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Innocent Blood by P. D. James: B

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From the back cover:
Philippa Palfrey, adopted as a child, exercises her legal right to apply for a copy of her birth certificate when she becomes eighteen. Although she has always had a fantasy of being the illegitimate daughter of an aristocratic father and now dead mother, she soon learns the shocking truth about her parents—and finds that her mother is about to be released from prison.

With this knowledge, Philippa moves into an alien world that is to prove more dangerous and terrifying than any she could imagine. For there is someone else interested in her mother’s release—someone who has dedicated his life to seeking out and destroying her.

Review:
Innocent Blood is rather odd. The story is intellectually interesting, but not much beyond that. The characters aren’t exactly unlikable, but they’re very aloof and remote. By the time they experience something provoking a powerful emotional response, it’s hard to care very much.

Not a lot happens until the last hundred pages or so, where the man with a grudge gets closer to exacting his revenge. I was curious to see whether he’d succeed but again, not very invested in the fates of the characters. I liked how revelations about Philippa’s adoption precipitated the events of the novel’s conclusion.

The writing is quintessential James, complete with thoughtful insights and the exceptionally vivid physical descriptions of the characters that I love so much. I liked it, but I’m not sure whether I’d reread it. I don’t rule it out.

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak: A+

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From the back cover:
“It’s just a small story really, about, among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist fighter, and quite a lot of thievery…”

Narrated by Death, Markus Zusak’s groundbreaking new novel is the story of Liesel Meminger, a young foster girl living outside of Munich in Nazi Germany. Liesel scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she discovers something she can’t resist—books. Soon she is stealing books from Nazi book-burnings, the mayor’s wife’s library, wherever they are to be found.

With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, Liesel learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids, as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement.

Markus Zusak has created an unforgettable novel about the ability of books to feed the soul.

Review:
I’m no particular World War II buff, but found The Book Thief to be exceptional and fascinating. The endearing, deftly drawn characters themselves are what I loved the most. The tale’s not as glum and dire as one might expect: there are many funny bits, heart-warming bits, and mischievous children. There are also some incredibly sad bits, which oughtn’t be surprising given the subject matter.

The story is uniquely told by Death, who is a droll storyteller. He’s weary, and he gets no particular relish from his job. To him, war is nothing to revel in—it’s just more work heaped upon him. The narrator of the audiobook, Allan Corduner, renders him excellently and thoroughly Britishly.

There’s not really a linear plot, just a variety of incidents occurring to the families living in one little neighborhood over a period of several years. In fact, Death sometimes jumps ahead in time to fill one in on a character’s eventual fate, which then made for bittersweet reading when one returns to the narrative in which they are so vibrantly alive.

My favorites of the wonderful, memorable characters, in ascending order of preference: Liesel’s foster mother, Rosa, yells a lot but has a big heart. The scenes where the fierce love she has for Liesel is most obvious are very moving. Liesel’s best friend, Rudy, is a brave, energetic boy (always pestering her for a kiss) who’s perpetually hungry. But absolutely stealing the show is her new “papa,” Hans Huberman. I absolutely adore Hans, as he’s one of those sweet, patient dads who knows the right things to say and is absolutely a good man through and through.

The Book Thief is technically a young adult book, but doesn’t really feel like one. It could just as easily have been marketed as adult fiction. There are many things to recommend it (and I do, highly) but the vivid characters alone are enough.

Uglies by Scott Westerfeld: B-

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From the back cover:
In the not-so-distant future, Tally Youngblood is quickly approaching her 16th birthday and the mandatory pretty-making surgery that accompanies it. But when Tally’s best friend Shay refuses the surgery and runs away to the Smoke, Tally must choose between friendship and beauty.

When a top-secret organization forces Tally to spy on the rebels of the Smoke—or risk being an Ugly forever—she reluctantly gives in. As the rebels befriend her, she learns that the pretty-making surgery may change more than just her looks. The people of the Smoke are working on a cure. But they need someone to become Pretty to find out if it works.

Review:
Uglies reminds me of Feed, with futuristic teens (encouraged to party rather than think) and new slang and gadgetry. Oh, and lesions.

Tally and Shay are friends who get up to various tricks and go exploring and stuff. Tally is gung-ho to become Pretty, but Shay is not enthusiastic. After Shay runs off to avoid the surgery, Tally is drafted to track her down and help the government round up the rebels.

