'Sing No Evil', Read No Evil, Write No Evil

Firstly, I should begin with a huge apology to you all that I missed last week. I recently moved house and I have a lot going on, so this blog will, unfortunately, from now on become a bi-monthly post, as opposed to a weekly one. If it were up to me, I would continue on as I do now, however unfortunately my university work does come before all else.

                This week is a rather odd review, as I read this particular book partly because I was lucky enough that Abrams & Chronicle gave me a copy, but partly because all my other books are in assorted boxes and suitcases, and so this is my explanation for the saturation of graphic novels on the blog at the moment. ‘Sing No Evil’ instantly appealed to me because a) it involves a man and his fight for his Avant-garde metal band (which sounds a lot like quite a few people I know), but also because b) their drummer is a bear, and I always think that the Dairy Milk advert missed a trick by putting the gorilla not a grizzly to the Phil Collins soundtrack. This book explores one man’s fight for his music, with some demonic tunes, possessed arch rivals and a love triangle thrown in. There are even some enchanting obscure references added to the mix (I particularly like the Opeth cameo), and this is really a book that fills a gap in the market in that sense, whilst still not alienating a regular audience. Maybe the reader will not get the allusion to Kiss, but they will certainly sympathise with Aksel when his vocals are describing in non too flattering terms, versus the new voice of an angel his band mate/love interest Lily finds in a guy she discovers in a takeaway restaurant.

                I will admit that this book has a few problems with story linearity, and there were quite a few points when I questioned, in my standard eloquent manner, what happened to thing with the thing and the other thing. This is also played into the ending a little, which didn’t feel as conclusive as I would have liked it to, and seemed more like a fizzle than a bang. More than anything, the narrative structure was suffering from a syndrome of confusion in terms of pace, either racing forward and entirely showing not telling (with still not quite enough showing), or using such state-the-obvious dialogue you’d have to be blind, deaf and not paying attention in order to not understand. However, the character’s erratic nature and then lazy periods come across really well through this pacing, even if it’s a little uncomfortable to read, and the way music, fast and slow, is depicted is pure brilliance in comic format.

                Sing No Evil can live up to its title in terms of book brilliance, as it stands looking a little like Scott Pilgrim with a little less pop culture and a little more demons. With brilliant art, and mixture of funny, moving and terrifying moments, Sing No Evil is for those who really, REALLY like their music. And I mean really, really like it. 

Time To Flesh Out The 'City Of Bones'

I thought my days of reviewing books with shirtless men on the cover was over but hey, c'est la vie, as the song goes. The Mortal Instruments series seems to have become a synonym for fantasy, and, after all, it had a movie so it must be pretty well liked and therefore relatively excellent (then again so did Twilight, but let's not get off on the wrong foot here). I was lucky enough it get a copy of City Of Bones by Cassandra Clare to read, thanks to Walker Books, and I've had a pretty mixed reaction to it.

To begin with, I should say, I had biased opinions left, right and centre about this book before even reading it, so I entered it with dazed preconceptions and an odd sense of foreboding, but I was pleasantly surprised. The world created, whilst not altogether original, had its own personal quirks and twists, including vampires on motorcycles, magic tattoos and the witch that lives downstairs. Most importantly, it never took itself too seriously in these quirks. This worked through Simon as a non-magic relief from the constant glowering shadow of the Shadowhunter world. Oddly, I found Simon a hell load more endearing than the ShadowHunter teens (Jace particularly, but Alec at points), and there were moments where he broke from his comic persona to have quite moving character development. The plot itself was a rollacoaster and surprisingly sustaining for a book of this size, with more twists and turns than I even bothered counting after a while, although this did fall down towards the end of the story where every plot twist became less and less unexpected. This was not because the plot was easily guessed, but because you can only gasp for so long before you run out of air, but, as I said, the plot held its own in a novel where it could easily have overstayed its welcome.

However, I noticed that, whilst being more-ish as chocolate digestives in terms of wanting to know what happens in the next volume of this saga, there are an awful lot of problems with it that nearly stop me from doing so. Firstly, why is it seemingly impossible to have a fantasy heroine who everyone is not in love with? Not only does everyone seem to overwhelming adore Clary (paternally or romantically), but she brushes up against Mary Sue territory about it. I find this particularly frustrating as a) the love triangle plot has been done until death and burial, and it is beginning to decompose at this juncture, but also b) because the book would have worked out better had there only been one romance subplot running around. I even believe I can say this without spoiler, because men's feelings for Clary in the novel are immediately and painfully obvious from the moment they're introduced, and are then cemented my Clary's constant doubt in her own appearance and talent. I do tend to rant a little about this, but it's wearing, particularly when the novel itself is actually pretty gripping, with very few feelings of sluggishness in terms of pace.

