Popular by Alissa Grosso (A Book Review)

Hamilton Best is beautiful and perfect, the queen bee of Fidelity High, attended to by her worker bees, The Clique.  Her posted guest lists to her fabulous parties leave students either jubilantly bouncing off the lockered hallways or weeping and gnashing their teeth in the lav.  You know you’ve arrived when Hamilton takes notice of you.  But all is not well amongst the clique—Olivia, Nordica, Zelda, and Shelly.  Each has her own agenda and Hamilton is not on it.  But Hamilton has a secret, one only known by her boyfriend, Alex.  And it might just have the power to undo them all. 

Popular is told in first person through six people’s alternating points of view: Hamilton, Olivia, Nordica, Zelda, Shelly, and Alex.  I picked up this book at a conference and didn’t have the slightest clue what to expect.  All I could tell was that it wasn’t my typical read (not a bad thing, per se).  This is probably the most POV’s in one story that I’ve ever read and I confess, a couple of times I scratched my head and wondered if there was a point.  There is.  Go with it. 

What Ms. Grasso effectively manages to do is create a sense of impending portent.  I knew “something” was going to happen. That mood is what kept me turning the pages.  I guessed that it would be big and bad…though it ended up not being any of my initial imaginings. That’s a good thing.  Would it be bragging if I say I figured it out ahead of time, but barely?  (I am SO biting back a 1999 movie quote right now, it’s almost painful. But it could be a spoiler if you’re familiar with the movie…so I shall refrain.  But feel free to contact me if you’re curious)  ;)

A note of critical analysis, as always.  This story is told through a lot of first person internal narration. We’re camped inside the characters’ heads much of the time, not necessarily a bad thing but I thought that the “voice” of each of the characters seemed to be a bit mature, considering none of these kids seemed quite qualified to be pre-ordering a maroon Harvard hoodie.   

My favorite part of the book: It ended differently than it began (in a good way).  I love when music does that.  I love when life does that. A literary Sour Patch Kid. This was where the surprise factor came in for me. That’s the part I didn’t see coming.  But it ended the way I want all my books to end.  Me with a content smile on my face. 

Parental concerns:  Cussing.  A couple of non-descript kisses.  That’s all folks.  J

          --Suzi Ryan

Finding the Right Words, Reflections on the heartbreak of 9/11

It’s after midnight on September 11th.  In just a few hours, the clocks will strike 8:46 a.m. marking a decade’s passing of the unimaginable.  For the last month, I have been thinking of this very night… wondering what I would be doing, how I would be remembering, and maybe more importantly, what I would be writing.

A blog post, an article, or even a journal entry seemed in order.  Over the past few weeks, I struggled to find words that would articulate what I had to say.  Strange as it may seem, the usual rambling writer in me stayed stubbornly silent.  My poised fingers refused to cooperate in creating a stellar account worthy of commemorating the lives lost and the radical changes that our nation underwent that day.

Now, in the eleventh hour, as I sit staring at my blank laptop screen lamenting the lack of words for such a critical occasion, it suddenly dawns on me as to why I cannot write.  For the past few months… no, for the past few years… I have written about 9/11 and its aftermath out of a sense of obligation. Whether writing about the tragedy, or about being Muslim in America post 9/11, or about the painful loss of lives, my writing often felt like a duty, both required and expected.  I developed a weighted sense of responsibility that urged me to write statements staunchly opposing terrorism, denouncing the hijackers, and lamenting the slaughter mainly from the point of view of a Muslim Arab-American.

In all these writings, though, I always felt like there was a missing element.  Something in my words just didn’t feel right.  I couldn’t bring myself to write about my own experiences or my own reflections of 9/11.  I never wrote about how years before that fateful day, I travelled daily through the World Trade Center on the Path train during my commute to my first internship in the city. I never mentioned how giddy I felt gawking at the majesty of the buildings the first time I laid eyes on them.  I never shared the sense of pride I had of working in a city that I had fallen in love with.

 I couldn’t bring myself to write about the sickness in my stomach as I watched the towers collapse on the news while holding my newborn safely at home several miles away from the scene.  I never shared the inexplicable worry that shot through me as I wondered if the friendly pizza man in the WTC Sbarro’s ever got out okay.  I never wrote about my own sense of sadness after learning that friends I’d worked with had lost lives that day.

