Review: An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir (An Ember in the Ashes #1)

An Ember in the Ashes takes place in a world similar to ancient Rome, but it is difficult to pinpoint exactly the origin of this world, as I personally have not encountered any like it. Regardless, it is a world of intrigue, of violence, of fantasy and mythical creatures, and, so much of the time, blood-curdling horror.  

The narration is divided between Laia and Elias, both with very different roles in life. Laia is a Scholar, coming from a people that are impoverished and often illiterate. When her grandparents are murdered and her brother is arrested for treason, she will stop at nothing to save him. As the child of deceased Resistance leaders, she seeks sanctuary from the organization, dismayed to find the only way they will help her is if she accepts an impossible bargain. She must willingly submit herself to slavery, to not only survive brutality and humiliation but to glean whatever information she can from her mistress, the Commandant.

Elias is the son of the Commandant and also a Mask, one of the most respected and feared kinds of soldier. He is itching to escape from this world, to break free and flee his life of hostility and confinement. He is on the cusp of freedom when everything changes, when he is forced to take part in the prophesied and bitter competition to become emperor.

The romance is a bit jumbled. Both of our narrators have love interests aside from each other, but it is clear from the start that each is interested in the other. This is a little disappointing, as I personally root for the romances with the side characters, Laia with Keenan and Elias with Helene. The lack of commitment to whom they are attracted at first led me to think they are weak characters. But then, it was quite invigorating to realize that this lack of monogamous attraction makes them more real than just about any other trait could.

But let me just say that romance is not the primary focus of this novel, and for that I applaud it. The love triangles are a nice addition to the other, greater parts of the story. It’s a great complement to the vivid world, to the subtle yet efficient violence, and to the rich, compelling characters.

The best word to describe this book is evocative. Not only can you see everything and hear everything the narrators do; not only do you appreciate the poetic fluency with which the story is told; you also feel everything, absolutely everything. This story jumps right off the page and drags you down into it.

You feel the desperation of Elias as struggles with his impossible situation. You feel the physical pain of Laia’s torture. You feel the fear and the anguish and the despair that permeates each and all of their waking moments. You are swept away by both characters’ separate lives, but you applaud how subtly and beautifully jointed they come to be.

The book is written with a sort of prose so eloquent that it keeps you reading regardless of whether or not you actually like what is on the page. The dialogue is smooth and flowing; the imagery can be seen with ease; the story itself is paced so that it is neither overwhelming nor mundane. All in all, this is a breathtaking experience from start to finish.

Review: The Selection by Kiera Cass (The Selection #1)

Where to begin? Suffice it to say, I did not like this book. Every page in it is trite, packed with one-dimensional characters and clichés. And the caste system? I'm having a hard time understanding how the former United States regressed so far, not to mention the return of the monarchy.

But let me tell you what we have. We have a fiery young lady called America who shows flagrant and belligerent disrespect for royalty (although the book has made it fairly clear that there is zero tolerance for that kind of behavior). We have a boy named Aspen from back home, who is perfect in every way, aside from being a caste below our narrator and therefore ineligible. We have a dashing prince named Maxon who our narrator initially "hates" and, despite herself, begins to fall for. We have thirty-four other young women whose personalities are extreme, all black and white with no gray. There are our narrator's friends and there are her enemies. There are never any questions as to the caliber of a character; all of our heroes and villains are easily identifiable.

Though rich in its fictional history, this story drags. We spend pages and pages reading about petty disputes between the girls and spats between our narrator and herself. She spends much of her time lamenting over trivialities, when she could be reveling in her newfound palace home, (although, to be fair, America is very candid about her disdain for the Selection from the start). But it takes an eternity for anything to HAPPEN.

Very few events actually occur in the book. There is the Selection process, then a period of nothing. Then there is America going to the palace, then more nothing. There are a few rebel attacks on the palace, but they are always off to the sidelines and are never witnessed. Then a whole lot more nothing.

I have a longstanding love-hate relationship with love triangles, but this specific triangle is particularly unbelievable. It's understandable that Aspen would want to keep America around; she is, after all, a caste above him, quite talented, and, above all, beautiful. But then there is Prince Maxon, whom the whole Selection revolves around. He is given the choice of thirty-five women, but someone manages to have eyes only for America. If anything, the love triangle would naturally revolve around him, America, and another girl. Alas, this is not the case, and I am left with little more than frustration.

Perhaps the biggest reason why I did not like this book is that I did not find America, well, likable. I like certain aspects of her, sure, like the fact that she is a musician and a singer. This makes it unfortunate that her expertise is only shown one time.  But, aside from her musical talents, America is rather bland. She's rude to people above her, obstinately kind to people below her, and frustratingly submissive to the evil characters in her life.

This book is only the beginning of a much larger and longer story. Perhaps it will become more enticing, perhaps the characters will become less insipid, and perhaps more events and less sitting around will occur. Maybe. I don't intend to find out unless there is a shortage of other good books that will be a much better usage of time.

