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If 16-year-old Loann Rochester could have any wish, it would be this—to trade lives with her older sister.  Why?  Because Claire is everything Loann's not.  She's tall, thin, beautiful, smart and popular.  To walk in her shoes, even for a day, would be to know total perfection, absolute happiness.  If only.  Since wishes never come true outside of fairy tales, Loann's stuck with her own life as a short, plump, red-haired nobody. She might as well be invisible.  With Claire around, no one will ever notice Loann.

Except someone is noticing.  Unless Loann's completely delusional (which is entirely possible), gorgeous Josh Garrison is noticing. Which would be incredible, if he wasn't Claire's boyfriend.  And that's another thing—what's up with Claire?  She's acting distant and secretive, even from Josh and her other friends.  Loann's already got her own friend drama as well as some boy drama and even some drama drama to deal with, she's not sure she can handle sister drama, too.  But as Loann makes a disturbing discovery about where Claire's all-consuming quest for perfection has led her, she realizes that Claire's in serious trouble.  Life or death trouble.  And Claire seems hell-bent on choosing the latter.  As Loann tries to save her sister, she'll have to come to terms with her own limitations and rely on an inner strength she never knew she had.

Never Enough, a sophomore novel by contemporary YA author Denise Jaden, is pretty much what you'd expect from a teen issue novel.  It tells a story that's affecting and believable, even if it's one you've heard a million times before.  While I didn't find either Loann or Claire to be particularly memorable as characters, I definitely felt the strength of their bond as sisters.  Since that relationship formed the heart of the book, everything else in the novel felt authentic to me.  Still, Never Enough didn't have enough originality to really wow me.  Overall, I thought it was just okay, one of those didn't-love-it-didn't-hate-it kind of reads.         

(Readalikes:  Reminded me of Saving Ruth by Zoe Fishman and Purge by Sarah Darer Littman)

Grade:  B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), sexual content and violence

To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of Never Enough from the generous Denise Jaden.  Thank you!   

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At 423 lbs., "Butter" can barely move without fighting for breath.  Waddling down the hallways of his ritzy Scottsdale, Arizona, high school is just plain torture—not because his classmates tease him, but because they don't.  Even the bullies feel sorry for him now.  He's too pathetic to warrant a glance from them, let alone from a thin, beautiful girl like Anna McGinn.  Sure, Butter can pour his heart out to her online (as long as Anna continues to believe he's the cool, confident "SaxMan," anyway), but in real life?  Not a chance.  She'd probably throw up if she knew that Butter, the blob who sits behind her in English class, has the hots for her.

Butter has tried to slim down, he really has.  He's gone on special diets, attended fat camp every summer, even starved himself to lose the weight.  Nothing works.  After he humiliates himself at school one day, he's officially ready to give up—not just on dieting, but on life.  Butter creates a blog, announcing to the world that he's planning to eat himself to death on December 31st.  And he's going to do it live on the Internet.  He's prepared to tell anyone who asks that it's all just a big joke, even though the thought of dying sounds more tantalizing by the day.  Then, something weird happens:  the in-crowd at Scottsdale High starts swarming around Butter.  They're not there to talk him out of his impending suicide, they're clamoring for all the macabre details of Butter's death plan.  Suddenly, bizarrely, he's the most popular guy on campus.  And, just as suddenly, he's not so sure about the suicide thing.  He knows that wimping out of his big plan will cost him all of his new-found friends, but, then again, how can he kill himself when he's just discovering what it feels like to truly live?  With everyone gleefully counting down the days until his death, Butter must make the biggest decision he's ever faced in his 16 years on planet Earth—live or die.  

With a premise as shocking as that one, you just know Butter (available September 18, 2012), a debut novel by Arizona journalist Erin Jade Lange, is going to be one of those disturbing, no-holds-barred kind of stories.  And it is.  It's also sensitive, thought-provoking and, ultimately, empowering.  Anyone who's ever struggled to accept themselves as they are (and, really, who hasn't?) will sympathize with Butter.  He's funny, talented and self-deprecating—the kind of person everyone would love, if only they could look past the extra pounds to see the kid beneath the fat.  The fact that our hero is contemplating suicide (an act I find unforgivably selfish) does diminish him as a character for me, especially since the decision to kill himself seems to pop up out of nowhere.  Still, I devoured Butter's story, as anxious as anyone to find out what he'd do in the end.  I had a few issues with the novel (of course I did).  Overall, though, I enjoyed this modern take on the old dying-to-fit-in story.  It offers a little something different—and I like that.       

(Readalikes:  a little bit like Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher) 

Grade:  B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  R for strong language and depictions of underrage drinking

To the FTC, with love:  I received an e-ARC of Butter from the generous folks at Bloomsbury Children's Books via Netgalley.  Thank you!

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Crank is more than a drug.

It's a way of life. You can

turn your back. But you can never really walk away (537).

