Feathered by Laura Kasischke

You can’t watch a morning talk show, watch the news, or read a magazine without coming across the horror stories: teen girls, away on their dream spring break, gone missing or coming home having been through traumatic experiences because of letting their guards down or drinking too much. Feathered by Laura Kasischke is a cautionary tale but is wrapped in incredible layers, imagery, and symbolism.

Three high school girls, Anne, Michelle, and Terri, hop a plane from their Chicagoland suburban home to their first spring break alone in Cancun, Mexico. All three expect to have a fun break, and all are acutely aware of what can happen being alone in a foreign country on spring break. Michelle’s mother repeats the warnings prior to the trip and as she drops the girls off at the airport; while Terri soon develops an itch about something going wrong, Anne and Michelle are confident that their intelligence and common sense will keep them safe. Interspersed in these cautionary conversations are Michelle’s mother’s stories about visiting the historical ruins of the Mayans, and all of the girls develop an interest in seeing the mythical Chichen Itza when not enjoying their time on the beach surrounded by hordes of other young students.

As a reader anticipates, something indeed goes terribly wrong. Anne and Michelle’s trip to Chichen Itza changes the tone of the entire trip. Although three girls boarded the plane in Chicago, only two will come back to their safety in suburbia. Will it be Terri who quickly turns to partying on the beach and meeting strange boys? Will it be Michelle, born of artificial insemination and thus in search of a father figure in her life? Or will it be Anne, the one who came up with the idea to go to Mexico?

Feathered is a predictable story. Any reader with a little knowledge about the world knows precisely what could and might happen on this trip; however, Kasischke does a marvelous job of twisting the predictable. The plot is simplistic, fast-moving, and relatable.

What Kasischke does that it worth delving into, though, is layering the story. First, the story is told through two different narrators: Anne and Michelle. Though there are three girls on the trip, we never hear Terri’s perspective; more interestingly, Anne’s perspective is told through first person and in the past tense. Michelle’s perspective is told in limited third person and is told in the present tense. Although I would have loved to hear Terri’s perspective and debated with myself during and for a couple days after finishing the story, I think I’m satisfied in not hearing her side.

Perhaps most stunning to me was Kasischke’s use of imagery and symbolism throughout. The story draws upon the idea of the past and the present, juxtaposing modern Mexican resort life and the historical ruins of the indigenous. Within even that there is the drawing upon ideas of the phoenix and feathers to describe and symbolize girlhood, exposure, and rebirth.

Though the storyline is rather simplistic, this book is smart. Kasischke initially disappointed me, as I finished the book thinking that it was a predictable story, despite some of the twists. I wanted there to be more, and I thought that the entire story was given away within the first few pages — I mean, come on, three girls who are in high school going to Cancun alone and one of them has a bad feeling about it? We’ve heard it. I stepped away for a bit, then reopened the book, drawing the ties between the symbols and images, and I unearthed something entirely different within the multiple layers. This book just yearns for a good discussion.

Indeed, this book is a cautionary tale, but it’s much more than the cautionary tale you will hear from your parents or from the news. It goes deeper, and it’s rooted well into history. Target age readers will not have trouble understanding these lessons, either, particularly as they let this story sit and begin to think about what the point of certain aspects of the plot were. Feathered does not have a superfluous detail.

If anything bothered me at all throughout the book, it was some poor editing. It seems to me that copy editors are pushing these books out too quickly and overlooking the grammatical details. I found the overuse of commas tiresome and frustrating, as they really and truly slowed the story down. I was also hoping to hear more from Terri in the story; however, I think there is ample opportunity for Kasischke to tell the story from Terri’s perspective.

I would love to see this book get some sort of nod from ALA this year. It is well-deserving because it is quite deceitful in its simplicity. It is a great book group book, as it begs to be discussed. I’m looking forward to seeing what Kasischke does after Feathered, as her writing is intelligent and refreshing.

House of Dance by Beth Kephart

Rosie has been raising herself — mom’s been busy with her window washing job and romance with the married boss and dad stepped out of their life without reason (though he remembers to send Rosie $20 each week). To top it off, summer’s cresting, and Rosie’s neighbor and her best friend are not around to keep her company.

But Rosie’s a strong girl. She’ll figure it out.

That is, until she gets the news from her mother that her grandfather is dying of cancer, and it’s her job to go entertain him every day. Her mom, being too busy with Mr. Paul, doesn’t have the time to do it, and since Rosie has a summer before her, why not?

House of Dance is a beautiful, poetic account of relationships among people. Rosie and her grandfather, Rosie and her mother, Teresa (grandfather’s foreign nurse) and Rosie, and Rosie herself. Throughout the story, we watch Rosie come to learn about why her mother has avoided spending time with her father and why her mother has decided to engage in such an illicit relationship with Mr. Paul.

The story is fluid and infused by a dance of intricate language usage and imagery. We watch Rosie grow up, and it’s done in ways that aren’t your typical coming of age story. Rosie knows her life isn’t peachy or perfect, and through learning about her family history through a relationship with a dying grandparent, she grows closer to each of them and brings each of them closer to one another. Rosie also discovers her passions — music and dance — and she brings those two passions together in the end of the story.

