Book Review: "An Absolutely Remarkable Thing" by Hank Green

It was 2:45 in the morning, and April May was walking home in New York City after a long night of working. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it:

"A ten-foot-tall Transformer wearing a suit of samurai armor, its huge barrel chest lifted up to the sky a good four or five feet above my head. It just stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, full of energy and power. It looked like it might, at any moment, turn and fix that empty, regal stare on me. But instead it just stood there, silent and almost scornful, like the world didn't deserve its attention."

April decides to call her friend Andy to see if he could take video of this statue, whom she has called Carl. The two record some video footage just to be sure there was some record it existed, and that it wasn't just some prank. They goof around a bit with the statue, post some footage to social media, and crash.

What awaits April and Andy the next morning is extraordinary. Not only has their video footage gone viral, but apparently, Carls have shown up in cities all across the world. No one understands what they want or where they came from, but one thing is clear: April and Andy have found themselves at the center of a media frenzy, and April is determined to get out in front of the story, even if it means becoming a more public person than she has ever wanted.

"Even Before Carl, I spent time thinking about what I'd say if I ever had a platform to say it. That's what art is about, right? I mean, not app interfaces, but art. Much of the best art is about balancing between reflecting culture while simultaneously being removed from it and commenting on it. In the best case, maybe an artist gets to say something about culture that hasn't been said and needs to be said."

The pair connects with Miranda, a scientist, who believes that the Carls are asking for materials—iodine, americium, and uranium. When a small experiment with Carl leads to chaos across the world, people, including the U.S. government, start to worry if the Carls' intentions are positive and/or peaceful, which forces April to realize that there are individuals out there who want to advance their own causes, and will use Carl—and her—as pawns.

An Absolutely Remarkable Thing is as much a story about the origins and intentions of the Carls as it is a commentary on our fame-obsessed culture. April discovers, slower than she might have hoped, that while it may be exciting to get everything you've always wanted, to appear on every conceivable television program and talk show, and even have the president's private phone number, there are consequences, which can put your own safety at risk, as well as your relationships, your health, even your future.

This book was a little zany for my tastes. I felt like it didn't really know whether it wanted to be more of a sci-fi mystery about the Carls or more of a lampoon of the culture of celebrity, and meshing the two didn't quite work. While there are parts of this book which feel very current, after a while I thought things were getting repetitive and a little bit overly complicated.

I'm a big fan of John Green, and his brother Hank definitely shares some storytelling characteristics, as well as a penchant for characters whose primary language is sarcasm. I thought Hank Green had a really interesting idea, but he didn't quite execute it as well as he could have. There are definitely interesting, humorous, and insightful moments here, but overall, the story seemed a little too wacky.

Book Review: "See All the Stars" by Kit Frick

I really enjoyed this book and found it surprisingly poignant. Think of it as not-so Mean Girls crossed with We Were Liars or One of Us is Lying, where you know something happened, but you just don't know what or who was responsible until you get further into the book.

Once the four of them were practically inseparable friends—Ellory, Ret, Jenni, and Bex. While Ret always had control over the group's dynamics (or the others paid the price), they spent most of the first three years of high school in each other's orbit. But everyone knew that Ret and Ellory were the closest, and while Ret liked to keep Ellory on her toes, she knew Ellory would always come running when she wanted her to.

"Little by little, she drew me to the surface. Soon Ret's world was my world, her friends my friends. It was like it had always been that way. Everything Ret touched felt electric, exciting, a little bit dangerous. Including me. Before Ret, I was basically invisible. With Ret, I was somebody."

But now, as Ellory prepares to start her senior year of high school, she is alone. Her friendships have been destroyed, her classmates whisper about her (or even dare to ridicule her), even her teachers treat her with caution. She just wants to make it through until the end of the school year, when hopefully she can go to art school across the country. Until then she wants to put everything that happened toward the end of junior year behind her, when everything changed, leaving her feeling angry, guilty, hurt, and alone. But there's one person who keeps writing her notes that doesn't want her to forget just yet.

How did everything change so drastically? During junior year she was in love with Matthias, a beautiful but troubled classmate. Even though her relationship with Matthias limited her ability to be at Ret's beck and call all the time, she still was able to hang out with Ret, Bex, and Jenni, and enjoy their usual pastimes. Why is she the one everyone treats differently? Why didn't anyone take her side?

