(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Gertrude "Trudy" Swann knows exactly what to expect from her future.  After graduating from the Milwaukee College for Females, she'll marry sweet, straightforward Ernst, settle into a house not far from her parents', and rear a brood of well-tended children.  It will be a pleasant life, placid and predictable.  If only Trudy could settle for that!  But, no, the 19-year-old longs for adventure, something more than mundane Midwestern married life.  

When Trudy meets Ernst's cousin, Oskar, she's smitten with his charming, ambitious nature.  Despite her family's misgivings, the couple marry and set out on what promises to be a thrilling endeavor in California's rugged, remote Big Sur.  Point Lucia, the untamed island on which Oskar will be working as an assistant lighthouse keeper, is more primitive than the newlyweds ever could have imagined.  The only other people on the island are the Crawleys, an enigmatic family with plenty of secrets.  Immediately taken by the Crawley children, Trudy becomes their teacher, playmate, and co-explorer.  As she and Oskar adjust to their hardscrabble island existence, trouble soon surfaces in paradise.  Between Mrs. Crawley's constant disapproval, Oskar's increasingly unsettling behavior, and a shocking secret hiding in the rocks, Trudy's little adventure will turn into an extraordinary experience destined to change her life forever.

The Edge of the Earth by Christina Schwarz is a quiet, but compelling novel about finding oneself in the most unexpected of places.  Big Sur makes for a vivid, exotic setting.  Details about marine life and lighthouse keeping give the story authenticity without dragging it down.  Trudy, Oskar, and the rest of the cast are complex, intriguing characters.  I definitely wanted to know what was going to happen to them all.  Although The Edge of the Earth tells a sad story, I enjoyed this absorbing novel about the nature of a marriage, the nature of an island, and the nature of a woman on the cusp of discovering the person she is truly meant to be.  

(Readalikes:  Reminded me a little of At the Water's Edge by Sara Gruen)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (no F-bombs), violence, and mild sexual content

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for violence and brief, mild language (no F-bombs)

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

With her best—and only—friend off on an exciting foreign exchange student adventure, Tara Krishman is starting her junior year alone.  As the only person of color (Tara's dad is Indian, her mom Caucasian) in her posh Connecticut high school, she already feels out-of-place.  Without her BFF by her side, Tara knows it's going to be a long, lonely year.

Then, something incredible happens: a new planet is discovered.  Terra Nova seems to mirror Earth, even down to individual people.  Tara can't help but imagine another Tara in an alternate world.  Is Other Tara friendless or popular?  Shy or bold?  Scared or courageous?  

Weirdly, a small shift has occurred in Tara's real world.  When she receives an unexpected invitation to a party at the home of a super popular girl, Tara's thrown into the "it" crowd.  Suddenly, relationships she's only dreamed of are becoming real.  At the same time, things at home are changing.  Obsessed with Terra Nova, Tara's mom runs off to join a doomsday cult.  Her dad can't cope; neither can Tara, not really.  How can her life be going so wrong at the same time it's finally going so right?  How will these events, both cosmic and domestic, alter the course of Tara's life?  What will they teach her about family, friendship, and who she is as a person?

I grabbed Mirror in the Sky, a debut novel by Aditi Khorana, off the shelf because it had been voted a teen favorite by patrons of my local library.  The premise sounded interesting, so I decided to give the book a shot.  And?  Well, it was interesting, just not quite as interesting as I wanted it to be or interesting in the way I wanted it to be, if that makes sense.  Although the story sounds very sci-fi, it's not.  At its heart, Mirror in the Sky is a story about an ordinary teen girl trying to navigate her way through what is fast becoming an extraordinary year.  It's a blend of family conflict, friend drama, and awkward teen romance.  Terra Nova exists in the story only as a tool for reflection.  Bummer, that, because I found the mirror planet to be the most intriguing aspect of the novel's plot.  Tara and her friends just aren't that engaging—almost to a one, they are selfish, whiny, negative, petty, melodramatic, etc.  Also, unrealistic.  What teens have this much freedom (where are their parents?)  and vocabularies that allow them to toss around words like heteronormative and matrilineal in casual conversation?  Anyway, for me, the most compelling aspects of the novel remained the least developed.  In the end, then, Mirror in the Sky left me feeling unsatisfied.  It may be a teen favorite, but it didn't do a whole lot for me ...

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

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (a dozen or so F-bombs, plus milder expletives), sexual content, and depictions of underage drinking and illegal drug use

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

With no disease, no war, no government, no real pain, and virtually no death, life in MidMerica is pleasantly staid.  Ambition has become a thing of the past.  In fact, "with nothing to aspire to, life had become about maintenance.  Eternal maintenance" (44).  Citra Terranova is satisfied with her comfortable, unremarkable existence which she knows will evolve into a comfortable, unremarkable future.  As just one member of a very large family, 16-year-old Rowan Damisch isn't quite as at ease, but he's not unhappy with his life either.  What neither teen expects is to be given the chance to do something important, something extraordinary.  Becoming a scythe's apprentice—and eventually, a real scythe—is that kind of assignment.  In a pleasant world full of placid people, it's a chance to be stand out, to become something special.

As the harbingers—and executors—of death, scythes are universally feared.  Although the random killings performed by scythes are deemed necessary for population control, few are truly comfortable with their presence.  Citra and Rowan are no exception.  They don't want to become scythes, are appalled by the idea of spending the rest of their lives killing people.  Then again, they don't really have a choice, do they?  As the teens learn the "art" of performing sanctioned murder, they're awakened to the harsh realities and cruel costs of maintaining a perfect world.  Is it worth the heavy price?  And how can two kids possibly change things if it's not? 

First off, let me say that I love Neal Shusterman.  His Unwind series is brilliant, one of my favorites.  Shusterman has a way of examining contemporary issues in unique and surprising ways while, at the same time, telling an engaging, exciting story.  I'm a fan, for sure.  So, naturally, I got excited when I heard he was penning a new series.  Even though the book's premise sounded a little odd, I was stoked to read Scythe, the first installment.  What did I think?  Honestly, I was disappointed.  I expected the novel to be chilling.  I expected it to be disturbing.  I also expected to like it because, well ... it's Shusterman!  And yet, I just couldn't get on board with the story's premise (which is, indeed, chilling and disturbing).  At no point in the tale did I become convinced of the necessity of scything.  Nothing about the job seemed noble or necessary.  I mean, if you absolutely had to kill people off every now and then to control the population, why in the world would you make their deaths any more violent or traumatizing than they had to be?  Makes no sense to me, not even in a fictional world.  So, yeah, I had trouble stomaching the whole idea.  Also, considering all the blood and gore, Scythe actually gets boring in places.  I can't see teens sticking with it for all 435 pages.  The novel does ask some intriguing philosophical questions (Can one truly know pleasure without experiencing pain?  Can people really appreciate life if they know nothing of death?) that would make for some excellent discussion.  Overall, though, I had a hard time enjoying Scythe.  I'm still in awe of Shusterman's impressive storytelling skills, but his new series is just not for me.  Bummer.

(Readalikes:  Reminds me a little of the Hunger Games series [The Hunger Games; Catching Fire; and Mockingjay] by Suzanne Collins and "The Lottery" by Shirley Jackson)

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for violence, blood/gore, sexual innuendo, and language (no F-bombs)

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of Scythe from Costco with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.