REWIND: 'Pretty Things' by Sara Manning

I am always surprised when I realise how old books I read as a teenager are now by the technicality of years. ‘Pretty Things’ by Sara Manning was a book that really changed my perspective at the age of 15, and now I am suddenly realising it was first published in 2005, nearly 10 years ago. This, whilst frightening the hell out of me, also placed the book in a time frame of developing attitudes, and was something that I really hadn’t taken into account when I read it the first time round.
                ‘Pretty Things’ is a really interesting depiction of teenage sexuality, and is still one of the only books (hold on to your hats, this is the book’s crowning glory) that portrays sexuality as a fluid thing, particularly in teenagers, and really highlights how damaging the block labels of gay, straight, and bisexual can be. Centred around Brie, Charlie, Walker and Daisy’s drama group’s production of ‘The Taming of The Shrew’ (described by the hard-core Daisy as “the biggest pile of misogynistic wank”, and as an English student, I support her in this), we see these characters explore their own and each other’s attraction towards each other, in a far more realistic way than I think my older self would like to believe. Looking back at what I knew of teenage life and the importance of who you were attracted to and who you kissed, taking into account the time the book is written, I had to face the fact that the way the characters act is likely more realistic than this cringing reviewer would like to believe. It was when sexuality had only just become an acceptable thing to mention in schools, and though a still pretty homophobic environment, there was a huge amount of dubbing yourself as “gay” being like a celebrity scandal: you were the talk of everyone for a few weeks, you felt like Katy Perry, and then you wrote it off as a mistake and pretended it didn’t happen. It was horrifically disheartening and cruel to those actually suffering crises of their sexuality. Whilst re-reading this book, and, as far as I recall, reading it the first time, I nearly put it down within the first few chapters, as the initial depictions of the characters as gay boy, straight girl, straight boy and lesbian were such incredible stereotypes. But realising that Manning was setting them up to knock them down is only a journey I can appreciate more in a re-read.
                This may the book’s greatest strength and, at the same time, its greatest flaw. I’m lucky and happy to say I made it past the opening character profiles, but this was mainly owing to the humour in the book (their darling drama teacher was edging for my favourite character spot in the first few chapters), and whilst I’m glad I held on, I can’t help but think about those that didn’t. This book really does show the breaking of those stereotypes, and how those stereotypes of sexuality are built into young people, and how they believe that sexuality is a rigid idea, no grey area, just simple categories. The problem was that it doesn’t show this to you until the romantic entanglements start getting a little complicated. This delay really could have put me off the book quite easily, particularly as Brie’s character was very wearing at first, and I wasn’t too pleased about Daisy either. I’ll be honest, portrayal of women is not the strong point of ‘Pretty Things’, but I can at least see where Manning was aiming for with it, even if she didn’t succeed. There are exceptions to this, for example, in a scene where Brie is nearly sexually assaulted towards the end of novel, and the gang come up to save her, Brie is already beginning to fight off her attacker, although this moment is slightly blotted by the need for the boys, Walker and Charlie, to beat the guy up in penance for his actions. “Bizarre macho display” indeed Charlie.
                Overall, I am really glad to have been able to read this book again. It brightened me a little to think of how far teenage (and adult for that matter) thinking on portraying and understand of sexuality in novels, especially YA novels, had come even back in 2005. I do worry a little at the amount of tokenised characters one tends to see in media and literature aimed at children and young people, so it always raises my optimism bar to remind myself it may not all be like that.