See All the Stars shifts back and forth from junior year when life seemed idyllic, to senior year when everything is so different and Ellory is an outcast. Recounting the lazy summer days, the flush of first love, the jumble of emotions, the tug of obligation between romance and friendship, to the jealousy, recriminations, confusion, and anger, the book both gradually reveals what happened how Ellory struggles to make sense of all of it, and how, ultimately, she realizes what must be done if she can ever move on.

I really enjoyed the way Kit Frick set this story up. While at times the jumping back and forth between past and present was a little confusing, by and large it really worked to stoke the suspense and make you question just which characters you can trust. While some of what happened was not surprising, there was one moment that surprised me, and I actually had to go back and re-read the previous pages, thinking, "Wait, what?"

Certainly what some of the characters go through is moving, but what was most poignant is how in a split second everything can change, how insecure people act often act in selfish and cruel ways, and how hard it is to pick up the pieces of your life when not all that occurred was your fault. All of those emotions run through See All the Stars, and while there is certainly no shortage of teenage angst, there's little melodrama.

Once again, I must marvel at the immense depth of talent in the YA genre right now. There are so many different types of YA books being written right now, and there are some authors, like Frick, who really know how to tell a story and pique your emotions. This was a good one, and I can't wait to read her next book.

Book Review: "The Best Bad Things" by Katrina Carrasco

This book takes you on a wild ride, with a protagonist unlike any other.

Alma Rosales is a detective, trained by the famed Pinkerton Agency. That's pretty unusual for a woman in the 1880s. But the thing is, Alma isn't all that interested in playing by the rules. She doesn't respond too well to authority, she has (more than) a bit of a violent streak, and she likes dressing up as a man to go undercover. None of this sits well with the Pinkertons, who dismiss her.

Now Alma works for Delphine, who runs a smuggling ring—and who happens to be Alma's occasional lover. On the hunt for stolen opium, Alma figures the only way to find the criminal is to go undercover. So she pretends to be Jack Camp, a dockworker, and she figures that by befriending the local boys and getting in with the crew, she'll be able to unmask the criminal. If only it were that easy...

The deeper Alma ingratiates herself (as Jack), the more she finds it hard to keep her wits about her and remember to whom she's told what lies. She's also playing both ends against the middle in the romance department as well, and Delphine in particular doesn't take that too well. With the Pinkertons circling, Alma needs to marshal all of her strengths in order to kick ass and take names—or she could die trying.

There are a lot of twists and turns and double-crosses in The Best Bad Things, so I'll keep my plot summary fairly vague. Suffice it to say, Alma is one of the most fascinating characters I've read about in a long time. I'm loving the recent trend toward gender-fluid characters and characters whose sexuality isn't the defining trait, but it's not so much the norm when books take place outside of present-day.

But as fascinating a character as she was, I didn't like her very much. She really had a mean streak and I couldn't determine what its origin was, but it made it difficult to sympathize with her. I'm also not sure that I really bought the whole cross-dressing thing—I just kept waiting for it to all fall apart. There are some intense sex scenes in the book, some which were tinged with violence, so that may be a trigger for some folks. The book also jumps around a lot, so the story and the timing of certain things became confusing from time to time. It was interesting to learn about the crime that took place in Washington in the late 1880s, and to see the myriad roles women played in such a lawless society.

Even with its flaws, this was a really interesting book. I hope more authors take risks like Katrina Carrasco did her, and create unique characters that defy stereotypes and aren't above some occasional ass-kicking.

NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!

Book Review: "Children of Blood and Bone" by Tomi Adeyemi

Tomi Adeyemi's Children of Blood and Bone has appeared on countless year-end "Best of" lists. After reading it, I can unequivocally say that the accolades are justified. This is a triumph of storytelling, and Adeyemi has built a fascinating world with unforgettable characters.

"They don't hate you, my child. They hate what you were meant to become."

Orïsha was once a land where magic ruled. Those with magical ability, the maji, could do many different things. Some could control water, others could control fire, some read minds, and some were able to summon forth souls. But King Saran was afraid of the kind of power the maji had, so he ordered their destruction. One night, the magic died, and those who were heirs to that power were treated as outcasts, thought of as maggots.

