Review: Ice Like Fire by Sara Raasch

these covers are so beautiful

★★★☆☆

source: ARC from HarperCollins

publication: October 13, 2015, Balzer + Bray

**all quotes are from the uncorrected proof**

I gave both Snow Like Ashes and Ice Like Fire 3 stars, but I gave them each 3 stars for different reasons. The reasons for book 1 can be found here, but basically it was 1. The book was too surface level, 2. It was predictable, and 3. I didn't love the love interests.

Somehow, I didn't have these problems with Ice Like Fire. I still didn't love either Theron or Mather, but we get chapters from one of their POVs in this one (would it be a spoiler to say who? I'll refrain) and it made me like him much, much more. He wasn't a Peeta or a Will, but he was kind of a Mal (Mal haters to the left ok he's fantastic and you're wrong) or a Dorian (my preciousss). I picked a side in this love triangle, and sorry to those who like the other guy but that pretty much means she's going to end up with him. I always pick the right one—it's a special skill. *shrugs*

BUT ANYWAY. That's not to say this book didn't make me want to smash my head against something hard, because it did. Probably even more so than the first book. Namely, Meira: she was insufferable, and I don't make blanket negative statements about female characters unless I've thought it through. A lot. I loved Meira in book one. Girlfriend got stuff done and didn't care what anyone told her to do. But in Ice Like Fire, she's invented all this pressure on herself to be a Queen with a capital Q, the type of Queen all other Queens have been in the past, which is to say: nothing like Meira, the orphan. She still wants to be herself and is struggling to balance the two, but the struggle comes off more as incessant whining about not being allowed to be herself. Newsflash, Meira, YOU ARE THE QUEEN. NO ONE OUTRANKS YOU. YOU CAN BE WHOMEVER YOU DARN WELL PLEASE. You can be the queen who carries a chakram, or scales walls, or refuses to ally with morally reprehensible people. You can be the queen who changes people's conception of what a queen should be. Say it with me: I. AM. THE. QUEEN.

Now, let's talk about the plot. Meira is sent off with Theron to do something or other, and along the way she decides to make allies with the other kingdoms. Now, I get why she wants to do this, but I don't think I needed to read about it. It could have been something that happened between the books and was summarized at the beginning of book 2, for all I cared about how she made her allies. It's not like she's preparing for war and facing enemies left and right; she's just looking for people to support her in making Winter independent. The whole process was super boring. Don't even talk to be about the magic, because if we start talking about the magic I'll start thinking about how convoluted it is and then I'll start thinking about how there are too many kingdoms to keep track of and do they all have magic or is it just some of them and why doesn't Meira just use her magic against her enemies like what is even the point of having it if you're just going to sit around wishing there was no such thing as magic and could we just cut out like half of the things that are going on in these books or

Ahem. So, my next gripe is with the clunky writing. There are so many extra words in every paragraph, I could probably go through it with a red pen and make the book at least 20% shorter. Gems like "he lays his lips across mine" could be shortened to something like "he kisses me" because honestly everyone freaking knows what kissing is you don't need to spell it out like that (it kind of takes the romance out of it, too, when you make it sound like something he could have done accidentally). There are a lot of words that feel like they were taken from a thesaurus to sound prettier but they end up just sounding wrong. There's too much description of what things look like and not enough of how they make the characters feel. Half of the book feels like it's Meira seeing stuff and discovering stuff and experiencing stuff but not actually doing stuff.

To end on a positive note, I will say that I loved the Other Character's POV chapters (it was weird that they were in 3rd person past tense when Meira's are in 1st person present tense, but whatever). I liked what he was doing and how it showed his character. I liked the ending of this book, because finally we got a little lasting conflict between the characters instead of the kingdoms. There was an emotional bit toward the end that actually made me feel things, which never happened in Snow Like Ashes. Should I be hopeful that the third book will have more stuff like this, since it came at the end of the second? Who knows. But I might as well read it.

Review: the Summer series by Jenny Han

I just read this entire series over the past 48 hours because it's the end of February and I'm so tired of cold and ice and snow that I needed summer.

Which is funny, because I had been saving this series for when it was actually summer so that I wouldn't die from longing.

I'm gonna break this review down by each book, since I didn't give any two of them the same rating. You'll notice that overall, the series kind of fizzled out for me.

The Summer I Turned Pretty ★★★★★

I really loved this book, you guys. It was perfectly light and fun and cute, but it also had a lot of heart that I don't think very many books like this get enough credit for. Belly is a perfectly relatable character, and honestly I wasn't even expecting to like her. The main reason I decided to buy this series in the first place was because so many reviews on Goodreads had called her annoying and insufferable—which are not the kind of words that compel most people to read a book, but I love buying books to spite reviewers who call the female protagonists "annoying." Annoying is not a meaningful criticism, and it's used toward girls almost exclusively; I can only think of one book I've seen whose male protagonist has been called "annoying" in a review. (It is so rare, in fact, for a male character to be referred to this way that I actually remember the exact book: The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss)

So anyway, I went into this book expecting Belly to be, much as I hate the word, annoying. I expected whiny and selfish and indecisive, but what I got instead was a normal teenage girl. Belly felt so real to me; I was nothing like her in high school, really (she is much more of a wide-eyed idealist than sarcastic, analytic me ever was), but I related to her as a girl whose family was important to her. I related to her as a girl who didn't like that growing up meant things had to change, and as a girl who both wanted people to see her differently and dreaded it at the same time.

Plus, there's the setting. My god, did I want Belly's life. The beach house, the traditions, the way it all felt like it could have been part of my own childhood even though I spent my summers nowhere near a beach, and the boys. I was fascinated by Belly's relationships with all three of the boys—Conrad, Jeremiah, and her brother Steven. And to be clear, she could never have had those relationships with them if she had been any different, if she had been less "annoying." Because being "annoying" to the boys was how she got to know them so well. It was how they developed their actual relationships instead of just having crushes on each other. If she had been quiet or aloof all those years, Conrad and Jeremiah would have had crushes on her the whole time, and it would have been over before it started.

Which brings me to my last point: the romance. Not romanceS. It's pretty clear in this book that Belly has eyes for only one boy, no matter how much she tries to convince herself she's into someone else. And I'm usually pretty good at picking the boy that the girl will end up with, but the little details about Conrad were so well-done that I totally believed in Belly's love for him even if I didn't understand him at all:

Conrad got up early to make a special belated Father's Day breakfast, only Mr. Fisher hadn't been able to come down the night before. He wasn't there the next morning the way he was supposed to be. Conrad cooked anyway, and he was thirteen and a terrible cook, but we all ate it. Watching him serving rubbery eggs and pretending not to be sad, I thought to myself, I will love this boy forever.

I mean, the boy is super closed-off and quiet and Belly might not be able to tell what's going on in his mind, but she notices things about him that completely justify her endless, occasionally hopeless crush. She kind of has a knack for seeing the good in everyone, honestly, but especially Conrad.

And let me just mention that in this book, it was clear that Conrad was the one who had always looked out for her, treated her like an actual person instead of just a little sister. Jeremiah didn't, no matter how much he'll pretend he did in the following books.

It's just. Ugh. This book—actually, the whole series—is so full of those moments, you know? The ones that make you go, Yes. This.

The ending of the book was perfect and probably could have stood alone.

