(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Two years ago, Petula de Wilde killed her little sister.  Intellectually, the 16-year-old knows Maxine's death wasn't her fault—not entirely—but she can't quite convince her aching heart.  Nothing's been the same since Max died.  Not Petula's parents, who can barely stand each other.  Not her friendship with Rachel; the two no longer speak.  Not Petula's fragile psyche, which can't stop seeing death in every pothole, germ, and hamburger patty.  Petula used to be normal.  Now, she's a freak with such limited social skills that she's stuck doing preschool projects in art therapy class with the all other weirdos at her high school.

Then, Petula meets the Bionic Man.  Jacob Cohen, a 17-year-old amputee, has just moved to Vancouver from Toronto.  For reasons the budding filmmaker refuses to divulge, he has also been placed in "crafting for crazies."  For reasons just as mysterious, Jacob seems to find Petula oozing with friend potential.  She can't understand why a nice, normal guy like him would think her appealing, but he's slowly pushing through the defenses she throws up against everyone else.  Before she knows it, Petula and Jacob have become closer than she could have ever imagined.  Petula's told him all her deep, dark secrets, so why is Jacob so reticent with his?  What is he hiding?  When the truth finally comes to light, everything will change.  Including a tenuous relationship between two very broken teenagers ...

Yesterday when I was reading Optimists Die First, a YA tragicomedy by Susin Nielsen, my 15-year-old daughter asked what the book was about.  Without really thinking, I replied, "A quirky girl meets a quirky boy and they fall in quirky love."  And you know what?  That's a pretty apt description, if I do say so myself.  Petula, a craft and cat fiend with myriad neuroses, defines quirky.  Her oddities keep her interesting, while her voice—which is strong and real—makes her relatable.  She's a sympathetic character, one readers want to see succeed.  Gentle Jacob appeals in much the same way.  In fact, this could be said of all Nielsen's story people.  They're a likable lot.  Which makes Optimists Die First fun to read.  It's a sad book, yes, but it's more hopeful than not.  Although there were parts I wasn't so keen on (hello, bizarrely lax parenting!), overall, I enjoyed this novel about friendship, forgiveness, and finding hope in even the darkest of crafting disasters.

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

Grade:

    

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (no F-bombs), sexual content, and references to drugs and underage drinking (references are non-graphic and used mostly in a cautionary way)

To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of Optimists Die First from the generous folks at Random House Children's Books.  Thank you!

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

To the FTC, with love:  I received an ARC of At the Pulpit: 185 Years of Discourses by Latter-Day Saint Women from the generous folks at the LDS Church History Department.  Thank you!

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

"Maybe Hell wasn't anything to do with places.  Hell was all to do with people.  Maybe Hell was people" (44).

The very last thing Ellie and her friends expect when they emerge from the bush is to find their world irrevocably changed.  After a week of camping in the wilderness outside their hometown, all they're really thinking about is hot showers and home-cooked meals.  But, while they've been gone, an unknown enemy has taken over their small town.  Wirawee—and maybe all of Australia—is overrun with armed, foreign soldiers.  All of the kids' friends, neighbors, and family members have been imprisoned.  Homes sit empty.  Farm animals are dead in their corrals.  Stores have been ransacked.  The sound of gunfire echoes through the still air.  This, the teens are shocked to discover, is a war zone.

Ellie and her six best mates soon realize they may be Wirawee's only hope for rescue.  They've been joking all week about "going bush" and "going feral."  It's no longer a laughing matter; hiding seems like the best—the only—way to avoid capture.  From the safety of the bush's natural camouflage, they can figure out what to do next.  The terrified teens can't imagine how to do it, but they know it's up to them to save the world—or at least their little corner of it.

