On “A Court of Mist and Fury” by Sarah J. Maas

ACOMAF-cover1This review appears on paperbackparis.com:

To say that I stopped breathing for the entire length of A Court of Mist and Fury would not be an overstatement. I knew its predecessor, A Court of Thorns and Roses, set the series up for some cataclysmic changes, but I never expected to be so emotionally drained by the end. That, I say, is the mark of a well-crafted series. Sarah J. Maas‘s world building is compelling, rich with detail, and surrounds the reader completely. Her character building as well remains unparalleled in the YA fantasy genre.

I had my doubts about how good the second installment in the series would be—a classic anxiety for any budding fan. But ACOMAF was even better. So much better, in fact, that I stopped to ask myself why. *SPOILER ALERT* The answer: Rhysand. Rhysand and Feyre. Feyre and Rhysand. The world is righted. Tamlin, that a-hole, is out. Rhysand, Prythian’s resident BAMF, is in. I knew in my gut at the end of ACOTAR that Rhys was Feyre’s mate, but I didn’t know how Maas was going to unspool the threads of their narrative.

In the beginning of ACOMAF, Feyre is severely psychologically damaged by what happened Under the Mountain in Book One. Tamlin is also damaged, but he offers Feyre no comfort. His need to protect becomes overblown and completely stifling. Feyre can barely leave the house because of his new overprotective nature…or is it new? Later on in the novel, Feyre contemplates how her relationship with Tamlin morphed into what it did. When she first came into Tamlin’s court, after years of drudgery and destitution, she needed Tamlin’s protectiveness and the safe environment he provided for her to paint and relax after so many years. Feyre realizes that who she was before Amarantha died when she went Under the Mountain. There is no going back.

Right before she steps onto the altar to marry Tamlin, Feyre knows she’s about to make a huge mistake and she screams internally for someone, anyone, to help her. Enter Rhys. He interrupts Feyre and Tamlin’s nuptials to make good on the bargain he and Feyre made Under the Mountain. He takes her to the Night Court where she slowly, grudgingly realizes how much better life is when she’s learning and doing and being around people who don’t treat her like a porcelain doll.

Tamlin continues to keep her cloistered, and, in the moment that changes the course of everything in ACOMAF, locks her in the Spring Court manor. The animalistic rage that stems from being caged in takes over her body. Rhys and his cousin, Mor, rescue her and take her to the Night Court for as long as she wishes to stay. Feyre feels numb. She feels guilty about leaving Tamlin but knows she couldn’t have stayed without becoming a shell of a person. Rhys has asked for her help. The King of Hybern is about to wage a war that will destroy both Prythian and the mortal world on the other side of the wall.

With Rhys’s help—and the help of his small group of friends/allies—Feyre learns that she is more powerful than most Fae. When the High Lords of Prythian gave some of their power so that she could live, their powers became hers. Ice, wind, fire, water–it’s all at her disposal. Will Feyre work through the trauma of death Under the Mountain? Will they defeat the King of Hybern’s arsenal of magic and deadly forces? Only time will tell.

A Court of Mist and Fury is an absolute thrill ride. Feyre learns how to become a true warrior by using the tools she possesses. She and Rhys seal the bond that was between them for years without their knowledge. (Good riddance, Tamlin.) A new cast of characters brings the realm to life. Cassian and Azriel—Rhy’s Illyrian brothers-in-arms, the ever powerful and charming Morrigan, and the deadly, sarcastic, knife sharp Amren.

Maas developed their narratives with such deft plotting that no reader can start this book without finishing it as fast as possible. It is engrossing, romantic, action-packed, and a sharp study of kingdoms at war. I have no doubt this series will go down as a classic in the fantasy genre, and I cannot wait to get my hands on the third installment, A Court of Wings and Ruin.

On “Tash Hearts Tolstoy” by Kathryn Ormsbee

29414576This review appears on paperbackparis.com:

Kathryn Ormsbee‘s new novel Tash Hearts Tolstoy is a creative, heartwarming story about 17-year-old Natasha “Tash” Zelenka who skyrockets to online fame after her web series, Unhappy Families, gets an unexpected nod of approval from a well-known vlogger. The series in question: a modern interpretation of Leo Tolstoy‘s seminal novel, Anna Karenina. Leo is Tash’s main man, a source of inspiration behind her creative pursuits. But Tash is all too aware of the fact that Unhappy Families isn’t quite the heavy-hitting success as its source material. Not even close.