It's Not Summer Without You ★★★★☆

I was disappointed to find out that her relationship with Conrad had slowly imploded, but then I thought, Well, Jenny Han is the master of the teenage crush. Maybe that's her thing. I was sucked back into Belly's feelings for Conrad independent of their failed relationship, and no matter how much of a jerk Conrad was being. Which, ahem: colossal jerk. *glares at Conrad*

And in comes Jeremiah, who we know has feelings for Belly now that she's pretty (harsh? oops), but who doesn't do anything about it until the book is almost over because he knows, he knows that she'll always choose Conrad. When he finally did act on his feelings, I was kind of like, Well, aren't you a glutton for punishment. Because, like I said, he KNOWS SHE WILL ALWAYS CHOOSE CONRAD.

I lost a bit of the respect I had for Jeremiah in this book because, while he spent most of the book acting the way one should when one is rejected, he eventually went back to trying to avoid the friendzone at all costs. Which, no.

I still loved this as the second book in the series; it kept me interested in the characters and where they were going, but I felt like it didn't answer quite enough questions, especially about Conrad. I assumed he acted the way he did because of Susannah dying, but I think the book needed his point of view more than it needed Jeremiah's. I got tired of reading about Conrad from everyone's perspective but his own, especially when they didn't understand him either.

Throw in Belly's apparent lack of romantic interest in Jeremiah until the very moment he kisses her and not only did I feel out of the loop, but I felt uncomfortable too.

Buuuuut a few things saved the book from a 3-star rating: Belly's missing Susannah (the part where she wanted to talk about the boys but not with her mom, and all she wanted was Susannah, ugh); the moments when Belly and Conrad were together and being nice to each other; and Belly's mom totally pwning Mr. Fisher.

We'll Always Have Summer ★★★☆☆

3 stars, for me, usually means "It was okay," or "I didn't really like it." Honestly, this book just confirmed my suspicion that The Summer I Turned Pretty didn't need sequels. It felt a little superfluous and a lot ridiculous.

Because Belly and Jeremiah have been in a relationship for 2 years, and then she finds out that he cheated on her (kind of), and then to make it up to her, he proposes??!?!?

AND SHE SAYS YES????!!!!

Like, what the actual f. I'm sorry, but this makes no sense. Is she really so desperate to become a Fisher that she'd marry the wrong brother (she knows he's the wrong one, let's be real), who she knows cheated on her, and whose faults she's been picking at incessantly? He orders the most expensive dinner. He snores when he's drunk, which is too often. He doesn't take his life seriously enough. Etc. etc.

Belly did not actually, legitimately annoy me until this book, but what annoyed me more was that the entire plot revolved around wedding planning. Which is not interesting to anyone except the people actually doing the planning—honestly, this is what I'm the most angry about. Too much of this book centered on caterers and invitations and the fricking carrot/chocolate raspberry cake, I almost went out of my mind.

And then there's Conrad, who's no longer being a total jerk and it's clear that Belly still has feelings for him, and yet she keeps stringing Jeremiah along and Jeremiah knows it, and nobody is doing anything about anything. Conrad is the only person in this book who did the right thing, and he ends up being depicted as the bad guy because the truth happened to break up the wedding???

There should have been more Conrad chapters because I was just so fed up with everyone else. Maybe then we could have seen more of his life in the past two years and why he never stopped loving Belly and how hard it was for him to be away while Jeremiah and Belly saw each other every day. We could have found out sooner why he pushed her away.

Anyway, the book was still written by Jenny Han so it was still good—like, the characters stayed true to themselves (mostly. I feel like Jeremiah acted a little out of character sometimes—petty toward Conrad and dismissive toward Belly), and I'm still in love with the insights and the setting and all that. I loved when Conrad talked to Laurel for Belly because it was one of those Yes, this moments, and I loved that Belly and Taylor were so close in this one.

But. Jeremiah deserved to be kicked where it hurts, Belly needed to be slapped upside the head, and that epilogue needed more build-up. If you ask me, the first half of the book should've been the almost-wedding, and then there should've been more of Belly and Conrad's relationship leading up to their actual wedding. It's not that it was too vague; it's that I didn't get to see any of the good stuff.

Review: Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard

I don't even need to add a caption about how beautiful that cover is.
You see it. You know its beauty.

★★★☆☆
source: galley from HarperCollins
publication: February 10, 2015, HarperTeen

I'm struggling with a solid rating on this one because, while there were elements of the book that I hated and almost couldn't tolerate, I liked it overall. I will read the next one. I will probably buy the book in hardcover because a) my ARC is a bit beat-up, and b) The hardcover is shiny. We all know how I love a shiny cover.

But. Here we go.

I've seen a lot of people on Goodreads talking about how similar the plot synopsis of Red Queen sounds to Red Rising. I haven't read Red Rising yet, so I can't speak to that, but I can speak to a similarity that I did notice that no one else has mentioned:

The bones of this book, a lot of the elements that kept the plot moving forward, are straight from The Hunger Games. At first I thought, "Okay, maybe it just starts out sounding like District 12, and then the main character leaves and it turns into something else." But no. The parallels became so consistent and obvious that I started a list of them in my phone:

We start out with main character Mare, who earns for her family by doing something illegal, much the way Katniss earns for hers by hunting illegally. Mare's method of choice is thievery, and her partner in crime is her best friend Kilorn, who she also seems to kind of hate at first. She thinks he's useless or something. There's even a Greasy Sae character, Will, who buys the things she steals in exchange for things her family actually needs.

Mare is jealous of her sister, Gisa, the less prickly sister, but would also do anything to protect her. There we have our Prim character, who's mostly just in the beginning of the story, of course. There's also a conscription that serves as a kind of Reaping, because it takes teenagers from their families to go fight for the government, and arenas where Silvers (upper class people with silver blood and powers) fight /almost/ to the death, but luckily they have people who can heal them. 

Mare gets plucked out of her impoverished life to live with the royal family and, when it's discovered that she has powers even though she's a Red, she is betrothed to the younger prince and forced to pretend that she wants it. Enter, fake romance to please the masses. We've got the rebels who tell Mare that they need her, that she is their only hope, and they even use the words "face of the revolution." They tell her she doesn't understand what she could do with them, much like how Peeta says that Katniss "has no idea, the effect she can have," and they use the metaphor of a drop that breaks the dam instead of a spark that starts the inferno. Change the metaphor all you want, but it's still the same.

Moving along, we have someone telling Mare that she is a pawn in someone else's game, which is a similarity that I probably don't even need to explain. We've got Mare's etiquette coach who doesn't get a lot of screen time but is clearly the Effie Trinket in this scenario, and her trainer, Julian, also known as Haymitch Abernathy. When the royal family leaves court to return home, they gather crowds and force them to listen to speeches, while Peacekeepers—I mean officers—beat anyone who steps out of line or causes a disruption. Victory tour, anyone?

Later, we are tricked into thinking that the rebels brought Mare and Maven to die in a radiation-soaked, abandoned area, only to find out—surprise! It's not dangerous or abandoned at all. It's rebel headquarters, and they've been manipulating the technology to make it look too dangerous to inhabit. This is presumably where the next book, Red Mockingjay, will take place, while the rebels tell Mare what to do and she begins to question their scruples.

And for one last nugget, someone takes a suicide pill on page 320. Because making it a poisonous berry would have been too obvious.

Listen. I didn't go into this book looking to find these parallels. I hadn't seen anyone else compare the book to The Hunger Games and I still haven't. I wish I could have stopped seeing it, but to do that, I would've had to stop reading.

