Review of Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu

Ursu, Anne.  Breadcrumbs.  Walden Pond Press, 2011.

5th-grader Hazel's life isn't perfect.  Her dad left fairly recently, meaning (among other things) that Hazel had to leave her mellow private school and start at a public school where the boys are mean and the girls don't seem to notice her.  And she feels different, mostly because she lives with one foot always in the world of fantasy - Narnia and Wonderland and a dozen other realms found only in books - but also because her white parents adopted her from India when she was a baby.  Not that she's the only kid of color in her school or even the only kid adopted from another country, but still, it's just another thing that sets her apart from others.

But there's one really good thing in her life and that's Jack.  Her neighbor has been her best friend since they were six years old, and now they go to the same school!  But things are already a bit awkward, and when Jack gets a piece of wickedly magic glass in his eye - well, first he starts acting uncharacteristically jerk-like, and then the Snow Queen comes and takes him away to her palace.  Hazel, naturally, goes off into the woods to rescue him.

Hans Christian Andersen's stories are studded throughout this fantasy, with themes not just from The Snow Queen but also The Little Match Girl, The Red Shoes, The Wild Swans, The Nightingale, and probably others as well.  Fantasy readers will also recognize mention of more recent books from When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead to the Narnia books to Pullman's His Dark Materials series.  And like Andersen's stories, the adventures that befall Hazel range from ominous to creepy to downright dangerous.  Hazel proves herself up to all the hazing, but she doesn't escape unscathed.  Not only does she receive a nasty facial wound (that does NOT magically heal), but she also learns some rather tough lessons about human nature.  The woods seem to bring out the worst in people, as Hazel discovers. 

"She saw signs of another village in the distance - she smelled smoke and saw the faint glow of something like civilization.  But there was nothing for her there.  She had to go get Jack now, and anyway, she was safer out here with the wolves."

 Hazel's habit of never paying much attention to boring stuff around her (her parents, her teachers) doesn't stand her in good stead in the magical woods, when she wishes she knew a few survival tips.  Towards the end, when she is very cold and with few resources left, she has shed her dreamy escapist tendencies in favor of a more practical, realistic viewpoint.  "This is what it is to live in the world.  You have to give yourself over to the cold, at least a little bit." 

Hazel's time in the woods is so vivid and horrifying that it rather makes her trials with 5th-grade boys and impatient teachers feel light and not quite real by comparison.  There are some loose ends; for example, a couple of visits with a girl named Adelaide and her nifty uncle seem destined to be important plot points later in the story, but they never fulfill this promise.  And the final rescue of Jack from the Snow Queen is hurried and anti-climactic after all that came before.  Readers may be wondering why Hazel went to all that bother in the first place, as Jack's worth is never proven to us, glass shard or no glass shard.  We just have to take Hazel's rose-colored assertion that he is her heart's companion.

Of course, the point is that, now that Hazel has successfully completed her quest, she can now look beyond Jack - and her childhood - and start broadening her horizons.  There is Adelaide, there are some promised ballet lessons, there are even those 5th-grade boys, who maybe aren't as bad as Hazel thought.  Hazel has found herself more than a match for the world and she's ready to really live.

This stands up very well to Gardner's Into the Woods and similar fantasies, and though it doesn't match the caliber of Gidwitz's A Tale Dark and Grimm, Breadcrumbs is highly recommended for ages 9 to 11.

Review of The Mostly True Story of Jack by Kelly Barnhill

Barnhill, Kelly.  The Mostly True Story of Jack.  Little, Brown, 2011.

Those who think that tales of ancient powers and magical guardians belong only to the Old World haven't read this book or other recent stories of magic in the American heartland*.

Jack knows, sort of, that his situation is peculiar, but he has never wanted to think about it too deeply.  He is so unnoticeable that he's never had to pay for a bus or train ride in his life.  His own parents and brother don't seem to notice him, and there is not a single photo of him anywhere.  But when his mother abruptly drops him off at her sister's house in a tiny town in Iowa, Jack learns - slowly and frustratingly - that there is a magical power here in Hazelwood that has been stealing children.  The richest man in town is somehow connected.  And so is Jack.

This is a deliciously sensual story, filled with the smells of dirt and electrical storms, radiating stifling heat or eerie cold, and pulsing with energy both beneficent and scary.  The power manifests in simple but extremely creepy ways - one building radiates such ominous hostility that it seems right out of a Stephen King novel. 

Luckily, Jack's solidity keeps the story grounded, even as he turns out to be one of the most exotic things about it, and his friends Anders, Wendy, and the tragic Frankie all play their own vital and unique parts in uncovering the secrets of Hazelwood in order to heal it.

This tale of transforming powers of friendship and love is highly recommended for ages 9 to 12.

*Other examples include N.D. Wilson's 100 Cupboards series, Roderick Townley's The Door in the Forest and Brenna Yovanoff's The Replacement.

Review of Anya's Ghost by Vera Brosgol

Brosgol, Vera.  Anya's Ghost. First Second, 2011.

(Graphic Novel) When Anya, a disaffected high school student, falls down an old well, she meets Emily Reilly - a ghost who fell into the old well almost a hundred years ago and whose bones anchor her underground.

Luckily Anya doesn't suffer the same fate as Emily, but she is surprised to find that when she is rescued, Emily comes with her, thanks to a finger bone that stows away in her backpack.

Emily seems meek and pathetically eager to help - at first.  But as she becomes more and more controlling and attitudinal - in fact turning into the ultimate problem teen, even if she is transparent - Anya realizes that she's got a real problem on her hands.  She needs to find the bone that Emily has managed to hide - before Emily turns poltergeist, or worse.

