Lara Reid thinks her family is just like every other one in the U.K.  Her father always tells her she's special, she just assumes that's the reason people gawk.  Turns out, that's not it at all.  According to the playground taunts, Lara's family doesn't "match" and everyone knows families are supposed to match.  Anyone with functioning eyes can see the one thing Lara's never really understood—a Caucasian couple like Barry and Pat Reid could never have produced a child with Lara's brown skin and bushy, black hair.  Realizing the truth in her classmates' insinuations, Lara comes to the only logical conclusion: she's an alien.

Anyone who knows about my beautiful, bi-racial daughter, adopted a few years ago from the bayous of Louisiana, will understand why I found Being Lara by Lola Jaye such a compelling novel.  I would have read the book based on the cover alone (when my little girl saw the model on the front, she exclaimed, "It's me, Mommy!"), but the plot line also intrigued me.  With themes of transracial adoption, racial/cultural identity, family, and other issues I ponder every day, I knew this story would speak straight to my heart.  And it did.  I sympathized with Lara, in all her confusion and vulnerability, as well as with her two mothers, both of whom narrate some sections of the story.  While I don't necessarily agree with how the Reids handled the whole adoption thing, I recognized all their feelings of anxiety, doubt, guilt and fear, as I've experienced them all since the day I decided to become an adoptive mother.  As for the actual story, it's fast-paced, well-told, realistic (except, perhaps, for the rather tidy end) and heartwarming without being sappy.  I'm not sure I buy the idea that Lara didn't notice her family was different until age 8 (after all, my 3-year-old will look at a picture of Disney princesses and identify herself as Tiana and me as Belle), but that's a small matter, really.  From the lovely cover (I need the number of the hairstylist responsible for that gorgeous hair!) to the important (and very relevant to me) themes to the globetrotting storyline (just try not to be affected by Jaye's descriptions of Nigeria, a place she once lived), I liked Being Lara a whole lot.  It reminded me that families aren't about "matching," they're about love.      

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of No Biking in the House Without A Helmet by Melissa Fay Greene and When the Black Girl Sings by Bil Wright)

Grade:  B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  R for language (2 F-bombs, plus milder invectives) and mild sexual innuendo/content

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

(Note:  While this review will not contain spoilers for I Don't Want to Kill You, it may inadvertently reveal plot surprises from the first two books in the trilogy.  As always, I recommend reading books in a series in order.)

I have a little bit of a love/hate relationship with the John Cleever series by Dan Wells.  The books are all well-written, compelling and thought-provoking, to be sure, but they're also gory, violent and disturbing.  So, while I find them entertaining, I also find them a little hard to stomach.  The middle book (Mr. Monster) made me feel physically ill, so I was a tad reluctant to pick up I Don't Want to Kill You, the last book in the trilogy.  If it hadn't been nominated for this year's Whitney Awards, I probably would have put off reading it a bit longer, which would have been a shame because it's not nearly as unsettling as its predecessors.  Or maybe it's just me—it's entirely possible that prolonged exposure to the twisted mind of Dan Wells has deadened my frailer sensibilities.  

At any rate, I Don't Want to Kill You begins a couple of months after Mr. Monster ends.  John Wayne Cleever, a 16-year-old sociopath, is waiting patiently for the arrival of a demon named Nobody.  The monster is coming, John knows that; it's just a matter of when she'll show up.  Whenever she makes her arrival, he'll be ready.  He might study serial killers, he might dream of murder, but John's tired of watching people he knows die. It's time for him to take control, to destroy the demon who may already be darkening the streets of his hometown, masquerading as a normal, everyday resident of Clayton, North Dakota.  

John's unusual psychological makeup makes him the perfect demon hunter, but he can't let his darker impulses control him if he wants to have any kind of normal life.  And he does, he really does.  To triumph over Mr. Monster, the devil that lurks inside him, John must focus on the hunt for Nobody.  In order to save the people of Clayton, he has to take a careful, probing look at each and every one of them.  All of them, as he soon discovers, are hiding something, but which one of them conceals a demon?  It will take all of John's wit, all of his strength, all of his talent to find and eliminate Nobody before she takes over the town and everyone in it.  

Like the first two books in the trilogy, I Don't Want to Kill You explores the idea of people choosing their own destinies, in spite of all the things that might be working against them.  This intriguing premise is what elevates the novels above other horror stories.  In addition, John is a character who probably shouldn't be sympathetic, but is, simply because he's trying so hard to overcome his baser instincts.  He's a fascinating hero, one for whom I always find myself rooting, even when he's having homicidal thoughts toward his mother (shudder).  So, while the John Cleever books make me distinctly uncomfortable, I still think they're sort of brilliant.  Just in a gross, disturbing kind of way.      

Grade:  B

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

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

(Image from Deseret Book)

Heaven, as it turns out, isn't all harps and clouds.  Still, Jonathan Stewart much prefers it to that cess pool known as Earth.  He did his time as a mortal; he's not about to go back.  He's made it abundantly clear to the yahoos at HR that he has no interest, whatsoever, in becoming a guardian angel.  Jonathan's stunned, then, when he's assigned to watch over Celeste Knight, who's about to embark on her own Earth journey.  All post-mortal spirits are required to do one guardianship, so Jonathan has little choice in the matter.  At least he was wise enough to request a spirit who's marked for an early death—while Jonathan's return to Earth will be torture in the extreme, at least it will be short.

What Jonathan doesn't realize is that spirits like Celeste can choose when to die.  And Celeste isn't about to give up too early.  Frustrated by her stubbornness, Jonathan nonetheless decides to do his job as he does everything else—perfectly.  It's not easy, though, to keep a young Celeste away from all the dangers Earth life has to offer.  Not only does he have to steer her away from erratic drivers, rogue lightning bolts, rusty swingsets  and the like, but he also has to battle the Sheydim (Satan's angels) who want to enslave Celeste (and every other mortal) to their master.  It's no picnic, but, along the way, Jonathan discovers (to his utter surprise) that he cares for his kind-hearted charge, feels responsible for her eternal salvation.  In fact, he realizes that he'll do anything, move Heaven and Earth if he has to (and he does), to make sure she returns to her Maker unscathed.

It's difficult to describe the plot of No Angel, Theresa Sneed's first published novel, because the fact is, it's confusing.  Not to mention just ... odd.  Plus, the story's got some serious plot holes, very clumsy editing and one supremely unlikable main character, all of which made the book difficult for me to read.  I know it's supposed to be an uplifting, inspiring read and I guess it is, or would be, if the writing were better.  As is, the whole presentation just drove me crazy.  The horrible truth:  I raced through No Angel because I couldn't wait to toss it aside and move on to something else. 

(Readalikes:  Reminded me a little of Emerald City by Alicia K. Leppert and a tiny bit of The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis)   

Grade:  D

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for some mature subject matter

To the FTC, with love:  I bought No Angel at Deseret Book with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.