Zélie was young the night her mother, a powerful maji, was murdered, and her father was badly beaten. Their lives, and the life of her older brother Tzain, have never been the same. The king's men take advantage of Orïsha's citizens, raising taxes on a whim, and essentially working them to death. Tzain wants to follow the rules, but Zélie has a rebellious spirit, and won't surrender without a fight.

"He wants to believe that playing by the monarchy's rules will keep us safe, but nothing can protect us when those rules are rooted in hate."

It turns out that the artifacts that can resurrect magic were never destroyed. When Zélie and Tzain are on a trading mission, they rescue the princess, Amari, who is trying to escape the evil of her heritage. Reluctantly allowing her to join them, they discover that she has possession of the magical scroll, one of the pieces needed to bring magic back. And because she has magic in her blood, Zélie is the only one who can save magic and defeat the monarchy.

It won't be an easy fight, as Inan, the heir to Saran's throne (and Amari's brother) will stop at nothing to destroy magic once and for all, and anyone who gets in his way. It's far more complicated, though, than simply following his father's orders and proving his mettle as the future king—Inan has a connection to magic he cannot let anyone find out. But Zélie knows his secret, and isn't above using it if she can.

This will be a battle for the very soul of a people and the lives they were born into. It will require more strength than they could ever imagine, and the ability to let their minds rule, not their hearts, for their hearts could lead them into the most dangerous territory of all.

I thought this was a terrific, creative concept. It's tremendously detailed, and it took a while for me to get all of the characters straight in my mind, but I was hooked on this story from the get-go. Adeyemi created such a fascinating world, and even though you've seen these themes before, you haven't seen them played out by characters like these. There are a lot of accent marks over certain letters in many names, so I wonder if listening to the book would help clear some of the mystery of how particular words were pronounced.

At times this book was electrifying and at times the pace dragged a little bit, but overall, the story is compelling and affecting. I am looking forward to seeing what happens next in this series (it looks like the next book is due in March) and hope it recaptures the magic (pun intended and unintended) of Children of Blood and Bone.

Book Review: "The Museum of Modern Love" by Heather Rose

Fans of 80s music, do you remember Hall & Oates' song, "Method of Modern Love"? The one that went, "M-E-T-H-O-D O-F L-O-V-E. It's the method of modern love..."? Because of a slightly similar title to this book (and nothing else), I couldn't get that song out of my head the entire time I read this! (I'm sure those of you who aren't familiar with the song are wondering what the hell I'm talking about.)

Pardon my digression.

Art fascinates me. While I tend to be a fairly literal person when it comes to art I enjoy (although I'm a sucker for Georges Seurat's pointillism), I'm always amazed by how differently people can interpret the same work of art. And that's not even taking performance art into consideration, which is a whole different jar of paint. (I was trying to go with an arty metaphor.)

Arky Levin is a musician who composes film scores, but he's hit a rough patch. His wife's unexpected departure has left him time to work, but he cannot seem to make any progress, so he decides to visit the Museum of Modern Art as a diversion.

"Levin was ready for something big. What was the point of turning fifty if you weren't ready to peak?"

At the museum he stumbles on an exhibit that he cannot get out of his mind. Visitors sit across a table from the performance artist Marina Abramović, without saying a word. (This is based on Abramović's real installation in 2010.) They can sit for as long or as little as they like; they can stare directly at the artist, glance at her shyly, or do whatever they choose. Some cry, some beseech the artist for some silent words of encouragement or strength, some simply enjoy being part of an art installation.

While the people who participate in the exhibit find themselves inexplicably changed, so do those simply viewing it. Arky is fascinated by the installation, and becomes one of a number of museum-goers who return day after day, simply to watch the parade of people sitting across from the artist. As he builds connections with his fellow observers, reflects upon his troubling relationship with his wife, and thinks about his work, he, too, starts to feel changed, as if somehow the exhibit is helping him through osmosis of some kind.

"Art is really a sort of sport. To master the leap is essential. It is the game of the leap. Practice, practice, practice, then leap. The starting point may be different for each, but the goal is the same. Do something worthwhile before you die."

The Museum of Modern Love is certainly a commentary about art and its effects on the viewers, the artist, and the participants, but more than that, this is a book about connection, human connection, and how much we hunger to be seen, heard, and viewed as relevant, as worthy. Of course, as the title suggests, this is also a book about love, and how we are changed by both its presence and its absence.