The interesting aspects of this story have to do not so much with Evil Emily - whose story is rather pallid - as with Anya herself.  She's a Russian immigrant who came to America when she was 5, and she still remembers fellow Kindergartners making fun of her accent and funny clothes.  Her relationship with her single mom and her Russian heritage is ambivalent, and she desperately wants to fit in at school but somehow can't quite succeed even though she's shed her accent, smokes cigarettes, and dresses to blend in.  It's a more recent immigrant, fobby as all get out, who helps her see that impressing a bunch of idiot high school students is maybe not the world's best ambition - oh, and Emily Reilly's pychopathic tendencies put things in perspective as well.

Brosgol's art is solid and self-confident, with thick outlines and an altogether pleasant feel that complements this ghost story/high school alienation hybrid.  A quick, fun read for grades 7 and up.

Review of The Search for Wondla by Tony DiTerlizzi

DiTerlizzi, Tony.  The Search for WondLa.  Simon & Schuster, 2010.

I don't know why it took me so long to read this; it wasn't until the audiobook snagged my eye as I trotted through the Children's Literature department last week that I finally gave it a chance.

And I'm glad I did, though the audiobook version is a mixed success.  On the one hand, narrator Teri Hatcher does a fantastic and utterly convincing job with the various voices, from Eva Nine's girlish warble to all different kinds of aliens.  But - someone must have told her to read VERY slowly.  Yes, audiobooks need to be read at a slow enough pace that listeners can savor the words - but to space words out like a funeral march is just too much.  This was the slowest-read audiobook I have ever listened to, and I have listened to hundreds!  And the other disadvantage of this audiobook is that I missed the illustrations - but I must say that the author did a fine job describing all the creatures, and my mind's eye populated Eva Nine's world with no problem.

So - this is science fiction, which is evident right off when we meet Eva Nine, who lives all alone in a very modern underground "sanctuary," cared for by an advanced robot that Eva calls "Muthr."  Soon enough, the sanctuary is destroyed and Eva Nine must flee to the surface, something she has never done - and she finds it entirely different than she has been taught.  Right away she encounters danger, but she also meets friends - alien creatures like the backward-bending-legged Rovender Kitt, who becomes Eva's slightly reluctant but amiable traveling companion, and the incredibly sweet giant pillbug Otto, who communicates via a form of telepathy with Eva Nine.

Eva Nine thought this was Earth - but according to everyone she meets, the planet has a different name. Where is Eva?  What happened to all the other humans?  Why is a hunter trying to track her down?  Nicely balanced between adrenalin-pumping danger and fascinating encounters with the various creatures of this planet, the plot is sprightly enough to keep readers glued (even if they are listening to someone read aloud at a glacial pace...), even as it stays focused on the heart of the story - Eva Nine, her important relationships, and her search for her people.  By the end, a few questions are answered but many more remain for following books to resolve.

Good science fiction for middle-graders is hard to find; this one is heartily recommended for ages 9 to 12.

Review of The Replacement by Brenna Yovanoff

Yovanoff, Brenna. The Replacement. Razorbill, 2010.

My 16-year-old daughter is frankly incredulous that a fabulous fey creature like herself could have come from such conventional, plodding stock as her father and me. Although she hasn't actually claimed to be a changeling, I think that, deep down, she believes it.

I, on the other hand, was a clumsy and awkward teenager whose wish at all times was simply to be invisible (or to be outrageously beautiful and self-confident, natch, but that wasn't happening). Too tall, too skinny, too hairy, too blotchy - elbows too pointy, knees too knobbly, nose too pointy, chin too small, veins too visible - my god, I was a MONSTER!! Or so I was convinced.

16-year-old Mackie is also convinced of his essential wrongness. "I feel weird and freakish and pointless..." he says, and in fact he has good reason - other than being a teenager - to feel that way, being the real, honest-to-goodness changeling that he is. As a baby, he was placed in Malcolm Doyle's crib, the real Malcolm having been stolen by... those others. And so Mackie grows up like a cuckoo in the place of the human Malcolm, pale and black-eyed, unable to stand the sight or smell of blood, actively allergic to iron, and unable to enter consecrated places.

What makes this such an unusual and intriguing story is the fact that the Doyle family is not only fully aware of what Mackie is, but is determined to protect him and keep him safe. His minister father, his mother (with a strange past of her own), and most of all his sister love him despite the fact that he is not human and has replaced their own flesh-and-blood.

The whole town of Gentry knows what Mackie must be, but there is some pretty serious denial going on, particularly when you consider that there have been plenty of children going missing or dying over the years. Everyone knows what that they are living a creepy, unmentionable contract - in return for some of their children going missing (to be replaced by creepy creatures that usually die quite soon in this hostile iron-rich, human environment), their town will thrive - or at least, it won't die as so many neighboring towns have.

The story starts strong and just gets more intense, as Mackie meets his people for the first time and begins to get to know life under the mound. Although he is intrigued, he is appalled by the blood sacrifice demanded by one powerful ruler and by the acceptance of this by all the other creepy but non-bloodthirsty denizens of this underground realm. For the first time in his life, Mackie feels compelled to take a stand - and it's one that forces him to redefine "monstrous."

This is an eerie, deliciously shudder-inducing tale, filled with complexities and nuances that will keep readers pondering life in Gentry long after they finish the book. As fascinating as Gentry's hidden Folk are, what is most compelling is the strange way the humans of Gentry incorporate this knowledge of the Unnatural into their normal, everyday existence - going shopping, playing football, hanging out the laundry, but hanging iron horseshoes over their doors and scissors over cribs as well. And never, ever talking about it.