Tash and her best friend, Jaclyn “Jack” Harlow, write and produce the web series, and they stick to a strict production schedule, wrangling temperamental actors, in order to get it out there for the world to see. Because even if the show only has 400 followers, it’s a project they believe in. Everything changes when Taylor Mears—famed web series producer—gives her a nod of approval to several up-and-coming web series. After that, the followers just come rolling in. Fame, however, is not something Tash and Jack are prepared for.

Tash plans and arranges even more than she usually does and becomes emotionally invested in the comments people post about Unhappy Families—good and bad. Jack keeps her cool, but, in doing so, remains blasé about the whole thing. Much to Tash’s vexation, Jack is a purist through and through; she refuses to create art for commercial success or to keep up with the demands of new fans. It’s great for keeping Tash down-to-earth, but terrible for Tash’s hunger to make a name for herself.

Once the final filming sessions are squared away, and their new found fame is under control, a new series of problems come to light. Tash’s sister, Klaudie, plays a small, but integral, role in the show. She and Tash don’t particularly get along, and Tash can see Klaudie has quite a bit of disdain for Tash’s investment in the project. But when she quits early on in the last phase of shooting, Tash is livid. Most of their interactions thereafter are accusatory silences, icy glares, and slammed doors. It’s a nasty fight, fought mostly in silence—a fight that unbalances the zen of the Zelenka household. Though, Mr. and Mrs. Zelenka pour fuel on the fire when they announce that they are going to have a baby.

In the meantime, Tash’s best friends, Jack and Paul, are fearing the worst when their dad, in remission after having had pancreatic cancer, begins having headaches. More strain is piled on when Tash suspects Paul is jealous of her flirtatious correspondence with another online blogger named Thom Causer. He and Tash plan to meet at the Golden Tuba award ceremony/web convention where Unhappy Families has been nominated for “Best New Web Series.”

This leads to an exploration of Tash’s biggest dilemma—something Ormsbee seems dedicated to discussing: asexuality. Throughout the novel, she grapples with fact that she has no desire for sexual contact even though she has romantic feelings, constantly wondering if she’s fully human or not considering that such a sexual drive is what keeps humanity going. Even Jack and Paul don’t really know how to talk about it with her, and Tash doesn’t really know what to say about it. When it becomes obvious that Paul has feelings for her, she lashes out by telling him about all the things he can never have with her.

When she meets Thom at the convention, her explanation as to why their relationship won’t lead to anything physical does not go over very well. He takes on the role of teenage “mansplainer” when he tells Tash she doesn’t know what she’s talking about and is just confused. Disaster ensues.

Tash ends up leaving the convention early when she finds out Mr. Harlow’s cancer has come back with a vengeance and apologizes for everything she said to Paul and for the tension that has arisen between the three friends.

It’s an offbeat story, one that blends the relatively new phenomenon of vlogging and web series with the heaviness of Russian literature. Though I have to say, there is far less Tolstoy in this novel than I accepted. Just a lot of Tash staring at a poster of young Tolstoy on her wall, conversing about what to do with her life.

Ormsbee is a competent, clean writer who’s written a lovely piece of fiction. Her characters are well developed and nuanced to the point where the reader feels true annoyance and happiness for them at certain points in the story. But it would not have been particularly groundbreaking without the discussion of asexuality, which lifted its position to a must read in the LGBTQ+ canon.

Her approach to Tash’s relationship with sexuality is extremely well done because she captures the essence of confusion that comes along with having romantic feelings without wanting the physical aspects that most people expect. Ormsbee places questions of how to navigate a relationship between a sexual person and an asexual person into the narrative and tackles Tash’s own understanding of her proclivities.

If there are other pieces of YA fiction that deal with asexuality, I don’t know of them. Ormsbee has gone where few authors have before, but her work is certainly part of a boom in LGBTQ+ literature that is refreshing in its representation of nuanced sexuality. Tash Hearts Tolstoy is a touching, smart, funny novel worth reading.

On “The Royal We” by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan

22875451This review appears on paperbackparis.com:

Like me, I’m sure every asocial hermit with more than a touch of Anglophilia loves nothing more than to sit around on a lazy Saturday morning drinking tea and reading Kate Middleton fan fiction…No? That’s just me? Well, if you do share my proclivities, or just enjoy a breezy beach read, look no further than The Royal We by Heather Cocks and Jessica Morgan. This dynamic duo has produced the dishiest, compulsively readable romantic novel in recent memory.

