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Built as a refuge from the toxin-coated land Above, Atlantia is an underwater city, a safe haven for those fortunate enough to have earned a place there.  Although it's possible to leave, few do. Those left Above spend their lives slaving away in the diseased world in order to ensure the survival of those in Atlantia.  It's considered a noble sacrifice to toil away for the good of the underwater world, but not one many are willing to make.   

Although 15-year-old Rio Conwy loves Atlantia, she's always longed to live Above—to see the stars, to feel the sun, to roam in a vast land without walls.  She's finally old enough to choose her own fate, but things have changed.  With her mother dead, Rio can't abandon her fragile twin sister, Bay.  Staying Below forever is a sacrifice she has to make, no matter how much it hurts.

When Bay makes her own unexpected choice, Rio is stunned.  Her world flip-flops.  She knows she can't remain in Atlantia, but her chance to go Above has passed.  It's a trip she is now forbidden to make.  No one has ever successfully sneaked out of Atlantia on their own, but she has to try for her sister and herself.  As Rio attempts the risky escape, she must also be careful to keep her true nature a secret.  If anyone finds out what she really is, Rio would never—never—be allowed out of the Council's sight.  When she stumbles on some disturbing secrets about her world, she's even more determined to leave.  But, making enemies with the Council is not a good idea.  Can Rio make her escape?  Can she find Bay?  Or is she destined to remain trapped forever in a snowglobe beneath the sea?

Ever since I read the premise of Ally Condie's newest novel, Atlantia, I've been intrigued by it.  Especially once I figured out it's not a mermaid story, but an underwater dystopian adventure.  I expected a magical, atmospheric tale that would spellbind me with its beauty.  Did I get it?  Not exactly.  The world of Atlantia is unique, but its rules are dumped in such a rush that the setting never feels real.  The relationship between Rio and Bay unfolds in much the same way.  Their interactions are so quick and flat that, for the rest of the novel, I didn't feel any urgency for the twins to be reunited.  In fact, flat is a good adjective for my experience with this whole book—the setting lacks dimension, the characters remain mostly undeveloped, and the plot gets pretty blah in places.  All in all, I just didn't love Atlantia.  Too many leaks, if you'll pardon the pun.  While I did appreciate the risks Condie took with the story, as well as the fact that she kept it PG, overall, this one left me feeling very disappointed.  Ah, well.

(Readalikes:  Reminded me of Dark Life and Rip Tide by Kat Falls)

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When a freak bicycle accident takes her husband's life, Vidrine Bell snaps.  Needing "time to think," she dumps her 11-year-old daughter in Louisiana, at the home of the girl's paternal grandmother.  Liberty "Ibby" Bell has never seen anything like New Orleans, let alone the giant, crumbling mansion in which she's going to be living.  Then, there's Frances "Fannie" Hadley Bell, Ibby's eccentric grandmother who's been in and out of the insane asylum for years.  Queenie, the maid who "came with the house," warns Ibby never to bring up Fannie's past and never to ask questions if Fannie brings it up.

Intrigued by all the secrets swirling around the big old house, Ibby slowly learns about her family's history.  Under the tutelage of Queenie and her outspoken daughter, Dollbaby, she also gets an education about how to get along in the 1960s South.  As Ibby's friendship with Queenie's granddaughter grows, she gets a taste of the vicious racism of which some people are capable.  Despite the friction, Ibby feels her new home and family growing on her.  What once was foreign is now not just familiar, but also comforting.  As her definition of family changes, Ibby wonders what will happen when—and if—her mother comes to take her away.  Can she leave behind The Big Easy, with all its charms, secrets, and people she's grown to love?  

Told in the alternating voices of Ibby, Dollbaby and Fannie, Dollbaby by Laura Lane McNeal oscillates between the past and the present.  It tells a compelling story, made even more layered by the different voices through which it is filtered.  The novel definitely rambles in a way that feels unfocused and over-reaching, like the author's trying to cover a little too much territory.  Much of it feels cliché as well as predictable.  While these things tarnished my enjoyment of the novel, overall, Dollbaby kept me reading.  In the end, I didn't love it, didn't hate it, just found it okay.  

(Readalikes:  Reminded me a bit of The Help by Kathryn Stockett)

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Life is unbearably cruel for a 12-year-old Virginian girl who's been little more than a servant to her pa and brothers since her mother died in childbirth.  Abused daily by the males, she longs for escape.  For freedom.  When a runaway slave named Zenobia comes begging for help, the girl hides her, knowing she risks her own life to do so.  Protecting Zenobia gives the girl an idea—maybe she can run for her freedom, too.

Hiding during the day, running at night, the girls flee toward a Quaker settlement called Watertown.  As they dodge slave traders and other dangers, the two form a strong friendship.  Zenobia gives the girl a name—Lark—and shows her that, despite Lark's pale skin, the girls are more alike than different.  But will they accomplish their shared goal?  Will they reach freedom?  The girls would rather die than go back to their former lives—and that may be exactly what happens.

Running Out of Night, the debut novel of non-fiction writer Sharon Lovejoy, tells a tense, triumphant story about two brave girls fighting for the right to control their own destinies.  Drawing on old family letters as well as Lovejoy's lifelong interest in nature, gardening, and ethnobotany, it offers a unique twist on a familiar story.  I enjoyed it.

(Readalikes:  Reminded me of Black Angels by Linda Beatrice Brown)

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Sam McKenna's never been able to back down from a dare.  Especially when it comes from her older brother, Amos.  In the wake of his suicide, 17-year-old McKenna is more determined than ever to fulfill the last challenge Amos ever flung at her.  Even if it's a crazy one.  And trying to get into the prestigious, boys-only Denmark Military Academy is insane—especially when you're a girl.  Still, Sam manages to break the barrier and become one of the school's first female cadets.  That's when the real nightmare begins.  

No one wants Sam to survive her first year at DMA.  Not even her brother, Jonathon, who's a cadet colonel at the school.  That becomes clear almost as soon as she steps onto campus.  Not only is she forced to work harder than her male counterparts, but she's mocked and abused at every turn.  Although she finds allies in surprising places, she soon begins to suspect that an archaic secret society is still at work on DMA's campus—and it wants her gone.

As Sam works to expose the school's dark side, she struggles to fit in, to outlast her tormentors, and to help the two other female cadets stay strong in the face of brutal intimidation tactics.  Then, there's her strong, but embarrassing attraction to her drill sergeant.  The longer Sam stays at DMA, the more dangerous her situation becomes.  Can Sam survive her brother's dare?  Does she even want to?  Is it really worth it, when the society is so obviously out for her blood?  Sam has never known when to quit.  This time, her stubbornness could cost her her life ...

While the premise behind Rites of Passage, a debut novel by Joy N. Hensley, isn't very original, it still makes for an intense, action-packed read.  With Hensley's insider's view of military academy life, the details of Sam's experience ring with authenticity.  Sam, herself, is empathetic and admirable—an easy character with which to side.  I definitely cared about what was happening to her.  The thing that bugged me about her story, though, is that it's all about a tough, kick-A heroine who can take care of herself—and yet, Sam repeatedly gets rescued by all the guys around her.  Solving all of these problems on her own, with only minimal help, would have made her a more inspiring character.  All in all, though, I enjoyed Rites of Passage.  It's fast-paced and compelling, a solid debut that makes me curious to see what the author will do next. 

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

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