Ambivalence. I was just going to list this book on my “books read in August” list with a note saying “NOT recommended” next to the title. However, in some ways, it’s a great book.

Mr. Green writes about The Issues of Adolescence —life, death, and sexuality–with verve and humor. The characters in the novel are unique and yet representative of typical teenagers. The situations and jokes and the midnight conversations are funny, and sometimes even profound. I could picture The Colonel, and Pudge (Miles), and Takumi and Lara and Alaska, and I felt as I read that I got to know them as a group of rebellious teens and as individuals. In fact, I wanted to slap them up the side of the face for the stupid decisions they made, and applaud their search for meaning in an essentially absurd universe.

However, and it’s a big however, I was more than uncomfortable with the language and the graphic descriptions of adolescent sexual explorations that pervaded the novel. I know that some teenagers (not all) try out sex in all its manifestations, and I know that some teens (not all) use language that would make a sailor blush. But I don’t really want to read about it. And I don’t feel very good about my teenagers reading about it.

So, I’d say that Looking for Alaska is a well-written, insightful, funny, blasphemous profane, and sexually explicit look at adolescence on the wild side. The actions and reactions of the characters are believable and sometimes deplorable. Oh, and Mr. Green won the Prinz Award for YA literature for this debut novel in 2006. Enter at your own risk.

I’m curious. Are there any subjects or is there any kind of language that is out of bounds anymore for a young adult novel? I’m asking because I really don’t know. Would it be acceptable for me to describe, in detail, child sexual abuse or necrophilia in my young adult novel if I were an author of YA fiction? Not that Looking for Alaska deals with those particular subjects, because it doesn’t, but I’m asking out of curiosity because I really don’t know. Are there any uncrossable lines anymore? Are there ten, seven, or even five words, you can’t use in YA fiction?

And what do you think the “lines” should be, if any? Should the standards be different from those in adult fiction? (Not that I can tell that there are any in adult fiction.)

Mr. Green responds and readers discuss.

Semicolon review of An Abundance of Katherines by John Green.

Semicolon’s September: Celebrations, Links and Birthdays

I can’t believe I read the whole thing.

And now I’m going to write a spoiler review so that you don’t have to read it when it comes out in December, 2008. Or if you like stereotypical characters, a predictable plot, and lots of heavy breathing in your teen fiction, you can run out and grab a copy for Christmas. Just don’t give it to me.

Alex is a Chicano gang banger from the wrong side of town, and Brittany is the blond and beautiful leader of the pom-pom squad. Alex’s dad is dead (killed in a gang-related murder), and his mom is loving but overwhelmed. Brittany lives with an inattentive dad and a neurotic mom who pressures her to be perfect. In fact Brittany pressures herself to be perfect because her mentally handicapped sister can never be the perfect daughter that Brittany’s mom wants. This books is actually about perfectionism, gangs, and sex, with sex at the top of the list.

So Miss Perfect But Really Poor Little Rich Girl meets Chicano Gang Member from Down in the Boondocks with a Rough Exterior But a Heart of Gold –in chemistry class–and what do you think happens? Of course, they fall for each other, and after several mildly humorous cross-cultural misunderstandings and lots of heavy breathing, petting and foreplay, and not a little violence, they get together, have sex before marriage, and live happily ever after.

Again, any author has a right to tell whatever story he or she wants to tell, and I have a right to say that it’s not only unrealistic, but misleading to the teens to whom this book is being marketed. Bad boys are not usually changed into law-abiding citizens by the love of a good woman, no matter what the romance writers may say. If your daughter takes up with a gang banger who in his spare time is an enforcer for criminal enterprises, you had better do more than wring your hands and whine that he’s just not our kind of people. No one is beyond redemption, not Mexican American gang members and not perfectionist fake blondes, but redemption is the product of repentance and a change of heart, not lust and a lucky break, as it is in this novel.

And don’t even get me started on the stereotypes that fill the book: Mr. Macho, Miss Popularity, Mr. Sidekick, Tough but Fair Chemistry Teacher, Back-Stabbing Friend, Weak Lawyer’s Son Boyfriend, Distant Dad, etc.

Thanks to Walker Books for sending me a review copy of Perfect Chemistry, but no thanks.

Jocelyn at Teen Book Reviews has a completely different opinion from mine.

Dark Ages . . . Dark Queen . . . Dark History.