The Royal We has all the right ingredients to make a great love story that blissfully excludes the heavy handedness of most romcom-esque novels; there’s usually quite a lot of formula and very little depth, but Cocks and Morgan have conjured that most coveted mix of romance, comedy, and blunder to produce summer reading gold.

The story unfolds on the morning of Rebecca “Bex” Porter’s wedding day as looks back on her relationship with Prince Nicholas of Wales. Sectioned off into the significant years of their relationship, Bex starts at the beginning—her year abroad at Oxford where Nick is the first person to greet her, at which time she makes a comment about the royal family having syphilis. (An amazing moment. I laughed like an idiot.)

Of course, she has no idea who he is at that moment, but they soon begin spending more and more and more time together. They bond over trash TV and American junk food and drink their way through all the pubs in Oxford. But he’s a prince. Bex knows it can’t be more than a flirtation. Plus, she’s already hooked up with their mutual friend, and one of Nick’s closest allies, Clive.

Things are tricky, and Nick is already under immense pressure from his domineering father, Prince Richard. He must be present at elite gatherings, emitting just the right amount of charm and wit without seeming too glib. Bex can see Nick has mastered his public façade. But what’s beneath it?

After a whirlwind series of heated moments, the pair decides to become a couple, but only their closest friends know. Keeping their relationship a secret from the public turns out to be difficult, but not as difficult as it becomes when Nick reveals their romance to the royal family, and the pair becomes an “unofficial” item to the press. Bex must be her best at all times, and worse, her twin sister Lacey still continues to make a spectacle out of herself in public for the sake of attention.

As life becomes more difficult for the two at the hands of the press and Nick’s growing list of duties, they must make a decision about the future. Will they really get married, or it back to Iowa for Bex?

Cocks and Morgan build the narrative beautifully. It’s seductive, charming, hilarious at times, and impeccably well written. Even if people think the novel is a cheap rip off of the Will and Kate courtship, it’s still extremely well done. More than that, readers are forced to think about just how much they consume the type of tabloid press that exposes the lives of these individuals for the whole world to see.

On one hand, we often say these high-profile people get what’s coming to them, but Nick was born into his life, and Bex…well…Bex has to decide if she can go along for the ride for the rest of her life—the future Queen of England. Every lighthearted moment the couple shares comes at the cost of intense of public scrutiny when they leave the confines of their sanctuaries. It also doesn’t help that Lacey is running wild and some members of the couple’s friend group seem to be turning against them.

It’s all a matter of empathizing with the people whose lives we consume as entertainment, and the authors explore these fabricated (but very familiar) lives with care, dignity, and the humor that comes along with everyday life.

There were moments in the story where I could see the obvious parallels between the novel and the real British royal family, but it’s always done with a hint of good-natured ribbing. And, more than that, those hints never mask the obvious talent Cocks and Morgan have when it comes to developing plot structure and imbuing each character with carefully crafted personalities that never cease to grow along with the main characters.

I cannot recommend The Royal We highly enough to readers looking for a fun, fast read for the summer. Of course, you have to read it to get ready for the upcoming film adaptation—just pop on some sunglasses and park yourself in a beach chair. And don’t forget the sunscreen! Once you’ve started Cocks and Morgan’s brilliant novel, you won’t want to stop until you’ve turned the last page.

On “Mosquitoland” by David Arnold

18718848This review appears on paperbackparis.com:

David Arnold‘s 2015 novel, Mosquitoland, is everything any person who feels out of place would want to read. 16-year-old Mary Iris Malone (or “Mim” for short) is a variation of every young person who feels like the very chemistry of his or her being is wrong, that it does not bode well with the universe at large.

Alas, Mim claims herself and everything she loves with unabashed kookiness and fervor. Nothing and no one will stop her. In this case, her sights are set on getting out of Mosquitoland—the Mississippi town that her father and her stepmother moved her to after Mim’s parents divorced. Just like that, she was forced to leave behind everything she knew in Ohio for a life forced upon her by her overbearing, condescending father and her well-meaning, but aloof stepmother.

Mim is not okay. For weeks, she hasn’t heard from her mother, and she has a sneaking suspicion that her stepmother is hiding her letters. She decides to leave Mississippi on the next Greyhound bound for Ohio. Her mother is the only person that understands Mim. And she knows—unlike Mim’s dad, that she doesn’t need to pop an anti-psychotic pill every day to be okay, to function.