I usually shy away from books described as "raw," "edgy," "disturbing" or the like, since such adjectives almost always signify a story with more language/sex/violence/gore than I want to ingest. Considering that Crank by Ellen Hopkins is just such a tale, you may wonder why in the world I picked it up. I asked myself the same thing as I raced through its very gritty pages. Well, first of all, Crank's the first book in a best-selling trilogy that's gotten a lot of buzz around the blogosphere. Second, it's a novel-in-verse and I'm really digging those lately. Third, its kind of difficult to put down. Really difficult, in fact. Because, somehow, this extremely unsettling book is also completely mesmerizing. And very, very affecting.

Loosely based on the experience of the author's teenage daughter, Crank begins the story of 16-year-old Kristina Snow, a good girl from Reno who gets her first taste of crystal meth while visiting her estranged father in California. An addict himself, he doesn't try to stop Kristina from using the drug - he joins her. Partying with her new "friends" makes Kristina feel loose, like a whole different person. Of course, as freeing as it is, this new hobby is only a temporary thing, a vacation thing, something she'll shrug off as soon as she's back in Nevada. She wouldn't even have a clue where to buy drugs back home.

As Kristina battles her all-consuming addiction, every other concern falls by the wayside. She's flunking her classes, draining her savings account, scaring her family, and doing irreversible damage to her body. And she doesn't care. Not while she's in the clutches of the monster. It's that freedom from worry, that sweet release, that keeps her coming back for more. And more. And more. Even when she discovers a new life forming inside her, she can't stop killing herself. Not for nine months. Not for nine days. Maybe not for nine minutes. Not when the monster is calling ...

Like I said, Crank fits all of the descriptions I listed above - it's raw, it's edgy, it's disturbing. It's all of those things and more. It tells it like it is in a way that's vivid, impactful and, surprisingly, sympathetic. Crank never glamorizes addiction, not in the least, but it shows how quickly and easily drugs can consume a person. Since Hopkins is a mother who's watched her daughter destroy herself with meth, the desperation felt by Kristina's family comes through loud and clear, even though the story's narrated only by Kristina. As much as I wanted a nice, clean ending for this troubled anti-heroine, I didn't get one. This isn't an easy book or even necessarily a hopeful one, it's a realistic, down-and-dirty look at the life of a drug addict. And it ain't pretty. What it is is an honest, unforgettable cautionary tale that will, hopefully, find its mark with the legions of teens (and adults) who are tempted every day by the lure of that most ferocious of monsters, crystal meth.

(Readalikes: I'm not sure I've read any other books about teenage drug addiction, so I'm not sure on this one. Any suggestions?)

Grade: B

If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language, violence, sexual content and depictions of illegal drug use

To the FTC, with love: Another library
finefind

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"I love eating, but hate having eaten. I hate barfing, but love having purged" (55).

Life's not that bad for 16-year-old Janie Ryman. After all, she lives in a nice house; got stellar reviews for her portrayal of Anne Frank in the school play; and has finally caught the eye of Matt Lewis, the most popular guy in her high school. Okay, she has to contend with her blubberous hips and thighs, not to mention Jenny, the most annoyingly perfect half-sister in the world, but still ... things aren't that bad. So, why can't she make it through a whole day without sticking her fingers down her throat? Janie doesn't even like throwing up. Why in the world does she do it?

No one knows the answer to that question - not even Janie - which is why her parents stick her in a psychiatric hellhole known, ironically, as Golden Slopes. It's a facility where Barfers, Starvers and Generally Psycho teenagers gather to battle their various diseases. Janie's sick of the place, tired of the constant supervision, fed up with all the tedious rules, and dying for a smidgeon of privacy so she can purge all her frustration into the nearest toilet. She wants to get better, really she does, but she's not about to spill her secrets to some psychiatrist or, worse, to a group of patients more screwed up than she is. The only place she feels safe enough to reveal anything is in her journal.

Her parents - the Queen of Denial and the High Priest of Positive Thinking - want her out almost as much as Janie does (after all, every day of her incarceration just deepens the blight on the Ryman Family name). Still, they're not responding to her pleading or whining. It appears as if the only thing that can spring Janie loose is actually facing her problems, admitting things about them and about her miserable little life that she's never told anyone before. Janie desperately needs to be free, but is it worth spilling her guts? Wouldn't it be easier to just puke them up instead?

Purge by Sarah Darer Littman is the honest, yet sensitive portrayal of a young girl struggling with bulimia. It's a disease Littman knows intimately - her experience with it gives the story an authentic, insider's view into the psychology behind bulimia, the struggles of living with it day-to-day and the strength it takes to get healthy. While I think the book is both informative and important, it lacked the vibrancy or originality to really capture me. Neither Janie nor the other characters ever edge far enough past their stereotypes to become real. And, while I like that the story ends on a hopeful note, I think Janie's battle with the disease is a little too easy. Is it completely heartless to say that I wanted her to suffer more and fight harder? Probably. All in all, I think Purge is revealing, it just doesn't add anything new or unique to the subject. It's a typical issue novel, but only that. Typical. Average. Nothing super special. In the immortal words of Randy Jackson: "It was just okay for me."

(Readalikes: A teensy bit like The Girl With the Mermaid Hair by Delia Ephron)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong language and sexual content

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Purge from the generous folks at Scholastic. Thanks!