill, and a weirdly sex-negative message make this book a huge steaming pile of disappointment.

As in the first book, Kate is a glutton for punishment and is willing to sacrifice everything to save Henry.  There’s been no real development with regard to her characterization.  Her quest to rescue him from capture in the Underworld takes up much of the plot, and while it works in keeping the pace clipping along at a fairly quick rate, it doesn’t provide much actual intrigue, as Carter’s book is clearly aimed at readers who want all of the angst and the romance and none of the actual action.

Perhaps Kate’s mounting panic at losing Henry would be more compelling if Henry felt at all like a real character.  What is supposed to be stoic mystery comes across as condescending vagueness.  Henry…Henry kind of blows, actually.  There’s not enough of a personality to find him at all complicated or interesting, and his complete inability to take responsibility for his own feelings or actions is frustrating (but not as frustrating as the fact that none of his fellow gods or goddesses hold him responsible, either).

In fact, one of the book’s biggest weaknesses has to do with the characters and their refusal or inability to speak to one another.  For too much of the novel, everyone refuses to tell Kate what is going on.  Everything that Kate manages to extract from her new coven (I guess?) requires so much prodding and pleading that it becomes almost comical.  All of this felt forced, as if Carter was trying so hard to create tension and suspense that she completely lost her footing.  It feels manufactured, never authentic, and certainly not suspenseful in the least.

There’s also the fact that the book has a weirdly sex-negative message.  It’s hard to tell if it was intentional or is subconscious on the part of Carter, and that makes it all the more disturbing.  Virtually all of the female characters, save Kate herself, are made to be morally-corrupt nymphos.  All of them are slut-shamed in some way or another for choosing to indulge in sexual activity.  While some of Kate’s thoughts about Persephone’s past indiscretions can be chalked up to Kate’s (irrational) jealousies about her, it doesn’t excuse her judgement about her supposed best friend Ava (Aphrodite).  Kate’s own preoccupations about physical intimacy with Henry are oddly prudish and often feel forced.

The problem with the sex-negative message, and with the treatment of the female characters in general, is that it doesn’t really feel intentional.  Virtually all of the women in these stories are motivated by their interest in the men they either have or desire, and as a result they are willing to sacrifice everything–their friendships, their families, and themselves–in pursuit of these aforementioned men.  If there was some hint that Carter was aware of this–that Kate was heading towards some sort of epiphany about her own pathetic behavior with regard to Henry or a realization that her judgment of these women and their choices was wrong–the book would be much more palatable.  Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be the case.

Despite my obvious issues with the novel, it’s likely to find an audience.  Carter has potential as a writer, and readers interested in Greek mythology (but not actual mythology), retellings, and angsty romance are likely to be satisfied by this sequel.  The book’s ridiculous cliff-hanger will definitely work for some readers, but this one found it way too derivative of some other YA paranormal romances out there.

Goddess Interrupted by Aimee Carter. Harlequin Teen: 2012.  Electronic galley accepted for review via NetGalley.

 

Book Review: The Queens of All the Earth by Hannah Sternberg

On the day she’s supposed to start at Cornell University, Olivia Somerset sits catatonic in her bed.  Diagnosed with a nervous breakdown, it takes months of recovery before Olivia is in motion again.  A trip to Barcelona with her older sister Miranda seems to be the final attempt to get Olivia back on track.  Once there, the two encounter a wide variety of characters at their hostel, including a clergyman and his son, Greg, who immediately takes an interest in Olivia.  As the two girls explore the sometimes wild city, Olivia works to understand her reticence to step into adulthood as she struggles with her budding feelings for Greg.

Sternberg’s debut novel is a modern retelling of E.M. Forster’s A Room With a View, a classic story which Sternberg has attempted to update by incorporating her generation’s issues with adulthood and growing up (Sternberg herself is in her early twenties).  There is also inspiration drawn from e.e. cummings’s poem “orientale,” which is where the novel gets its title.  All of this is fine enough on its own, but Sternberg’s well-written novel doesn’t ever quite deliver on what it attempts to do.

The problems begin with the fact that Sternberg doesn’t spend any time on developing her characters.  A lack of development of any of the characters means that readers don’t connect to the plight of each of the girls, and what’s worse is that it’s difficult to sympathize or even understand them when they face conflict late in the story.  Olivia’s romance with Greg–and Miranda’s flirtation with a priest about to take his orders–never get off the ground and never feel like more than cardboard attempts at romantic connections.

A lack of character development could be forgiven if the plotting moved quickly enough to make up for it.  However, this is not the case.  Too often, Sternberg’s narration becomes overwrought, the plot and pacing stalling out as the girls contemplate their situation and their surroundings.  There isn’t enough story here to propel even the 160 short pages of this novel, and the result is a slow (kinder reviewers might refer to this as “deliberate”) pace that offers too little in excitement or interest.

Finally, the novel’s third person omniscient narration is jarring and often confusing.  It’s an ambiguous point of view to use in a story, and it does nothing to serve the story or its characters here.  Some readers might not mind the point of view, but this reviewer found it hard to connect to anything in the story as a result.

It’s not all bad, though.  Readers who enjoy stories about sisters or travel might find value in Sternberg’s work.  It’s a quiet little tale, and while it seems to be short on character development and actual plot, it’s certainly an interesting idea.  I just wish it had been executed better.