That Mackie is actually a very lucky Monster will be obvious to most readers early on, but doesn't occur to Mackie himself until later; he is blessed with a truly amazing family and some intensely loyal friends. They stick by him even when he feels most alienated, and they help him to understand what being a person (even if not a human) really means.

Perhaps one day soon my own little changeling will see the value of her own lumpen but loving family!

Highly recommended for ages 13 and up.

Review of Turtle in Paradise by Jennifer L. Holm

Holm, Jennifer L. Turtle in Paradise. Random House, 2010.

When her mom gets a job as a live-in housekeeper with a lady who doesn't like kids, Turtle has to spend the summer with her aunt and cousins down in Key West, Florida. She hangs out with a bunch of boys who are members of the Diaper Gang (they watch babies in exchange for candy), meets a couple of relatives she never knew she had, searches for pirate treasure, and hopes that someday her dreams of living in a cute little house with her mom will come true.

It's 1935, and from the first page the reader is plunged into a world of Necco wafers, Ford Model As, and dusty travelers. But it isn't just a bunch of Depression-era term-dropping that brings the era alive, but rather the way that Holm uses Turtle's spunky narrative voice, the wise-cracking dialogue of the Diaper Gang, and all kinds of details large and small to great effect. In our over-protective world, it's down-right exotic to hear how these young and dirty boys haul babies around with casual and careless abandon, while the babies' moms are just happy to have some peace and quiet, and would never dream of being worried. And the snappy comebacks of the kids, especially Turtle and her cousin Beans, are reminiscent of some of the edgier Our Town episodes.

It's not that this is fiction of a hugely realistic sort. The tone is a bit too off-hand, there are a bit too many funny bits and pieces, and of course there's the matter of that pirate's treasure, not to mention a certain very famous writer. In fact, this is very much like a 1930s movie (maybe a Shirley Temple movie but without the sickly sweetness or Shirley Temple). And I mean that in a good way. For instance, there's a fabulous fairy-tale ending - but then disaster strikes. But then it all works out anyway, and much more satisfactorily! One can only sigh contentedly, as after a funny but touching movie.

I do believe that kids will find this blend of adventure and light slice-of-life quite entertaining, and the back matter, with true stories and photos about Key West and Holm's ancestors, adds even more value.

Highly recommended for ages 9 - 11.

Review of Living Hell by Catherine Jinks

Jinks, Catherine. Living Hell. Houghton Mifflin, 2010.

It's hard to find YA SF these days that isn't about some hideous dystopian near-future. I like reading about nuclear winter, nasty dictatorships, and hungry zombies as much as the next person, but for me, true SF means outer space. Like most folks hooked at an early age by Heinlein and his ilk, tales of aliens, space travel, and distant planets make my heart beat faster.

Living Hell's cover art, with its swashbuckling space suit-clad teen and waving alien tentacles, promises a riproaring space adventure, and to a certain extent it delivers. This is a nail-biting adventure in the old-fashioned SF tradition with a classic setting - the generation ship, taking colonists on a decades-long trip to find a habitable planet that they can settle. 16-year-old Cheney is one of them, having been born during the voyage. The ship Plexus is the only world he has ever known, and even as he tells us about how life as he knew it changed, his narrative voice is filled with nostalgia for those days of long ship corridors made of metal and plastic.

Change it does, and pretty drastically. After flying through a mysterious force, the ship begins to alter, becoming a living entity. Not in any kind of sterile "Hal" way - that's been done too often. No, the physical ship itself turns from metal and plastic into sinew, muscle, and tissue. Imagine living in someone's guts, a la Fantastic Voyage, except that they don't have a space ship to zoom around in. Instead, they have to venture through the now spongy, slimy, lumpy, stringy pink hallways and corridors on foot. Oh, and as in Fantastic Voyage, there is a rather active immune system that sees the humans as intruders who must be destroyed.

This is not a light-hearted SF romp. The body count is high, the deaths are gruesome, and the outlook is grim. This was somewhat unexpected for me, as Catherine Jinks' previous books, not to mention the corny retro jacket art, led me to believe there would be some kind of tongue-in-cheek levity. And while the idea of everyday objects like shuttles and laundry detergent discs transforming into internal body parts is sort of amusing at first, the reality is quite horrifying.

Cheney, our narrator, describes all this in vivid and visceral terms. The reaction of everyone from children to adults to this terrifying situation is absolutely authentic. Faced with a new hideous sight or discovery, the first reaction is often a panicked wail of "Oh no! Oh NO!" But then folks rally and do what they need to do to survive, successfully or otherwise. No one does anything that seems super-heroish or out of character, so the reader stays fully immersed in the intensity of the action.

Amidst the action, we do learn a lot about the culture aboard a relatively small generation ship. Loyalty and a sense of team spirit are clearly indoctrinated from an early age - Cheney's intense admiration for his "big brother" or mentor is balanced by his fierce and unquestioned need to keep the younger children safe. The fact that his "little brother" is such a wild and unpredictable person disturbs him greatly, as ship life is all about harmony and control - but that disruptive spirit might well be needed to deal with this new situation they all find themselves in.

The denoument is abrupt and somewhat predictable, and the reader will be left with lots of questions. We know from the beginning that Cheney, at least, will survive this encounter - but the details of his existence must be guessed at, as we only get hints. One thing I love about dystopian books is all that gritty detail about daily life under duress, but we don't get that here. How does one ever get clean if one lives in something's slimy guts? Inquiring minds want to know (but would rather not spend to much time imagining - bleah!).

All in all, good scary gooey slimy deadly fun - in outer space! Recommended for ages 13 and up.

Review of Spaceheadz by Jon Scieszka

Scieszka, Jon. Spaceheadz. Made extra-strength by Francesco Sedita. Illustrated by Shane Prigmore. Simon & Schuster, 2010.

