Review: The Ethan I Was Before by Ali Standish

The Ethan I Was Before is a story of family, friendship, heartbreak, and growth. Ultimately, it is an exploration into the way life changes you in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Twelve-year-old Ethan is in the throes of guilt and loss when the novel begins, believing himself to be responsible for the death of his best friend. He and his family have uprooted their lives, moving from Boston to a small town in rural Georgia, in order to give Ethan relief from his hardship and an opportunity for a fresh start. Despite this and other extreme efforts from his parents, nothing seems to alleviate his despondency—nothing, that is, until he befriends Coralee, a clever little girl with a big heart and some tall tales, who gives him what he feels is a second chance at friendship.

Because of trauma that goes undefined for a good portion of the book, Ethan's life is divided into rigid categories of the Before and the After. He knew who he was before the tragedy struck—daring, athletic, happy—but he is discombobulated and struggles to reorient himself afterwards. Losing his best friend, his good relationship with his family, his interests, his school, and even his city, Ethan is no longer recognizable even to himself, especially to himself.  

Standish impeccably conveys Ethan's heartbreak at such devastating loss and thoroughly demonstrates his inability to move past it. He is a highly reliable, relatable, and empathetic character whose struggles are so tangible that the reader yearns to relieve him of some of his burden. The reader feels a sensation of helplessness as he plods through the days and aches for nothing other than to be with someone he can no longer be with.

Ethan is not the only multi-dimensional character. There is his grandpa's struggle to get past his own heartbreak; there is Coralee's family dysfunction; there is his mother's childhood baggage. Nearly every other character is fleshed out enough to give the reader glimpses of rich, intricately woven inner lives. Every relationship in the book is both complex and realistic.

Set in Georgia, the location becomes a character of its own, impossible to deny or ignore. The South is present in the diction and dialogue of the characters. It is present in the names of characters and places, in the weather, in the mannerisms. It is present in the endangered red wolves, which later become a crucial part of the story.

Something changes about halfway through the novel. It seems to diverge from the story of Ethan's healing to something more akin to a mystery when Coralee and Ethan come into possession of several expensive pieces of jewelry. Then the story veers into something like a thriller when Ethan and Coralee brave the outdoors in the zenith of a hurricane. Initially there is some question about how these various components of the story will pertain to the beginning, but it is quickly evident that these pieces are easily reconcilable. All aspects of this book are woven together seamlessly. When the reader has questions, there will ultimately be answers.

The pace in which the story is told is drawn out, but never once does it feel slow. Rather, this measured clip adds to the story's allure and suspense. What exactly happened to Ethan's friend? What did his brother say to him that wounded him so severely, and what mounted a barrier between them? What is Coralee hiding? Why is Ethan's mother's relationship with her father so strained? Why does Ethan feel so guilty? What really happened to Kacey? All of those questions and more are answered in due time, but the reader must possess an element of patience.

Though this is a novel intended for young adults, it holds appeal for mature audiences as well. It speaks volumes about the power of friendship, family, healing, and forgiveness. It is a remarkable thing to witness Ethan's recovery, to watch him grow and heal from start to finish. The Ethan at the end of the book is shockingly different than the Ethan at the start, but he ultimately evolves into a person that is whole instead of a person that is fragmented.

This review was also published in Yes! Weekly. 

Review: Ask Me How I Got Here by Christine Heppermann

Ask Me How I Got Here begins as Addie sheds one boyfriend and takes on another. Shortly after the new relationship begins, she learns that she is pregnant and aborts the baby almost immediately. Following this, she shuns her boyfriend, quits cross-country, lies to her family about where she is, and begins spending all of her time in a coffee shop with former teammate Juliana.

This was my first experience with Christine Heppermann, but, as a longtime lover of Ellen Hopkins and stories told in verse, I began this book with high hopes. However, it didn’t take long for me to realize that the story is not so much a story as it is scattered ramblings that all just happen to concern one girl.

Addie’s leap from one relationship to another is so quick that I didn’t initially realize there was a new person in the picture. This might be because the dialogue is inconsistent, and it is often difficult to discern which person is speaking. Some dialogue is in italics… some is in quotation marks. Some is without punctuation at all. There is no discernible pattern.

