This is one of those books that I have the opportunity to read every now and again that I really cherish. My favorite books in the young adult genre are those that delve into the difficult, real-life experiences of teens placed into impossible circumstances. I also love learning about these other cultures and the truth behind what has been happening around the world. It’s unfortunate that all too often here in America, we don’t care enough about the world outside of our own country to pay it much mind. The entire story is happening during my lifetime, and I had no idea that there was such strong oppression in Laos until after reading this book.

As for the text itself, Manivong narrates the story in a way that creates an excellent balance between the plot and characters and the description of the world. I could have used a bit more, actually, of the description of the awful circumstances in which our main characters have found themselves. Overall, it’s a compelling story with beautiful narration and an educational journey that is good for American audiences. I recommend it to readers 12+.

Critique

Unlike many of the books I read and review in the young adult arena, I was not able to skip through this text quickly. I found myself reading a few chapters and then pondering on the implications of the text and the honesty it forced me to face in my own life. Marcelo has this way of relating experiences in their most simplistic form, breaking things down from the complexity that we often try to shroud our interaction and thought process with in order to pursue negative and destructive behavior that we ultimately know is wrong and bad for us and others.

It caused me to question why we interact with each other in certain ways, and what prohibits us from being living in honesty and decency. It reminds me of many of the conversations I have around ‘sharing’ music, a term we use to defend something that it, in reality, is nothing but stealing. We have many methods we use to doublespeak ourselves into believing that this kind of behavior in all aspects of our lives is not only ‘ok’ but should actually be ‘encouraged.’ Through our selfishness, we create our own systems of misery and suffering, and I believe that a character like Marcelo has the capability to help us refocus and put it all back into perspective—cause and effect, action and consequence.

As for the story itself, it’s beautifully written, and I enjoyed every last word. It reads as if Stork truly took the time to create a rich, engaging, and educational experience for his audience. It’s been several days since I’ve finished, and although I’m in the midst of other books, this text has stuck with me as I continue to process through my priorities and the way I live my life in general. Marcelo is a believable character who goes through a painful transition and an arc that is riddled with sadness and joy. I think, in many ways, his journey helps to remind us that the ‘real world’ is more complicated than we’d like it to be, but that we often create that drama for ourselves. I recommend this to all readers 13+.

Critique

What can I say about Boys Without Names? It is such an amazing book, that I’m not sure describing it, or just using words like ‘moving,’ ‘poignant,’ and ‘beautifully painful’ really do it justice. It’s a simple yet profound story that everyone in America should read, not just teens. It’s important that we as a culture understand that many of the nice things that we want at a cheap price often come at an incredibly high price for someone else. Including becoming a slave.

Read it! Expand your worldview. Change your perspective on what it truly, tangibly means to have your clothes made in sweatshops in poorer countries around the world. Our rampant materialism is an oppressor to people in other nations, and we should have to account for it.

Other than the message Sheth so profoundly communicates, the world she creates is beautiful. I can feel the heat, smell all the amazing smells, and learn a great deal about Indian culture. I feel as if I am also one of those boys without names, working in the sweatshop, and through their experience of creating family and bonds, and reminded fondly of my own childhood. All the more reason that I want to step into the story and save these children from injustice, and punish those who are responsible for it.

It was everything I was hoping for and more, and I recommend that everyone read it.

Critique

Honestly, I’m not sure how to approach this review. I’m sad because, to my knowledge, this is Siobhan Dowd’s last book. Both Bog Child and Solace of the Road have been published posthumously, and I feel that although I still have a few books of hers to read that were published prior to these two, I am already internally mourning over the loss of such a great writer.

Dowd seems always able to find the perfect balance between telling the character’s story in an engaging way and bringing the reader into an understanding of why the story is important, that it is more than simply a story about a person, but that there are larger elements at work, things that people should generally know about and empathize with, broaden their worldviews to understand and incorporate the messages that Dowd is so deftly communicating through her stories.

Solace of the Road is no exception. At first I found myself irritated with the first person narrative of a young girl who is stricken with a difficult past and struggling with who she is and was as she begins her journey maturing into a woman. So often I wanted to reach into the story and say, “Please stop thinking this way and making these kinds of decisions. You’re only going to end up hurting yourself.” However, even that sentiment brought me the realization that Dowd is so masterful in her storytelling. Dowd wants us to feel that way in order to show us the story, partner with us in our reading rather than just telling us something and giving us the easy answers. She forces us to grapple with many of the same difficult aspects of life that Holly/Solace is going through.

I often felt exactly the same way when reading Bog Child. Having grown up in America with two parents who loved me, I have no idea what a person in Holly’s shoes is going through. Even now, I can’t say that I truly know any more than I did before, but I will say that I have a stronger sense of empathy for people in Holly’s position, or even Holly’s mother, who often make decisions reacting to their circumstances rather than thinking things through and landing on the best possible choice. They make the best of what they have, and although they hurt others in the process, it doesn’t happen without a sense of self-awareness and self-loathing they must work through. Holly is a complex character who feels very tangible. I wouldn’t be too surprised if I actually met a ‘Holly’ one day, and she turned out to be exactly the way that Dowd has described her. I recommend this book to all readers 12+.