Tomorrow, When the War Began is the first installment in John Marsden's addictive Tomorrow series.  The Australian author published the initial volume in 1993; it, and all the subsequent books, have been popular ever since.  It's easy to see why.  Narrated by strong, sympathetic Ellie, the novel tells an exciting story full of action and adrenaline-fueled adventure.  While it's sometimes difficult to distinguish one member of Ellie's posse from another, the characters are still intriguing.  They get more fleshed out in later books; Tomorrow, When the War Began focuses more on plot.  Still, the tale offers an engaging cast of story people, all of them interesting and root-worthy.  That, coupled with lots of heart-pumping action, makes for a fast, engrossing read.  The tale's not without its quiet, contemplative moments, which gives it more depth and authenticity.  This balance creates a round, layered story that's not just a good yarn, but a poignant one as well.  Tomorrow, When the War Began hooked me right away—since the books weren't readily available at my library, I bought the whole set from Amazon through a U.K. seller.  That's how invested I already am in this promising series!

(Readalikes:  Other books in the series, including The Dead of The Night; A Killing Frost; Darkness, Be My Friend; Burning for Revenge; The Night is For Hunting; and The Other Side of Dawn)

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (no F-bombs), violence, scenes of peril, and sexual innuendo

(Note: The 2010 Tomorrow, When the War Began film [viewable right now on Netflix] is rated either PG-13 or R, depending on where you're looking.  Netflix says R.  Amazon has two different listings for the DVDs, one with a PG-13 rating, one with an R rating.  I won't watch the film until after I finish the books; if you have, enlighten me about the content, won't you?  The 2015/16 t.v. mini-series version [available for purchase on Amazon through Australian retailers] is NR for not rated)   

To the FTC, with love:  I bought a copy of Tomorrow, When the War Began from Amazon with a portion of the millions I make from my lucrative career as a book blogger.  Ha ha.

(Image from Barnes & Noble)

Someone once called me the Simon Cowell of book blogging, a title which I proudly embraced.  I'm notoriously hard to please, but guess what?  There's someone out there who's even pickier than I am!  You're shocked, I know.  Jenny, who runs Alternate Readality, is that blogger.  I've been a fan girl for a long time because I can always trust Jenny to tell it like it is.  She's got a sharp wit, a refreshing honesty, and an abiding loyalty to her blogging friends.  I love her.  She rarely gushes, so when she posted a rave review of a book I'd never heard of—Ketchup Clouds by Annabel Pitcher—I knew I needed to give the novel a go.  In the end, I didn't love it as much as Jenny did, but I did enjoy the book and would definitely recommend it to anyone who digs contemporary YA.

Here's the low-down:

Few people know what it's like to bear responsibility for the death of someone they love.  Few people get how it feels to lug around guilt that big, that crushing.  "Zoe"—a British teen—can't reveal her dark, dirty secret to anyone.  No one would understand how she fell for two boys, ripped one's heart out (figuratively) and killed the other (literally).  No one except another murderer.  Desperate to confess to someone, "Zoe" chooses the one person who might get what she's feeling—an inmate on Death Row in a Texas prison.  Through the letters she writes late at night, she tells Stuart Harris everything.  He may never receive her epistles, but that doesn't really matter.  What matters is "Zoe" coming to terms with the horrible thing she's done, the terrible pain she's caused, and the excruciating grief that will be her lifelong penance.  

Like Jenny, I appreciate the balance that Pitcher achieves in Ketchup Clouds.  Parts of the story are (believe it or not) laugh out loud funny.  Other sections are weep-out-loud sad.  The narrator's voice is so authentic that it resonates no matter what part of her tale she's telling.  All the teens in the story seem step-right-off-the-page genuine—they are realistically thoughtless, impulsive, and fickle, which makes what happens to them all the more poignant.  With impeccable pacing, Ketchup Clouds also manages to be tense and suspenseful.  I never read story endings first, but I was tempted to in this case because I really, really wanted to know what happened with this ill-fated love triangle.  Overall, then, Ketchup Clouds makes for a compelling read.  Not a happy one or a hopeful one, but a thoughtful one that will make you think—about guilt, grief, remorse, and the eternal sting of regret.  I guarantee you'll still be pondering this one long after you read its last page.

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

Grade:

If this were a movie, it would be rated:

for language (no F-bombs), sexual content, and depictions of underage drinking

To the FTC, with love:  Another library fine find