Review: All the Bright Places by Jennifer Niven

All the Bright Places is Jennifer Niven’s first work for young adults, but it does not feel as if it was written by a novice. As I was reading this book, it dawned on me that the best word to describe it is refreshing. As in, despite the sensitive subject matter, it was a pleasure to read this book. The characters feel real, as do their lives. This book takes you away from yourself and dips you right into the minds of the narrators.

The role of protagonist is divided between Theodore “Finn” Finnegan and Violet Markey, both of whom have stepped, literally, to the edge of death for entirely different reasons. Finn has experienced traumatic childhood and upbringing, and Violet has suffered tragedy of the worst kind. However, their differences do not prevent them from fiercely bonding or from offering the other a reason to stay alive.

The story’s only real downfall is that it grows just a little slow moving as it transitions from the beginning to the middle of the story. Things plateau a bit, but it is never boring. Both of the narrators are highly intelligent, well-read teenagers who have finely developed opinions and a defined sense of self. Sure, they question those opinions and their identities as the story moves along, but, ultimately, they are both very strong.

Finn does bear a strong resemblance to Augustus Waters from The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. He’s this philosophical, lofty, larger-than-life, too-good-to-be-true kind of guy. He speaks with a sort of poetic eloquence that you rarely (if ever) encounter in the real world. More often than not, he feels like more than a real person. But I think perhaps that this is the point, that he cannot make himself fit into his life.

Without revealing too much of the ending, I must say is that it is both necessary and inevitable. There may be hope along the way that it will not come to its inexorable fate, but the ending is neither startling nor disappointing. It is touching, and it is real. It is not sugarcoated, and it is very representative of how life is often not affected by the desires of its onlookers.

I am aware of the clichés in this book, of the whole “boy meets girl” formula. Usually that kind of thing irritates me beyond belief, but, in this case, I actually didn’t mind it. Perhaps that’s just because I think suicide is a very important issue, and readers deserve to see characters that they can both relate to and gain hope from.  And they certainly don’t need to falsely believe that stories always have happy endings.

Very few books are worthy of the publicity they receive, but, in my opinion, this one is quite deserving.

Review: Vanishing Girls by Lauren Oliver

Let me start off by saying that I really, REALLY wanted to like this book, as I have been following Lauren Oliver since the beginning. Sorry to report, but my desire to like the book was outweighed by the fact that it took me over half the book to get into it and I suspected the ending within a few pages of beginning.

The story follows two sisters, Nick and Dara, both recovering from a terrible car accident. Evidently very close during childhood, the sisters have drifted apart both due to the accident and because of severe personality differences. The story is chopped up over different time periods (the “before” and the “after”), told sometimes in Nick’s voice and sometimes in Dara’s. In betwixt all that, there are bits of alternate media presented throughout, such as news postings, blogs, flyers, etc. that don’t quite fit, especially not at first. I felt like I was reading a poorer version of Ransom Riggs' Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children, where the media DOES fit.

I felt no connection to either of the sisters; they were just telling me how they felt about the other... I thought "that's good and well," but I did not experience any sensations alongside them. I found it difficult to find redeeming qualities in either of the sisters, particularly Dara. She is impulsive and mean and not only selfish but self-destructive. I know I didn't get out much in high school, but I had a really hard time believing all mess she gets herself into. Even more unbelievable than what she does is what her sister enables her to do. Dara constantly nags Nick for being “better than her,” hinting at how goody-goody Nick supposedly is. I never see this in Nick. Maybe for comparison's sake, sure, she's a goody two shoes... But the book never talks about anything that really stands out about her. She is an athlete, I recall, but not a GREAT one. And that’s all there is.

I could go on about the characters and how detached I felt about them for a long time, but I'll only say one more thing... It isn't just that the girls as individuals are bland and hard to feel for; it is the girls' relationship too. Nick reminisces a great deal throughout the book about things that she did with Dara in childhood, but I'm just not buying it. There is nothing there that really holds them together, aside blood.

Let me just say, I am sick of the "heroine" doing bold and brash things, irrationally and alone, such as when Nick goes to the night club, to the police station, and then to the lighthouse all on her own. Perhaps some view this as courageous; I view it as stupid. I'd like to see girls that still have adventures, but don't manage to make incredibly stupid decisions along the way. I mean, I know she is half-crazed, but still. It's a horror movie waiting to happen. At least get your best friend Parker to go along with you. He might even shed some light on what really happens to Dara.

I know I’ve been rather harsh, but I didn’t really dislike this book. I have always liked Lauren Oliver. Before I Fall and the Delirium trilogy are all on my “read again” list. However, it greatly saddens me to have felt such indifference for this book, similar to how I felt for Panic, but better than how I felt for Rooms.

Sure, it isn't spectacular to me. I have a lot of issues with it, and I am frustrated beyond belief that I turned out to be right about “twist” in the ending. I almost threw the book in my anger, but then I realized that I was so apathetic about it for so much of the way that it really wasn't worth it.