Critique

This book definitely had me at “Hello.” Starting with such an in your face statement about a thirteen-year-old girl being caught in by her father in the back of a car having sex with a much older boy can’t help but catch your attention. However, I digress. It did actually take me three attempts to read it all the way through because that initial page is both engaging and off-putting. I thought, “Do I really want to read a book that starts out like this?” Eventually, I overcame my prudish tendencies and delved in. I mean, it did get a Newbery nod, after all, so there must be more to it.

In fact, there is much, much more to the text. It’s not about a promiscuous teenager at all, but rather a young girl searching for an identity that shatters at the beginning of her teenage years, and she spends the next several years overcoming the sense of poor self worth and insecurity that such an incident would cause. 

Her cold and insensitive father and overbearing and somewhat neurotic mother don’t really help, but in the end, Deanna is able to work up the courage to become the person she’s always wanted to be, and drastically effects the lives of the people around her in a positive way because of it. Ultimately, it’s laced with redemption in the midst of disparaging circumstances, and Zarr leaps into the fray of reality throughout the text. I recommend this book to readers 14 – 18, skewing more toward girls.

Critique

Woodson, as always, delivers a profound story in a short and beautiful way. She has this talent of keeping you interested in the story itself while showing you the light and dark sides of life that many people face on a regular basis. All of the characters seem real, and you come to love them throughout the narrative, especially D, who is often so mysterious in one moment and deeply candid in the next that you feel both intimidated and comforted by her presence simultaneously. 

Also, as always, Woodson integrates challenging subplots, like Neeka’s older brother, a young gay man who’s been wrongfully imprisoned, young Black men disappearing off the street and in jail for what seems like no reason, and the despair surrounding the death of Tupac. It wasn’t until after having read this book that I truly understood even a small portion of the gravity of Tupac’s life and what he represented to the African American community at large (a little personal thanks to Woodson for touching on that theme).

In many ways, Woodson seems to be a YA Lit representation of Toni Morrison or Alice Walker. It’s not surprising that she keeps winning awards for her texts. They’re the perfect balance of engaging and enlightening with a unique voice and excellent literary quality. I recommend this book to readers 12+.

Critique

Alexie’s work is both surprisingly delightful with beautiful and hilarious moments and shockingly dark, giving poignant commentary on the current state of a once thriving cross-continental culture. To compare it to some current works, the tone of the narrative is a blend between Diary of a Wimpy Kid and The Wednesday Wars, replete with drawings that aid the story and give comic relief and rife with intellectual wit that gives insight into White culture, Native American culture and the growing pains of youth. 

It’s not surprising that this novel won the National Book Award, and it’s rare to see Native American narratives that delve inward to delineate an entire group of people who have lost their dreams and the hope to accomplish them, who’s communal addiction to alcohol steers both their futures and their deaths, and who view themselves as a broken people who pine for the past. I recommend this book to all readers 12+, however, be warned that there are many elements throughout that will make it a good candidate to be banned from reading lists.

Critique

This is a brave book that I imagine will be banned form many reading lists. It puts a magnifying glass onto domestic violence with a brutal portrayal. Not only are the descriptions of the beatings themselves graphic, but the psychological implementations are unearthed as well, with Karina’s fainting spells and Delta’s bedwetting problems. If that weren’t enough to raise the conservative parent’s eyebrow, the text also deals with a developing lesbian relationship, which has been generally taboo in the realm of kid’s books.

However, the text clearly deserves its nomination for the National Book Award, and as grim as the story becomes, the text is powerful. It’s important for children to know that even other children have to endure terrible situations and make difficult choices in over to protect themselves and overcome. Felin walks a very fine line between the content and the take-away messages, and had she not done such a masterful job of creating the story, there would be a lot more red flags for this book. I recommend this text to readers 13+.

Critique

“This piney woods forest in far East Texas is wet and steamy. Take a step and your footprint will fill with water. Look up and you will barely see the sky, only small blue puzzle pieces, blocked by the ancient trees. It is hidden, this pace, and so are its denizens.”

Early on Appelt sets up the enrapturing and mysterious world of the bayou. It is here that she writes her beautiful book filled with juxtaposing stories of the past and present, mixed with fantasy and realism all coming together in the end to show that love triumphs over all and bitterness and vengeance only breed further sorrow. It’s reminiscent of Shiloh or Charlotte’s Web in its depiction of the complex lives of animals in reference to the humans they interact with as well as the setting and overall timbre of the writing. 

The text is both simplistic and complex in the tapestry that she creates throughout all of the short chapters that weave the tale of an odd family providing the love, protection, and devotion for that of the family despite the danger it poses to each individual. I recommend this book to any readers 9+.

Critique

Blundell’s story is enrapturing, and what seems to be a coming of age story about a teenage girl living in New York just after the war is over becomes a heart-wrenching tale about the consequences that arise from the bad choices people make. Evie is a wonderful character to follow, and her self-sacrifice for the good of her family is astounding. This is a story that teaches the consequences of poor choices, the racism the Jews faced during and after WWII, especially in America, and the strength and courage necessary to fight the evil surrounding ones own life. It’s definitely a heavier read aimed for a more mature age group, but I recommend it to all readers 14+.