Friends Definitely Let Friends Read - 'Team Human' by Sarah Rees Brennan and Justine Larbalestier

A few weeks ago, I reviewed Holly Black’s clever twist on the typical vampire idealism with her fantastic fantasy ‘The Coldest Girl inCold Town’. This week, I wanted to review to review ‘Team Human’ by Sarah Rees Brennan and Justine Larbalestier, another YA vampire variation, before the little voice in the back of my head chimed in. “Too similar Frankie, too, too similar.” No, I answered the voice, I want my readers to keep Holly Black in mind when they read this, I want them to share my experience of echoes and the spotting of key differences and similarities, creating the same fascinating comparing experience that happened to me. The voice in the back of my head shrugged and sulked, but it said okay, so here goes.
                ‘Team Human’ is another book I really stumbled into in an odd sort of way, and was rather perplexed by. The first point of it that really got me twisting my hair round my fingers in confusion was that vampires in this book are not all that great (at least to the narrator Mel). In every fantasy I have read, the fantasy characters, although always an ‘other’ to the human, and usually dangerous, are glamorous, fixated upon, and above all, longed for (even if it’s a creepy, maybe-yes-maybe-no way). In ‘Team Human’, vampires appear far more like bored individuals, an aging population with nothing particularly vicious about them, barring a few exceptions. The removal of this danger from the vampires is partly just the perspective of the narrative, but, more than that, it really is a tribute to the two authors’ writing in that they make a relatively heavy thematic point in a pretty comedic fashion. The idea of ‘who is the real monster’ is not a new notion (remember Cold Town, remember the last letter which ponders whether the monster is inside all humans?) but in Team Human, instead of the monster in humans, we really see the human in the vampires.
                Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a book simply built out of parody and knitted together with happy co-operation and smiles – it, like most vampire novels, holds unto its gritty violence and a good amount of threat, but I really enjoyed the other side of this novel more. Whilst Holly Black’s earth of vampires trembled and shuddered with shadows bursting from corners, and the ever-creeping feeling of a time bomb inside the narrator ticked on, the world of ‘Team Human’ is described to be a kind of “Las Vegas”, and a lot less exciting than people seem to believe. More than anything, in this world, it is not the crisis of vampires they deal with, but the after effects, not the immediate appearance, but the prejudice and relations between humans and vampires that follows. Whilst I do prefer the thrilling terror of the Cold Town environment, I was fascinated by the rebuilt society that’s established in Sarah Rees Brennan and Justine Larbalestier’s novel.
                However, although I could nit-pick for quite a while on this book for its characters, I will channel my hesitant feelings into one form and that form is the character of Cathy. At first I mistook my misgivings for personal distaste (which I will admit, I am occasionally prone to), but by a third of the way through I began to believe Cathy as a character less and less. She became vaguer and vaguer, until a sudden character break of shouting, which seemed to fade all too fast. But I am torn even now for a final decision on my irritation with this, in regards to whether Cathy is simply written like this, or whether this static nature is a deliberate point of Mel’s perspective. I do hope for the latter, and it would make some form of sense, but fear the former may simply be the explanations (Occam’s razor and all that).
                Overall, I did really enjoy ‘Team Human’, demonstrated, more than anything, in the fact that I didn’t put it down (I read it in roughly two and a half hours). It probably isn’t one of the more technically ‘worthy’ novels I tend to review, but it’s exploration of a human side was something that I really haven’t come across in most kinds of fantasy, and something that keeps me a little conflicted even now.

Note to all: Hey all! I’m so very sorry for the lack of review last week, I have been having a horrible time with work and illness, and, unfortunately, I just couldn’t get around to the laptop or the reading. I shall continue next week as normal!

REWIND: The Fault In Our Stars by John Green

Rewind is a new thing I wanted to start here, in which I review books which I have re-read rather than read for the first time. Re-reading a novel is a weird experience that I know a lot of people can't always enjoy. Despite my endless enthusiasm for reading a book again and again and again, I know it is not everyone's cup of loose leaf peach and raspberry (I've always been a tea snob). I have thought about re-reading 'The Fault In Our Stars' since I read it about a year ago, and I have to be honest, it is undoubtedly still loved, but put into a little perspective after its initial assault on the feels has already been had, which drew out, for me, even more questions (and answers) about within the novel

Firstly, I began to question Hazel and Augustus' relationship a lot more (though to be fair to John Green's character construction, this was more to do with a lot of other people's quibbles with it, and I was worried I may have not noticed its lesser points initially). Oddly enough, when taking a close examination of Gus and Hazel's love, I actually enjoyed it even more. It felt comfortable but not predictable as a re-read, which I always believe to be a good sign, and I felt myself noticing the finer details of it even more. Hazel's realism of the relationship, of herself as a time bomb, did feel overdramatic at points, although, to be honest, if I was a teenager suffering from cancer, I can't exactly say that I'd be any less emotional and generally human.