Addie never specifically tells us that she is struggling from her decision. She goes from learning about her pregnancy to having an abortion in a matter of pages. This is not something she thinks about. It is more like something that happens to her rather than a choice she makes. The rest of the book seems to lack direction and is perhaps more concerned with exploring other issues, like Addie’s sexuality.

Though I would have loved to see more of Addie’s thoughts behind her abortion and the guilt that followed it, I actually happened to appreciate that Addie’s suffering is revealed externally rather than explicitly. Her struggles manifest more through things she does (or doesn’t do) rather than her internalizing everything. Unfortunately, this is about the only thing I appreciated.

I personally disliked Addie’s constant comparison of herself to the Virgin Mary. It is a sense of entitlement that is neither deserved nor explained. It makes it seem that she does not believe her pregnancy is a result of her actions, and that she became pregnant not by sex but by some divine intervention. It seems that she is not taking responsibility for her role in conception. At the same time, it is interesting that she writes in this manner. It is interesting to see her perspective on her actions, and to wonder if she views what she did as a sin at all.

Perhaps my biggest issue with the book is that it’s never actually clear whether it sides with a pro-life or a pro-choice mentality. Sure, we can make assumptions, but is the message that it’s okay to have an abortion, or do her struggles mean to discourage other young women from making the same mistake?

Ultimately, I found this book to be fragmented and jarring. It could have said a great deal about any number of things, but the story suffers from the form in which it is told. Perhaps it could have had more potential if it were told in prose.

Review: The Rest of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness

The Rest of Us Just Live Here is Mikey's story, a normal kid with normal friends in a normal small town that has extraordinary events. These events involve "indie" kids saving the world from vampires, zombies, ghosts, and just general monsters of the week. Mikey and his friends, though ordinary, are on the cusp of graduation, ready to escape their tiny town, both because of bad home situations and terror of what will strike the town next.

This book is a hybrid between modern fantasy and an exploration of a myriad of health issues afflicting a modern day family. This hybrid is interesting in theory, but the execution isn't exactly successful or seamless. It's my opinion that this could've been a much better book if it stuck to either one of these directions, rather than trying to combine the two.

Maybe I'm alone here, but I spent a good portion of the book wondering if the "indie kids" and that part of this universe existed only in our narrator's head. I don't have any justification for thinking this other than the fact that our narrator isn't entirely reliable, but everything that pertains to the indie kids is so vague and unexplored that I had a hard time accepting it as reality.

I spent the entirety of the book wondering what exactly the indie kids are. You can infer that they act as some sort of conduit between the natural and supernatural, whatever the supernatural means in this context. But how are the indie kids chosen? Who chooses them? What are their tasks exactly? What are their powers? Why do they all have such unique names? Are they born with those names, or do they select them later in life after being chosen? I don't necessarily need these questions to be answered, but the fact that I had so many unanswered questions while reading the book was distracting.

Each chapter begins with a short synopsis that tells us what is going on with the indie kids. These passages are interesting but vague. As the story progresses, you can see the overlap between the actions of the indie kids and the effects on our normal main characters.

The book progresses quickly. It's easy to get swept up in the drama while reading it, but, as soon as I put it down for a bit, I wondered what in the world just happened. Not that the book is actually difficult to comprehend, but I hated wondering what the point of it all was the entire time I was reading it.

Again, the book would've been infinitely better if it has been a fully committed fantasy novel or a fully committed contemporary novel. Had it been fantasy, there might be more information about the indie kids and how that world works. We might've gotten an explanation on what exactly the blue-eyed creatures were. Had it been about simply Mikey and his family, well, that could have been interesting too. They've got no shortage of issues to work through. His politician mother's public face versus her private one, his father's alcoholism, his sister's eating disorder, and his own OCD.

Not that I loved the normal characters or anything. Plus, one of them isn't even normal at all, seeing how he's one-quarter god and is worshipped by all felines, house cats and mountain lions alike.

And the romance is just... annoying, for lack of a better word. All of it. Mikey pining for Henna, Henna having the "stomach feeling" for Nathan, Nathan's elusive behavior, Mel's affair with a doctor seven years her senior, Jared's secrets... It was a tad exhausting to keep up with.

