(Image from Barnes & Noble)

I rarely pick up a book based on its cover alone, but you have to admit there's something striking about the one above.  It's really rather brilliant.  Especially considering the premise behind Beauty Queens, Libba Bray's satirical novel about the (very shallow) way we define beauty.  Here's the jacket copy because, not only does it describe the story perfectly, but it also makes me laugh:

The fifty contestants in the Miss Teen Dream Pageant thought this was going to be a fun trip to the beach, where they could parade in their state-appropriate costumes and compete in front of the cameras. But sadly, their airplane had another idea, crashing on a desert island and leaving the survivors stranded with little food, little water, and practically no eyeliner.

What's a beauty queen to do? Continue to practice for the talent portion of the program—or wrestle snakes to the ground? Get a perfect tan—or lean to run wild? And what should happen when the sexy pirates show up?

Welcome to the heart of non-exfoliated darkness.

Fun, right?  And it is, it really is.  It's also hilarious, strange, ridiculous and, believe it or not, thought-provoking.  Although I don't agree with all the lessons the story teaches, I get the main one loud and clear—beauty is as beauty does.  A good moral.  In the end, though, several things kept me from absolutely loving Beauty Queens, namely the (fairly) graphic and (fairly) frequent sexual scenes between (just about) anyone and everyone.  Also, while I understand why Bray chose to tell the story the way she did, I think I would have preferred this one as a more straightforward tale of survival.  Because while I love the premise of Beauty Queens and the execution made me laugh, the novel just didn't totally win me over.  Would I recommend it?  I'm not even sure.  Some of it, I loved; some of it, I loathed.  Overall, I'm kind of ambivalent.

Have you read Beauty Queens?  What did you think?  

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:  B-

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

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Beauty Queens from the generous folks at Scholastic.  Thank you!  

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Rory Deveaux's thrilled when her law professor parents decide to leave small-town Louisiana to spend a year on sabbatical in Europe.  The 17-year-old can't wait to start her own adventure at a boarding school in London's East End.  Wexford's not exactly Hogwarts, but Rory loves the English-ness of it all.  Her roommate's sweet as can be (if a little stiff), her classes are challenging (not always a good thing), and she's learning to play field hockey (mostly with her face).  Rory's classmates find her quirky Southern background charming, so she plays up the role, entertaining her friends with zany, but (mostly) true tales from the bayou.  Even with a Jack the Ripper-like killer on the loose in her new neighborhood, Rory's having the time of her life.  

Then, Rory almost chokes to death in the dining hall and things start getting ... weird.  Like, The Sixth Sense weird.  She must be going crazy because in real life, ghosts don't float through the streets of London.  They don't show themselves to sensible teenage girls.  They don't talk.  And they certainly don't kill real, live, flesh-and-blood people.  But Rory's pretty sure that's exactly what's happening.  She saw a man near the scene of a grisly murder, a man only she could see, a man she's pretty sure is the Ripper copycat.  Rory can do what no one on the London police force can do: she can identify England's Most Wanted.  The only problem?  The killer is a ghost.  If Rory tells that to the authorities, she's sure to be locked up—in the loony bin.  She can't take what she knows to the cops, so she's going to have to solve the problem herself.  Either that, or bury her nose in her textbooks (where it should have been all along) and forget all about her freaky new Spidey senses.

Rory just wants her life to go back to normal, but when she discovers she's not the only Shade in London, she knows that will never happen.  As she learns about what she can do, what she's expected to do, Rory has to decide what she wants.  And fast, before the ghostly killer strikes again ...  

Even though I'd heard great things about The Name of the Star by Maureen Johnson, I held off reading it.  Why?  Since the novel's about Jack the Ripper, I figured it would be gruesome.  And depressing.  Not exactly a heartwarming holiday read.  Then, the wonderful people at Penguin sent me an awesome early Christmas gift—not just a finished copy of The Name of the Star, but also an ARC of its sequel, The Madness Underneath.  With both books just sitting there on my shelf, begging for my attention, I couldn't resist.  And you know what?  I'm glad I didn't.  Because even though The Name of the Star is a little bloody, it's a lot more lighthearted than I expected it to be.  In fact, I'd say it's the perfect blend of charming and chilling.  The story's not all that original, but it didn't really bother me—I was too busy flipping pages to worry about anything other than Rory.  Her story intrigued me so much that I didn't want to stop reading it.  So I didn't.  I devoured The Madness Underneath, too.  And guess what?  I loved it just as much as its predecessor, which means I can now say that the Shades of London is one of my favorite new YA series.  It's that compelling, that fun.  Seriously, I adore it.  