This really brings me to my next point about TFIOS, and it is something I've raised before on A Midsummer Review, and that is that is portrays teenagers as teenagers. They act cliché and overly romantic, of course they do, they're teenagers, and they attempt to form themselves into individuals in a world, which is hard enough normally, but particularly in a world that tries to form them all to the "sick kid" stereotype. A lot of people have said Gus' cigarette idea is stupid and ridiculous, but what it sounded like to me? What it sounded like to me was the work of an actual teenager, trying to take a grown up and artistic take on a situation that is truly awful. 

The artisan nature of the novel is pretty clear from an initial reading, but a second attempt really drives it home. Many a friend of mine will tell you, I am not a fan of some of Oscar Wilde's work, simply because some of it feels as though it is written in the hope of being quoted, which I always find quite unsettling, as it feels an author attempts to hold the book to the quotes standard, rather than vica versa. TFIOS, as much as I loved it, did reach into this territory at points, and I felt this is likely the product of writing teenagers. It's hard to make omelette without throwing in a few wistful and too-deep-for-you phrases as it were- actually wait, I think my metaphors got mixed. 

All in all, a re-read of this proves to me that TFIOS holds it's ground even when a more critical eye is searching over it. I think this book is just as enjoyable on second reading, if not even more, as John Green's shining style for writing YA beams through.

Getting A Little Chilly With ‘The Coldest Girl In Coldtown’ by Holly Black

If there is one thing that YA seems to be doing amazingly well with right now, it is fantasy. Think of Twilight (try, I know, I don’t really want to do it either), but think of the ludicrous success that came from it. I’ve always thought fantasy was a pretty brilliant genre, and loved it whilst growing up, so I thought I would publicise a far better fantasy vampire novel (it’s okay, this will erase Twilight from your brain) and that is ‘The Coldest Girl In Coldtown’ by Holly Black.
                Oddly enough, when I first learnt about this book, I was having it read to me in a Foyles in Leicester Square, by Holly Black herself, with my over excited best friend next to me, gazing in awe. Originally, I barely knew Holly Black’s name, except that she wrote the Spiderwick Chronicles, which my little sister religiously believed, and Tithe, which my friend adored. It was from her reading of the chapter from ‘The Coldest Girl in Coldtown’ that my interest pricked a little, and from finally getting time to get around to reading it, I am sure as hell glad that I did. The book’s heroine, Tana, after waking up to discover that a house party she believed she embarrassed herself at has had far worse results for everyone else, sets on a journey with her ex and a stray vampire to a Coldtown, a place in which Vampires and those who are ‘Cold’ (pre-vampire) are annexed in order to protect citizens. That is the briefest summary I can give with little spoiler, but I cannot emphasise enough how this does not do the book justice.
                One of the things I liked most about this book is its integration of the vampire world to the real-world, and this, in corporation with Holly Black’s understanding of the late teenage ‘alternative’ grouping, creates a really brilliant, funny, and more than anything believable story. Something that is always seems forgotten in fantasy fiction, particularly in YA, you want your reader to want to, or at least be able to imagine themselves as, a part of your fantasy world. My personal opinion is that if you create some kind of universe that the reader can’t even remotely place themselves into, you need to go back and rethink a few details. I was really immersed in the setting of this book; I could see the Coldtown, and smell the fresh-spilled blood that seemed to lurk around every corner, and I kept wondering, staring down at my Docs, if, in the event of a serious vampire crisis, they’d have thick soles enough to kick a vampire in the teeth. This may just be my over-imaginativeness talking, but the detail set this book in such a good stead that even if the characters hadn’t been as good as they were, I still would have likely loved it.
                The characters, however, were the filling in a rather good version of almond sweet pastry, as they seemed to create the story, rather than the reverse. Call me crazy, but I’m never a big fan of plots dragging characters along with it like they got tied to a run away, Mary Poppins, merry-go-round horse. They functioned in really clever synchronisation, not allowing the story or its premise overwhelm them at any point, creating really intimately, well sculpted relationships between the characters as well. I have to admit the relationship of Winter and Midnight (two totally adorable children of the night who get just a little out of control) was almost flawless in the honest sense of devotion is portrayed, and I think, for me, it even rivalled the relationship of Tana and her sister Pearl. The story itself relies a lot on the concept of protection, family or friends, and the lure of selfishness, and so these relationships really hold well to the book.
                Overall, I really thought this booked risked be simply an antithesis to Twilight, but it was so, SO much more. It was gripping, funny and truly tragic at points but I have to be honest, I wouldn’t ever change that ending for the world. If you want to pick this book  up, I highly recommend following the Answerly ‘Let’s Read’, done by the fabulous Kristina Horner, which I link here. Enjoy all!