I'm not saying that any of this was done on purpose, but I am saying that it is bad writing. It's bad writing to be unaware that you're ripping off one of the most popular series in the same age bracket as the book you're writing. It's almost worse than being aware that you're doing it, because it shows carelessness.

In fact, the writing is careless all around. It's heavy-handed and full of metaphors that don't work, descriptions that go on too long without managing to paint a vivid picture (because they're so chock full of metaphors that don't work), and hollow emotion. I remember one time specifically when Mare broke down crying for the first time, and I can't even remember what had happened or where in the book it was because I didn't believe the emotion behind it. A lot of Mare's reactions to things seemed to contradict her actual personality and beliefs, so much so that she seemed more indecisive than anything else. It became difficult to keep track of what she actually cares about; one minute she'll do anything to protect Gisa, then she's petty and jealous. One minute she's totally into Cal, then she hates him and Maven's her guy. She wants the Silvers to stop oppressing the Reds, sure, but she hesitates to do anything to make that happen if it means she has to hurt someone—even a Silver, all of whom she claims to despise. 

A few examples of this are: Mare decides she's willing to trade the Colonel's life for Cal's; Mare decides she's going to kill Cal herself; Mare doesn't trust Maven at first; Maven shows up at the Scarlet Guard meeting and Mare doesn't think maybe he's there as a spy for his mother?; Mare knows that the tax collector has to die for the cause and she's fine with it, but then she's sad that his hands will never touch hers again? Even though she's never met him before, doesn't know him, and has never touched his hands until now? And so on. She's so inconsistent with her feelings and her strategy that I did not understand what she was doing half the time.

Finally, my other issue with Mare is that she has no skills. Or at least, her skills are never utilized to their full potential. She discovers her lightning power and rather quickly masters it, but this power is not specific to her life the way Katniss's hunting skills are specific to hers. I wish that Mare would have used her thieving skills in combat somehow, tied her backstory up with the person she becomes, but instead she ends up dependent on her lightning and nothing else. Adapting her District 12 survival skills into arena survival skills is part of what makes Katniss such a well-developed character—not doing the same for Mare is a glaring missed opportunity.

Aveyard tries too hard to make her writing pretty, constantly repeating lines like "red as the dawn" and "the shadow to the flame" without realizing that half of them don't make sense. [Flames don't have shadows, they have reflections. They have light. You need something else, something blocking the flame, to create a shadow.] Some of the descriptive, figurative language works, but most of it feels weak and slippery; making sense of it is like trying to hold water in your hands: You think you've got it, but in the end it falls through your fingers. Most of the one-liners that are supposed to leave an impact would be effective if they did not get dragged out or if the author stopped trying to explain them so much. She doesn't leave a whole lot to the reader to figure out.

"The world is Silver, but it is also gray. There is no black-and-white."

Okay, fine. But... can I try something?

"The world is Silver, but it is also gray."

BAM. You don't need to tell me that the world being gray means there is no black-and-white, because a) Nobody ever said there was black-and-white, and b) I get it. Gray is gray. Gray is not black or white. Just the word "gray" carries with it the moral ambiguity that you're trying to get across. Leave the readers to work with connotations on their own! I picked this example by flipping to a random page, but it is by no means the only one—most of the figurative language, in fact, is written this way.

As for the plot, it was pretty conventional and I saw both of the plot twists coming before I was halfway done with the book, but I have no complaints past that. It's well-paced and I didn't think it was too light or silly to be taken seriously. Curiosity got me through a lot of it.

I'm not pandering when I say that I did like this book. It was entertaining and I liked that the characters had a semblance of moral ambiguity (even though it came across as moral inconsistency), and I'm interested in where it will go. I liked Cal because, what can I say, I'm a sucker for the boys with king potential and a lot of weight on their shoulders. But comparing this book to The Winner's Curse does no one any favors; it does not even come close to that level of complexity and strategy and emotional depth. It takes features from The Hunger Games but, unlike that series, doesn't have anything to say. This is definitely closer to the Selection end of the dystopia/fantasy spectrum, which is fine, but sometimes YA readers expect more. That's all I'm saying.

Review: In the Afterlight

Okay, I have a lot of reviews to write.

I'll start with In the Afterlight, because someone actually asked me for this one.

★★★★☆

When I finished Never Fade, I thought I was going to die before the final book in the series came out. Like, what even was that ending? How can you do that? Also: never trust an e-reader, because they fool you into thinking there are more pages when THERE ARE NOT.

But I didn't reread Never Fade before starting In the Afterlight, and to be honest I was confused to the point of boredom for the first 30 pages or so. Strangely, I didn't really remember a thing that any of the characters were talking about, or why they were doing the things they were doing, or even where they were. A little bit of a brush-up would have been nice— I'm not talking the annoying summaries that Vampire Academy has in every book, but leave me some crumbs, maybe?

Once it got going, though... nope, I was still bored. Ha! You thought I was going to say something nice! I started to figure out where and why and all those types of questions, but I still wanted to find out when. As in, when is something actually going to happen? The whole middle half of the book (from the 25% mark to the 75% mark) is planning. Organizing, strategizing, planning and back-up-planning. There are a few times where the characters have quiet moments to shine, which were the moments I was living for, but I could have done with about 100 fewer pages of the constant worrying about doing things without actually doing things.

And Liam. I realize that Liam is a little too well-natured and optimistic for his own good, but I really didn't need it drilled into my head repeatedly by Cole and Ruby, who insisted on treating him like a child. Ruby knew perfectly well that he was capable of leading people and accomplishing pretty much whatever he wanted to accomplish, but she wouldn't let him in on any of her godforsaken planning because— what? They couldn't have used someone whose primary concern was helping other people, rather than exacting revenge or taking down the entire psi camp system? I don't buy it. Maybe Cole had a reason for not trusting Liam with the whole revolution thing— he hasn't seen Liam in action, doesn't know what he's been through or what he's capable of, but at the same time he never gave him a chance. It was like:

COLE: Okay, fine, prove yourself, little bro.

LIAM: Great! I really think that—

COLE: LOL no you don't. You don't think. And also you're wrong, and you should leave.

LIAM: But—

COLE: Hey, I gave you a chance. You blew it. You're not ready for this. While you've been messing around, running for your life and learning to survive and hiding from people who would institutionalize and torture you, I've been training in a professional facility of rebels and brooding. I do a lot of brooding, bro. Also speeches. So I think I know a thing or two about who is ready and who is not, and also I was totally elected into this position and did not just take it for myself without input from anyone else.

LIAM: I definitely call shenanigans.

My shining lights through the dark days of underground living were Chubs (god, I love Chubs and his "big Chubsie mouth") and Vida and especially Zu. Zu saved the entire book the moment she [spoiler alert] opened her mouth. She somehow managed to be a reminder of each of the original characters' value as humans, while actually being a whole person unto herself. I couldn't get enough of that girl or her friendship with Vida.

Once things got moving, the book was sincerely great. Ruby's character development made me finally 100% love her, and Liam finally had his moment to shine (sorry Cole had to be sacrificed in the name of Liam getting a chance to prove himself, but I'm actually okay with it). The rest was moving but never preachy, compelling but never shallow, and that ending. That ending was absolutely perfect. Strangely, the last sentences of both the book itself and the acknowledgements made me cry. God, I'm so lame.

"And the open road rolled out in front of us."

