66: Why Jane Austen, by Rachel Brownstein (2011 hardcover)

Currently reading.

65: Blackout, by Connie Willis (2010 paperback; hardcover published 2010)

Over the summer, NPR put out "Your Picks: Top 100 Science-Fiction, Fantasy Reads."  It's a decent list, although lacking a bit in female authors (Octavia Butler is noticeably and disappointingly absent, for instance.).  One female author on the list with whom I was not familiar is Connie Willis, whose Doomsday Book came in at 97.  While scavenging the close-out sale at Border's, I came across Blackout and decided to give it a try.

At first I had quite a hard time with the book, and I couldn't figure out why.  It wasn't because of the content or premise, as its storyline of time-traveling historians appealed to me.  I was a bit less interested in the WW II focus, but that still didn't explain it.  Finally, I realized that the author's extensive use of dialogue--both external and internal--was putting me off. This may have been exacerbated by the fact that the language is British English in the early 1940s, a vernacular similar enough to mine so that I felt it should seem comfortable, but different enough so that it really wasn't. Things felt stilted and formal, which I suppose was true of the time itself as well as the language, when compared to today.

Ultimately I grew to enjoy the book and the opportunity to peek into 1940 London during the Blitz. Because the narrators are historians, traveling back in time to study particular events, it seems natural to have historical information and a narrative storyline jumbled together.  And, this is really the way I like my history lessons: fictional and story driven. I'm taking a bit of a break from the war, but I'll be back sometime with a review of the follow-up book, All Clear.

64: Delirium: The Special Edition, by Lauren Oliver (2011 hardcover)

It's probably not fair to this book that I (temporarily, I'm guessing) reached my fill of teen dystopian romances midway through reading it.  It's a genre I generally like, but this one leaned a bit too far toward the romance end of things for my taste; I can tolerate the romance as long as the world developed behind it is interesting and compelling.  In this book, however, the romance is center stage.

Why this took me by surprise, I don't know, as it's basically stated on the jacket cover.  After all, 17-year-old Lena lives in a world where love is considered a life-threatening disease, where 60+ years earlier scientists came up with a surgical "cure" to relieve people of its symptoms.  The surgery to prevent delirium takes place at age 18, though, and any reader of TeenLit knows what will happen in those circumstances--especially after learning that Lena's mother's cure just never took, even after three attempts, and she ended up committing suicide when Lena was a child.  And then she meets a boy from the wilds: the areas outside the highly policed and controlled cities, where people don't get the cure and still choose their own mates, ways of life, etc.

Despite my lack of enthusiasm for Delirium, I must admit I'll likely read the sequel; writing about it now makes me consider some of the story elements and concepts I did like, such as making me reflect in how quickly a culture can be changed due to revolution/technology/chaos.  I think I just read myself into a genre rut here and need a bit of a break.   

(By the way, if you were wondering what is so special about the Special Edition: there's a Q & A section and the first chapter of the sequel. I actually chose it because I liked the cover better.) 

63: Going Bovine, by Libba Bray (2009 paperback)

A novel about a teen stoner and misfit being diagnosed with Mad Cow Disease doesn't sound particularly funny or inspiring, but in the hands of Libba Bray it becomes just that. After racing through Beauty Queens (reviewed earlier), I knew I had to read more of Bray's work. The fact that this book--with a completely different narrator and premise than Beauty Queens--was equally entertaining leaves me convinced of Bray's gifts as a writer and observer of American society.

One of Bray's talents is to take unlikely protagonists, such as sixteen-year-old Cameron, and turn them into mock-heroic figures.  Rather than accepting the limitations of his fatal illness, Cameron embarks on a cross-country journey with a punk angel, a teen dwarf, and a yard gnome/Viking god as companions.  The mission?  To find the man with a cure for Cameron's illness by searching tabloids, billboards, and random matchbook covers for clues, while also avoiding fire demons and surviving a stay in a cult of happiness.  It's a rollicking ride with a surprising conclusion, and it left me wanting more Libba Bray.

In fact, I just picked up the first volume of her Gemma Doyle trilogy, featuring a teen girl in Victorian England.  The series looks to be of a completely different genre--light horror, historical fiction--from the books I've already read by Bray, so I'm curious to see how her skills play out. This entire enterprise is a big departure for me, too, as I usually like to read an author's books in the order they were written/published, and this series predates either of her two books I've already read. Stay tuned to see how the experiment works out--and let me know if you've read Bray's work and what you thought.

62: Matched, by Ally Condie (2010 hardcover)

One of the blurbs on the back jacket of the book calls Matched a "dystopian love story," and I suppose that is as good a descriptor as any.  The dystopian part of the description makes it rise above the level of typical teen romance, though, exploring what happens when a society attempts to control every aspect of the lives of its members--from birth (who can bear children, when, and how many), through marriage (if and to whom), and death (by midnight on your 80th birthday). In doing so, Condie encourages her readers to weigh the importance of freedom versus chaos and raises the question of when it's necessary to question authority.