There really is veil, or a sort of a blank space in my mind, covering the time between the end of the New Testament, around 100 AD, and the beginning of the Middle Ages, which will always begin in my mind at 1066 AD when The Norman invaders defeated the Saxons in England at the Battle of Hastings.

What happened between those two dates? The Romans sort of ebbed and flowed in response to repeated barbarian invasions and challenges. The Eastern Roman Empire flourished with its center at Constantinople. And in 60 or 61 AD, actually before my cut-off date but still under my historical radar, Boudica, queen of the Iceni tribe of East Anglia, led a group of British tribes in a rebellion against the Romans. Although the rebellion was ultimately unsuccessful, Boudica is still remembered, especially in Britain, and she has become a symbol of courage and female spirit and tenacity. Tennyson wrote a poem called Boadicea (a variant spelling), and Cowper also wrote a poem about the Dark Queen. And a statue of Boudica, commissioned by Victoria’s Prince Albert, stands near Westminster Pier in London.

Also Rosemary Sutcliff, prolific author of historical fiction, especially historical fiction set in ancient Britain, wrote this book, a fictional treatment of Boudica’s life and times. It would be appropriate for teens and young adults who were studying this time period, but it’s a little too bloody and violent for younger children, in my opinion. Unfortunately, the blood and guts are true to actual events since the Romans really did take Boudica’s kingdom, beat her and rape her daughters, after the death of her husband who left the kingdom in his will to Boudica and to the Roman Emperor. The Romans didn’t believe in women rulers, so they sort of ignored the part about Boudica’s inheriting jointly. The Britons requited the Roman rape and pillage with “slaughter by gibbet, fire, or cross,” destroying three Roman cities, including Londinium (London), and seventy or eighty thousand people before the Britons were defeated by the superiorly trained and disciplined Roman troops.

Good book, sad story. Song for a Dark Queen is out of print, by the way. There seems to be a a play based on the novel by Rosemary Sutcliff available at Amazon, but no book.

E. Bird’s review of Song for a Dark Queen at Amazon.

If there is any justice in the world, The Adoration of Jenna Fox should should win a Prinz Award for “Excellence in Young Adult Literature.” It’s brilliant. If you want to ensure that you read this novel without any preconceptions or knowledge of the plot, stop here and go get a copy. It’s that good, and that’s all you need to know.

I don’t want to give away any of the plot by giving even a brief synopsis. However, I will tell you a few of the ethical and moral and existential questions and dilemmas that present themselves in the course of the novel.

Like Natalie Babbit’s classic Tuck Everlasting, The Adoration of Jenna Fox asks the question of whether or not people were meant to live forever and what it would mean if they did.

The novel also deals with the ethics of genetic engineering and the problematic application of new bio-technologies in healing and preserving life. What are the unintended side effects of using technology that is imperfectly understood? Should we be genetically engineering our foods and other plants, or are we producing possible mutations that may come back to haunt us in the future?

Then there’s the Frankenstein angle. I happen to be reading Mary Shelley’s little story about human hubris, and the parallels were unmistakable. If science can do something, does that mean that it should? Is it truly possible for human beings to play God and create life, for example human clones, and if we can, should we? And what will be the result of our experimentation, Frankenstein’s monster or a living soul? Where does the soul reside?

The book also deals with identity. What makes me, me? If I have a heart transplant, am I still the same person afterwards? What about that pesky soul again? Where and what is it?

As if that weren’t enough, the book touches on the ethics of euthanasia. Does someone else, even someone who loves me, have the right to keep me alive with the use of technology against my wishes? Do family members have an ethical obligation to keep my body alive, whether or not my mind is still there? How can they know whether my mind is still working or whether it will recover?

And perfectionism is yet another theme. If I spend my life pleasing other people, even the people I love, do I somehow lose my identity?

Not many of these questions are really answered in the course of the story, but the novel does bring these and other dilemmas to light and force the reader to deal with the possible implications of the decisions that are being made in these and other arenas even as I write these words. Do we want to live in bioengineered world, and what would that mean to the way we see human-ness?

Not only does The Adoration of Jenna Fox deal with deeply philosophical and currently relevant issues such as these, but it also does so in beautifully moving language, with a bit of poetry thrown for good measure. Here’s a sample of the poetry:

Pieces

A bit for someone here.
A bit there.
And sometimes they don’t add up to anything whole.
But you are so busy dancing.
Delivering.
You don’t have time to notice.
Or are afraid to notice.
And then one day you have to look.
And it’s true.
All of your pieces fill up other people’s holes.
But they don’t fill
your own.