And then it clicked.  I couldn’t write about 9/11 today because for so long I had set up a clear distinction… a barrier between emotion and obligation.  My writing on the topic embodied this separation.  As explanation usurped emotion, I never articulated my own feelings of humanity or my shared sense of loss.  I bought into the mediated distinction of the Muslim “other” and neglected to focus on the communal sentiment of a human being sharing the desolation of unbelievable tragedy.  In trying so hard to avoid being viewed as an outsider, my defensive mode of writing did just the opposite. 

As the clock creeps closer and closer towards marking the ten years that passed since the tragedy of 9/11, I can finally write.  I can let go of the need to find the “perfect” words because there are no words that can erase such deep wounds.  I can focus less on what to write and more on what to do. 

My nation is in mourning today for the loss of lives here and abroad after the senseless heartbreak of 9/11.  As an American… no, as a human… I know what I should do today.  Writing empty words in an attempt to honor the memories of so many is not enough.  Breaking down self-imposed barriers through actions is a much more potent reminder of the beauty of our country, our communities, and the people we lost.  Strengthening the bonds of humanity by helping others today shows respect and compassion borne of the deep sympathy that was shared on the day that changed our world ten years ago.  For me, the best form of commemoration on 9/11 is a day spent helping others-- hand-in-hand, un-alienated from my country, my people, and my world. 

How will you remember?

May the lives we lost on 9/11 serve as a memory to strengthen our human bonds.  May the souls all rest in peace.  And may the families and friends of loved ones find comfort and consolation in the hearts of their communities.

          --Post by Suzy Ismail

Forever, by Maggie Stiefvater (A book review)

Forever is the third and final installment of The Wolves of Mercy Falls.  This is where I normally do a brief synopsis of the book but I can’t effectively do that without giving away the ending of the second book, Linger.  And since I want people to read this series spoiler free, let me just sum up:  These books are about people who change into wolves  and then back again, all outside of the individual’s will, which lead to some interesting and heart breaking scenes.  In Ms. Stiefvater’s mythos, lycanthropy is a disease that can be transmitted via bites, but one that just might have a cure.  This book is told through alternating POV’s of Sam, Grace, Cole and Isabel. Okay, so glad to get that out of the way….

Now, I’m about to do something I’ve yet to do so far in my reviews:  GUSH.  I.  Loved. This.  Book.  This series contains the hands-down swooniest, sigh-worthy couple in YA paranormal: Sam and Grace.  Sam—A guy who sings, plays guitar, writes his own music AND works in a book store…be still my beating heart.  And I’m known to be harsh on my female protagonists, but I am quite fond of Grace, with her ‘what you see is what you get’ sensibility. Plus, she loves coffee.  A girl after my own heart.  And Cole? Former front man of a world famous band, one who is quite accustomed to abusing his body, running down demons from his past and needing to prove himself.  Ah, my other weakness—a redemption story.  Lastly, ice princess Isabel with the chip on her shoulder larger than the National Debt.  I confess, I didn’t care for her much in Shiver and Linger, but she finally grew on me in this book.  Hats off to Ms. Stiefvater for effective character development. 

But what do I love the most? Maggie’s writing.  One of my top two favorite YA authors (Cassandra Clare is the other, in case you were curious), Maggie writes effortless, flawless lyrical prose like few I’ve read. Most people who attempt lyrical only achieve one thing:  trite, over-worked,  hyperbolic drivel plagued by a surplus of metaphors and similes.  Contrastingly, Maggie’s writing is well-balanced, thoughtful, beautiful and so swooooooony.  I can’t even begin to tell you how many sighs I uttered over the two days it took me to polish off this novel.  And, deep dark confession—I cried my eyes out.  Some who know me might ask: ‘what else is new?’  Okay, yeah, I’ve been known to cry over as little as a Pampers commercial, but I’m quite jaded when it comes to books.  It takes much to draw literary-induced tears from me.  But I had the whole delightful rabbit hole experience with this book.  One where I tagged off parental responsibility to my hubby, grabbed a box of tissues, dashed into my bedroom before my kids could see my girlie tears, and locked myself in until the very end. 