So I have a lot of mixed feelings about this novel, mainly in a feeling of "it's good, but is it enough to justify Clary" kind of way. The best way I can think of to sum up City Of Bones is that it's a little like if Apple had brought out a tablet for the first time, and whilst bring brilliantly fast and well designed, it was also painted with bright tiger stripes on either side. It's playing to a niche market, but being honest, if it works and plays Netflix, you'll probably buy it anyway. 

The Shocking Truth Is That 'We Were Liars'

I have heard a lot about E. Lockhart's 'We Were Liars' without really hearing anything at all, and, from reading it, I now understand why. It is a book that is almost impossible to review without spoiling, a book so impossible to navigate through with a linear description because of its mystery. But I've got nothing else for you guys this week, so I thought I'd give it a whirl.

In most books, there is a core theme that holds all the bits together whether it be romance, adventure quest, what have you. In 'We Were Liars', I am torn as to whether this device is fear or suspense. I certainly became afraid whilst reading the novel, and I was holding my breath, tapping my tablet with rocket speed to get to the next page at points, as the suspense was so strong, but I remain on the fence as to which of these two dominates the other. Before anyone says it, though similar, these two do not have the same effect, and, whilst reading it before Great British Bake Off did kill my cookie-induced calm, I am a great appreciator of the uses of both fear and suspense in this novel. Despite the fact that a private island has become a hell of a lot less attractive now, Lockhart really sells the creepy sense of fear in the novel, married perfectly to its underlying terrifying tone.

I did have a few small practical concerns with this book, I’ll admit, and I’ll insert a quick disclaimer here, whilst I normally attempt to be a spoiler free as possible, there will be hints of plot (only hints, but still) in this section of the review. Right, now that’s said, I will begin by noting that it seemed incredibly odd to me that they were seemingly able to stop children, who could not even restrain themselves from calling their cousin a drug addict in one section of the novel (I warned about spoilers!), from spilling the whole truth about everything that happens to Cady. The secrecy that surrounds her life is maintained by every character, even small children, who also, oddly again, seem undamaged by the slow but extremely noticeable deterioration to their family structure. This was another minor practical issue I had. The ‘littles’ as they are referred to, seem untouched by all the tragedy that’s around them to a larger extent, whilst everyone else is falling apart. And, again I’m trying not to spoil totally, it is not as if the tragedy would not affect them directly: it most certainly would. However, there could be two good explanations for this in that firstly, Cady is definitely an unreliable narrator for multiple reasons, and secondly, the littles are not a focus, so even if they were falling apart, it’s not that noticeable to Cady who only notices the liars, so I may have to let my quibbles slide.

Ignoring the minor nit-picks I had with the practicality issues, I believe I have navigated myself to a spoiler-free conclusion about 'We Were Liars' and that is, for a novel as brief as it is, it truly has a hard-hitting and powerful presence. With its slow-growing sense of dread and it's frank and frightening honesty, this novel really brings a beautifully broken life into view.

Beware And Prepare For The Great 'El Deafo'!

I have been a little slack in terms of reviewing graphic novels on this blog. True, I did manage one, however I really don’t think that is giving a nearly good enough image of my longstanding love for them. Although I am a superhero comic reader, my personal favourite style of graphic novel are human stories (doesn’t matter if their contemporary, historical, political, etc) and ‘El Deafo’ by Cece Bell certainly fitted that category for me.

               Based on a true story, this adorable novel centres on Cece and her life as a child growing up with hearing impairment, and how it affects her – in every respect. Oddly enough for me, what I liked best about this portrayal was the appearance conscious nature of Cece, as it made her seem so wonderfully human and relatable. She wasn’t desperately worthy or dysfunctional or pitiful, she was a child facing a lot of difficulties, and struggling the ubiquitous struggle: acceptance from others around her. Another strong element of this book is its comedy, often visual (yes pun intended), and how it makes light of things that, without the illustrations, would likely make readers uncomfortable, as they’d be viewing it from an adult lens, or at the least an objective one. However, because all we see is through Cece, and through her funny view of the world, the reader feels happy to laugh with her at others, rather than feel trapped in a bubble unable to help her.