After an extremely boring travel segment (who believes that an imperiled heroine will really die less than halfway through the book?), Tally arrives at her destination. Once there, she feels kinship with the rebels and is completely annoying by not just coming out with the truth and getting it over with. More stupidity—and rationalization for not confessing—follows, and I didn’t like that so much of the plot hinged on the protagonist being a moron.

I’m not sure what to make of this series. The characters are kind of flat. Part of the problem might’ve been with the narrator of the audiobook, who imbued Tally’s friends with dry, nasal voices that made them sound stoned or whiny. Some plotting elements annoyed me and more than once my attention drifted. I probably liked the futuristic setting enough to continue on to the next book, at least.

Avatar, Book Two by S. D. Perry: B+

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From the back cover:
As the Federation prepares to launch a counterstrike against the Dominion, Colonel Kira Nerys searches for a way to prevent another galactic holocaust. But when a newly discovered prophecy propels Jake Sisko on an impossible quest and threatens to plunge all of Bajor into chaos, Kira is forced to choose between being true to her faith… and being true to herself.

Meanwhile, as the combined crews of Deep Space Nine and the Starship Enterprise struggle to stop a terrorist plot to destroy the station and the ship, lives change, new friendships are forged, and the shocking truth behind a grisly murder is revealed.

Review:
This was another solid entry in the relaunch series, though some things that happened were totally obvious, like the “shocking truth” mentioned above and who becomes the new first officer of DS9. Other stuff genuinely surprised me, however, and after a slow start the momentum picked up and carried on ’til the end. The conclusion manages to simultaneously satisfy and leave enough threads dangling for future installments.

Characterization continues to be quite good for a media tie-in book. This time, it was Kasidy’s dialogue that really rang truest. I could easily imagine Penny Johnson delivering these lines.

I also liked a couple of meetings between the crews of the Enterprise and DS9, including Troi meeting Dax (whose previous host had wed Troi’s ex-beau, Worf) and Picard encountering Ro for the first time since her betrayal in “Preemptive Strike.”

Points off: Some bad editing and the entirely cheesy “The Beginning” at the end of the book.

Avatar, Book One by S. D. Perry: B+

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From the back cover:
In the aftermath of a war that brought the Alpha Quadrant to the brink of destruction, Starbase Deep Space Nine—the galaxy’s nexus of scientific and military intrigue—is once more the flashpoint of impending Armageddon as a surprise attack cripples the station, killing hundreds and threatening the fragile new peace.

Colonel Kira Nerys and the survivors—together with several controversial new officers—are all who stand against the outbreak of a new war and a terrible doom tied to the unborn child of Captain Benjamin Sisko.

Elsewhere, Captain Jean-Luc Picard and the crew of the Starship Enterprise make a startling discovery… one that will affect the destiny of an entire civilization and forever change the lives of those aboard Deep Space Nine.

Review:
This is the first book in the Deep Space Nine relaunch, which is set after the end of the series and continues on from where the finale left off. Quite a few plot threads are spun out in this initial volume, including a prophecy about Sisko’s unborn child, relationship woes for Dax and Bashir, and an apparent renewal of hostilities with The Dominion.

Two new characters are introduced, both thoughtful and unassuming, though it was a little annoying to be consistently reminded how much the established characters liked or admired them. One familiar face is added to the cast: Ro Laren, who somehow impressed the Bajoran government with post-Maquis fighting prowess, was given a Lieutenant’s rank in the militia, and got assigned to DS9 as the new Security Chief. I was happy that elaborate excuses weren’t made for bringing back any of the departed crew or station residents.

The characterization is pretty good. No dialogue or inner thought seemed wrong, though it was a bit odd that Ro smiled so often. The author’s especially good at writing Quark. Sometimes the action dragged a little bit, particularly when everyone in a situation begins to experience the same thing (feeling watched, for example). It just reads as repetitive until it finally dawns that it’s intentional.

I haven’t read a plethora of media tie-in books, but this is easily the best of those I have read. I’ll definitely be continuing with the series.