Here’s where I normally offer one piece of criticism.  I’d like to call this section “discussion” instead.  I glanced at a few of the Amazon reviews and was flabbergasted that anyone could possibly give this book three stars.  I understand what the critiquers were saying.  I’m also pretty sure these people have not read much of Ms. Stievfater. Whether her earlier works with fairies or her short stories, this author does not sit you down with a bib, cut up your food, feed you by hand, and then wipe your slobbery mouth for you.  She likes to leave a bit open, trusting her reader’s imagination to fill in the gaps.  I respect her for this. That being said…I admit, I would have liked my steak cut up a bit more for me concerning the relationship between Cole and Isabel.  After two books of deliciously written tension involving the two, I was still left a tad bit hungry in the end.  Note to Maggie:  I’m still longing for the red coffee pot.  You did such a great job of putting that symbol in all three books, I very much would have liked to have seen its inclusion in the ending. 

Of all of the YA books stretched to more than a mere trilogy, (ones with not nearly enough plot to support the act), this is the first series I would have liked to have seen just one more book.  Alas, the good ones seem to go too soon.  Sam and Grace, I shall sincerely miss you (and Grace, in my happily ever after imagination, I shall buy you your shiny new red coffee pot as a wedding present, for many happy years of caffeinated bliss).  J

Parental concerns and spoilers:  There is mild foul language.  This is one of those series where the characters are engaging in sexual activity.  I personally did not find it gratuitous, fitting well inside the YA norm of giving the reader just enough to make sure you know where it’s going and then letting the camera fade to black.  If at all concerned, I advise you to read first.   

Favorite Forever quotes:

“I didn’t want to talk.  I wanted to curl up against him and fall asleep.  More than anything, I wanted to be able to see him again, to see in his eyes that what we had had been real and that he wasn’t a stranger.  I didn’t want a big gesture, an elaborate conversation—I just wanted to know that something was still the same when everything else had changed.”

“There is no better taste than this: someone else’s laughter in your mouth.”  (I can NOT even begin to tell you how much I love this line).

“Then I began to play.  Variations on a G major chord, the most wonderful chord known to mankind, infinitely happy.  I could live inside a G major chord, with Grace, if she was willing.  Everything uncomplicated and good about me could be summed up in that chord.”

“The thing I was beginning to figure out about Sam and Grace, the thing about Sam not being able to function without her, was that that sort of love only worked when you were sure both people would always be around for each other.  If one half  of the equation left, or died, or was slightly less perfect in their love, it became the most tragic, pathetic story invented, laughable in its absurdity. Without Grace, Sam was a joke without a punch line.”

          --Reviewed by Suzi Ryan

Keeping the “Me” in Marriage: A Book Review of Kristin Hannah’s “Distant Shores”

Kristin Hannah’s novel, Distant Shores, is not the type of book that makes you walk into walls because you can’t put it down long enough to make it to the bathroom.  Instead, Hannah’s work reads like a warm tidal wave of words that gently washes over the reader.    Neither shocking in originality nor surprising in its plot twists and turns, the beauty of this book lies more in its realistic content, rather than in any gimmicky moments of instant gratification or superbly developed characters.

Much like marriage itself, Hannah’s book requires a slow appreciation and a gentle simmering of mixed emotions.  Instead of being a drawback though, this deliberate measured pace is precisely where the value of Distant Shores lies.  The main character, Elizabeth “Birdie” Shore, is the forty-something mother of two college-aged girls who suddenly realizes she’s lost herself in the years she’s dedicated to being an exemplary mother and wife.  As her husband begins to focus more on his own professional success and her girls are consumed by their college careers, Birdie is left wondering what she has been working towards all these years and why her marriage and life suddenly hold no meaning for her.

Although sprinkled with clichés and riddled with a plethora of lonely sea imagery, Hannah somehow makes these common devices work as metaphors for marriage.  The writing style fits the topic of her book because dissolving marriages are relevant, familiar, and yet often unaddressed in our societies today.  The present unraveling of marriages and families is not something that happens overnight or with a sudden big bang.  Instead, the demise of a marriage is often a surreptitious unwinding that begins with a single thread, continually picked at until it pulls the whole sweater apart.  Like the drip of molasses, Hannah’s words and writing style capture that slow pace of family estrangement.  Bit by bit, the clandestine winds of discontent settle in and carry the couple apart, both physically and emotionally. 

Hannah’s message is a strong one that isn’t articulated quite enough in any medium.  Although the character of Birdie opts for a marital separation in order to “find herself,” the author doesn’t seem to be advocating this path of family destruction.  Both husband and wife realize in the end that despite the bumps in the road, the 24 years of marriage they shared is not something that can be easily forgotten or tossed aside.