It's hard to be the new kid in school, but when you're immediately lumped together with the other two new kids, who happen to be weird beyond belief, then you're off to a really bad school year.

Michael K. is a regular sort of 5th grader, but Jennifer (square head, wears a tutu, spouts Wrestlemania slogans, eats pencils and other inappropriate items) and Bob (square head, wears a pink shirt, spouts advertising slogans, hugs fire hydrants and other inappropriate objects) are space aliens. Oh, and so is Fluffy, who looks like a hamster but doesn't act like one.

The plot, such as it is, involves Jennifer, Bob, and Fluffy trying to enlist Michael K.'s help to unite all humans into one big SPHDZ organism in order to save Earth, while acting inappriately at school and in a grocery store. Meanwhile, Agent Umber of the Anti-Alien Agency is trying to track down and eradicate the aliens.

While I'm all in favor of wacky SF, this was a bit too frenzied and scattered for my personal taste. I'm not sure that the ubiquitous advertising slogans will be recognized by kids (although maybe I'm sadly wrong about that), and certainly they will date this book in just a few years' time. There were some bits that made me laugh, such as when a girl says "See you tomorrow" to the 3 aliens and Fluffy says wonderingly, "Wow, she can see us in the future!"

The illustrations are sassy and hilarious, however, and the little scientific interludes about waves and other scientific phenomena are entertaining if surreal (until one gets to the end and sees the point).

The front jacket advertises "now with websites!" and sure enough, there are indeed websites. I'll have you know that after visiting http://www.sphdz.com/, I am now a Spaceheadz by the name of Frosted Fabric Softener. Readers can also visit Michael K's teacher's dorky website and also this site that requires a secret code (to be found in chapter 32) in order to see what would have happened if Michael K. hadn't taught the aliens about how to cross the street safely. Best of all is the fabulous official website of the Anti-Alien Agency.

Frothy and filled with silly jokes, this is SF that some kids will love, but that will leave others cold. For ages 9 to 11.

Review of Ashes by Kathryn Lasky

Lasky, Kathryn. Ashes. Viking, 2010.

There are plenty of books about the Holocaust, for all ages and from all points of view. In Yann Martel's Beatrice and Virgil, this is problematic for the main character, a writer named Henry, because he has written what he feels is a fresh allegorical look at the Holocaust, only to realize (thanks to his editors) that in fact he has covered the same ground in the same way as countless others.

This is the challenge for any writer covering this intense, fraught, and oft-described subject. Ashes meets it by presenting the story from the point of view of 13-year-old Gaby, who lives with her upper-middle class family in 1932 Berlin. Gaby isn't Jewish, but her family is disgusted and alarmed by the fascist element - most notably Hitler's SS and SA troups - that seems to be gaining power and influence in Germany.

Gaby is a big reader, and so a huge book burning staged by the Nazis is a powerful and horrifying event for her. However, her antennae go up long before this, as the tone of her society changes in ways small and large, banal and menacing. We often ask "How could regular people have allowed such horrors to happen?" and this book will give readers a glimpse at how this might have become possible.

What if the Tea Party folks managed to come to power, along with those who have become stridently anti-Muslim? We have some powerful laws and documents to protect our freedom in the US, but if those laws became eroded, there is a pretty scary fringe element that would be happy to rush in and take over. Not that the US is anything as volatile or horrific as 1930s Germany - but what books like Ashes show us is that we always need to be on our guard against hatred and irrationality.

I sensed bits and pieces of many different books and movies about this time period in Ashes. There is a boyfriend-turned-Nazi, a la "The Sound of Music," and a scene in which a frighteningly blond youth sings a stirring patriotic song in a Biergarten is very similar to a scene in "Cabaret." It's Gaby's thoughtful reactions to the people and events around her that form the core of this novel, so a bit of retreading isn't so terrible.

Ashes is well-written (from the clear-eyed, if occasionally appropriately histrionic point of view of teenaged Gaby), and if it isn't strikingly unique, that's fine. The Holocaust is one of those topics we need to keep thinking, talking, and reading about, in order to ensure that it never happens again.

Ages 11 to 14

Review of Happyface by Stephen Emond

Emond, Stephen. Happyface. Little, Brown, 2010.

Have you ever wished that you could just re-invent yourself? Perhaps, if you started over with people who didn't know the old you, you could be the sort of person you always knew you could be.

After Happyface and his mother move into a crummy apartment in another part of town, forcing Happyface to change schools, he has the chance to do just that - reinvent himself. And being unhappy with his previous situation, he decides to become a happy-go-lucky guy with an ever-present smile. It's better than being the guy that all that bad stuff happened to.

Hence his new nickname - Happyface. In fact, we never do get to find out his real name. And though he fills his journal with sketches of all his new friends, and includes himself in the drawings and cartoons, he draws himself with a huge happyface head.

Needless to say, his big smile and absolute refusal to ever talk about anything serious or give away anything of importance about his own life or thoughts keeps his new friends at a distance. Happyface sees himself as being an excellent friend, the kind that is always upbeat - and he's dismayed when he can't get close to anyone.

My two teen daughters, ages 15 and 19, liked this book more than I did, but that's probably testimony to its extremely authentic feel. While I thought the interminable and repetitive dwelling on trivial conversations and small slights was annoying, my teens were fascinated. This is how teens are - stuff like that is what the very fabric of life is made of.

Happyface does, of course, finally realize that his approach to friendship has had the effect of keeping everyone at arm's length, and his friends' reaction to him after he lets his guard down is gratifying while also quite realistic. I understood completely how pissed off his friends were, because I found that constant smile and stupid jokiness supremely off-putting. It was hard for me to really like Happyface, despite being privy to his private thoughts. He reminds me a little of the heroes in John Green's books, always pining after the most awesome, complicated, gorgeous girl. Puh-leeze.