This was a tremendously thought-provoking book with many layers. I wasn't exactly sure what to expect when I started it, and my expectations kept changing as I read it. There are a lot of characters, and at times, the alternating of perspectives (as well as the shifting of time in Arky's recollections of his relationship with his wife) felt a bit confusing. But just like the way your perceptions change if you stare too long at a painting, the book's complexities kept revealing themselves.

Performance art isn't for everyone, and this book won't be either. But Heather Rose does a masterful job at creating such a unique story, anchored by some fascinating characters.

Book Review: "Confessions of the Fox" by Jordy Rosenberg

When I first saw the description of this book, I thought it was going to be similar to Mackenzi Lee's book, The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue, which I loved and absolutely devoured. There's just something to be said for historical novels which tweak the then-conventional ideas of gender and sexuality.

While Confessions of the Fox is definitely a creative idea, it really didn't work for me. I've never been a big fan of the whole is-what-you're-reading-true-or-simply-a-construct-of-the-narrator's-imagination concept, and this book trades on that idea a lot. I thought that Jack, in particular, was a fascinating character, but I kept stumbling over the idea that what I was reading might not actually have happened, and that made me lose focus quite a bit.

Jordy Rosenberg did a terrific job with this idea, but the story as a whole just didn't work for me.

NetGalley and Random House provided me an advance copy of the book in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!

Book Review: "The Dakota Winters" by Tom Barbash

Imagine what it must be like to have a famous father, and to play a role in his fame. Imagine what it's like to be so enmeshed in his situation that you're not sure where his path ends and yours begins, or how to separate the two.

That describes Anton Winter's life pretty perfectly. His father, Buddy, was a famous late-night talk show host, and for years Anton, his mother, and his siblings played parts in many of the sketches his father did.

As Anton got older, he played a more crucial role in the show, running through Buddy's monologue with him, prepping him regarding his various guests, and prepping the celebrity and non-celebrity guests as well. And then one night, Buddy had a bit of a nervous breakdown and flamed out, and disappeared for a while.

Finding himself at loose ends, Anton goes to Gabon with the Peace Corps for 10 months, and returns home after a particularly bad bout of malaria, which nearly killed him. It's January of 1980, and he returns to his family's apartment in the Dakota, the legendary complex in New York City. The city, and the country, are on edge, with crime in the city on the rise again, the Iranian hostage crisis, and presidential politics heating up.

While there's tumult around them, Buddy is back to his old self, if not better and stronger. He is a more present figure in the lives of his family for the first time in a long while, and the stability feels like the return of an old friend. But Buddy is longing to get back into show business, and Anton wants to help get him there. It's not long before Anton is becoming his emissary, trying to find an angle to get him a place in front of the public he misses so much.

As Anton works to find Buddy's next opportunity, he's trying to decide what's next for him as well. He fills his nights working as a busboy at a fancy restaurant, and he spends time getting closer with one of his father's close friends and their neighbor in the Dakota, John Lennon. What John wants more than anything is to learn how to sail, and Anton is able to teach him, and bring the singer peace amidst the demands of fans for more music.

The Dakota Winters was a really fascinating read, full of the complicated, interdependent relationships among family members who try to make another's dream happen. There are lots of show business-related tidbits, and the book had a real you-are-there feel for different places and moments in history, like the 1980 Winter Olympics and some rallies for Ted Kennedy during his bid for the Democratic presidential nomination.

I really enjoyed the characters in this book, although Anton and Buddy were the most vividly drawn of all. I also found the scenes with John Lennon pretty fascinating, and while this is a work of fiction, his personality seemed very much in keeping with what I've read about him in the year prior to his death. I've never read anything that Tom Barbash has written before, but he definitely has a knack for telling a great story.

The pacing was a bit slower than I would have liked—I felt like the book was moving toward a few inevitable conclusions, and it took a little longer to get there. I also found the transition to the epilogue of sorts to be kind of abrupt, and given how much I became attached to the characters, I felt a little gypped by that. But none of these issues were insurmountable, and there's so much to enjoy about this book.

I joke sometimes that when I think "40 years ago," I think of the 1960s, but crazily enough 1979 will be 40 years ago next year. (Next week, actually.) The Dakota Winters is a great snapshot of that time, and a great family story.