The story kicks off with 17-year-old Cassia riding the train to the city with her parents, her childhood friend and his parents, and many other well-dressed 17-year-olds and their families. As the story unfolds, we learn that the same thing is happening throughout the country, where young men and women are heading to their city hall for a banquet during which they will be introduced to their "match"--the person they will court and then marry at age 21. Characteristics and aptitudes have been entered into a database so that the match chosen for them will be the best possible, ensuring the genetic health of their offspring and a compatible lifestyle for the couple. Cassia has never before questioned the arrangement and looks forward to the unveiling of her match over large TV screens, a system to make matches possible across large geographic areas.  

As they must to make a story, things eventually go wrong with Cassia's match, and she begins to question the very basis of her world. In the process, a fascinating social experiment is revealed, wherein people's education, meal preparation, occupation, and leisure time is standardized and scheduled. And, when things aren't going just as you'd hoped, you can always take the blue, green, or red pill that you are required to carry with you at all times. 

In many ways, the storyline borrows elements of 1984 and Brave New World: there is a war in the borderlands and technology is highly advanced. Unlike those novels, though, Condie has clearly set Matched up for a sequel--or even more likely in the teen world, as the first installment in a trilogy--and I am looking forward to seeing where it leads. 

60-61: The Maze Runner and The Scorch Trials (Books 1 and 2 of the Maze Runner trilogy), by James Dashner (2009 paperback and 2010 hardcover)

I came across this trilogy in postings on the Centurions of 2011 Facebook page regarding the monthly books members have read.  Time and time again, folks commented on these books being among their favorite for the month.  With such regular recommendations, a few tantalizing details, and the promise of a maze, how could I resist trying another post-apocalyptic TeenLit series?

I'll have to say that when reading the first third of The Maze Runner, I was less than enthralled. The main character is a whiny, self-centered 16-year-old boy named Thomas, and I felt no kinship with him. Had I been trapped in the center (the Glade) of the maze with him and his 50 or so teen male cohorts, I would have wanted to smack him--and pretty much every one of them--upside the head and told him to get over himself.  Sure your memory has been wiped, sure you are trapped in a prison for unknown crimes, and sure horrific creatures lurk in the corridors waiting to kill you, but...sheesh.  Enough of the moping and discourteous behavior, Thomas.  Snap out of it!

And, of course, he does snap out of it. After all, as in all teen post-apocalyptic tales, these young folks must rise to the occasion.  Or be eaten by monsters.

By the middle of the first volume, enthrallment kicked in, and I rushed right on to The Scorch Trials, where the girls finally show up.  Rather than the surreal, obviously fabricated maze, the two teen teams now enter the real world--alternating between cities filled with insane, zombie-like Cranks, a nightmare landscape with relentless sun beating down on a desert wasteland, and torrential wind and lightening storms destroying anything alive on said wasteland.  It's a world devastated by sun flairs and an extremely contagious fatal disease. And monsters, but different monsters.

I read these first volumes in two days, and despite how busy I am preparing for this Saturday's pig roast and the looming first day of the semester, I'm going to get to Northtown Books as soon as possible to pick up the trilogy's conclusion, The Death Cure. 

59: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, by Ransom Riggs (2011 hardcover)

When I'm browsing the bookshelves at a store, there are some things that are likely to make me pick up a book and look more closely at the words on its pages: a good cover image, an interesting title, odd sizing, and good color.  This book has the first two items on my list, as well as another gimmick within its pages; it includes 40+ vintage pictures throughout, which serve to illustrate an interesting tale.  And, as I read more closely, I realized that the photographs aren't mere supplements to the story, but provide additional detail and information to the story itself--a bit like a graphic novel does, although in a more subtle fashion manner.  Indeed, the conclusion I reached in reading the book is that the pictures came first.  At the very least, some of the photographs were found by the author, inspiring a story that led him to search for more photos to complete the tale.

These aren't simply old pictures, either, but a collection capturing the unusual, the strange, the, well...peculiar. Jacob, the 16-year-old protagonist, is first shown a few of these photographs by his grandfather, a Holocaust survivor and teller of fanciful stories. At least Jacob believes these stories to be fanciful, but upon his grandfather's death he has a glimpse into a world of the peculiar and horrific. Once his eyes have been opened, he can't unsee these strange things, and he actively seeks them out--gaining permission to visit the remote island where his grandfather's orphanage, the name of which provides the title of the novel, was located.

The tale told is charming, action-filled, and old-fashioned in a modern kind of way. It involves characters with unusual talents, time loops, and a boy learning to face himself and the world.  It's a good story to begin with, but the photographs raise it to something more.