​My favorite thing about Michael Crichton’s techno-thrillers (think Jurassic Park and The Andromeda Strain) is the way he takes real science, mixes it in with some plausible futuristic science, adds compelling characters, and bakes that batter up into an exhilarating page-turner.
 
In Sphere he teams up a band of diverse scientists from different fields to help the Navy explore an “airplane crash” deep in the middle of the South Pacific.  It turns out the plane is from the future, even though it’s evident from the coral growth around it that it crashed 300 years ago.  And that’s just mystery number one.
 
The team is housed a thousand feet underwater, walking across the sea floor periodically to enter the and study the huge craft.  Their short stay at the bottom of the sea is extended, when bad weather at the surface forces their support team to evacuate the area.  People start to die, or more accurately get killed.
 
The ensuing race to stay alive long enough to be rescued depends on understanding the alien, or perhaps futuristic, technology they’ve unleashed.
 
The book seems to end on a perfect note for a sequel, though it seems Crichton never wrote one.  Unfortunately, he died in 2008.  Hmmm.  I wonder what the legality is for someone to pick up the story where he left off.
 
The book was written with adults in mind, but it’s certainly suitable for YA and above.

Just Claire tells the story of 13-year-old ClaireLee, beginning the night her life changes in more ways than anyone should have to face at once.  On the first night in their tiny cabin on the shores of the Rushing River her mother goes into a long and painful labor. 

When the baby is finally born, Claire’s father rushes mother and baby off to the hospital, leaving Clair to clean up the terrifying blood, and reassure for her three younger siblings.  Claire grows up fast, dealing with a new school and its new bullies, while single-handedly caring for her sister and two brothers.  And things don’t get any better when her mentally fragile mother finally comes home.

Told in the voice of a strong but overwhelmed young girl, Just Claire is a wonderful tale of the power of love over mental illness.
​
Written by my friend Jean Ann Williams, Just Claire is suggested for middle schoolers on up to adults.

I reviewed Rachel Hartman’s Seraphina back in October of 2012, and was already anxiously awaiting the promised sequel.  It finally came out in March of 2015, and was worth the wait. 

I may have introduced my nerdy nieces to Seraphina the first time around, but it was they who let me know that Shadow Scale was out and was an absolute must-read.

Shadow Scale continues Seraphina’s journey to understand her half-dragon ancestry while helping Queen Glisselda and Prince Lucian Kiggs of Goredd protect the fragile peace between humans and dragons.  The political intrigue between rival factions is enough to make your head spin. 

On top of that, Seraphina must deal with the devious mind games of her frenemy, Jannoula.  Jannoula’s ability to climb right into the brain of half-dragons like Seraphina is worse than unnerving, it’s downright dangerous.  Seraphina wants to protect her new half-dragon friends, but must find the power within her and figure out how to release it.

There is a small thread of frustrated romance, as Seraphina’s true love (Prince Lucian) happens to be the fiancé of her best friend, Queen Glesselda.  It’s a huge feature in the novel, but the resolution might surprise you.

This sequel relies heavily on the first book, so you’d do well to read Seraphina first.  At 608 pages, Shadow Scale is mighty opus, but one lovers of fantasy dragon tales will enjoy.  Shadow Scale is suggested for ages 12 and up.

I first read Rebecca (published in 1938) as a teenager, and was enthralled by the puzzle of just who the title character really was and how she had died.  Reading it as an adult, I am again captivated. 

The author, Daphne Du Maurier, paints the deceased woman as seen through the eyes of several other characters, leaving the reader to tease out the true spirit of Rebecca de Winter, and how and why she died.  Rebecca never gets to speak for herself, so the reader must decide whom to believe.

The impressions of Rebecca that her husband, friends and servants provide are further warped by the insecurities of our narrator, the second Mrs. de Winter.  This second wife of Maxim de Winter, mousy and plain by comparison to the beautiful and confident Rebecca, is greatly intimidated by the ghost of her predecessor.

By the end of this beautifully crafted novel, Rebecca, I felt like I understood what had really happened, despite all the twists and turns, misdirections and subterfuge.  This is why Rebecca’s Tale (published in 2001) was such an intriguing surprise!  Sally Beauman reveals that there was more going on than we knew.

Beauman’s sequel (approved by the Du Maurier family) begins about twenty years later, when people are still arguing over the mystery of Rebecca’s death and what sort of woman she was.  This novel is told through four first-person narrators, one of whom is the title character!  This time Rebecca gets to speak for herself through her journal, but even her own version is sketchy, and we’re left unsure of what to believe.

It’s difficult to describe Rebecca’s Tale without giving away so much as to ruin the pleasure of discovering these novels fresh for yourself.  Suffice it to say that when you get to the end of Rebecca’s Tale it seems the real story is finally out.  Yet, somehow I still feel lingering mystery.  Is this truly the final word?

​Both novels start very slowly, to my taste.  But hang in there.  Once they pick up, you’ll find yourself on an intriguing ride.

Sage is a grubby 15-year-old orphan running from a cleaver-flinging butcher, when a strange man trips him, then rescues him. 

The balding nobleman pays for the stolen roast and saves Sage’s life, leaving the boy more puzzled than grateful.  But he’s furious when he learns the mistress of the orphanage has sold him into slavery to the very same Sir Bevin Connor.

Just what his duties will be are not of much concern to Sage initially, because he plans to escape at the first opportunity.  His curiosity is piqued, however, when he realizes that he is the fourth boy Connor has bought from an orphanage, and they all bear an uncanny resemblance to each other.