Lieutenant Hornblower by C. S. Forester: A

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From the back cover:
In this gripping tail of turmoil and triumph on the high seas, Horatio Hornblower emerges from his apprenticeship as midshipman to face new responsibilities thrust upon him by the fortunes of war between Napoleon and Spain. Enduring near-mutiny, bloody hand-to-hand combat with Spanish seamen, deck-splintering sea battles, and the violence and horror of life on the fighting ships of the Napoleonic Wars, the young lieutenant distinguishes himself in his first independent command. He also faces an adventure unique in his experience: Maria.

Review:
Lieutenant Hornblower is unique in that the tale is told from Bush’s perspective. I missed Hornblower’s brooding, insecure point of view, but it was interesting to see things from the stolid and loyal Bush’s perspective. I already had a healthy appreciation of Bush, but I sympathize with him more than ever after this volume.

The captain of the ship on which both men are serving is nutters, and eventually ends up being confined to quarters by his Lieutenants. To balance out this action in any subsequent inquiries, the men endeavour to distinguish themselves by going ahead with the mission. In this aim they storm and capture a Spanish fort, roust out some privateers, and repair an “unbushed” gun, all of which was exciting and interesting. Especially the gun bit, believe it or not.

Particularly great was the development of Bush and Hornblower’s relationship. Bush immediately sees Hornblower’s stoical mask for what it is, and his opinion of him continues to evolve from there. First he suspects he may be a coward, then he’s annoyed at Hornblower’s ready assumption of responsibility, then appreciative of his brilliance, then grateful for his solicitous attention once Bush has been wounded. By the end, Bush is honestly pleased for his friend when Hornblower is promoted from his subordinate to his superior.

This series has been great fun to read, and I couldn’t recommend it more highly. When next I read it, though, I think I’m going to go in internal chronological order, since the jumping around is getting a little tiresome.

How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff: B+

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From the front flap:
This is a story about love.

It’s also a story about hate, which is why I left New York in the first place. You don’t fly halfway across the world to live with a bunch of people you never met, just for a laugh.

I guess if I’d known where it was all going to lead, I might have thought twice about stepping onto that plane. I might have worried a little more about Edmond being my cousin.

And me being fifteen.

But I didn’t. And in the end, those things didn’t matter as much as you think they would.

In the end, the world had bigger things to worry about than us.

Review:
New Yorker Daisy has gone to visit some English relatives over the summer. At first things are idyllic, but a few weeks after she settles in, terrorists invade and occupy England. Daisy is separated from all but one of her cousins, a 9-year-old girl called Piper. At first, they’re living in the home of one of the military commanders, but soon are on their own as they try to find home and the others.

How I Live Now is a good book, but it seems sort of a surface-level account of what happened, particularly regarding the relationship between Daisy and Edmond. Also, the ubiquitous YA gimmick of missing or dead parents is used liberally.

I did like the examination of how war affects a civilian population, and how Daisy begins to feel responsible for Piper’s safety, her first time loving someone more than herself. Passages of extensive travel usually bore me, but that wasn’t a problem here.

This isn’t really a book about a war, and it is largely a story about love, but it’s mostly a tale about finding a place to belong and realizing what kind of person you want to be. I look forward to reading more by this author.

Darkest Hour by Meg Cabot: A

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From the back cover:
Sixteen-year-old Susannah Simon acts as a middleman between ghosts and the real world. As a mediator, she helps the spirits move on into their next life, whatever that might be. Even though she tried not to, Suze has fallen head over heels for a 19th-century ghost, an extreme hottie named Jesse.

Most ghosts try not to antagonize a mediator when they want their help. So when Suze wakes up to a knife at her throat, she is scared and stunned to be facing such a disturbing dilemma. Should she find the secret to Jesse’s murder and lose him forever, or concede to the demands of his ex-fiancee’s ghost and condemn Jesse to spending eternity in her bedroom?

Review:
Darkest Hour is the best of The Mediator books so far for the simple reason that finally there is a plot that affects Suze personally. I never really believed that Jesse would be lost forever, but it gave a focus and a drive to the story that previous installments haven’t really had.

There were some Buffy parallels that I liked: Suze is forced to consider a lot of the things Buffy did regarding her relationship with Angel, like what sort of future could she and Jesse possibly have together? Later, events have made her numb, so hurt she can feel nothing but anger anymore. We’ve seen Buffy in this state a couple of times.

Not that the book wasn’t without flaws. The ghostly villains, Diego and Maria, were kind of lame. And if they’re new ghosts, then where have they been all this time? There was also another continuity error, this one having to do with the location of Suze’s bedroom. Shadowland makes a point of specifying that the windows in her room open onto the roof of the front porch. Yet somehow, in this book she manages to fall from said porch into a hole being dug in the backyard.