This was my favorite kind of ending, which, if you've read my series-finale reviews before, you know is the bittersweet, somewhat open kind, like Requiem. Ruby mentions that Liam will go back to North Carolina and she'll go back to Virginia and they'll have to find a way to make it work, but any discerning reader will notice that a) Those two states are right next to each other, and b) They will both be 18 soon and can pretty much live wherever they want. The separation isn't permanent, but it's what needs to happen for now, because they finally have their parents back. And that's more than okay. So until they reenter their former lives with their families, they're going to reenter a more recent former life, but one with a sense of peace: driving, together, with no destination in mind.

I promise to do reviews of Blue Lily, Lily Blue (which I read almost 2 months ago and still haven't reviewed because I basically just want to write the word "perfect" over and over), and The Retribution of Mara Dyer. I'm writing that down so that I can't slack off.

Review: Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi

★★★★★

Seriously, if you haven't given this series a chance yet, you really, really ought to do so. Ignore the Goodreads reviewers' complaints about prose. I get where they're coming from, and I can tell you right now those people are only hurting themselves by not giving Tahereh Mafi the benefit of the doubt. Because character development. The prose in the first book is meant to reflect who Juliette was at that point, and she is not that girl anymore.

This review is going to contain spoilers for Shatter Me and Unravel me, so if you have not read those yet, please read them now. I'll wait.

Okay, ready?

So. Ignite Me picks up after Juliette has broken both Adam's and Warner's hearts and been shot by their father. She finds out that Omega Point has been destroyed and everyone in it is dead. Well, almost everyone. We're supposed to assume that there's a very small chance Adam and Kenji and the rest made it out alive, but we all know better, right? Adam's out there, still crying like a baby because Juliette broke up with him or because he thinks she's dead (dude is never satisfied, amirite) and Kenji's out there with him, telling him how annoying all his drama is.

And Juliette is with Warner. Who saved her life, even though she broke his heart.

Man, this book was everything I wanted it to be. Of all the trilogies that have ended in the past year, this one had the most satisfying ending. Honestly, it's the first series-ender since Reached that didn't give me that feeling where my stomach drops and my blood runs cold because I've just realized it's not going to end how I wanted it to end. I mean, it had about the same effect as Requiem-- which I know most people hated (they're all a bunch of know-nothing Jon Snows if you ask me)-- everything just built up and built up to a place that made sense, that didn't try to make the reader feel like an idiot for wanting a happy ending. Sure, it's not a happy ending for everyone, but all in all it's much happier than it could have been.

Why?

Because of Juliette Ferrars.

She thinks in mostly normal sentences. She doesn't cross out her thoughts. She stands up for herself, and for everyone else. She's done wallowing in self-pity and she's done letting her power control her. She's learning to control it, in more ways than one.

I'm trying not to give away too much since the book just came out yesterday, so I'll just say this: she realizes that one relationship is wrong for her. And she finds herself with two right ones (not necessarily romantic).

And stuff.

Goes.

Down.

This book is perfectly paced, has consistent humor balanced well with all the angst, and anyone who complained of insta-love in the first book is going to be ridiculously pleased with this one. There's not a dull moment in the entire book, but really the thing most worth talking about is the character development. And not just Juliette's. Adam's, Warner's, Kenji's (keep in mind that not all character development is good development). I want to write amusing songs about their relationships with each other. Also, move over Adji (Kendam?), there's a new brotp in town. More of a reluctant, nervous-laughter brotp, but it makes me so, so happy.

In fact, here's a spoiler-lite list of things about this book that make me happy:

• Kenji (◕‿◕✿)
• No crossouts ʘ‿ʘ 
• Warner being serious (◡‿◡✿)
• Warner joking (✿◠‿◠)
• Nobody understanding Warner's sense of humor (╹◡╹)
• Juliette being a badass (◕‿-)
• A certain "unidentified roadkill" comment (◑‿◐)
• Chapter 55 (✿ ♥‿♥)
• James ｡◕ ‿ ◕｡
• Juliette telling Warner what to do (~￣▽￣)~
• "Two hundred and sixty-four days I was in there and the whole time, I had the power to break myself out and I didn't, because I had no idea I would. Because I never even tried. Because I let the world teach me to hate myself. I was a coward, who needed someone else to tell me I was worth something before I took any steps to save myself." ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ
• JULIETTE FERRARS TAKING CONTROL OF HER OWN GOSHDARN LIFE (｡♥‿♥｡)

Let's recall that I gave Shatter Me 2 stars.

And then I gave Unravel Me 4 stars.

Well, she's finally done it.

I'm giving Ignite Me 5 stars, and I feel good about it.

Review: Allegiant by Veronica Roth

At least it has the best cover of the series.

[ Divergent review | Insurgent review ]

When I wrote the title of this review just now, in my head I heard the "dun dun" that they play at the beginning of court scenes in every Law & Order episode. You know the one? The one that makes you feel like, okay, this is going to be tense. Because that's how I feel right now. I've been putting off this review-- I wasn't really even sure I was going to write one-- because it's going to be tense. 

Warning: I cannot write this review without major spoilers. I just can't. So if you haven't read Allegiant yet, abort Mission Read-Paige's-Blog until the appropriate mission prep has been accomplished.

***SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT***

★★☆☆☆

Let me say this now before I get wildly ahead of myself talking about the ending. The ending is not the reason I'm giving this book 2/5 stars. It's part of the reason, yes, but ultimately I was disappointed with the whole book.

The end of Insurgent promised some explosive conflict. We found out that the people in Chicago had been locked in there on purpose, and people started shouting. The outside world was beckoning and we were finally going to find out what's been going on out there. I was prepared to have to hold on to my figurative hat, if you catch my drift.

But we did find out what was going on out there, and anticlimactically, the answer was "not much." Some people doing crazy genetic experiments that created more plot issues than they solved (if they could manipulate DNA to create the "genetically damaged" people, why couldn't they manipulate it in the reverse and create "genetically pure" people?), some people eschewing government and living exactly like the factionless were before Evelyn came along, and a few other experiment cities. Where is the rest of it? And more importantly, where is the conflict? For the little conflict that does exist between the people outside the fence and the leaders inside, it seems like Tris is the only person with any idea of how to handle it correctly. And she is sixteen years old. It bothered me that every single leader in Allegiant turned into a villain at some point. Marcus, Evelyn, Zoe, David, and even Johanna. When did Tris become the all-knowing wise girl who didn't make mistakes, while every powerful person around her was tunnel-visioned into doing everything wrong?

And the science. I'm not an expert, but I didn't like the science. Aside from the terms "genetically damaged" and "genetically pure," which made me cringe every single time-- a lot, considering how overused they were-- I don't think this book benefited (the way Reached did, for example) from going the sci-fi route. It took the focus away from the Bureau/Fringe/Chicago tension and slowed the pace so much that at the end of its 526 pages, it still didn't feel like half of the book Divergent was in 487 pages.

The character stuff was... there. Barely. Tris's development pretty much happened at the end of Insurgent, so in Allegiant it was actually pretty great to see her more confident in what she believes and taking control and valuing her life. I even enjoyed seeing Four make a mistake and have to pay for it, showing Tris once again that he is not perfect and everyone is broken in their own ways. But their scenes together made me uncomfortable in two completely different ways: either they were throwing themselves at each other for no reason other than the fact that they were both there, or they were fighting. I hate it when they fight, but a part of me likes it too. Real couples fight and make it through, which is what Four and Tris have always done, but I could have used some more in-between scenes, where they're neither fighting nor kissing. I wanted to see them supporting each other emotionally-- healing each other, rather than Tris healing herself and Four kind of wandering, waiting for her to realize he needed her help. (The alternating viewpoints were also occasionally confusing to me. I would be reading a chapter thinking it was one person narrating, and then he/she would refer to herself/himself in third person and I'd have to go back and read whose name was at the beginning of the chapter. Which means the voices weren't distinct enough.)