Distant Shores is the type of work that can only be what you make of it.  Some readers may interpret it as encouraging an individualistic outlook, but I am confident that the underlying message is all about finding that middle road.  Marriage does not have to result in the loss of self and identity, particularly for the mothers in this world.  Instead, marriage can and should be the bond that helps each partner develop a stronger sense of self with the support and sanctity of a spouse.

While this novel won’t leave you breathless from excitement or emotion, it will provide you with a realistic look at married life with words that mimic the gentle swaying of a summer hammock rather than the rocking of a roller-coaster.  Losing yourself in life and in marriage is not a path worth following, but losing yourself in Hannah’s novel definitely is.

          --Suzy Ismail

Passion, a Fallen novel by Lauren Kate (a book review)

Passion is the third (but not final) installment in the Fallen series. The second book, Torment, ends with the protagonist Luce jumping into an Announcer (kind of a shadowy, past memory/time portal device), as she is frustrated with her fallen angel boyfriend, Daniel, who won’t tell her anything about their past lives together or the curse that has plagued them for centuries, destining Luce to repeat her life, birth through age seventeen, again and again. Passion is almost exclusively a time jumping tour (feels a little like Groundhog Day goes island hopping), each trip taking her further back into the past with Luce learning a little more about the curse and the triggers that end her life each time, perpetuating her circuitous rebirth.

This is one series I look forward to, one that doesn’t merely get tossed on top of my teetering “To Be Read” pile.  Luce and Daniel are definitely one of the swooniest couples in current YA paranormal romance (anyone who knows me, knows I love my swoon). And this book has plenty…dare I say almost too much. Almost. I can’t believe I just said that! Excuse me while I wash my proverbial mouth out with soap. But alas, it’s true. I learned that even I  have a limit and this book took me right to the edge and dangled my ‘ruby slipper red’ pedicured tootsies over it. So, fellow swooners, rejoice. 

Ms. Kate seems to have had some fun with this book, imagining her characters in different times and parts of the world and how the social conventions of those would affect the couple’s relationship. World Wars I and II are covered. Also 1800 England, 1700 Tibet and France, all the way back until the years tick in reverse, 1046 BCE China and 3100 BCE Egypt. This novel is a bit of  a bonus for lovers of paranormal and historical fiction. 

At this time, I’d like to tip my hat to Ms. Kate for creating a male and female character I adore. Thing is, it’s not Luce or Daniel.  Supporting cast Arriane and Cam win that prize. Now for a deep, dark, secret confession few know: I generally don’t like female characters. Trust me, I want to be all girl power, but very few of the fictional fairer sex garner my admiration. Arriane is a street smart, tough cookie of a fallen angel, capable of kicking any guy’s tail feathers. We get to see loads of her in Fallen, one great scene in Torment,  and barely at all in Passion. L I’d have loved one big scene in Luce’s past life with Arriane, (perhaps while cast in the trappings of frills, lace, and a corset), seriously clocking someone.

So clearly for me…it’s all about the boys. And in this case, Cam, a superbly written character with a crystal clear voice. If Cam saunters into a scene, you know who is speaking long before the first dialogue tag. He’s a demon who’s a little bit sexy and a whole lotta sarcastic. My favorite combination. And we certainly get more of Cam in this book than the last (though I confess, I was still left uttering to Ms. Kate, “Please, mum, can I have some more?”). 

Parental note and potential spoilers: There is very little foul language, perhaps the only usage being H. E. double hockey sticks. All three books contain very descript kisses (Lauren Kate is one of the best writers of kisses) and some very non-descript wandering hands over fully clothed bodies. Keep in mind, Disney has optioned this series, so it would be a good ‘mom/daughter read together’ before it’s in the theaters (Dear Disney producer people: Think Pirates. This series is a bit dark. Respect it. Thank you. P.S. I’ll be there opening night). 

In closing, I say, read the books, don’t wait for the movies.  J

    --Suzi Ryan

Sirenz, by Charlotte Bennardo and Natalie Zaman (A Book Review)

“Frenemies” Meg and Shar are reluctant roomies in a fourth year Live-In program in Manhattan.  While fighting over a pair of red patent Vivienne Westwood heels on the subway platform, a fatal “accident” occurs involving a very superhot, innocent bystander.  During the aftermath, who should show up but Hades, Greek god of the Underworld himself. He offers to undo the damage from the girls’ mishap if they agree to become his Sirens, with a special assignment to lure a famous fashion mogul, whose contract just expired,  to the underworld.