               On the other hand, this doesn’t kill the poignancy of the book in any way, and Cece’s struggle seem just as honest and daunting to us as if we were living it ourselves. Cece's life could seen as not dramatic enough for some of even a little too easy in places (the boy she happens to fancy lives in her road and seems to be the only one that isn't bothered by the wires), but I think that's the media-installed stereotype expectations of polarised tragedy or success talking. Cece's life is real and appears so to us, in a way that only an unreliable narrator can convey. This reminds to make special mention to the author, Cece Bel,l that she has managed something that so many autobiographies fail to. Whilst all self depictions doubtlessly include the words "I know I wasn't perfect but", there is something about the illustrated format that demonstrates and explains this better than words can. The reader doesn't feel like they should be siding against the Cece in these moments; it is in fact the opposite. You feel a greater sense of empathy with Cece than you would if she was entirely flawed or entirely perfect. It is this very relatable nature that makes the book so addictive.

           I could go on for years regarding the art style for this novel. I could talk a long while about its important accepting attitude. However, I will settle for simply saying this - it did not make me cry and this is it's greatest strength. It is surprisingly easy to evoke tears in a reader, but for something a little deeper and more realistic and yet equally as resonant? That's something to be celebrated.

I Apologise If My Mind Is A Little 'Splintered'

Firstly, I begin this blog with a huge apology, as I failed to upload last week. I had a CRAZY busy week, with London Film and Comic-Con and Young Adult Literature Con, and I just didn’t get everything finished in time. However, in order to make up for this, I have a real treat for you all this week, as I got to jump down the rabbit hole, and, thanks to Abrams and Chronicle, was lucky enough to read ‘Splintered’ by A.G. Howard.
                To begin with, and I know this is little to do with the book itself, but the cover is beautiful, so much so that pretty much every one of my housemates have picked it up and began the first couple of pages (most of whom have now finished the whole book whilst I slept). It’s also very appropriate for a book that lures you in as ‘Splintered’ does. Set in modern day, Alyssa suffer from the fear of going mad as all the women in her family do, with fantastical notions of Wonderland, which, of course, all turn out to be all too real, as she discovers when she jumps down the rabbit hole. I am not a strong purist, and twists on classics are something I really enjoy, but even if you don’t, this book and Lewis Carroll’s are by no means mutually exclusive. The self-referential nature of this book means it cleverly builds on the original, rather than erases or alters it. I particularly enjoyed the physical re-imaginings of the Wonderland creatures, which, whilst being adorable as an eccentric hatter and white bunny, were fascinating as a man with no face and a skeletal creature with huge antlers respectively. Howard’s visual description is a true credit to her writing ability, and she brings Wonderland to life in a way that is capturing and still horrifying (Burton, take note!).
                But the romance plot in this novel waivered a little for me in places. Alyssa’s suitor Jeb occasionally went from very wooden to sudden fiery, and although Morpheus seemed unreal, he at least had an excuse. Saying that (spoiler alert!), Morpheus being forgiven by Alyssa at the end of the novel made absolutely no sense to me after all he’d done, regardless of his unreal nature. I also worried that Howard allowed the romance to over-run the story a little too much in places. The action was plentiful in the book, and, as I said, the creation of Wonderland so brilliant, that its time as a highlight in the plot dragged a little in places. I know that it was necessary, and it did act as a good cohesive for the chaos plot twist, however, I really think Alyssa’s character didn’t need the amount of support that the men seemed to keep trying to give her. Then again, as her independence and agency is what she’s trying to establish all along, something she even manages to achieve romantically in the end, I think I can forgive Howard’s break from action for Alyssa’s love life.
                I could go on forever about my love for the recreation of Wonderland in the novel, and the re-imagining of its inhabitants would take another eternity to follow that, however I think if I shorten it down a little, I would simply say that Howard has really achieved a detailed, intricate and charming fantasy world in this novel, which is by far something to be praised. Even better was getting a chance to say “Curiouser and curiouser” in real life, following the twisting plot of this delectable story.

Tune in next week, for a review of the sequel 'Unhinged'!

Am I A True 'Fangirl'?