Along the way, Mim meets a cast of characters that help her on her journey from sweet Arlene–an elderly woman who loves Mim’s funky sneakers, to Walt–a kindhearted homeless teenager who loves Mountain Dew and the Chicago Cubs. They travel with her on her journey to the truth, guiding her with their kindness and humor. Nothing can stop her.

Or can it? Arnold writes Mim as a fearless young person who won’t hesitate to assert her individuality and strength at any cost, but there is a sinister undertone to her exuberance. Something happened in her past that affects the way Mim looks at the world and caused her father to clamp down on her life. The reason behind the medication.

In a series of letters to someone named “Isabel,” Mim lists her ticks, neuroses, and defects–her displaced epiglottis that causes her to vomit randomly, the blindness in one eye that she got from staring at the sun during an eclipse, the way she spaces out sometimes and loses herself in memories. Arnold builds this correspondence towards an ultimate confession–towards the heart of the thing that made Mim who she is.

Throughout the novel, Arnold explores all manner of difficult subjects—mental illness, suicide, sexual assault, homosexuality, and the way society treats its lowliest members. Mosquitoland spends a lot of time probing the idea of how we, as humans, pass judgment on each other, and how we sometimes shy away from difficult things in life.

Arnold’s Mim negates fear and self-consciousness with her fierceness, and she works through the heartbreak in her life with a strength that most people do not possess. As a lame, fairly shy teenager, I read this book with wonder and a hint of resentment. Why couldn’t I have been more her as a teenager?

I believe it’s because Mim possesses that level of hyper-intelligence that seems only to exist in YA novels. No one I knew was as smart as that at sixteen, nor as ambitious. But, then again, maybe I led a sheltered life. Arnold’s narrative was enough to make me wish that more people were like her. Strong. Weird. Lover of the downtrodden and disenfranchised. Feisty as hell.

Arnold’s innovative, lovable protagonist will likely go down as one of YA’s most iconic characters. Mim’s unconventional story will speak volumes to every outcast looking to make sense of cruel things around them and how to be okay.

On “Ruin and Rising” by Leigh Bardugo

ruin and risingAfter finishing Siege and Storm, I thought I had a pretty good inclination as to how the third installment of the Grisha trilogy, Ruin and Rising, would conclude the story. As it turns out, I was way off. Way, way off.

I thought Bardugo would go against the grain and have Alina end up with Nikolas, so they could rule Ravka with equanimity and grace…But maybe that was just wishful thinking on my end. (Scratch that–it definitely was. Team Nikolas for life.) At the end, I love that she was the only person alive who could understand the darkness that he still felt in himself. Let’s just say it’s an ideal Fan Fiction avenue that I intend to pursue.

By the end of the second novel, I truly hated the idea of Alina ending up with Mal, or having their lives intertwine any more than was strictly necessary to advance the plot. Alas, Bardugo threw it back in my face in Ruin and Rising where the reader finds out *SPOILER ALERT* that Mal is the descendent of Bagri’s oskatzatsy’a (sp?) sister.

Through the use of merzost, Morozova resurrects his daughter after Baghra, in a fit of rage, uses the Cut on her. Without meaning to, Morozova turns her into the third amplifier, and her descendent, Malyen Oretsev, is destined to follow Alina Starkov wherever she goes and eventually die at her hand.

This twist in Alina and Mal’s fate was unexpected at first, but quickly became the obvious conclusion if the two were going to end up together. While I hate obvious conclusions, Bardugo does an amazing job of building the story up and letting the plot reach its end naturally.

That being said, some of the threads that Bardugo attempts to tie together at the end seem a little far fetched. The idea that Morozova and his human daughter never died when they were thrown into the water in chains feels unlikely. I can’t wrap my head around the idea that a small girl who had just been cut in half could survive with merzost alone.

I was moved, however, at the final resting point of Alina and Mal’s relationship. After all that, they know there weren’t brought together solely by forced beyond their control, but by their own choices. Plus, their supporting cast is one of the best in YA fiction. Tolya, Tamar, Nikolas, and the others are written with outstanding empathy and depth, which adds much needed nuance to what can become a formulaic YA plot.

All in all, it was a solid conclusion to a very well done series, and I can’t wait to start on Six of Crows.

On “Suite Scarlett” by Maureen Johnson

scarlett
courtesy of goodreads.com

Like I said earlier: the craze continues. This time, with a novel that is more similar in tone to The Bermudez Triangle, though not quite as edgy. I imagine this would have been the perfect summer break book for me when I was younger. It has all the right ingredients:

  1. Teenage siblings brought up in an unusual environment (i.e. a hotel in New York City).
  2. An off beat hotel guest who shakes things up.
  3. A complicated love interest.
  4. Money problems.
  5. The streets of NYC in the summer.