Okay, so Sirenz is NOT my typical read.  I live mostly in the YA world of oblivious female protagonists and enigmatic, brooding boys with far too many secrets. Let’s compare to one of my favorite topics, shall we?  Chocolate.  I love chocolate. Lots of chocolate (just ask my hips). Problem is, after a number of bites, the complexity  of the cocoa concoction becomes muddy and lost.  But break it up with a bit of vanilla? Or a lovely raspberry sauce? Ah, the chocolate once again delves into intricate layers of flavor. So, for me,  Sirenz was a lovely, literary palate cleanser. 

Co-authors Charlotte Bennardo & Natalie Zaman have penned a story of unlikely friends caught up in the conspiracies and meddlings of the Greek gods. Hades takes the center spotlight and no, this is not the animated James Woods’ version of Hades stuck in many of our brains.  Hades is smooth talking, well dressed and kind of…hot.  Demeter, Persephone, and Hera all make appearances and assist  Hades with doling out plenty of red tape and “fine print below.”

A word of constructive analysis, as always. I would have liked Shar’s temptation to have been more of a struggle. Shar was such a strong character (not a bad thing, per se) that I wasn’t worried she’d give in. What can I say…I like to worry and I like to be tempted.  I’ll say no more—don’t want to head into spoiler territory.  

The bottom line is Sirenz is super-quick, funny, and easy to read—perfect for a summertime list of books to conquer, especially as a means to break up whatever your regular read is (unless your favorite reads are light, witty YA, in which case this would fit in nicely with your library).  I deem this book fairly high on my “daughter/mom books to read together” list. There is a mild amount of cussing and just a splash of sexy. 

I shall now return to my regular literary diet of boys I can’t figure out if I want to slap or kiss…or preferably both—at least until Charlotte and/or Natalie’s next book is released.  J

    --Suzi Ryan

The Crankamacallit: A Review of Mimi Cross’s New Interactive iPad Story App

The Crankamacallit.  Say that three times fast and let the syllables tickle your tongue.  The title’s probably already got you smiling inside and out.  With such an intriguing name, you know that lots more giggles are sure to follow in this hilarious interactive iPad App. 

Dr. Seuss couldn’t have penned a more aptly fitting title for such a high-tech tale.  The Crankamacallit is the story of a crazy gadget that piques the curiosity of kids of all ages.  The magical twist to this highly amusing tale is that Mimi Cross, the creative author, has chosen the perfect technology medium to showcase her true visual and literary work of art.  

Displayed on the iPad, the story comes to life and becomes a virtual playground for both children and adults.  Mimi Cross’s creation is clearly a beacon for the future of children’s writing.  A story written in beautiful rhyme with  Polymash created images, The Crankamacallit turns your iPad into a field of recreation with flying balloons, turning cranks, pushing levers, and lots of fun swirly-ma-gigs.

The story-teller’s voice matches the excitement of the App perfectly.  When I first experienced the magic of The Crankamacallit I squealed like a child and couldn’t help laughing out loud at the humorous portrayals of this new gadget.  No picture book could ever let a child explore a characters’ workshop at his or her own pace the way The Crankamacallit does.  In something akin to a technology-bound pop-up book, the surprise that each “page” elicits in this story is compounded by the hands-on approach that the iPad allows.

One of my favorite parts of the App comes early on when navigating through The Crankamacallit creator’s workshop.  One click on the radio image and the user can listen to what the character is listening to!  Lo and behold the lively notes that come out of the radio are none other than the author’s recording of “Alligator Waiter.”  An original song written and sung by Mimi Cross that my own children love and have sung incessantly since the first time they’ve heard it.

Sincere congratulations are definitely in order for the author of this creative tale and for the voice behind the story and the image creators as well.  Bringing a story to life for children has never been done more effectively.  The Crankamacallit truly encompasses the childhood spirit of discovery and adventure and immerses the user in the world of the story more completely than any print form ever could.  Now, if only I could build myself a real life Crankamacallit to help get things done, I’d be an even happier reader!  

Don't have an iPad & want a peek at The Crankamacallit?

http://www.polymash.com/2011/06/crankamacallit-demo-reel

OR: Author interview and demo reel halfway down the page at
http://www.polymash.com/crankamacallit

          --Suzy Ismail