                                         

Thanks to Ninja Book Swap, I got the chance to read Rainbow Rowell’s interesting new book ‘Fangirl’. I won’t lie, as a member of multiple fandoms, I was really excited by the prospect of it being treated in a near mainstream light in this book, jargon intact and all, but I have to be honest, Rainbow Rowell surprised me quite a bit with this one.
                There were a lot of elements to like about this book. The fandom that the main character Cath is a part of is clearly a copy, in a lot of ways, of Harry Potter, something I adore and have done for as long as I can really remember now, and the main ship that Cath chooses to sail with is that of Simon and Baz (aka Harry and Draco). This wrongfooted me a little, because when people preach this pairing, I can’t get my head around it, but that is my personal choice and a niggle critique I will admit. The comedy that arose from a lot of the “them and us” mentality (by which I mean Cath versus everyone who knew nothing about internet fandoms) was really well executed, and, however much I’d like to believe people are more open-minded, I felt for Cath at the points when she tried to explain how Baz and Simon could be in relationship, only to hear the response, “Pfft, Simon isn’t gay!” This book felt really well researched in its knowledge of fan-fiction and fan communities, and the sorority you feel for Cath and Wren when they hold the eighth Simon Snow in their hands is touching in a way that I didn’t expect. The romance, between Levi and Cath, felt equally well constructed, and with its stumbles and fix-ups feeling a lot less ridiculous-sweeping-romantic-gesture (for once in YA!), and it veering far nearer to a realistic-honest-and-even-occasionally-painful kind of affection.
                I had, however, a lot of problems with this book in certainly equal measure. Cath’s character was one where I couldn’t understand why any reader would like her unless they were exactly like her. She came across as dismissive and very judgemental, and, most of all, she was never punished for any bad decisions she made. For example, skipping class and missing an exam and not really even bothering to inform anyone was resolved by her easily retaking the exam and getting another two chances for her final assignment. This was particularly poignant as Wren seemed to be punished even more than average, as she seemed to only drink socially, something Cath was very judgemental and even, at points, cruel about, and she got alcohol poisoning and was grounded (in a sense) by their father. This imbalance seemed to support Cath’s “never anything new at all ever” viewpoint a little too much for me, making it seem as though Cath’s decision to be closeminded was the correct one and that Wren, who dared to try and establish an independent life from her sister, including seeing their mother for the first time, was wrong in every sense. I understand juxtaposition, but I really think that Cath’s character development (which was really only that she stopped writing fan-fiction for school projects and would talk to a person that wasn’t Wren or her boyfriend) was really tainted by the fact that she just never learnt anything and that the world simply changed around her, rather than the reverse.

                Overall, I have mixed feelings on this book. Whilst I love its link to fandoms, and I think it is a really clever way to show someone coming out of their shell, I am disappointed that there was little growth in a character who really needed to grow up, if only a little. Maybe I will have to begin some fan-fiction of my own to add a few tweaks (in my head) to what was otherwise a very funny and heart-warming book. 

Can It Really Be 'More Than This'?

I've always tried to not be too influenced by what other people say. But when the front cover of Patrick Ness' 'More Than This' had a comment by John Green saying "Just read it", it steered my eyes towards it like a rocket. I'm a nerdfighter and I am partial to a little of both of the Green brothers, and, despite my questionably positive reviews of both of John's books that I have reviewed so far, we do seem to have a similar taste in literature. So, putting aside my feelings for its minimalist yet somehow garishly yellow cover, I picked it up and gave it a go.

I'll be brutally. honest, this book is not a quick starter. If you're one who needs immediate action or dialogue, I would skip to part two, as aside from the boy's death (it's not a spoiler if it's in the blurb), the beginning feels, in places, a little more Bear Grylls than what is the deeper purpose of all this. Do not, however, hold this against it. The opening chapters are at least slow on purpose, as, if our protagonist suddenly remembered everything and acquired immaculate survival skills without any struggle or vomiting, I would have a lot more problems with the opening. Alongside this, the rest of the novel is very pacey, dramatic, bang-bang action, and without this calm before the storm, I feel it would develop skim-read syndrome, a disease suffered by books with so much plot that the reader skim reads just to find out what happens next. Ness has this beautiful balance with his story, as elegantly placed as a grain of sand to two feathers on a scale, and yes if you're not into slow starters you might struggle a bit, but I promise the end result is worth it.

My problem reviewing this book is reviewing without spoilers. So much of this novel's foundations are laid in layer after layer of surprise, with plot twists that even I, a seasoned cynic and story-spoiler, couldn't guess. Ness' other real strength in this book is his perfectly un-beautiful character creation. I have said before and I shall shout it from the highest hills: YA does not need more Mary Sue, perfect protagonists, what it needs is believable people. Whether they are a likeable person to the reader or not, they should be real characters, real personalities, real emotion underneath their printed paper skins. Everything about the main character of 'More Than This' felt real, his selfishness, his loss, his anger, his guilt and, above all, his desperation and conundrum as to whether he is alive or dead. 