The Queens of All the Earth by Hannah Sternberg. Bancroft Press: 2011.  Electronic galley accepted for review via NetGalley.

 

Book Review: Shut Out by Kody Keplinger

At Hamilton High, the football players’ biggest rivals aren’t an opposing team: it’s the Hamilton High soccer team.  Every year the two teams fight against each other.  Lissa is sick of her quarterback boyfriend ditching her to take part in the stupid rivalry, so she devises a plan: all the players’ girlfriends will go on strike–on a sex strike–until the war ends.

Sigh.  Readers, I wanted to like this one.  I really did.  I read Lysistrata–the Greek play the story is based on–when I was in high school and loved it.  While it’s clear what Keplinger was trying to do in her sophomore novel–create a modern spin on an age-old story and tear down stereotypes and double-standards surrounding teenagers and sex–she fails on nearly every front.  For every stereotype Keplinger attempts to examine, she reinforces several more.  The result is a big old mess.

The problem is that the novel as a whole is a shallow look at gender politics.  While the talk about sex is frank (some would argue too frank for high school kids, and more apropos for discussions had in dorm rooms at college), there’s no denying that the subject matter barely scratches the surface.  The liberal use of language and seemingly fearless discussion of somewhat controversial subject matter distracts from the fact that there’s very little substance to be found.  While Keplinger’s characters struggle to understand what normal means when it comes to sexual activity, they also send some very mixed messages.

Perhaps the biggest issue is that the girls use sex to attempt to control their boyfriends.  This action starts to be equated with power.  Sex = power, which Keplinger’s characters seem to believe makes them feminists.  But that’s not what feminism is, and it bothered this reviewer that that particular message was sent out to readers.

There’s also the issue of assumptions that are reinforced with nary an acknowledgment.  In Lissa’s world, only boys play sports (there’s never any mention of any of the females being athletic in any way), sex is more important to boys than it is to girls (which is, of course, patently untrue), and everyone is heterosexual.  It is this last point that I had the hardest time with.  For an author who is known for advocating sex-positivity, there seems to be a lot of the same old, same old happening within this novel’s pages.

That’s not to say that Keplinger doesn’t have talent, because she does.  She manages to write believable dialogue.  Her characters, while not especially well-developed, are interesting enough to propel the story.  There’s a neat little narrative trick that Keplinger pulls off about halfway through the novel that provides some genuine intrigue to the story and illustrates the control she has over her characters.  The problem is, Keplinger is so close in age to those in her novel that there isn’t much lesson-learning happening, simply because Keplinger herself still has a lot to learn.

Edgy contemporary YA meant for older teens.  Some are going to love it simply because of the frank discussion of sex, but others are going to be uncomfortable with the talk and the mixed message.

Shut Out by Kody Keplinger. Poppy: 2011.  Borrowed copy.

Book Review: Epic Fail by Claire LaZebnik

Being the new girl at Coral Tree Prep is hard enough.  Being the daughter of the new principal?  Even worse.  When Elise Benton and her sister Juliana start at the school, they hope for the best.  Then Juliana catches the eye of Chase, and things start to change.  Chase’s best friend is the school’s resident prince, Derek Edwards.  Suddenly, Elise and Derek are thrust together in order to accompany Chase and Juliana.  Elise doesn’t fall for Derek’s good looks and money, though, and is put off by his cool demeanor.   How long before she succumbs to Derek’s hidden charms?

Claire LaZebnik’s first novel for young adults is a modern retelling of Austen’s Pride and Prejudice.  This is an ambitious undertaking, as Pride and Prejudice is Austen’s best-known and most-beloved novel.  It wouldn’t be fair to flat-out compare the two, and this reviewer doesn’t intend to.  However, there’s no way to review this book without making at least some basic comparisons to the work it draws from.  Although it’s undoubtedly cute, frothy, and fun, it’s also slightly silly in an unintentional way.  The book’s characters and plot are a little bit of a mess.

Set in Los Angeles at a prestigious prep school, LaZebnik manages to create a modern version of the social scene present in Austen’s book.  The Benton sisters are solidly middle-class while many of their peers are much, much wealthier.  This is done very well, with LaZebnik illustrating the Benton family’s financial situation in a fairly subtle way.  The girls are aware of their socioeconomic standing and make the best of it.

However, once the characters start playing a more prominent role, things start to go south.  The first problem is that Elise isn’t much of a heroine.  She’s a fairly flat personality (as is her sister, Juliana), and the alluring Derek isn’t any better.  Both leads lack chemistry on the page and with each other, making for a rather dull read.  Other characters don’t fare much better, including Elise and Juliana’s two younger sisters, Chase, and the other kids at school.  Worst of all is the girls’ mother, who is supposed to be a caricature of Mrs. Bennett but ends up being a sort of shrill, silly stock character whose motivations feel hollow.  More than once, I felt as though she was inserted into the scene to further the plot and keep the story close to the original source material.

That might be the biggest problem with Epic Fail.  LaZebnik concerns herself so much with sticking to the source material and the original storyline that she does a disservice to the characters.  None of the warmth, wit, or passion that encapsulates Austen’s story can be found here, and it’s a shame.  Retellings of a great story can often stand on their own, but they have to have a spark of their own.  This one is too dim to manage even that.

Epic Fail by Claire LaZebnik. HarperTeen: 2011.  Borrowed copy.