Also, she couldn't have waited to put Uriah into a coma later? He was the comic relief! And also I don't care what anyone says, he did not have to die.

I can't skip over Peter, either. I absolutely love Peter. He is my favorite character in the series. I find him simply fascinating-- which is why it is so extremely upsetting to me that he's left as a blank slate. But it makes sense that an awful person such as Peter is going to choose the awful person's way out: instead of developing into a less awful person, he uses his "damaged" genes as an excuse for the way he is, and wipes his memory clean to get away from himself. But that creates another plot hole, doesn't it? If his penchant for violence is in his genes, wiping his memory won't fix him. And if he's really such an awful person, why does he feel so badly about it that he doesn't want to remember the things he's done? I can't decide anymore what's consistent with his character and what's not.

Now that I've established that I do have other reasons for my 2-star rating, I can move on to the ending.

So, the majority of reactions to Allegiant that I have seen have been in two camps:

1. People who are angry or upset about the book for one main reason, but possibly also a variety of reasons.
2. People who are defending an author's right to end her characters' story the way she felt it had to end. These people are largely assuming that the negative reactions to the book are based solely on the end, rather than the other 450 or so pages.

But you see, the majority of readers of this book are in both camps-- like, say, me. My main emotion for the past week or so has been anger. Anger that this book was not what I thought I had been looking forward to for the past year and a half. Anger that this, the final book in the trilogy, seemed to render it all utterly pointless to me. Anger-- and this is the biggest one of all-- that Tris's death has in fact only made me angry. When a main character dies, I want to feel sad. I want to expel that sadness through tears while listening to sad songs that remind me of the people left behind; I want to cry it out so that later I can look at it and think, "Wow, what a way to go." The main character dying at the end has the potential to turn something into a great story (especially for masochists like me).

And don't get me wrong, I really appreciate Veronica Roth's explanation of why Tris died. And I really appreciate that she acknowledges my right to still think she didn't quite do it justice. I understand now that for her, the series was about Tris's journey from beginning to end-- but for me, the end didn't have to be her death, because her journey was finished before that. She made it through; she defined for herself what selflessness and bravery were, and she was fine.

And then she got shot.

If finishing the story were like trying to choose a meal to get rid of your hunger, this felt like the fastfood option. It seemed like a cheap and ultimately unsatisfying way out and because of it, the story never truly got finished. The hunger just gets replaced by all those undesirable things that come with choosing the fastfood option. Though she was only in the position to get shot because of a sacrifice she decided to chance to show her brother she loved him, getting shot was not the sacrifice. She survived the part where Caleb would have died, and then she died because she was what? Unarmed? Yes, it was very Tris of her to take that risk in her brother's place, but when I read it, the part where she actually died didn't sit right. Not for Tris. It felt extra. One last way to throw a wrench in the works.

As a fan of bittersweet, semi-ambiguous endings, especially for series like this, I was overwhelmingly disappointed. There was no sweetness. There was no ambiguity. Tris died, and now Four-- who Tris has literally just learned is as broken as she was before Allegiant-- not only has to live with guilt over Uriah's death, but with the death of the one person who's ever made him feel like he mattered. The one person who ever told him he was whole.

And this, my friends, is my biggest gripe: we don't get to see him become whole again. We don't get to see him deal with his grief. We don't get to see how the communities inside and outside the fence change and heal themselves, which is something that unquestionably should have been included in the primary plot of the book. All we get is an epilogue, two and a half years later, where we find out that Four and Christina have become friends, and he basically gives us a roster of everyone's jobs, like some kind of "Where Are They Now" special.

I recently had a friend point out to me that the Divergent series as a whole contains a lot of gratuitous death. Characters die left and right, quickly and unceremoniously, and it's accepted as a fact of life. While Tris's death was a bigger deal to everyone than most of the others, Allegiant did feel like more of the same on this issue. I remember texting my sister: "200 pages in and three people have already died." It starts to feel superfluous and lessens the impact when, oops, down goes our main character too.

So it's easy to say I did not enjoy Allegiant. But with an average of 4 stars, it's also easy to say that I enjoyed the series as a whole. And even though I'm stuck on the Anger stage of grief, I thank Veronica Roth. I thank her for bringing me to the Dauntless compound, for showing me true selflessness, for the wonders of ferris wheels and zip lines, for Peter, the actual anti-hero, for the word "pansycake," for a boy who grew up broken and hid himself away until he finally, finally allowed himself to be changed by a bright-eyed Stiff he respected so much that he sometimes forgot she was vulnerable too. But most of all I thank her for Tris, the first jumper, the girl who gave her life for her brother after he betrayed her. She did so well.

Review: These Broken Stars

A cover that is actually 100% true to an actual scene in the book! Le gasp!

*I received a copy of These Broken Stars from Disney Book Group in exchange for an honest review.

Summary: Lilac is an heiress, a socialite, the privileged daughter of the protective founder of a company that explores and develops space. Tarver is a war-hero soldier from a modest but close-knit family, who is all but unaware of the ramifications of smiling at the pretty redhead across the room. When the spaceship in which they're hurtling through space suddenly breaks down and everyone aboard must flee to their lifeboats ("pods") a la Titanic, Lilac and Tarver end up in the same pod, crash-landing on a seemingly abandoned but strangely developed planet. They're the only humans in the entire world, but strange things begin to happen and secrets about Lilac's father's company are slowly revealed while the two of them struggle to survive.

Review: You guys, this book is what Beautiful Creatures should have been. What?, you're saying to me, Beautiful Creatures is not science fiction.

Yes, I know. That's not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about the written-by-two-authors-with-two-equally-important-protagonists thing. This book does it right. Why, you ask? Because Amie Kaufman and Megan Spooner understand that with two authors and two leads, it makes so much more sense to tell the story from two points of view. I don't know how they broke it down, if one author wrote Tarver and one author wrote Lilac, or if they split it a different way, but I don't care-- because it's obvious that they worked together on this.

The chapters alternate between Tarver's point of view and Lilac's, but you don't have that sense of constantly being jolted between the two, right when you were getting into the flow of one character's narration. It's done cohesively, and the scenes are written such that it makes sense for Tarver to narrate this scene and for Lilac to narrate that scene, or vice versa. There are no chapters where you go, man, I wish I were in the other character's head for this part, the way I did for oh, 95 percent of Beautiful Creatures, wherein every chapter is all-Ethan-all-the-time despite the fact that Lena is by far the more captivating character.

But I digress.

These Broken Stars is not your average science fiction novel. It sparkles. It's sparkly. I don't know how else to describe it. And, boys, if you're reading this, stop making that face. Sparkles do not a girly book make. There are spaceships and aliens and soldiers and vast amounts of sarcasm here, too. The girl in the dress on the cover is just that: a girl in a dress. I've never known a boy to hate girls in dresses in real life, so I'll never understand why they avoid books with girls in dresses.

The characters in this book are few, I will say, but they are vivid and dynamic and they have so many facets that you don't need any more characters. Lilac is privileged and occasionally shallow, yes, but she is also whip-smart and fiercely protective of the people she loves. She knows more about the technology of her world than just about anyone, and she's an equal match for Tarver, the war hero who knows more about survival than just about anyone. Tarver is sarcastic; he doesn't respond well to stupid questions, and his mental quips about Lilac will get you through the first half (maybe less) of the book while the two still mostly dislike each other.