But that's just my own bias. Two real live teen girls, both well-read and with great taste, really liked this book, and so it's a sure bet other teens will, too. And, this being a fine book, you might, too - so give it a try!

Recommended for ages 13 and up.

Review of Num8ers by Rachel Ward

Ward, Rachel. Num8ers. Chicken House/Scholastic, 2010.

This book practically booktalks itself. All you have to say is, "If Jem looks into someone's eyes, she can see the date they'll die. Sound cool? Maybe not so much. Imagine looking into a baby's eyes and seeing she'll only live to age 31. Or looking at a kid's eyes and seeing he'll die in three years. Or knowing that the only boy you've ever gotten really close to will die in just a few days. You don't know how. You don't know why. You only know when."

If that doesn't get a teen to whip out her library card and take this book home, I don't know what will. Try throwing in the fact that Jem is something of a lost cause (drug-addicted mom who died of an overdose, a series of foster families, behavioral problems) who no sooner lets her guard down with a super tall, lovable, fellow lost cause named Spider than they are both on the run, accused of blowing up the London Eye. Gritty urban teens sleeping rough in the countryside while chased by England's entire Anti-Terrorism unit - this is a very bad situation, but kind of romantic, too.

Until you remember that Spider only has days to live. Doomed love, indeed.

Funny, surprising, touching, and absolutely, intensely gripping. Jem's voice is authentic and immediate, and Spider is one of the best characters to be found in YA fiction. And the ending is a chiller. This is one of my favorite books of the year.

Highly recommended for ages 13 and up.

Review of 13 Treasures by Michelle Harrison

Harrison, Michelle. 13 Treasures. Little, Brown, 2010.

13-year-old Tanya sees fairies - and she wishes she didn't. There are three in particular who persist in tormenting her, especially when she tries to divulge her strange ability to anyone - or even in her private journal. This leads to some strange behavior and situations, and finally her exasperated mother packs Tanya off to her maternal grandmother, Florence.

Only Florence, the caretaker Warwick, and Warwick's crazy old dad Amos and eccentric son Fabian live in Florence's large old house next to a forest. Tanya and Fabian are somewhat reluctantly thrown together (as the adults don't seem to want them around) and soon it becomes clear that something is very wrong in the forest and the village. A spate of missing children, particularly virulent forest fairies, stories of changelings, and the ghost - or something - of a girl who went missing decades ago are all connected with Tanya's mysterious and startling family history.

This story from a debut author has a fresh voice and an unusual perspective on fairies, for these creatures are far from the exotic, gorgeous, compelling creatures of many a recent teen novel. Rather, they are pesky, odd, sometimes homely, and often downright malicious or even dangerous. Most of the contact between fairies and humans in 13 Treasures is decidedly negative, making it clear that the two realms are separate for a very good reason.

Some of the plot lines are rather abrupt or undeveloped, in particular the fascinating tale of young Red and her mission to aid changeling children (both human and fairy). The "13 Treasures" of the title could have been left out of the book entirely without many readers noticing - they are quite incidental to the plot, although they do make for an interesting story.

Only the characters of Tanya and Fabian come alive (Florence and Warwick remain ciphers, although one does eventually understand - sort of - why they are so cold and unwelcoming) - and luckily they and their adventures are intriguing enough to grab and hold a reader's interest. The old and derelict house, with its unused or boarded-up rooms and secret passages, has a deliciously Gothic personality of its own, although again, not always to a real purpose. No matter - I thoroughly enjoyed reading about the brooding house, the chilly grandmother, the alarming groundskeeper, and the malignant fey creatures.

This is an fine, atmospheric fantasy for all fans of fairy lore. For ages 10 - 13.

Review of The Red Pyramid by Rick Riordan

Riordan, Rick. The Red Pyramid. Disney/Hyperion, 2010.

14-year-old Carter Kane has led a nomadic life since his mother died six years ago, traveling with his dad, an imminent Egyptologist. Meanwhile, his 12-year-old sister Sadie has been living with their mother's grandparents in England. During one of their twice-yearly visits with her, their strangely nervous dad takes them to the British Museum, where he destroys the Rosetta Stone, unleashes a bunch of Egyptian gods, and gets himself locked into a sarcophagus by Set, Bad Boy of the Egyptian god siblings.

Carter and Sadie's uncle Amos swoops them away to New York, and immediately the siblings find themselves immersed in a world of magic, gods, and demons. In fact, Carter and Sadie realize that they are an integral part of this world, and soon they are zipping back and forth from America to Egypt and back. Mission? To destroy Set before he allows chaos to destroy the world, while avoiding death at the hands of Set's minions and allies.

Okay, so it sounds a bit familiar. Ancient gods, magical kids who must learn to handle their powers while on the run, goofy modern manifestations of ancient personages - and of course plenty of one-liners and humor-under-pressure. However, this tale is a bit darker and a bit more complicated than the Percy Jackson series. Egyptian gods are rather more enigmatic, as a rule, than the like-humans-but-more-so Greek gods, and their aims are not so clear. The minor gods and demons, however, can be downright simple-minded, with ludicrous names and b-movie dialogue that Carter and Sadie mock shamelessly and hilariously.

The action moves quickly, the various characters we meet (Khufu the baboon is a stand-out) are intriguing, and the elements of Egyptian mythology are exotically bizarre. The spells that are cast always include hieroglyphs that float in the air, and these are reproduced in the book, much to my fascination. Best of all, Riordan does a wonderful job meshing the ancient world with our modern one, so that any pyramid (including the Pompidou center) and any obelisk (including the Washington Monument) become objects of power, and places like Phoenix, Arizona and river towns like El Paso have huge significance. This reminded me of Tim Powers' excellent books, particularly Anubis Gates, Last Call, and Expiration Date, as well as Neil Gaimon's American Gods.