Quick personal note: You may notice that whilst I normally post on Fridays (because nothing says let’s kick of the weekend like a book review) this is a Thursday post as I am going to Kita-Con in Birmingham this weekend, but all will return to normal next week. See you all then J

Wonder - R.J Palacio #choosekind

Wonder is a pretty thought provoking title if ever I heard one, particularly for a book that is classified as children’s. What first drew me to this novel is its cover, a cover that feels not only like its eye may be watching you, but that it almost sees through you. Which, in all honesty, is sort of what it felt like to read it.
                I did honestly grow to love Wonder. I was genuinely very worried I wouldn’t because sop stories meant for children are usually far too twee and end far too well for my liking (they still end no better than they started, but my usual contemporary misery ends with people a lot worse off than they began, Tess of D’Urbervilles style). But I must give R. J. Palacio all the credit that she deserves in that Wonder is a true gem of insight into the mind-set of a child in the position of outsider.
                One of the reasons I loved this book was its genuineness. It’s pretty rare to find a kid’s book that actually lets me feel like I’m reading a real child’s perspective, rather than either a stereotype or an angel or both. The multi-perspective aspect of the narrative helps this, as we get not only August, our original protagonist, but Summer and Jack, his friends, Olivia, his sister, and even some of his sister’s friends’ sides of the story, which creates just the kind of layering the deepens interest in the original story, as opposed to feeling like someone is shovelling mashed potato or polenta all over the book. This element was a real asset to the book in that, as a reader, a) you didn’t ever feel too consumed by August and his life but also b) from other people’s viewpoints, you got a far more three-dimensional viewpoint to August on the whole. He doesn’t feel like victim because he feels human and normal, and even irritating at times, which really drives home how “ordinary” (as he describes himself) and yet how truly extraordinary he is.
                I won’t lie, this wasn’t a completely flawless reading experience. August is pretty whiney at times, but to be fair he should be, and everything does wrap up rather too nicely at the end like a weird saccharin after-taste at the end of a pretty balanced meal. By the end (obvious spoiler alert) August is accepted by near all and liked by most, and realises that it is not impossible to be special just for what you are, rather than in spite of it, and most who were mean and cruel to him sit on the peripheral of the novel, slowly vanishing into the soon forgotten sunset. That being said, it’s a much more realistic and entertaining ride to get to this conclusion than you’d think, rather than the standardised, linear upward slant that usually stands in these kinds of books. In fact, by the conclusion of the novel, I felt, as I believe I was likely intended to, that the victory of the end felt deserved and complicated and difficult rather than perfect (at least I hope that was how I was meant to feel upon reaching the end, or I must have seriously missed something).
                This leads to an interesting note on a lot of other reviews I have read of this book which I read before writing this, and that is a comparison they seem to draw between this book and the infamous The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, noting this to be far more realistic, far less neat, and far less twee, sweet and ‘oh-so-romantic’ than TFIOS. I can kind of see where this idea is coming from, but I can honestly say I disagree pretty heartily with it. If TFIOS is all too nice, then Wonder is certainly on the same level, but, luckily for me, I haven’t really found that from reading either. Wonder holds an almost unique quality in its believable niceness that, despite my original misgivings, comes across in a truly charming and endearing manner.