My favorite thing about Lilac is that she could have been entirely selfish, having been raised in a privileged environment where she was coddled by everyone who dared to get to know her, but she isn't. She is, for the most part, selfless-- and not in that Bella way that makes her entirely useless. She has intelligence to back up her selflessness; when she needs to help someone, when for any reason someone is counting on her for their survival, she knows how to handle the situation. Girlfriend gets things done.

My favorite thing about Tarver is that he can be both amusing and serious. After Lilac treats him like he doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as her, he thinks, "Duh, I should have known," but then he thinks about it some more and decides she does not have the right to treat him that way. He's respectful to her, but condescendingly so, which I love. Not knowing her motivations for her cruelty, he has every right to mentally complain and make jokes about being stuck with this girl on a strange planet with nobody else around. But at the same time, he expertly balances the fact that she saved his life before they got here with the fact that now it's up to him to keep her alive too.

As for the plot, well, honestly there's not much of it. It's a subtle thing that creeps along and builds tension and then explodes in your face (it's a contained explosion), but for the most part of the book it's a whisper in your ear. It's something that demands your attention, but you can't really say why. All you know is that you want to keep reading. And the romance? Not really a slow-burn, but not really an insta-love situation either. Tarver and Lilac just work. They're a good team, and once they get past the I-hate-you, I-hate-you-more stage, it's actually endearing that the majority of the book focuses on their relationship.

I don't know where the next book is going from here, but I'm sure it will take me with it. I hope it shines with the same subtle intensity as this one, and I hope we get some more awesome characters like Tarver and Lilac. Sparkle on, Starbound series.

★★★★½

Review: Clockwork Princess. I have waited so long.

This review is going to be... difficult. Here are some things you should know about me in advance:

1. I hate change. I hate change as much as Holden Caulfield hates change. I hate change as much as the Doctor hates change. I just really. Hate. Change.
2. I hate goodbyes. Especially when it comes to saying goodbye to my favorite characters. I don't like being forced to do it.
3. I try really, really hard to be positive. But sometimes I just can't.

That said, what you're going to get here are two different reviews written by the same person (me), about the same book. Review #1 is my positive side rearing its optimistic head. Review #2 is my selfish side, who can't stop focusing on things I wish had been different.

Review #1

Clockwork Princess was everything I expected it to be and more. Which says a lot, coming from a girl who has been counting down since December 11, 2011, when I finished Clockwork Prince. I've spent the past 15 months in a general state of anxiety over these characters' lives-- lives that infiltrated my music, landing me with a 22-song playlist entitled "worse than demon pox," lives that have been in my mind for so long now I've forgotten what it was like not to have them there. I've made friends over these lives and I've thought about these lives as if they were a part of me. Because they are. And now I've turned the last page on these lives. This is all I get.

And I'm okay with it.

This book completely blew me away. The attention to detail is nothing short of extraordinary, and as usual, the characters come to life on the page. I admit I was caught off guard by Jem and Will's tendency to trade places in this one-- Jem being the reckless one and Will being the responsible one for a change-- but it was realistic too. Will couldn't have gone on acting as he always had; there was no reason for it. He didn't have to be that person anymore, the person who distances himself using calculated cruelty and measured thoughtlessness. In that person's place is the person whose heart is broken. He's not going to be the same unstoppably snarky Will who could make a joke out of any situation. To have portrayed him as that person would have been a disservice to the character, for it would have made him seem invulnerable even after everything that has happened to him.

He's pushed everyone away for five years, believing it to be for their own good if nobody loved him. He finally opens himself up to the girl he loves, and finds out she's engaged to his best friend. He believes she doesn't return his feelings, and he can't even talk to the one person he wants to talk to about it because that person is the one causing him pain. No, the Brighter Burning Star is not going to shine quite so bright anymore.

"The hero's journey is not from weakness to strength, but from strength to weakness." Will Herondale is the definition of this. And, make no mistake about it, he is the hero of this story. He and Tessa may have decided that he was not a hero-- one of my favorite scenes in any book, ever-- but they were looking at it from the perspective of real people. To them, they are not characters in a book, so Will is not a hero any more than anyone is a hero. But we, as readers, can view Will the way he views Sydney Carton or Heathcliff-- though we know he is not the same as them. That's right, folks: Will Herondale is not Sydney Carton. He is better. He had reasons for his self-hatred and the way he acted, more than Sydney Carton ever did. Will's love for Tessa is not the kind that prevails only through destruction-- he would give his life for her happiness, but Tessa refuses to be Lucie Manette. They prevail together. Their love gets them through a war; all Sydney Carton's love for Lucie got him was an honorable death.

As for Jem... well, he is steady, as always. He has not changed much, except to become happier and also sicker. He faces unafraid the shadows that creep closer to him every day. He's an open book. This is what I love about Will and Jem: their stark contrast to each other. Where Jem is light, Will is dark. Where Jem is a flame, Will is a star. Where Jem is strong in the face of crippling weakness, Will is weak in the face of crippling strength. [before you go telling me that "crippling strength" doesn't make sense, think about it. Will has always had to be strong, to never show vulnerability, and it nearly ruined his life.]

As for the ending, "bittersweet" doesn't even begin to explain it, though it's probably the word that comes closest. Everybody gets what they want, but everybody has to sacrifice something. My favorite thing about it, though? One relationship really stands out. My favorite relationship. To me, it was always clear why Will and Tessa loved each other, but in this book they lay it out for everyone to see. They don't let there be any doubters left, nobody left to say "but why does Will have such strong feelings for Tessa?" or "but how can Tessa love Will when Jem is so much nicer?" He loves her because she's infuriatingly inquisitive and stubborn, because she listens to him and makes him laugh and remembers his words, because she loves the same books as he does, and because she could never help but see the good in him. She loves him because he says the things she thinks but would never say, because he loves the same books and has a remarkable memory for quotes, because he thinks up ridiculous songs and sees the truth in everything, and because they are unusual in the same ways.

This ending was perfect because it gave everyone what they wanted the most, without being too Happily Ever After. Tessa's immortal; she cannot have either boy forever. But she got a lifetime with Will, and Will with her-- that was all he ever wanted. He deserved his happy ending, and he got it. Jem, presumably, gets the same: the lifetime he promised Tessa a long time ago. We don't know where it goes, but we don't really need to-- Will and Tessa ended up together (Tessa insisting that Will be only Will, not a polite version of himself), and then Jem and Tessa ended up together. Happy, but with a price.

Review #2

I'm not going to take back the positive things I said in Review #1 about the book itself, but in this review I'm going to be selfish and state my grievances about things I wanted and did not get.

I wish that Clockwork Princess had not lacked the humor that both Clockwork Angel and Clockwork Prince had. No matter how depressing Clockwork Prince was at times, no matter how much Will hated himself, he could always be counted on for a well-timed joke. I miss that about him. He's still the same, he's still got that Herondale bitter humor, but he seems to be hiding it now that he's stopped hiding other things about himself. Clockwork Prince was a better kind of pain.