The first 5 pages or so had me worried. I wasn't sold on the Indiana Jones-type adventure or on the fact that the chapters are supposedly narrated into a microphone by an alternating Carter and Sadie. Carter and Sadie are mixed race, by the way - their dad is African American and their mom was a white woman from England. Carter looks a lot like his dad, while Sadie is much lighter, with straight hair and blue eyes. Both siblings get annoyed when strangers can't believe they're siblings.

Despite my misgivings, soon enough I was not only sucked into the story but hugely enjoying the irreverent tone. This is a really funny book, folks - sure to be a winner with young readers. Highly recommended for Percy Jackson fans and all those who want an action-packed adventure that doesn't take itself too seriously (even when the situation is earnest indeed). Ages 10 to 14.

Review of Found (The Magic Thief) by Sarah Prineas

Prineas, Sarah. Found (The Magic Thief, book 3). Harper, 2010.

In the third part of The Magic Thief series, Conn is a hideaway in his own city of Wellmet, from which he was exiled in book 2. More desperate than ever to find a new locus magicalicus now that the dread magic Arhionvar is coming to destroy the magic of Wellmet, Conn tries out a new finding spell with the help of his mentor Nevery. Not only does the rather dramatic outcome get them both into more trouble, but the spell leads Conn away from Wellmet and into the clutches (literally) of some dragons.

Conn does find his locus magicalicus and in doing so, discovers a fascinating truth about magic and cities. Will his new knowledge and his locus magicalicus be enough to save Wellmet and its people from disaster?

Although I was delighted with the first book in the series, the second was rather disappointing due to the grayness of the setting and the apparent depression of our hero, who seemed uncharacteristically listless. Good news - Conn gets his fire and verve back in Found. Perhaps we can thank the dragons, which (like Tapatio hot sauce) add a welcome spice to anything. And these dragons are particularly enigmatic and uncuddly - there is none of that bonding or getting to know each other business going on here.

We don't get much Nevery, Benet, or Rowan, but that's okay - Conn, his obsessive search for his locus magicalicus, and the dragons are more than enough. The spell-line that Conn creates and then follows unerringly to his locus magicalicus, is an inspired idea. Wish I could create a spell-line to find the Perfect Pair of Jeans that I know is out there waiting for me somewhere...

Oh, and there is the looming danger of Arhionvar, but actually there isn't much tension there - not nearly as much as you'd think there would be. In fact, when the big Battle of the Magics begins, it has hardly heated up before Conn gets a good idea, executes it quickly, and voila, saves the day. Sure, there are some repercussions - but really, Conn makes it all look so easy that one wonders what all the fuss was all about.

The series could end here - the problem with the magic has been creatively resolved, the two parts of the city of Wellmet have a newly harmonious relationship, and all is well. But I do hope that another crisis comes crashing down on Conn, because I want to find out how he and his mobile, fire-breathing locus magicalicus are getting along, and how Rowan is coping with her new job.

Ages 8 to 12.

Review of Timekeeper's Moon by Joni Sensel

Sensel, Joni. The Timekeeper's Moon. Bloomsbury, 2010.

Ariel Farwalker is back in the sequel to The Farwalker's Quest (my review), in which she is compelled by strange and ominous messages from the moon to leave her beloved Abbey and Vault and journey toward ... well, she's not sure exactly what or why.

Her friend Zeke must stay behind due to an injury, but Ariel's protector and surrogate father Scarl accompanies Ariel as she tries to obey the urgings of both her feet and the moon. Ariel and Scarl have a "map," but readers will agree with them that it isn't much help.

As Ariel and Scarl journey through mostly deserted countryside with only the very occasional village in between, they pick up two fellow travelers - the young, beautiful, and vivacious Flame-Mage apprentice Sienna and a handsome, mute Kincaller named Nace who happens to be just a bit older than 14-year-old Ariel. Ariel and Nace are immediately attracted to each other, adding a frisson of romance to this quest.

As with the first book, the emotions of each character are authentically and carefully described, and it is Ariel's reactions to the people around her - and their reactions to her - that form the heart of the tale. These aren't larger-than-life characters in an epic fantasy, but rather ordinary folks who are just trying to figure out how to muddle through life (while enduring a scary hissing moon, terrible nightmares, and strange visitations from the past).

Kudos also to the author for keeping a rather complex plot mostly under control. While the physical journey is straightforward enougth, time loops in an odd and confusing manner, somewhat like Ariel's map, and although I got lost occasionally, especially during the climactic scene in an intense circle of stones, it made sense - mostly - at the end. I still have some questions, but I think a second reading is required in order to answer them.

One of my dissatisfactions with the first book - that it was hard to get a vivid sense and understanding of Ariel's world - isn't a problem in The Timekeeper's Moon. We get to see a couple of different villages with very different cultures, and I began to understand how Ariel's world operates. I still wonder why there aren't more differences in language if the villages have been so intensely isolated for so long - but that's a quibble!

One more small language quibble is the use of modern-sounding terminology. In Farwalker's Quest, my review noted the use of "geez." In this book, both "cute" (used by teenaged girls to describe not a baby animal but a young man) and "I blew it" (as in someone messing up) grated anachronistically. They just sound too modern to my ears.

This book made me realize how much I had enjoyed the first book despite my questions. Scarl and Ariel are a complicated and interesting team, and it was fun spending more time with them. Although the ending makes it sound as if this might be the end, I'm hoping there will be further Farwalker adventures - Ariel's world certainly has enough mystery and strangeness to keep her busy for years to come.