The poems are adolescent like that, kind of angsty, but good. And they don’t get in the way of the plot which moves at a good pace revealing just enough secrets in each chapter to keep the pages turning. I think this novel will be the best YA novel that I read this year. I can’t imagine anything that would be able to top it.

Other reviews:

Jen Robinson: “It is not to be missed, by anyone from fans of speculative fiction to fans of novels in verse (though only a small part is in verse) to fans of adult “literary fiction”. Don’t read any more reviews – don’t risk spoiling it – just go and get it.”

The Reading Zone: “It’s a frightening look at where our society is headed and what might happen in our future. It raises questions of medical ethics, bioethics, humanity, and how far we are willing to go to save someone we love. The plot doesn’t seem outlandish or out of the realm of possibility. In fact, it seems frighteningly possible.”

Jenna Fox website and book trailer.

My first thoughts upon closing the cover of this prize-winning young adult novel: what a wonderful, powerful story and what a horrible, confusing and disappointing ending! I’m not opposed to ambiguity, but be warned if you haven’t read it that the ending is beyond ambiguous. I’m not sure how I would have wanted the novel to end, but I’m not the author, only the reader. I immediately looked to see if there was a sequel, and there are not sequels, but rather “companion books.” So perhaps my questions will be answered and my angst over the fate of certain key characters resolved.

The Giver is a great novel, worthy of the Newbery Award it received. It brings up the issues of freedom vs. order and security, emotion vs. intellect, and the utility and purpose of memory and history. At first, Jonas, the narrator of the story, seems to live in a utopian community. No hunger, no sickness, very little pain, a society of stability, order and contentment. However, as the story progresses, the reader begins to see hints that Jonas’s world might not be as perfect as it looks. His mother, who holds a prominent position at the “Ministry of Justice”, is disturbed about a repeat offender who has broken the rules for a second time. The third offense means release from the community. Jonas’s father is a bit concerned about a baby at the Nurturing Center where he works who is not thriving and cries at night. Jonas himself is apprehensive about his Twelve Year ceremony, coming up in about a week, in which he will receive his apprenticeship assignment, the job assigned to him for his life’s contribution to his community. Then, there’s the airplane that flew over the community in direct contradiction to The Rules. All in all, it’s an unsettling time for Jonas and for the community.

The Giver goes from unsettling to chilling in a little under 200 pages. Short but memorable. However, I’m not the only one who found the ending less than satisfying.

Vampire Love by Libby Gruner, an essay at Literary Mama on the sources for the popularity of Stephanie Meyer’s series:

Vampire stories are, of course, perfect for teenagers. Vampires stay out all night, scare the respectable citizens, take crazy risks, and live, seemingly, forever. And they’re both sexy and dangerous. Their feasting is intimate, and it’s transformative: the first time matters. Vampire stories come and go, but they’ve been particularly popular among teenagers, it seems to me, during the age of AIDS: they titillate with their suggestion of a sweet fatality borne in the blood, but they also — in the Twilight series especially — carry a strong message of abstinence.”

I read Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse last month, one after the other, like candy, in the course of two or three days. Two of my daughters had the books, purchased with their own money, and I read them mostly to see what the fuss was about. Just like candy, I found them fairly harmless, but not terribly nutritious. Eldest Daughter read the first book in the series, Twilight, and found it to be repetitive and somewhat emotionally overwrought. I couldn’t disagree with her assessment, but it didn’t bother me as much as it did her. I just kept reading, eager to find out how Bella and her vampire boy friend would resolve their essential, life-threatening dilemma: how do you love someone who’s seriously tempted to kill you and drink your blood every time he gets close to you? Or if you’re Edward the Reformed Vampire who’s made a promise not to drink human blood, even though he needs blood to survive and craves human blood, how do you have an intimate relationship with the love of your life without killing her?

There are, of course, other difficulties and plot predicaments: bad, unreformed vampires, werewolves in the second book, Bella’s own clumsiness and stubbornness, Edward’s rectitude and his family of good, but tempted, vampires, a sort of Vampire Capital of the World where the vampires are bloodthirsty and not afraid to show it., other guys who provoke Edward’s jealousy. Still, it all comes down to: how are Edward and Bella going to get together and survive the encounter?

Recommended, cautiously, for those young ladies who realize that these books are fantasy, not reality, and that they’re essentially light reading, not models for male/female relationships.