I wish that I had never had to say goodbye to Will Herondale. I was hoping the spirit in Tessa's angel, after leaving the star mark on Will, would extend its protection to him, and that that would somehow make him immortal too. I didn't want to see him age while Tessa didn't, and it kind of seemed like Cassie wrote herself into a corner with Tessa's immortality. While I appreciate that nobody cared that he looked old enough to be her grandfather even though he was her husband (because they were Will and Tessa) I wanted things to be different. I wish that his death had been an active scene instead of a remembered one-- that I could know what his last words to Tessa were, how he felt about his life, whether he wished he could stay with her. For so long now I've felt like I understood him, and then in his last moment he became a distant story from 70 years ago.

Basically, I just wish the epilogue had not happened. I wish Jem had stayed a Silent Brother-- or better yet, just died. I'm not saying this because I wanted Jem to die; I'm saying this because I have always been used to the idea that he would. I always thought Jem was too. He believed in reincarnation, and it just doesn't seem consistent to me that he suddenly decided to throw away his next life, where he was sure he'd meet Will and Tessa again, for longevity.

The only way to describe how I really feel about the ending is subverted. I had things that I knew would happen and things that I hoped would happen, and yet I feel like I've been played. I cared too much about one person, when the ending was written for people who couldn't choose. It was written to satisfy everyone with mild feelings, and in the process it alienates everyone with strong feelings.

I know I should be happy for the characters, for their happy endings. None of them were dissatisfied with what they had in the end. I should be happy because Magnus says the first one always hurts the worst, and Will was the first one. But I can't help it-- to me, it's always been Will and Tessa. I feel like the epilogue undermined everything these three books had built, like it's not fair that Will had to be the one who died first. Will, the one who was always the most alive, ends up being the one glossed over first. Meanwhile, Tessa is young forever and Jem gets his youth back, and they get their second chance. The irrational side of me kind of sees this as a cop-out. Will and Jem never get their second chance. I feel betrayed on Will's behalf. For me, no one would be able to follow Will Herondale. No one would be enough after that-- not even Jem Carstairs.

All in all.... yeah. Like I said, this was difficult for me to write. I can't choose a side. While I appreciate every single thing about this book and I think it's about as genius as a fantasy/paranormal book gets, the ending was just not what I wanted, and I can't help but take that into consideration. The choice not to find a way around Tessa's immortality seems less about the story and more about the message, which is a problem for me. 

★★★★½

That missing half-star pains me.

Review: Requiem by Lauren Oliver

I don't really know where to start with this review other than to just say right now, I worship Lauren Oliver. If she ever stopped writing YA books, it would be a loss from which I could probably never recover. I worship her so much I am actually probably going to read her adult book even though adult books are sometimes the bane of my existence.

Requiem is not perfect, but it is my perfect book-- and to be honest, my main problem with it is that there was not enough of it. It's right up there with Mockingjay (appropriate, considering they're both the last book in their respective heart-pounding dystopian/utopian trilogies). Bittersweet is my favorite kind of ending-- I mean, happily-ever-after is great for books like Anna and the French Kiss, but it hardly seems fitting for series in which death and destruction run rampant.

Now, to be clear, I was terrified of this book. I've been waiting for a month to get my hands on this ARC, hardly able to contain my excitement, but the entire time an evil fear lurked underneath the excitement. I had skimmed reviews from other people who had read ARCs, and the general consensus seemed to be "unimpressed."

Now I'd like to ask those people what in the world they want. Because if there is one word to describe how I felt after finishing Requiem, it was impressed.

Allow me to start, as usual, with the characters. I shall write them in open-letter format because after the amount of time I spent with them yesterday (and have, for the past two years), I see no weirdness in addressing them personally.

Lena Haloway:

Girl, you rocked this book. Remember at the beginning of Delirium when you were totally supportive of the cure and you were like "fight back?! Pshaw, yeah right"? Look how far you've come. As much as I resent the fact that your character development was basically the entire focus of Pandemonium, I have to appreciate what it did for you in Requiem. You've finally come into your own and learned how to balance fightin' Lena with lovin' Lena. You make all the right decisions for yourself and even when I started to go all NO LENA STOP, I understood why you had to make those decisions, and my NO LENA STOPs weren't so much for you as for myself. My shipper heart could not stand by and watch certain things without getting a little riled up. But in the end, you discovered the truth about yourself and your relationships and I stopped wanting to yell. Well, I actually still wanted to yell, but this time it was YES MORE OF THIS instead of NO LENA STOP.

Hana Tate:

In Delirium, I cared about Hana Tate, Lena's Best Friend. In Requiem, I cared about Hana Tate. Parts of me want to punch you in the face, and parts of me want to hug you. How can a cured character be so complicated? You're singing the praises of the cureds one minute, and the next minute you're risking your reputation-- and, consequently, your life-- to help the family of the best friend you betrayed. The measures you take to find out the truth, to still be Hana Tate even while the countdown to Hana Hargrove is on, are a reminder of who you once were-- that they can try to mute love, emotions, personalities, but the strong ones will never be silent. I refuse to believe that you do it out of guilt. You're a jealous wench who has no idea what she wants, but you're not heartless. You're cured, but you still love. They cannot take it.

Alex Sheathes:

Poor, tortured baby Alex. I missed you so much in Pandemonium, and I still kind of miss you. I miss Delirium-you, who is in my head as full of life and hope, dashed with realism, with a sprinkle of perfect hair and a backdrop of sunlight making your entire existence glow. But alas, the worst things happen to those kinds of characters (here, ladies and gentlemen, we have another example of how similar Requiem is to Mockingjay), and Delirium-you has been buried by this new Alex with the scar on your face and the almost-black hair and the gloomy presence. And, ahem, I still love you. Because you're still Alex, you still know right from wrong, you still fight for what you believe in, and you still love Lena no matter what words come out of your mouth to contradict this. Because you understand how Lena feels and give her what she doesn't even realize she needs-- you sacrifice your own happiness for hers repeatedly (metaphorically, you let go of the baby when the other mother clings and agrees to cut it in half). Oh, and because you finally get up the nerve to look Julian in the eye when he won't even return the favor. [Spoiler: And then when you're fighting and Lena tells you to stop, you agree. Then Julian charges you off-guard and you take the fall for beating him up when he totally deserved it.] Alex Sheathes, moody looks good on you.

Julian Fineman:

Oh, Julian. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't like you. I didn't like you in Pandemonium and I don't like you now. But you sure did try, didn't you? You tried to make me like you. You gave Lena her space when she needed it, you gave her comfort when she needed that, and you tried to prove yourself a fighter time and time again. But you can't do these things and then prove yourself a coward time and time again, and still expect me to like you. When you refuse to look your "opponent" in the eye while he's staring directly at you, you're a coward. When you attack someone who's walking away and then go all wounded-puppy-dog when they retaliate, you're a coward. Go ahead and get offended when the rest of the Invalids still treat you like an outsider, but I don't feel sorry for you. You're a slightly less boring character than you were in Pandemonium, but the non-boring traits you've acquired are not helping your case.

Now, moving on to the plot. It was intense. Things move pretty quickly, and you don't get a lot of time to sit there and wonder where it's going. It doesn't focus too much on the relationships, and everything that happens brings the series back to the characters and setting with which it all started. Instead, the relationships are kind of a deep undertone throughout the entire plot, making all of the stakes higher than ever. This is the kind of thing that makes it my perfect book, along with...

The ending. My initial reaction was, WAIT. THAT'S IT? BUT I WANT MORE. There is easily enough room in the end for a fourth book. Not very much is actually resolved in a blatant way-- instead, it's riddled with symbolism. The future is unclear, but it no longer seems so hopeless. To me, this is the most realistic way to handle everything that's happened in the past three books: when you've got two books that end with serious clawing-at-your-eyeballs-WTF-moments, you can't very well end the third one with a neat little bow. All you can do is hope things are clear enough, and to me, they were.