Recommended for all who have read The Farwalker's Quest. Ages 11 to 14.

Review of Dragonfly by Julia Golding

Golding, Julia. Dragonfly. Marshall Cavendish, 2009.

In order to seal an alliance between their two countries, it is decided that the Fourth Crown Princess Taoshira of the Blue Crescent Islands and Prince Ramil of Gerfal should wed. Both are reluctant, to say the least, and this only worsens when 16-year-old Taoshira travels to Gerfal and loathes 18-year-old Ramil (and vice versa) at first sight. However, they've barely met when they are both kidnapped by the rapacious, blood-thirsty leader of a neighboring country. They manage to escape, but have many more dangerous adventures before being reunited, against all odds, at last - having, of course, fallen in love with each other along the way.

While Prince Ramil's land and culture feel very familiar - it's the standard-issue, medieval Europe-type kingdom - the Blue Crescent Islands are captivatingly exotic, what with the government run by four chosen Princesses (who are more like priestesses), the Goddess-based religion, and an extremely formal, ritualized culture. It's no surprise that Taoshira (Tashi for short) finds Ramil an uncouth boor.

This is an alternate world fantasy rather than a magical fantasy - that is, while there is no magic, this is certainly not our world, and as in many fantasies, this is a pre-industrial society (although the Blue Crescent Islanders do possess gunpowder technology). Mainly it is a romantic adventure, with political intrigue, clash of nations and cultures, a slave uprising, and much more.

This tale is satisfying and at times fascinating. Tashi in particular is a complex and intriguing character whose transformation and growth throughout her adventures is believable and moving. Ramil remains a bit flat, and other characters are never fleshed out at all. The plot moves quickly, lagging only when Ramil and Tashi are separated for a time, during which Ramil leads a somewhat boring slave rebellion. The various countries and their political dilemmas are sketched just enough to make the plot points understandable, but we never gain a deeper understanding of this world. Not that this is a flaw per se - but it's just that Tamora Pierce and Sherwood Smith tell similar types of stories but give the reader such a complete, three-dimensional experience that you'd swear their worlds really existed.

The jeweled dragonfly (which really should be origami; a folded paper dragonfly figures prominently in the plot) on the cover makes this book look a tad girly, but young teens of both sexes should enjoy this adventure fantasy quite a bit, so long as they aren't expecting magic. Ages 12 to 16.

Review of Ash by Malinda Lo

Lo, Malinda. Ash. Little, Brown, 2009.

After Aisling's mother dies, her father remarries, and his new wife and her two daughters come to live with them. But then her father dies, and Ash, as Aisling is called, must move with her stepmother and stepsisters to their estate in the south, where she must work as a servant to pay off her father's alleged debts.

Brought up on tales of fairies, Ash goes looking for them in the Woods - and finds Sidhean, a pale, ethereally handsome, and very slightly emo male fairy. Their platonic relationship lasts for years, with Sidhean seeming to want to take her to the fairy realm but insisting that Ash isn't ready yet. Ash, hating her life, is raring to experience the fairy world despite its dangers.

In the meantime, however, Ash meets the King's Huntress Kaisa, by whom she is fascinated. Kaisa is interested in Ash, as well, befriending her and teaching her to ride a horse. They fall in love - but the timing is terrible, as Ash has just bound herself into a contract with Sidhean. Will human love prevail over fairy magic?

What I liked about Ash was, above all, the love between Ash and Kaisa. Lesbian relationships are incredibly rare in fantasy, even for adults, although gay love between men is relatively common (I'm thinking Sherwood Smith's Inda books, as one example). Ash and Kaisa's love feels both inevitable and absolutely right, and far superior to a magical life spent with chilly, translucent fairy folk. Kaisa is brave, competent, dresses in warm and comfortable clothes, and won't wear a mask at a masked ball; no wonder Ash falls in love. This is a lovely romance that will take any reader's breath away.

I was a wee bit disappointed with Ash, however. It could be blamed on my reading while in bed with the flu, but I think it has more to do with a rather standard plot and a serviceable yet far uninspired writing style. Yes, this is a riff on the classic Cinderella story, but that is no excuse to use cliches, such as the stepmother's face darkening with anger or Sidhean's skin being pale as snow. There is a stiffness to the writing that kept me from being immersed entirely in the plot. Many of the characters are similarly stiff; in particular, the stepmother and stepsisters never become three-dimensional people but remain fairy-tale types, and are thus uninteresting.

Still, I read this novel to the end despite my weary, blurry eyes. And I feel much better today, testament to the healing power of fantasy! For ages 13 and up.

An overdose of historical fiction?

I've read four historical novels in a row, and now I've got the flu (or a sore throat, aches, and a slight fever, anyway). Could there be a connection? I suspect that I'll start feeling better the moment I start reading fantasy, which will happen after this post, at which point I'll crawl back into bed with Melinda Lo's Ash.

The Brothers Story by Katherine Sturtevant:
Although the jacket art depicts a lad who looks like a 70s California Boy, this novel about a teen who leaves his "simple" twin brother behind in their impoverished village to seek a better life in London plunged me right into the desperately cold winter of 1683. I sensed no anachronisms - even Kit's mindset and attitude (about sex and women, about religion, about a person's rightful station, about fairness) were clearly far from modern. There has always been a place in my heart for stories about roughing it in London Town, and this is a good 'un. For ages 13 and up.