All good things. Johnson kept Suite Scarlett light and fun–perfect for a teenager on his or her summer vacation. While I thought the novel got off to a slow start, the author quickly showed just how talented she is at designing characters and developing their interpersonal relationships, especially the dynamic between the Martin siblings.

And–while almost all YA novels contain a love interest at their core–Scarlett’s relationship (or lack of one) with Eric introduces a complexity that many lack. Oftentimes, boy and girl fall in love and run along happily ever after, but Johnson consciously introduces a three year age gap that changes everything for them.

Personally, I was so done with Eric after his and Scarlett’s rendezvous on the Empire State Building. But, first love is a bitch to be reckoned with. The complications that arise knowing that Eric will go to NYU and almost inevitably change makes their doomed romance relatable to many a young person out there. I would like to have read this book when I was 14/15 and half in love with a senior boy who I wouldn’t stop bugging. Unfortunately, I had no concept of “cool.” Yes, I was an embarrassment to myself.

Furthermore, I love resourceful teenagers in a sort of masochistic way. I sure as hell wasn’t witty, sharp, cunning, or helpful when I was Scarlett’s age. I just existed and did school related things sometimes and read a ton of books. It was a fun day when my mom realized that reading a lot does not translate into academic intelligence. Good times.

Though Suite Scarlett isn’t on the same par as Johnson’s Shades of London series, it is definitely worth a read for young people around 14 or 15. It’s fun, relatable, and contains all of the author’s trademark humor.

On “The Name of the Star” by Maureen Johnson

13595639
Courtesy of goodreads.com

My Maureen Johnson kick is still in full swing. I started with The Bermudez Triangle, which I enjoyed, but not as much as the first installment of her Shades of London series, The Name of the Star. I was hooked from page one. The Shades series comes a little later in Johnson’s YA career, so her writing is not just functional, but gripping as well.

It’s clear from the novels opening pages that Johnson has a firm grasp the layout of London and the Ripper murders. In my junior year of college, I spent five weeks in Bloomsbury, which isn’t that far from the site of the murders. A friend of mine and I went on a “Jack the Ripper/Sherlock Holmes” double-decker bus tour, so my interest in the Ripper has only grown since then.

I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve lost in the wormhole I call the Internet looking at autopsy photographs, the Mary Jane Kelly crime scene, and the infamous “From Hell” letter.

Time well spent, if you ask me.

Because of my keen interest (I wouldn’t call it an obsession…yet), I thoroughly enjoy novels that contain Ripper lore or anything similar. I especially loved Johnson’s take on the Ripper crimes, which, I’ll admit, have been done to death (pun intended).

Though I did take issue with some of the novel’s pacing and character introductions, I loved the way Johnson developed Rory’s family history and the way she used her choking experience as a plot development. I, for one, did not see that coming. In having her protagonist suffer the most embarrassing possible near death experience, Johnson maintains her sarcastic sense of humor, which runs full force in The Bermudez Triangle. But it never becomes overwhelming or ill-placed in the face of some pretty heavy stuff.

Furthermore, she does an amazing job of describing Wexford. Boarding school books (i.e. Harry Potter) have always been my favorites because good authors always have a way of describing the grounds of their imaginary schools in such a way that it feels as if the reader is wandering the halls along with the characters. The “boarding school motif” also appeals to readers, I think, because it describes something from another world. There’s something so mysterious and ancient about living in old buildings in close proximity with people striving towards the same goal as you.

Oftentimes I find that friendships in YA novels fall short of depicting reality, but Rory’s friendships with Jazza, Boo, Callum, and (especially) Stephen are perfectly nuanced and believable, which is more than I can say for novels whose purpose is not to explore those friendships.

*Side note* Jerome can just shove off, though. His interest in the Ripper bordered on problematic, and I would bet all my money that he’d drop Rory like a hot potato if she ever told him the truth about herself. I’m calling it now: she ends up with Stephen. (She better, Maureen Johnson!)

Rory’s ability to see ghosts brings her closer to those who have the same ability, in all their trauma and isolation. No one but them can understand the isolation that comes along with having an ability that makes most people think you’re crazy. It’s especially difficult when, in this novel, they see how the sight can drive someone to madness.

Honestly, I can’t wait to read the other books in this series. I have a strong feeling I’ll devour them.