(Readalikes:  The Madness Underneath by Maureen Johnson; also reminded me a little bit of Anna Dressed in Blood by Kendare Blake)

Grade:  B

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

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of The Name of the Star from the generous folks at Penguin.  Thank you!   

       

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

As much as I love Christmastime, with all its beautiful carols, heartwarming holiday movies, and tales of forgiveness and hope, there's one thing I can't abide:  sap.  Okay, I can take a little.  Just not a lot.  I'm not saying I don't enjoy inspirational Christmas stories (I'm not that heartless!), but I don't like holiday novels (or any other kind) that try too hard to be touching.  Give me a subtle lesson, not a saccharine one, you know?  Because I'm sort of Scrooge-y like that, I gave Jason F. Wright's first Christmas novel, Christmas Jars, a scathing review, calling it "the kind of book that sacrifices good storytelling for sentimental sermonizing."  Harsh, but true.  

Although I vowed not to, I have read more of Wright's books over the years and I have to give the man credit—he's getting better.  His newest, The 13th Day of Christmas, shows how far he's come since Christmas Jars.  Is his latest a perfect novel?  Not by any means, but at least (some of) the characters have personality.  And, although it's thin, there is a plot.  Coincidence still plays a major role in the story, which is (alas) filled with sappy moments.  Still, I enjoyed the book much more than other novels of its type (like, say, Christmas Jars).  

The 13th Day of Christmas tells a riches-to-rags story about a family who's going through some hard times.  Financially, they're in trouble.  Emotionally, they're spent.  As a unit, they're struggling.  Looking for a chance to start over, the Alexanders move into a double wide at the 27 Homes trailer park in a town where no one knows them.  None of them are happy about their new situation, but 9-year-old Charlee decides to see what the neighborhood has to offer.  Her explorations lead her to Marva Ferguson, an 81-year-old widow who lives in a real house on the edge of the trailer park.  Charlee's drawn to the elderly woman, with her kind smile and gentle ways.  She's entranced by Marva's expansive apron collection as well as her charming Christmas house (which the widow begins decorating in October).  Marva loves Charlee's enthusiasm, her sweet innocence.  Before long, the two are inseparable.  

Then Charlee receives a shocking diagnosis (okay, it's cancer—it's always cancer in these kinds of stories).  Faced with not just the threat of a critical illness, but also with the bleak prospect of spending the Christmas season in the hospital, the girl's spirit sags.  Until, on December 12th, a mysterious gift appears.  An accompanying note promises Charlee more gifts and letters to celebrate the twelve days leading up to Christmas.  The child perks up as she tries to figure out who's sending the secret messages.  She'd suspect Marva, except the widow is having serious problems of her own ... 

So, yeah, the story's another exuberant-child-and-elderly-person-ease-each-other's-pain kind of thing, but at least it's got a little spunk.  The characters are likable, if not unique, and the whole 12 Days of Christmas thing is sort of fun.  It gets silly fast, but yeah ... once again, Wright is offering up one of his own family traditions and encouraging his readers to adopt it as their own.  Will it catch on like the Christmas Jars have? Only time will tell.  As far as the actual story goes, it was pretty much what I expected—predictable, sentimental, tearjerker-y, etc.  Once I looked past all that, though, I found The 13th Day of Christmas to be a quick, enjoyable read that really did help me get into the spirit of Christmas.  My verdict, then?  Holidays novels will never be my cup of cocoa, but in small amounts, I can tolerate them.  Maybe even enjoy them.  Who knew? 

(Readalikes:  Reminds me of other holiday novels like Christmas Jars by Jason F. Wright)

Grade:  C

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for very mild sexual innuendo

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of The 13th Day of Christmas from the generous folks at Shadow Mountain (a division of Deseret Book).  Thank you!