Darkest Hour also has the best ending of the series so far, including an intriguing mystery about another possible Mediator that was left in cliffhangery status. More like this, please!

The Children of Men by P. D. James: B-

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From the back cover:
The human race faces extinction. It is annihilation brought not by disease or nuclear war, not by crashing meteorites or colliding stars. Men and women have ceased, simply, to procreate. In 1994, sperm counts hit zero; pediatrics wards were rapidly and permanently depleted. Overnight, it seemed, the human race had lost its power to breed.

Now, 25 years later, a pervasive lethargy blankets the world. In Britain, one man has set himself up as “Warden,” and as his power grows, morality and hope deteriorate. The Warden’s cousin, the insular and aloof Theo Faron, is shocked out of his apathy when he is approached by a group of dissidents who call themselves The Five Fishes.

Amused and irritated by these amateurish rebels, Faron is drawn into their fragile circle in spite of himself. What they offer him could be the only future he’s got.

Review:
The Children of Men starts off promisingly. Theo (not at all Clive Owen-y) isn’t a particularly likeable protagonist, but he’s interesting enough in his cold detachment. Book One relates to his contact with the dissidents, his taking notice of what’s been going on around him, and his unsuccessful attempt to compel the Warden to do something about their concerns.

The implications of a world without children are chillingly explored—no schools, no playgrounds, children existing only as images and voices on recorded media. After humanity dies out, the buildings will sit idle until reclaimed by nature, and no one will ever again read the books. All of the world-building was excellent and thought-provoking.

Book Two begins six months later. The group has been discovered and seeks Theo’s help once again. The novel quickly degenerates into a description of their flight to evade capture. An interminable series of cars and concealing copses ensues. By the time the book dragged itself to a disappointing (but possibly ominous) conclusion, my primary feeling was relief.

I’ve also got a non-plot-related complaint. I’m definitely a fan of P. D. James’ writing style, but I didn’t care for the alternating first and third person narration she employed here. My guess is that this was done because Theo eventually stops writing in his journal and the rest of the story needs to be told, but it certainly doesn’t add anything to the experience.

Ultimately, the book is decent reading, if only for the ideas presented. I plan to see the movie at some point, since I suspect they culled the good bits and eschewed the monotonous ones.

What the Dead Know by Laura Lippman: B

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From the back cover:
Thirty years ago two sisters disappeared from a shopping mall. Their bodies were never found and those familiar with the case have always been tortured by these questions: How do you kidnap two girls? Who—or what—could have lured the two sisters away from a busy mall on a Saturday afternoon without leaving behind a single clue or witness?

Now a clearly disoriented woman involved in a rush-hour hit-and-run claims to be the younger of the long-gone Bethany sisters. But her involuntary admission and subsequent attempt to stonewall investigators only deepens the mystery. Where has she been, why has she waited so long to come forward?

In a story that moves back and forth across the decades, there is only one person who dares to be skeptical of a woman who wants to claim the identity of one Bethany sister without revealing the fate of the other. Will he be able to discover the truth?

Review:
On a mystery level, this book succeeds. Initially one believes in the claims of the disoriented woman, but as the story is revealed, and subsequent details come to light, doubt creeps in. The story is well-paced, unpredictable, and makes sense, even with the jumping about in time. I found myself taking slightly longer routes home just so I could hear more of it and was not disappointed in the conclusion.

The characters are more of a mixed bag. The Bethany family itself—daughters Heather and Sunny and parents Dave and Miriam—were by far the most defined. Significant time is spent on showing them before the abduction and also on the relationship of the parents afterwards. In some aspects, I was reminded of The Lovely Bones, as it deals similarly with a family coping after the disappearance of a daughter.

The present day cast—the detectives, the social worker, the lawyer—involved with determining the veracity of the woman’s story are more nebulous, some of them downright flat. I sincerely hated the primary detective, Kevin Infante. He’s incredibly crude, profane, and misogynistic.

What the Dead Know is ultimately worth reading. It was never boring, and though I never mustered any particular care for any of the characters, I enjoyed the suspenseful plot. I don’t see myself reading it again or acquiring my own copy, but I’d probably read more by this author.