Unfortunately, this is a forgettable book with forgettable characters. It's stunning to me that Patrick Ness wrote it. The very fact that his name is on the cover is the reason that I read it at all. But luckily, this is the exception and not the standard. The Chaos Walking is one of my favorite YA series, and the other works I've read by him have all been incredible. This one may have been disappointing, but I’ll continue to read his books with great enthusiasm.

Review: Belzhar by Meg Wolitzer

Belzhar is the tale of wounded teenager, Jam Gallahue, who is sent to “a therapeutic boarding school” called The Wooden Barn to recover from the death of her boyfriend, Reeve Maxfield. She is among a small elite group of students chosen to take a legendary class, Special Topics in English. The five members of this group are classified as emotionally fragile and highly intelligent, each having undergone their own personal tragedy.

I don’t really see the high intelligence manifested in Jam. Sure, she is incredibly fragile when it comes to emotions, but the only other thing we know about her is that she has long hair. Oh, and she dated an English boy who died.

“I’m British, Jam, did you forget?”

No, nobody forgot, because Reeve’s defining characteristic is his nationality. If I were to reread this book, which I wouldn’t, I’d count how many times his country of origin is referenced. Not only is Jam’s relationship with him unbelievable due to its brevity (forty-one days, to be precise); it’s unbelievable because Reeve is a two-dimensional caricature.

The insipidness doesn’t end with Jam and Reeve. The other four members of the Special Topics in English have, for the most part, not endured truly traumatic life events, at least not to the degree in which they are portrayed. The only legitimately tragic situation is probably Sierra’s, whose eleven-year-old brother was abducted under her watch.

The story is rife with misdirection, such as Jam’s younger brother’s newfound kleptomania and her playing the role of goat doula for a night. There are all these entrances to various bunny trails that never actually lead anywhere. And Jam’s halfhearted relationship with Griffin? Is it really necessary that she recover from one relationship with another?

As for the supernatural element, the place the students call Belzhar, I personally was looking forward to discovering this new world, but that was before I knew what kind of world it would turn out to be. Basically, it is a place of grand delusion, a place the members of the class can go to pretend their great calamities never occurred. Belzhar does nothing but nurture denial, although I suppose at least one of our characters is thoroughly imbedded in denial anyway…

I can appreciate the link to the book’s namesake, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. In that book, the protagonist undergoes a sudden yet severe crisis in which she no longer wishes to exist. The characters in this book are like that, in a way. Their lives plummet abruptly, leaving them reeling from the struggle to adjust. But in Jam’s case, the catalyst for her plummet is not even based in reality.

Be warned: I cannot stress enough how much I despise the ending of this book.

It’s sad when you begin to sympathize with a stereotypical mean girl, who just so happens to be the protagonist’s nemesis, but there’s very little choice towards the end of this book. I had a difficult enough time feeling sorry for Jam before finding out what really happened to her. It’s beyond impossible to pity her after that discovery.

Mean Girl Dana Sapol has it right:

 “Good-bye and good riddance, you psycho loser.”

Review: The Rose Society by Marie (The Young Elites #2)

If The Young Elites was good, then The Rose Society transcended any and all of my expectations. It's darker, sexier, and just fuller than the first one. Adelina has truly come into her own.

Adelina is supposedly the villain in her own story, but she never feels that way to me. Never once do I feel any sort of resentment or hatred towards her. She may be hell-bent on her revenge, but Marie Lu writes in such a way that Adelina is completely justified for her thoughts and actions. I root for Adelina. I hate her enemies with her. I feel myself descending into her madness alongside her. She is always in the right.

My few complaints from the previous book have been completely nullified. While I originally had a problem with flip-flopping perspectives (Adelina's lengthy chapters told in first person and random, shorter chapters in third), I find this book much more consistent in its presentation. I even looked forward to the random breaks in Adelina's monologue, where the side characters take over. Maeve, Teren, and Raffaele are all complex, sophisticated characters, each with an ulterior agenda.

Marie Lu does an excellent job balancing the new characters with the old. She doesn't bog us down with too many of them. It's wonderful to meet this new cast and to get a more in depth experience of all of their individual powers.

I must say that I now get the *big deal* surrounding Teren. I found him rather tedious in The Young Elites, but now he seems to be one of the most complicated characters in the story. I'm beyond eager to see what will come into play for him in the next book.