As the title, The False Prince, gives away Sir Connor’s plan is to train one of the orphans to impersonate the true prince, thought dead these past four years.  Then Connor will act as puppet master to the puppet prince. 

​With the rest of the royal family recently murdered, the false prince will rapidly become King.  Sir Bevin Conner will rule from the shadows. 

Sage decides to stay on after all.  For one thing, any unsuccessful attempt to flee will be punished by execution.  “Choose to lie… or choose to die.”  But Sage also begins to fear for the kingdom should it fall into the hands of this scheming nobleman.

Jennifer A. Nielsen has created a world of intrigue and adventure in The False Prince, with just a tiny bit of love interest thrown in for good measure.

This is the first book of the Ascendance trilogy for ages 10 and up. 

The release of Go Set a Watchman by HarperCollins in July of 2015 has given us an unprecedented view of the editorial process at work in book publishing.  At least the process that was in place in 1960 at the J. B. Lippincott publishing house.  (J. B. Lippincott later became Harper & Row, and then HarperCollins.)

Go Set a Watchman is the purportedly unedited first submitted manuscript version of Harper Lee’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, and it is a much different book.  Three years of back-and-forth editing with Therese von Hohoff Torrey (Tay Hohoff) turned a good idea with important political concepts written by an artful writer, into a novel with characters and a story arc that grab the reader and won’t let go.

The characters in TKAM are stronger and more likable.  The story of the little girl, Scout, as told by her older self in TKAM, allows us to see racially charged events with a child’s eye, and to understand them through the seasoning of adult viewpoint.  Scout is spunky, sometimes irreverent, but wonderfully sweet.  As a reader, I liked her and trusted her to give me an unbiased telling of things as she saw them.

Jean Louise Finch, the grown-up Scout in GSAW, on the other hand, seems more spoiled than spunky.  Even when she’s in the right, her arrogant tone of condescension makes her hard to like.  I got the feeling she thought she was smarter than everyone except maybe her uncle, and she thought he might be half-mad.

​Readers love Atticus in TKAM.  He is wise and kind and moral and brave, the sort of hero a young girl would want for a father.  He defends an innocent black man even though he knows it’s an unwinnable battle against a formidable army backed by deep-rooted racism.

In GSAW it’s hard to tell what Atticus is really like because all views of him are through the lens of Jean Louise.  She adored her father as a child, but now he suddenly appears to be evil incarnate.  Toward the end of the book she finally gives him a chance to speak his mind, and he does have reasons for the racist things he’s doing.  Whether the reader agrees with his reasons or not, Jean Louise is swayed in a sudden reversal that didn’t ring true for me, and brought the novel to an abrupt and unsatisfying end.

I, like generations of others, love TKAM.  My opinion has not changed with the publication of GSAW.  It is a stunning novel on many levels, and I still believe Harper Lee to be a brilliant author.

Moreover, I’m incredibly thankful for the opportunity to see behind the scenes just a little bit.  I hope that the insights I’ve gleaned will help me to better craft my own stories.  And I hope that someday I have the opportunity to work with an editor who catches in my stories just a glimmer of what Hohoff saw in Lee’s manuscript, and will help me make them better.

Jacob Portman’s  grandfather had the most fantastic stories when Jacob was little, and fantastic photos to go with them.  Jacob used to beg for more, hanging on his grandfather’s every word.  As he grew up, however, he began to see how much fantasy it all must be.  

There’s no such thing as an invisible boy, even if a photo shows a suit with no head on top.  And the levitating girl must have been some sort of trick, too.  His grandfather had surely been lying to him all these years, and he was finished listening.  He was too big for this nonsense.

But when Grandpa Portman is attacked near his home by some kind of wild animal no one else sees, and dies in Jacob’s arms, things become very peculiar indeed.  Just before his grandfather dies, he mumbles urgent instructions like, “You’re not safe.” “Go to the island.” “Find the bird.  In the loop. On the other side of the old
man’s grave.”

Jacob promises he will, but what does it all mean?

Eventually he follows the clues his grandfather has left.  He finds the island and the bird in the loop, and it is all even more than he could have imagined.

Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children is part fantasy, part time travel adventure, and just a tiny bit young romance.  The book is sprinkled with authentic vintage photos collected at modern day yard sales and flea markets, the epilog says. So maybe the levitating girl and invisible boy once did exist.  You just never know…

This #1 New York Times Bestseller is intended for teens, but Amazon.com says it “will delight readers of any age.”  
 
Note that the difficulty of viewing the photos on an e-book makes electronic format less appealing than real paper for this peculiar book. 

Happy reading!

August Pullman has the proverbial “face only a mother could love.”  Well, his mother, father, sister, and sweet dog, Daisy.  His facial deformity, plus the surgeries he’s endured because if it, have kept him out of school until this, his fifth grade year.

 Fifth grade is not an easy age for any kid, but it’s even tougher for a kid who so visibly doesn’t fit in on his first day of school ever.  When  Auggie was little he could get away with wearing an astronaut helmet, but these days he just has to endure the gasps, stares and rude remarks from both kids and their parents.

Wonder, by R.J. Palacio, is told first from Auggie’s point of view, and then from the points of view of several of the other characters.  Getting inside everyone’s head lets us see that while life is without a doubt super hard for Auggie, it’s not easy for anyone.  Some scars are just more visible than others.

This story of bullying - and its extreme opposite - was a New Your Times #1 bestseller.  I found it slow to start, as the author set the stage for what was to come.  But the multiple viewpoints later on vividly show how much it can cost you to befriend an outcast.  And just how much you can gain.

 Wonder is a wonder!  This book is suggested for ages 8 and up.

 Happy reading!