And if you're wondering about the love triangle thing... Well, it was not so much a choice as a realization that one relationship just couldn't compete with the other. You could say Lena chooses, but really she just lets go of something that could not go anywhere (Again: Mockingjay, anyone?).

Oh, and the writing? I feel like thus far in my review I've been pretty good at not going all fangirly, but this is about to change. This is the part where I am 100 percent fangirl and not ashamed enough to hide it. Can someone explain to me how Lauren Oliver packs so much punch in such SMALL SENTENCES? How she uses such simple words to BREAK ME APART AND PUT ME BACK TOGETHER? THE WOMAN IS MAGICAL AND IT IS NOT FAIR. I would give examples, but it's so much better when you read them for the first time in context. WARNING: Do not stand while reading, for you may collapse. Keep sustenance nearby.

Overall Rating:

★★★★★ or 4.5/5 stars if I take away half a star because I want more of certain things. Delirium is probably still my favorite book in the series, but I feel like a good portion of my love for that book is pure nostalgia for the good ol' days in Portland with Alex and Lena and Hana and sunshine and 37 Brooks and parties and opening your eyes to good things instead of bad things.

Book Review: The Evolution of Mara Dyer

It's possible that I'm not ready to write this review yet. But I'm going to do it anyway because what is the point of getting an ARC if you don't review the book?

So I'm not one of those people who usually start a review by saying how I came to own the book. What  made me decide to buy it? Did I order it online? Did I go to a bookstore and hear it call out my name? No. Nobody cares. But for this one, I feel like I have to tell you the story. Because I was not expecting it. I had resigned myself to waiting another 15 days before I could get my hands on this book, and while I was anxious, I was fine with that. I mean, Michelle Hodkin is following me on Tumblr, so I already felt kind of awesome and important, you know? So why not just wait like everybody else?

And then on Monday I got home and there were three packages on the table. One, I was expecting. The other two were mysterious. They were both from Simon & Schuester, so I did the math in my head. Simon & Schuester... publishing... hey, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer is from Simon & Schuester... oh hey, what if this is The Evolution of Mara Dyer?! No, it can't be. It must be something else. So I opened the first package, and there, in my hands, was this glorious unexpected book that I've been looking forward to for eight months now. I jumped around and yelled "WHAT!" at least 8 times. And then I opened the other package, having no clue what to expect because why in the world would they send me two?! Well, I don't know, but they sent me two. More jumping and yelling.

I was so excited I completely forgot about my dentist appointment (the hygienist called me 3 minutes after I was supposed to be there and asked if I was on my way). I flew out the door, went to the dentist, came back, and read.

250 pages.

Suffice it to say I was hooked. Well, we saw that coming, right? Considering my review of the first book?

The next day I woke up and read. Then I went to school. Then I came home and read until I finished it. And then I was sad.

Anyway. Review. That's what this is.

Everything I loved about The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer, I also loved about The Evolution of Mara Dyer. Mara is still the deliciously unreliable narrator-- you feel like you can trust her, but there are moments of doubt. At least for me, there were times when I was like, "What if everyone else is right? What if I only believe Mara because she's the one telling the story?" Which is, like, the BEST question to ask yourself while you're reading a book or watching a movie or, heck, even listening to one person's side of a story. Do you trust the narrator just because they're the narrator? Or do you trust her because she's the only one who can tell this story correctly?

Also, I love that Mara comes a little more unhinged in this book. I'm really going to try to avoid spoilers in this review because the book isn't even out yet, so I'll just say that, well, she kind of had a right to go a little bit nuts. When there's only one person in the world who believes a word that comes out of your mouth, and you're doing things you don't remember, and you can KILL PEOPLE WITH YOUR MIND, a little bit of insanity probably comes with the territory. I say "a little" because it's not like Mara is completely off her rocker; she does have that one person who believes her. Who's going through all of it right there with her. And that's all she really needs to keep her from completely losing it.

So, Noah Shaw, you've done it again.

Thank you for not changing in this book. You're still the bad boy who smokes and swears and fights and denies no incriminating factoid. Thank you for having more layers than anyone but Mara would give you credit for. Thank you for being good at being bad, but also for being good at being good. Thank you for getting along with Mara's brothers, even when she's not around. Thank you for your arrogant, devilish grin. And thank you for hiding your fear, for never doubting Mara no matter how much the two of you doubt yourselves, for always showing up when she needs you, and for helping her be the tiger that bites when you rattle its cage.

Seriously, guys. Their relationship in this book is SO GOOD. And every time it gets to the point where Mara feels like she can't do something without Noah, and I groan a little bit, she makes herself do it without him, and I sigh with relief. She doesn't let herself be that girl, and he doesn't let her be that girl. Which is perfect. They support each other and they're better as a team, but they aren't the kind of team that falls apart when they're not together. Mara constantly feels like he doesn't need her as much as she needs him, but he shows her that it's not true, and that gives her strength. Their relationship gives her strength, hardens up her edges a little-- while it gives his edges a much-needed softening. That's called BALANCE, people!

One relationship that is worse in this book than in the first book: Mara's relationship with her older brother, Daniel. I loved how close they were in the first book, and they're still pretty close, but they're kind of keeping each other at a distance in this one. Daniel because he's worried about Mara (understandably), and Mara because Daniel doesn't believe the truth, so she can't tell him the truth. They're still always on each other's sides, but I just wish he could've been one more person who doesn't doubt her. I understand why he does, but that doesn't mean I like it. Their relationship isn't as easy and relaxed as it was in the first book.

Oh, and then there's Jamie. Yes, Jamie's back! The same old banter between him and Mara. The same sense of humor and slight anger issues, but with all new depth to his character as a fatal flaw in his worldview is exposed and we get to learn more about who he really is. My blog needs some kind of bell for !!!character development!!! so I can ring it every time something like this comes up in one of my reviews. *happydancing*

Anyway. The plot this time around is much more intricate and requires a lot more dot-connecting than the first book, which is always fun. The scenes in Mara's new "school" were a little slow for me, but not so slow that I even thought about putting the book down. Ever.

I love the new developments in this book and I can't wait to see where they lead in the next one. And THE ENDING, WHAT THE HECK. No spoilers, but I didn't see it coming. I had to reread a certain part and then I felt like it was some kind of optical illusion or mind trick, because I definitely missed the most important thing the first time I read it. Just ONE WORD changed everything. I can't even. My stomach dropped, my eyes watered, and my mouth could not form words for the rest of the night. I'm in denial (no really, I don't believe it. I'm not intentionally refusing to believe it, I just don't). And the best part is that the same exact thing happened to Mara. She had to read it again. Her eyes watered and I'm guessing her stomach dropped. And, if I know Mara, she doesn't believe it either.

Which is another thing I love about this book. Maybe I'm more like Mara than I thought, but it is so easy to go through things with her, to understand her, even considering how much you wonder about her reliability as a narrator. One second you're like "Mara, that can't really be what happened, you're telling tales," and the next second you're like, "MARA, WE NEED TO DO SOMETHING ABOUT THIS."

Overall rating: ★★★★½

I deducted half of a star because 1) Certain chapters threw me off a bit (I won't say more than that because spoilers), and 2) Daniel. But otherwise I'M SQUEALING WITH DELIGHT AND ANGST. And wondering what changed between the ARC and the final version?