The Best Bad Luck I Ever Had by Kristin Levine:
12-year-old Dit is thoroughly bummed when his tiny Alabama town's new postmaster doesn't have a boy his age but rather a daughter named Emma. Not only that, she's black - and in 1917, this can have ramifications. Tensions lead to a horrible situation - and it is Dit and Emma who manage to patch up the fallout. Although that sounds grim, the book's overall tone is easy-going. Dit is just a boy who wants to play baseball, do okay in school, and do the right thing. Emma, luckily, can help him with the last two, even if she's somewhat lacking in baseball skills. Fine novel (even if Dit's use of the word "gross" jarred me a bit. Did they say that in 1917?) for ages 9 to 13.

Neil Armstrong is My Uncle and Other Lies Muscle Man McGinty Told Me by Nan Marino:
The title is long but the book is short. This is a slice of life from 1969 New Jersey, told from the point of view of a literal-minded girl named Tammy who just can't stand that her best friend is gone and and in her place (fostered by the same woman) is a little runt who tells huge whoppers. That this boy (Douglas, but known by Tammy's sarcastic nickname Muscle Man) must have a sad story to be in foster care, and that he is pretty darn nice guy despite his lies, doesn't occur to Tammy; she is unrelentingly intolerant and unforgiving of him, all the way through a 13 to 1 game of kickball (the sacred game in Tammy's neighborhood, which Muscle Man swore he could beat them all at single-handed). It's hard to understand why Tammy is so thick-headed - but still, this book is a quick and well-written read for ages 8 to 12.

Outside Beauty by Cynthia Kadohata:
13-year-old Shelby's family is anything but traditional - she lives with her gorgeous, beauty-obsessed, commitment-phobic mom and her three sisters, all of whom have different dads. When Shelby's mom is in a terrible car accident, the sisters all get shipped out to their four dads, and all they can think about is getting back together again. Kadohata can do know wrong as far as I'm concerned - this is a quirky, funny, touching look at family. None of the characters are perfect (far from it!), but we get to know them through Shelby's increasingly understanding eyes. I listened to this as an audiobook and adored Sue Jean Kim's narration. For ages 11 and up. (My 18-year-old daughter loved it, too).
Oh, and it takes place in 1983, which qualifies as Olden Days.

So there you have it. Let it not be said that I never read anything but SFF. But now I'm weak and feverish again. Definitely time for some fantasy - the best medicine.

Review of The Museum of Mary Child by Cassandra Golds

Golds, Cassandra. The Museum of Mary Child. Kane Miller, 2009.

Heloise lives with her beautiful but stern and cold godmother and a dour housekeeper. She knows has no memories of any other life but this - reading a censored version of the bible, doing chores, lessons, and needlework, and taking a short daily walk. Heloise has no friends, talks to no one besides her godmother and housekeeper, and knows almost nothing about the world. Beauty, love, and laughter are forbidden.

Next door to the cottage where she lives is a grand house - The Museum of Mary Child. Heloise's godmother takes paying visitors on tours of this museum, which is how she earns her living. Heloise has no idea what is inside this museum.

Naturally enough, Heloise longs for beauty and love, so when she finds a doll under the floorboards of her room, her world is altered. Whenthe doll is discovered, Heloise runs away to the city rather than give her up - and among the many people she meets , one imprisoned young man has a story that is mysteriously entwined with her own.

This is one of those books that is impossible to categorize. Although it at first seems meant for children, as Heloise is clearly a child, some of the almost spiritual or metaphysical themes of the story would fly way over a child's head - and as Heloise grows older, so do these themes rise to the forefront of the story. The Society of Caged Birds is a charming and fascinating idea that will appeal to children - but the Christ-like prisoner and the themes of love, sacrifice, and redemption require some maturity to appreciate. The tone of the narration is calm and measured for the most part, with a restrained yet hugely appealing sedateness that is on rare occasions (mostly when Heloise is speaking with the prisoner) broken by overwrought and perplexing dialogue.

Readers will certainly guess some of the fascinating twists and turns of the story before they occur, but that does not lessen their magic. The underlying themes - the magic of love and the necessity of letting go of control in order to get and give love - are presented in a truly magical and compelling way. I know I will be haunted for a long time by Mary Child, by those amazing caged birds, by the singing orphans and their choir leader Old Mother, and especially by Heloise.

I don't know to whom I should recommend this atmospheric, understated fantasy. Kids? Teens? Adults? I was swept away. Hopefully you will be as well.

Review of The Wizard of Rondo by Emily Rodda

Rodda, Emily. The Wizard of Rondo. Scholastic, 2009.

Having enjoyed The Key to Rondo, I am happy to report that its sequel, The Wizard of Rondo, does not disappoint. Sensible Leo and tempestuous Mimi again wind the key of Leo's magic box more than three times, which allows them to enter the magical, fairy-tale realm of Rondo. Thanks to Leo's winding of the key several times between the two visits, life in Rondo has moved forward - the nasty Blue Witch is looking for them, while Leo's villainous ancestor Spoiler is on the loose. Leo and Mimi instantly get caught up in a quest led by Conker and tough Freda the duck, and they are also joined by Bertha the pig, now famous as a hero.

As with the first book, the fun lies both in the obvious pleasure the author takes in exploring and describing Rondo and in the interplay between the companions, whose personalities are similar only in that they are all opinionated. I'd love to stay in a Snug, which is a fabulous sort of cabin camping in which the cabins are actually organic parts of huge, sentient trees, who take immense pride in being impeccable, soothing hosts. A new character, a quite young and needy cooking pot who becomes emotionally attached to Conker ("Conkie!"), makes its appearance with wonderfully comical results. Mimi and Leo, who are often at odds, finally learn to give each other not just credit but a little respect.

The pacing is rather leisurely in this installment and the danger never seems extreme, giving the reader plenty of time to enjoy the adventure. I'm looking forward to my next visit to Rondo. Recommended for kids grades 4 - 6.