A lot of the time, people have a tendency to pigeon hole YA to not a 'serious' subject material, reducing it down to the 'Twilight's of this world. 'More Than This' wipes this theory off the face of the planet. Taking such a heavy subject matter and handling it so beautifully is the greatest skill of Patrick Ness' novel and it is definitely worth a read, albeit only if you're sure you have existential-crisis-proof hat on.

Could This Be 'The Jewel' In The Crown (Of Dystopian YA)?

I was lucky enough, thanks to Walker Books, to have the chance to read ‘The Jewel’ by Amy Ewing. As I said a few weeks back, I am not a true buff with regards to dystopian fiction, but when I was told this had a real ‘Handmaid’s Tale’ feel to it, I was intrigued. Atwood struck gold with that novel, and I was very interested to see a YA take on the idea.
                This story of Violet, Lot 197, sold to the highest bidder in order to be used as a surrogate, was really moving in sections but also managed to maintain a constant tenseness. The sense of “oh God, what’s that horrible shadow and is it going to come back for her” was written into the very fabric of Ewing’s style. What was most impressive about this however was that I still didn’t lose the actual moments of joy that Violet did have in the novel. It’s easy in a world of seemingly never ending doom to simply extinguish any of the hope for improvement, hitting rock bottom and then simply knocking the floor in again and again. Whilst this can still be really lovely writing, it gets a little desensitising (I use Game Of Thrones deaths for my marker for this one). Even right up to climax of the novel, I still believed and prayed and, though small, the little white saint of hope stood ever-vigilant in a corner somewhere. I’m not a huge sucker for happy endings, in fact quite the opposite, but it always gives a stronger reading experience when you get a three-dimensional view of tragedy. There are quite a few seriously shocking scenes in this book (sorry to spoil, but there were servitude leashes involved) which helped to amplify this contrast even further, assisted even more by the setting. When horrid things happen in grubby towns, it isn’t really a surprising read, but in a palace of sheer decadence and whilst everyone is wearing a chiffon gown? Now that is a place that gives an already horrifying event a whole new skin of repulsiveness.
                This novel was not without its flaws. The romance subplot did feel a little shoe-horned at points, but only because there were quite a few threads they were attempting to tie up. To be fair to novel, it did manage to do this, but there were points where I felt Violet and Ash’s relationship struggled to be a story in its own right, and yet at points it seemed the entire novel’s plot was their love. However, having said this, the romance was not an unlovable twee one, and the “oh I’ve never met someone I might fancy before” vibe at least made sense as Violet had basically never seen any men that weren’t family or her make-up artist for the Auction, Lucian (who was hands down my favourite character, although it did seem a little like copying ‘The Hunger Games’ from the film clips I’ve seen.) Ash felt at least slightly developed, which is more that can be said for most characters of his kind, and, despite being a little too tragic for my liking, I was rooting for him and Violet at the end.
                Overall, I really thought this book did justice to a pretty terrifying theme, and its cliff-hanger ending left me dying for more (seriously, I have already begun fan theories in my mind). The book is released in September, and I highly recommend giving it a go. Ewing has found Atwood’s mine and found a whole new precious metal with ‘The Jewel’.

Hearing Something New In 'Echo Boy'

I will begin this with a fact that may or may not surprise you: I have never read 'The Hunger Games'. It was not like I was staunchly against it, I just never seemed to get around to it. I do like dystopian fiction, after all 'Never Let Me Go' is one of my all time favourites, but the YA ones seem to have passed me by a little. This is why I was really glad that I got the chance to read Matt Haig's 'Echo Boy', a really stirring book about a society questioning what counts as human.

One of the first things you notice when reading 'Echo Boy' is its writing style, which is frankly magnetic. Matt Haig's way of a depicting a fractured half human consciousness is so real and so heart-wrenching at points that I didn't know whether to create an award for its writer or throw pillows at him for making me so sad inside. Daniel's narrative is really endearing and Audrey works well as she stands as a support with Daniel, but is still equal to him. As I said about 'Trouble', I'm a fan of split narratives, particularly because I think it really helps the pace control-wise, and with Daniel and Audrey it really enhanced the "two sides, same coin" theory. Whilst I'll admit the 'opposites attract' theory was not working at necessarily its strongest here, the way the narratives interweave, and the way logical thinking and emotional response act in them, was really quite fantastic.  