On the other hand, in The Young Elites, Enzo was one of my favorite characters, and now I find his presence a tad... offensive. I suppose coming back from the Underworld would change anyone, but it's easy to resent him when one takes into account the hypocrisy with which he treats Adelina. It's like my perspectives have flipped. It's complicated. 

It's all complicated. And that's one of the most amazing things about it. All the characters are so real; the world itself is well planned. This story is built upon layer upon layer upon layer, each layer being gradually revealed to us as deeper and more tangled than the last. 

I am both dreading and eagerly anticipating the ending. Who am I kidding? I'm basically drooling over it, desperate for it. But the dread is still intact. The biggest reason for this is that I know from my previous experience with the Legend series that Marie Lu will not write easy or tidy endings. There will be finality and closure, yes, but it will most likely rip some hearts to shreds in the process. It will probably rip up my own. Oh, I love sad endings, but they are still tremendously difficult to read.

I really can't praise this series enough. It's not just that this is an impeccable book; it's also that Marie Lu is an impeccable writer. I fully intend to read anything and everything she publishes.

Review: Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare (The Infernal Devices #2)

Clockwork Prince picks up shortly after the conclusion of Clockwork Angel, although enough time has passed for both relationships and routines to be established. Tessa has come to feel at home in the Institute, so it is unfortunate that Charlotte's position of leadership there is threatened. If they do not find the Magister in a timely manner, then Charlotte will lose her authority, and Tessa will find herself homeless. Racing against the clock, the team struggles to outsmart the devious man who has been calculating his revenge for decades.

Not going to lie, this book took well over 100 pages to enrapture me, but, once it did, it was hard to look up for even a moment. As the story progressed, I forgot all about the earlier tedium and was swept away by this dark world.

Tessa really grows as a character in this. She is no longer married to the idea that she has to look and think like a proper lady. She is expanding her knowledge of the reality of the world and her ability to defend herself. She yearns to learn more about what she herself is and what she can do. There's just something about her in this book that makes her so much less delicate and so much more admirable.

I guess you could say she also grows... sexually as well. It would probably be difficult not to, what with fellows like both Jem and Will professing eternal and undying love for her. However, this love triangle thing is a dilemma, sometimes a brutal thing to read. It's especially difficult to experience because the reader becomes privy to things that the characters are not.  

This is something I have a problem with. We are allowed to be in the know because the perspectives from random characters appear throughout the book. Tessa is the primary narrator, of course. The role of secondary narrator probably belongs to Magnus Bane, but there are several other characters that have random, singular chapters throughout. I found this to be a little bit jarring and almost... too intimate. I felt like I had no business in knowing what was going on in a character's head for such a small number of pages and that their chapters exist only for the purpose of info-dumping. Had there been a little more consistency with the characters used, I possibly would not have even noticed it, let alone have been bothered by it.

I hate hate hate love triangles, even if they are done well- nay, especially if they are done well! Because if they are done well, then you fall a little bit in love with both parties, and your heart is going to be a little bit broken no matter what the outcome is. Most people seem to easily flock to one side or the other, but I (again, only if it's done well) flounder and flitter hopelessly between the two until I've mentally exhausted myself. This is truly a very trying process and is better left avoided most of the time.

This love triangle is particularly harsh for the following two reasons:

1. Because the two young men are not only best friends, they are parabatai (a very intense form of Shadowhunter partnership, more or less).

2. Because it's not so easy to blame Tessa for the awkward situation they are all in. If she were at all malicious or beguiling, then it would be simple to pin the blame on her and hate her. But she is not a hateful character, and therefore tension is just unbearable.

But she did not love anyone else in the world. These were the boys she loved. For better. And for worse.

It's a shame she can't just marry them both. And what about Magnus? He's still my favorite.

Really, there is a lot more to this series than just the aspect of romance. It takes place in an intricate, well-planned, and consistent universe with an ever-increasing panoply of supernatural creatures. As time passes, you can begin to see the story lines weaving together, although all of said lines are seamless. There is so much foreshadowing, but at the same time, no real hints. I was enraptured to learn the fate of Nate and Jessamine. I love the side characters, both the old ones and the new ones. I love the side romances-Henry and Charlotte, Sophie and Gideon.

Now I'm a little scared to read Clockwork Princess. Not because it will not be enjoyable, but because these characters are so very real and close to my heart that it's going to break no matter the conclusion.