Verdict, No. 17

 (find judgment here)

 Cloud Atlas

by David Mitchell

"What I wouldn't give now for a never-changing map of the ever-constant ineffable? To possess, as it were, an atlas of clouds."
*

In one word: wow. It's the first book where I agree with every back cover quote. And I found myself stopping to pencil down favorite bits and lines for future reference. And, by the end, all I wanted to do was read it again.

 It was that good. It was everything, and it was amazing.

Cloud Atlas is a beautiful tale of human resilience and what makes someone good. Is it something taught or experienced, or realized at the most dire time? It's a story within a story within a story within a story, and at the heart of it is a tale of a man unknowingly influenced by all the highlighted lives before him. It's interesting to imagine what impact a life has, and it's beautiful to see them ricochet between stories here. And if you wonder how Mitchell can pull off six stories in one book--ranging from nineteenth century letters of a sailor to a post-apocalyptic man unaware of what the world was--don't you worry about it. He is a genius of storytelling and characterization. Every story feels different, every character feels real, and every twist makes me want to read it over and over again.

It really was more than a book, more than an escape--it's a second life, and it claims you whole. I found myself mesmerized for hours, absorbed by each character and each varying story, landscape, lesson. Even for its heart--that being one of redemption and reincarnation, second chances--it never came off as preachy. Just metaphysical. And I loved the...wonderment.  It was astounding. Breathtaking. Intoxicating. Liberating.

Unforgettable.

I loved it. It's a new favorite, and I don't see it being replaced any time soon.  

Verdict, No. 16

(find the judgment here)

The Dog Stars

by Peter Heller

"I wake from dream into dream and am not sure why I keep going. That I suspect only curiosity keeps me alive. That I'm not sure any longer if that is enough."

*

An apt example sentence if ever there was one. For this is exactly what I found myself wondering about...two pages into the book. What is it about adult fiction that makes writers suddenly feel free to go crazy? I know I am a self-proclaimed lover of young adult literature and people don't tend to take me seriously because of it. But maybe it's because adult fiction is really just a bunch of grown-ups trying to prove they're not kids anymore. But they do it in the most asinine way possible. 

Now, I wouldn't exactly call myself a prude. There are books with swearing, sex, or drug use that I can appreciate. As long as there's a reason for it--as in it makes sense. So the first few F words, fine. This guys living in a crappy world filled with awful people, I guess a dirty mouth only makes sense. But this book averaged about three F words a page. At some three hundred pages...it becomes a little excessive. And then there's the whole sex thing. I know, I know. People have sex. It happens. It's a thing of life. And men who go nine years without it I'm sure would naturally think about it were a beautiful woman to suddenly walk into their lives. But I don't need to know every awkward detail just because it's happening. With or without the sex scene, the book would happen. So why be so blatant and crude about it? Since when did vulgarity equal maturity?

It's kind of an unfair standard: if drugs, sex, and swearing are in YA fiction, people are up in arms claiming literature is ruining their kids' moralities. It's YA books that are banned from schools, too awful for their dear children to face. Books like Catcher in the Rye or anything Mark Twain. But when I read something about F-ing with some hot young thing and all the...let's say intimate details involved, I want to turn around and yell "Right back at ya." Cuz things here just got awkward real fast. 

This is why I read YA, people. 

And maybe it is just me, but I think this book would have been just as strong without all that. Okay, let's be fair: without so much of it. But I doubt it would have gotten so much attention. Because people like the shock and awe factor. They like inexplicable gore and violence and sensuality. You see it in movies, you see it in books. So maybe it's inevitable. Maybe I should let adult fiction be just that: adult. So let's ignore all that lovely stuff and focus on the story. Did I like it?

Maybe. I can't really say. I wasn't at all invested in the main character, Hig, or his life decisions. But I was interested in the world he was forced to reside in. And there was a certain effortlessness to Heller's Hemingway-like prose. It was simplistic. Stylistic. Choppy. Desperate. Interesting (once you got into the swing of it). Heller does a great job at characterizing a heartless world and, while there doesn't seem to be much rhyme or reason to the plot, that same inexplicability makes this desperate world seem all the more real. And Hig's heartbreak for his dead wife is...beautiful. The obsession for the dog--practically titular--is unexplained. In fact, it's mostly forgotten after about thirty pages in when the animal, well, dies. It became almost awkward when Hig brought it up later--as if Heller realized that maybe if he wanted "dog" in the title, he should keep mentioning it throughout. Even as a way to keep someone from killing him. Cuz that would work on me.