The plot of this novel is not the most original or unexpected one I will admit (I mean, since Hamlet we've known that Uncle's are always evil), and there are some issues with the romance element of it, at least for me. I think more than anything, this book struggles from being a few chapters short of perfect. It needed just a little more establishment for the romance, only a little, but it would have really pushed that area from good to great. Saying that, the other areas of the novel certainly mask this element, particularly the concept of echoes at all. The creation of this dystopia is a master-stroke by Matt Haig, but it stands so beautifully because of its surrounding problems, which echo (yes, pun intended) even today. The human debate in the novel originally worried me. It risked running into the territory of cliche and being honest, I am hipster for "urgh, I've heard that before". But it was so well handled in this novel I couldn't resist. Daniel still holds enough automated response to be robot but enough fear (not love) to be human. It's another brilliant plan by Matt Haig that is pulled off near flawlessly.

Before reading 'Echo Boy', dystopian fiction was, I'll admit, a bit of a back thought on a long list of things to try. However, I am thoroughly converted to it by Matt Haig's novel, with a terrifying world of a future that seems all too possible. His style stands a testament to his talent and I was hooked from page one. I'd highly recommend this to anyone who's looking for a rollacoaster read.

Getting into 'Trouble' By Non Pratt

I have read a fair few teenage pregnancy books in my school years. As a constant thing that you’re insensitively warned about at an all-girls school (alongside eating disorders and the devil itself, s-e-x) it was a topic covered by about a quarter of the books in the library. This is partly why I was so interested to see in what direction Non Pratt’s ‘Trouble’ would take the well-used story arc, and, I can happily say, I was not disappointed.
                One of my favourite aspects of this book is its (finally!) non-Mary-Sue protagonist. Hannah is not a perfect angel by any means or definition. She’s selfish, she’s sharp-tongued, but, what I think is the most important thing, she has had sex with more than one person. Her pregnancy is not the result of a single fall from grace (well, not directly) but her simply being sexually active and careless once, out of many times in which she has been safe and careful. She doesn’t stand as a poor spoilt virgin, a dangerous image we see far too often in teen fiction, but a real teenager. I have made this comment before: I would rather read a book with characters that sometimes drive me crazy but act like real, and often irrational, teenagers, than those who form immaculate and adult impressions of teens. Hannah lives in a world where she drinks in the park on Friday nights, smokes cigarettes, and has sex through her own agency and choice (and, in some sections, doesn’t have sex through her own agency and choice). Yet she doesn’t seem to be out-of-control reckless like a daunting Skins character, simply acting like a teenager would, experimenting with her own boundaries, and the boundaries set around her.
                The style with which Pratt writes is really a reason to read the book in itself. The multi-perspective narrative in it truly works to its strength. It is often flipping through the same conversation in Aaron and Hannah’s minds and this had a profound effect on the conversation itself, even at points making it more heart breaking. Pratt’s style of writing dialogue and choreographing events in the present gave the book one hell of a pace, one which meant I was whisked along the story with its characters, with only moments of revelation to stop me in my tracks. This, in combination with her clever characters and twist-turn plot, creates a fantastic read.
                I could still nit-pick at this book for a few things, but I would be nit-picking as a near fine art. I found Aaron’s background vey over-dramatised, partially by its mystery through most of the novel, and I was disappointed that we didn’t see more of the consequences of Hannah’s pregnancy for other members of both her and Aaron’s family (Aaron’s Dad is a teacher at that school and no one seemed to care?). However, a more blue sky thinking part of my rather split mind wonders if that was part of the idea. My comment on multi-perspective narrative in a previous review (of the book Wonder) was very positive, because it allowed the reader to get a full picture of the main character’s life, whereas I think in ‘Trouble’, we see only Hannah and Aaron’s views because that is the degree to which their problems can be expressed. Through other’s eyes, Hannah’s pregnancy is a mistake and Aaron’s crisis over his old friend is simply grief, but that is not a lens that Pratt provides us with. We are restricted in these perspectives in order to understand a more personal version of events, a version that cannot be given by anyone but Aaron and Hannah.
                I thought I may have been done with teenage pregnancy style stories, but the reason that ‘Trouble’ is so good is because it is so much more than that. It is a teenage story, involving pregnancy, but it’s much more a bildungsroman than a simple 9 month diary. With Aaron’s story working in conjunction with Hannah’s, a brilliant, three-dimensional and charming novel is created.