Chime by Franny Billingsley

I will admit that I read the novel Chime less because it was a finalist for the National Book Award for Young People's Literature than because it was part of this year's controversy surrounding the award. And though I'm sad that its author Franny Billingsley was dragged through an ugly mess that should never have happened, I'm so glad the turmoil put the book on my radar.
This inventive tale about self-perception and memory defies classification, or more accurately, meshes the best elements of many genres seamlessly. It is a coming-of-age story told in first-person by 17-year old Briony Larkin, a self-described witch who believes herself unloveable and controls her awful powers with a combination of strict self-control and self-loathing. It is part historical fiction and magical realism, set in a rural swamp village in England at the height of the Industrial Revolution, where uneducated fishermen, rich businessmen and even the clergy (Briony's father) believe in the Old Ones--the mythical creatures like witches,  pixies, and monsters that control the elements of nature. It is a novel of mystery and suspense as Briony reveals her troubling story: daughter of a distant and oblivious father, twin of a sister whose childlike mentality leaves Briony in the role of constant caretaker, griever of her beloved step-mother whose suspicious death is believed to have been a poisoning. When wild-hearted Eldric arrives in town with his "boy-man" charm and uncomfortable questions, Briony begins to thaw against her will. She finds herself acting like a normal girl when in his company, though always returning to her senses when she remembers how it was her uncontrolled power that caused her sister to fall from a swing and her terrible magic that crippled her step-mother before her death. Briony must ever remind herself she can never have the love story.

While the novel is dense with dialogue and less plot-driven, I was completely riveted by the conflict of Briony vs. Briony and the slowly unraveling mystery of her power and her step-mother's murder. But the true tension comes from the expert use of dramatic irony as I found myself wanting to scream at Briony to realize what was happening at the end...so I suppose the novel is bit horror as well. I thoroughly enjoyed this read and would recommend it highly, especially to those who enjoyed The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. And do yourself a favor and get this one as an audiobook because actor Susan Duerden is fantastic in this production by Listening Library.

Madapple

Madapple, also known as "rank-smelling, rash-causing, poisonous jimsonweed...green dragon and stinkwort and angel's-trumpet" is also the title of the strange and intriguing first novel by Christina Meldrum. Meldrum took to the old addage to "write what you know," spinning a tale that taps her knowledge and interest in nature and religion and her experience with the juidicial system. It is the story of Aslaug Hellig, a young woman raised in almost complete isolation by her mother in rural Maine. Her mother, Maren, has encyclopedic knowledge of science and philosophy, and, scorning the education the local school would give her daughter, educates Aslaug herself. Aslaug grows in academic knowledge but remains ignorant of the outside world or how to socialize with the people in it. Aslaug also has no knowledge of who her father is, as Maren refuses to give Aslaug any details about her family and relatives. Aslaug feels this ignorance, and resents her mother for keeping her insulated from the world even though she also loves her mother in a worshipful sort of way.

The chapters following Aslaug are filled with a lyrical beauty, which contrasts deeply with the interspersed chapters covering Aslaug's trial for the murder of her mother, aunt, and cousin (I warned you this was a strange book). These pages read like transcripts and allow the reader to judge Aslaug's story like a juror, hearing the events and circumstances of Aslaug's life through the eyes of coroners, police detectives, and forensic pathologists. This is a powerful technique when mixed with Aslaug's telling of events, one that builds suspense and a feeling of horror as you begin to put together the truth and suspect that justice may not be done in this case.

All told, an extremely well-written book full of mystery and suspense, one that technically fits the young adult label since the main narrator is a young adult but is definitely meant for more mature audiences since it deals with deep philosophical questions and issues like incest and drug use.


"I remember wanting the madapple to carry me away, to take me to that place again. And I wonder, If I go, will I find Mother there?"

What I Saw and How I Lied

"When Alice fell down the rabbit hole, she fell slow. She had time to notice things on her way down--Oh, there's a teacup! There's a table! So things seemed normal to her while she was falling. Then she bumped down and rolled into Wonderland, and all hell broke loose."

I love this quote from the opening chapter of What I Saw and How I Lied, not only for its imagery but also for the way it tries to prepare you for the story to come. The narrator, 15 year-old Evie Spooner, is looking back, trying to figure out how her life unraveled in just a few short months. She goes back to the beginning, the day it all started, on a warm day in Queens just after World War II has ended. Joe, the step-father she adores, has returned from the fighting to open appliance stores for a country ready to buy "not only what we needed but what we wanted." Evie and her gorgeous mother are trying to make home life the picture of perfection for him, with roast beef and mashed potato dinners and everything neat and tidy, though it is a strain living under Joe's mother's roof.

Joe comes home from work that day with a wild idea to pack up and drive down to Florida for a vacation...that night. He convinces Evie and her mom with his slick sales skills, and in a few days they find themselves in a half-empty Palm Beach resort during the off-season. There Evie meets Peter, a dashing soldier who makes Evie feel like a woman, her mother light-hearted, and Joe strangely moody. As Evie plots to spend more time with Peter, her mother and step-father's relationship grows tense, and Joe becomes increasingly erratic. Soon events spin into a downward spiral of passion, blackmail, and secrets, and Evie finds the adults in her life are not what they seem. Evie must choose her own path and make a decision that will control all their destinies.

Author Judy Blundell won the National Book Award for Young People's Literature for this suspense-filled, noirish, dramatic novel. Those who love attention to detail will revel in the vivid depictions of post-war America, from the fashion (Revlon's Fatal Apple lipstick and nail polish and full-skirted evening gowns) to the dialogue ("Don't be in such a hurry to grow up, baby...it's not all polka dots and moonbeams, you know.") Those who love crime dramas and Bogey and Bacall movies will delight in the stylish mystery and suspense. And for those who appreciate album covers as much as albums, check out the cover, which I thought stunning (and an accurate depiction of the story, something becoming more rare in the book world). I loved this book, which brings me to two years in a row where I thought the National Book Award winner was better than the Printz Award winner.