So, yes, this is a chilling novel, a frightening world, and it's a story about a broken man's search for wholeness in a shattered world. There were definitely some heart-wrenching, hopeless and beautiful parts. But they were far and few between, tangled around a mess of distracting vulgarity. Call me quaint, but it just didn't work for me. So if this is the best of new adult fiction, count me out. I'd so rather have a taste of YA any day. 

Verdict, No. 14

(find the judgment here)
Blood Red Road

by Moira Young

"If you know how to read the stars, you can read the story of people's lives."

*

This is quite possibly the best book I have ever read.

It sounded so cliche, you know? Girl goes to save a sibling, gets caught in a government upheaval, meets a handsome stranger, makes tough-as-nail friends. It sounded like everything I've read before. I was sure it would suck. I mean, even after I bought it and it came in the mail, I didn't touch it for another day. And I just thought I'd read a couple chapters before bed, maybe like it a little. But it amazed me. Literally and in every sense. I talk about needing to be "wow"ed? This is it, folks: it's the best book I've read in a long, long time.

And I know this blog hasn't exactly...set me up as a critic of great literature. If I'm not touting Anna Godbersen, I'm suddenly in love with Delirium. But all those books--those frilly, melodramatic obsessions--they're guilty pleasures. They're great and I still stand by the writing, but...they're not everything I read, and I know they aren't the best. But maybe I've already lost some of my credibility because of it. Maybe you all roll your eyes at my choices; maybe you snort at my praise for certain books; maybe you doubt my ability to really know good literature. And maybe you do all that with good reason. But I have to ask, if you're going to listen to me on just one thing, hear me now: read Blood Red Road.

I might absolutely adore the Luxe series and I might have been blinded by Delirium, but Blood Red Road wasn't just a silly read I giggled over; this was a book that made me excited.

Remember reading Hunger Games for the first time? I came across it before it was a big deal (at least before I knew it was a big deal) and I was obsessed with it. Completely absorbed it in just a few hours and then I jumped up and down and told everyone to read it too. And people are saying this is as good as that. But it's not: it's better. It's crazy, and it's crazy-good.

Instead of some whiny, insipid girl you wish would just up and off herself already, thus sparing us the self-loathing (Katniss), here we have Saba. She's just a straight-up BA who don't take no BS from nobody. She's tough as nails, often...unapproachable, and willing to pretty much cut down anyone who gets in her way. Including, from time to time, her little sister. Is she perfect? Hardly. Is she beautiful? Not exactly. Is she idealistic and hoping to change the world? Actually, she's mostly selfish and very angry. But, even for all that, she's someone you can't help but root for.

I mean, for one, she doesn't become the face of a revolution just because she was clever enough to hide in some trees and sic bees on people; she doesn't spend her time manipulating the perfect boys around her who are inexplicably in love with her even though they're complete opposites; she doesn't mope and cry and consider suicide again and again. Saba is freakin' amazing, and her story is even more so. And I say it like she's real because Moira Young is great at characterizing. But, then again, Young, I quickly realized, is pretty amazing at everything: dialogue, emotions, narration, and just setting a really good scene.

There's nothing really unbelievable or awkward (...except perhaps 30-foot worms with claws. But, trust me, you buy into those pretty quick). And at least there aren't weird surgical beauty regimes or most of those sci-fi aspects often littered in dystopian fiction. But that's because this isn't dystopian. There's no dictator, no pretense of perfection. There's just the desert and the rusted remains of what they call the "wrecker" times. It's an ugly, lawless place, but Saba doesn't know anything else; she just wants to survive. It's her supporting cast that kind of pull her out of her self-absorbation. And they do it with all sorts of personalities. And, sure, people die. Lots die. There's killing all over the place. I mean, they're up against a drug lord. You have all sorts of people fighting to live and taking out anybody to do it.

But, listen. It might sound crazy--it might be crazy--but...I mean, from the first page, I was breathless. It sucked me in, zero seconds flat. It was like magic: I curled up under my covers, I flipped open to the prologue and...I was flabbergasted. In the best way imaginable. It was like my whole body went to sleep and I was just absorbed into the pages. Frankly, I'm in love. The language, the writing, the voice--whatever you call it--it bewitched me, body and soul.

And that handsome daredevil? I'd trade Peeta in for him any day of the week.

But I'm completely serious. If any of you really love reading, really love good STORIES, read this one now. I think I'm going to read it again. Right now. Cuz I just can't get enough of it.