The Long Awaited opening: The Kissing Booth by Beth Reekles

I figured I should start this blog with a kind of explanation, a preface as to what I intend to review, what I like, what I dislike etc, but somehow that seems to be a stall. Another procrastination technique resulting in me not actually getting around to doing any reviews at all, simply a lot of introductions, apologies and goodbyes (and press repeat). I also didn’t want to be limited to one kind of book, like YA, fantasy, contemporary, adult, as, realistically, I like all of those genres and categories a great deal. So, in light of these two thoughts, I decided to begin this summer book review blog (and yes I know it isn’t summer but it is nearly the beginning of my summer) with a YA romance, not something I commonly read, but hey, I’m turning 20 soon and I want to have that butterflies, will-they-won’t-they feeling at least one more time before all films I watch dissolves into gun battles, forced adoption and bitter sweet love. And so, without further ado, I begin my opinionated explanation of Beth Reekles, ‘The Kissing Booth.’
                Now I should clarify, I do have a bit of a soft spot for romance, because, as the cynicism runs through my blood like electrolytes after a sports drink, I need something to remind me that there is something that isn’t hard hitting misery contemporary novels involving kidnap, crying and lonely looking cottages, but, when beginning this book, I was nervous. The blurb of one kiss “changing everything” and “turning her world upside down” seemed guessable plot points, even for a romance, and the leading lady, Elle, didn’t really sell herself to me as a character. Though she did improve, with a little bit of bite to her (well a bit of bite by teenage romantic heroine standards), and her internal monologue was definitely funny, and even quite endearing at points, her love interest, Noah, or occasionally Flynn, on the other hand was the unrealistic rugged dreamboat to a tee (seriously, he had a motorbike and everything) and her friends seemed to be pretty two-dimensional (and also weirdly attracted to her and then suddenly not attracted to her at points). Overall, it wasn’t exactly unique in its fundamentals, and it didn’t initially play up to them enough to be all that fun.

                But in all honesty, it’s not the similarities to every other teen romance that hold in this book, but the differences to the standard model. Whilst it holds moments of romance that, whilst the sceptic in my brain raged loudly about ‘how would that even work’, made my 15 year old self melt into my very seat with sheer wistful longing for love like this, these are usually pretty quickly rebutted with more sobering moments of a more logical nature from Elle. At first glance, I saw these as weird polarised writing, and remember wondering how anyone could be that indecisive, but then it did hit me: most hormonally driven teenagers are. This isn’t a slam at hormonal teenagers; you are kind of supposed to be mixed up, and confused, and indecisive at 17. It happens. And Reekles puts that across in a way that I was actually pleasantly surprised by. A novel in which Elle doted on Noah for 400 pages straight would have caused me to fall asleep by page 10, but it is her changeable nature that actually comes across pretty well, and works in the setting of a teenage life.
                The ending, as differences from the standard teen romance go, was, I think, the greatest strength of this novel. Without spoilers, it is one of the most honest ending of unrealistic and overpowering romance I’ve ever read, with a somewhat moment of notably more adult clarity in an otherwise entirely . And that is what made me really enjoy this book. It isn’t the greatest romance ever told, no, but it is an honest depiction of how teenagers see their own romantic entanglements which is nostalgic (even I’ll admit that’s half of why I liked it) and, more than anything, comforting, sexy, and exciting. Hell, if I can suspend my disbelief for dragons in Game Of Thrones, I’ll certainly let this romance’s style of dramatization slide.