Another great thing about my Christmastime birthday is the traditions surrounding it.  I can't remember how old I had just turned (11, maybe?), but one year, my mom gave me a wonderful gift—she took me to see a professional production of The Nutcracker in Portland, Oregon.  I still remember how sophisticated I felt sitting in a plush theater seat, watching the ballet.  The magic of the performance just carried me away.  To commemorate the occasion, I was given my very first nutcracker (seen above).  My parents didn't have the money to take me to the ballet every year, but they did give me a nutcracker on all subsequent birthdays.  Still do, in fact.  And I carry on the tradition started by my mom by seeing The Nutcracker each December with my husband, my daughters, my sons, or whoever else will go with me.  It simply wouldn't feel like Christmas if I didn't—at the very least—place my collection of nutcrackers around my house.  They remind me of my childhood, my family, and all the happy memories I associate with both.  

Many people love The Nutcracker; now you know why I do, too :)

Considering my love for all things Nutcracker, I was thrilled when the folks at Crown Publishing Group offered me a new book on just this subject.  I knew it would be a perfect Christmas read for me.  And it was.  Sort of.  I had never thought much about where the story behind the ballet came from, but it was inspired by a "long short story" written by a German man named E.T.A. Hoffman in 1816.  A director of the Imperial Theater in St. Petersburg adapted the story (using a French version written by Alexandre Dumas) for the stage in 1891.  Tchaikovsky then wrote the famous score.  The result is a narrative that bears little resemblance to Hoffman's original tale.  The aim of this new book, then, is to give modern readers the real story, the authentic story, the story that Hoffman gifted to the world, never knowing that, one day, it would be the inspiration for a beloved ballet known as The Nutcracker. 

If you ever thought the story of little Clara receiving a nutcracker from her creepy godfather was a little, well, strange, you're going to think it doubly so after reading Hoffman's version.  Because, let's face it—the story's a bit odd.  Translated from the German by Ralph Manheim (now deceased) and illustrated by the late Maurice Sendak (who also designed costumes and sets for the Pacific Northwest Ballet's production of The Nutcracker), the story told in Nutcracker goes a little something like this:  Seven-year-old Marie Stahlbaum (her doll is the one named Clara) and her siblings receive Christmas gifts from their godfather, a celebrated clockmaker who crafts elaborate toys for them every year.  Because these creations are so fragile, they're locked away in a glass cabinet so that the children cannot break them.  So, while the children are amazed by this year's offering—a magnificent castle with figures that walk and dance—they quickly lose interest, knowing it to be another look-don't-touch kind of present.  Then, Marie notices another of Drosselmeier's gifts—a nutcracker.  She loves the "droll little man" the moment she sees him and vows to care for him always.  Unwilling to leave him, Marie settles near the toy cabinet instead of going to bed as she's been told to do.  As the clock strikes midnight, the girl begins to hear noises.  First, she hears shuffling, giggling and squeaking.  Mice pour into the room, squeezing through every hole in the woodwork.  A battle between the hideous rodents and an army of toy soldiers, led by Marie's nutcracker, ensues.  

When Marie wakes up the next morning, she's sure she dreamed the whole thing.  Then, Godfather Drosselmeier tells her a tale about a beautiful princess, a cursed prince and the mouse monster who vows to bring them down.  Now she knows the truth: the battle wasn't a dream.  Or was it?

I'll tell you the truth right off:  I wasn't as charmed by Hoffman's story as I wanted to be.  It's unique to be sure, but it also struck me as ... well ... weird.  The stage version makes more sense to me.  Still, Sendak's illustrations lend the original version a whimsical air, even when the tale turns dark, as if often does.  I don't see kids actually reading this one, as it's not just scary, but also confusing.  I do, however, think Sendak's artwork will fascinate them with its bright, dreamlike interpretations of the text.  

So, overall, what did I think of Nutcracker?  Meh.  Even though I enjoyed this behind-the-scenes look at the story, I think I'll stick with the stage version.  To me, it's less confusing and more entertaining.  'Cause, you know, nothing says Christmas better than a soldier slaughtering a bunch of mice in front of a little girl and then taking her on a trip through a magical Wonderland, all of which turns out to be nothing more than a magical dream.  Well, it does to me, anyway.     

(Readalikes:  Hm, I can't think of anything.  Can you?)

Grade:  C

If this were a movie, it would be rated:  PG for violence and scary images

To the FTC, with love:  I received a finished copy of Nutcracker from the generous folks at Crown Publishing Group.  Thank you!