Aside from the beautiful writing, I was blown away by the end of the story. It was pitch perfect. I became more and more nervous as I rounded home page in the book and the pages became fewer and fewer. So much of what was being worked up to still needed to be covered, and for me, there was the worry of the inevitable ending. But Kephart did something unexpected, refreshing, and satisfying.

This was a great book to begin national poetry month with, even though it’s not technically poetry. I felt throughout that Kephart just had a way with words and images and I connected with that as a reader. She has enough story to make the language play excusable, rather than using the language as a way to offer a half-pitched story.

This book is appealing to anyone who likes stories about growing up, maturity, family relationships, or dance/music/discovering one’s passion. Although Rosie is not quite Frankie Landau-Banks, I think readers who dig E. Lockhart’s The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks will dig Rosie as a character. The story’s not as action-packed nor as boy-filled, but the characters are both strong females learning about themselves. The book has a great pace, and it is the language that does a lot of the scene setting and story telling. It’s modern, relatable, and sweet.

I dig the cover art a lot. And to be entirely honest, that’s why I picked the book up. I’m glad I did. I’m also excited to dig into Kephart’s other books, which fall into so many different genres and styles. She’s got other young adult books, adult books, and even some non-fiction. If she’s this talented in YA fiction, I’m excited to see what she can do elsewhere.

First quarter round up

Although the first quarter of 2009 technically ends at midnight, I’m pretty confident that I won’t be able to finish another book today. Taking a page from Janssen’s book, I thought it would be worthwhile to talk about some of the highlights from my massive amounts of reading in the last three months.

First, if you remember back to my first post about reading goals, I decided this year that I would reach 120 books since I had reached a total of 103 for 2008. Well, I’m very much on my way to blowing that record away. Just how much did I read in the first three months of 2009? [...drumroll please]…

I’ve read 50 books. A nice, fat, round 50 books between January and March.

I’ve covered most genres, adult, young adult, fiction and non-fiction. I’ve intentionally left off the children’s books I’ve read [since those can be read in a few minutes and require little investment]. Rather than list all 50 titles here, you can check out my entire quarter one reading list via my GoodReads account. Instead of the roster, I thought I’d rave about my top ten reads from these last three months. In no particular order:

• Rebecca / Daphne Du Maurier: Part mystery, part romance, and a whole lot of lies. Definitely has ‘classic’ written on it, but it’s a classic that is often overlooked.
• The Adoration of Jenna Fox / Mary E. Pearson: Rather than blow the plot, I’ll say that it deals with ethics and science, and it is hyper relevant to today’s society
• Ten Cents a Dance / Christine Fletcher: Historical fiction set in 1940s Chicago, where a girl chooses to go from the meat packing plant to taxi dancing. Incredible book that I think anyone can enjoy. It does not get too bogged into the larger history but rather focuses in on one particular slice of WWII life.
• Hate That Cat & Love That Dog / Sharon Creech: Meta-poetry written by a middle schooler. Very cute, very funny, and it could definitely turn those not interested in poetry into poetry enjoyers.
• Ten Little Indians / Sherman Alexie: Funny, painful, raw. Short stories that will make you want to laugh, cringe, and cry at once. Alexie is a master story teller.
• Out of the Pocket / Bill Konigsberg: A lesson in being comfortable with who you are. My entire review is located here, and as an added bonus, Bill Konigsberg blogged my review, too!
• Wintergirls / Laurie Halse Anderson: A book that so accurately captures not only the effects of an eating disorder, but also the deterioration of one’s mental state while dealing with that and depression. My entire review is here.
• The Gollywhopper Games / Jody Feldman: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for a new generation. It’s fast, funny, and a new spin on the classic story.
• American Born Chinese / Gene Luen Yang: A graphic novel in three parts about being a teenager who is Chinese in America and the consequences of that heritage. There is a unique twist in the end that makes a great exclamation to the story.
• Those Who Save Us / Jenna Blum: This is another WWII story, but this time it is set in America. A daughter hungry for tenure and for a strong academic project unravels her lineage and the role that her parents played in the war in Germany.

I’m excited about how much I read and how many unique things were in the mix. However, I’m really gearing up for a more diverse quarter 2, as it begins with National Poetry Month. As a poet [aside: I really hate that title, but I am using it only to indicate interest and participation in the art] I find April the ideal time to dig into poetry. I’ve got in mind the desire to read a number of books written in verse, as well as compilations of poetry. I have in my basket a few adult fictional titles and have on my personal shelf some non-fiction to read [second aside: anyone else have a genre they buy rather than check out? I don't buy many books anymore, but those I do buy are primarily non-fiction]. And perhaps what I’m most excited about in the next quarter is the release of the final installment of the Jessica Darling series, Perfect Fifths, on April 14.

Anything I absolutely, positively must read in the next three months? Is there anything you’re looking forward to?

Out of the Pocket by Bill Konigsberg

Being a high school senior is tough – there’s the stress of choosing a college, keeping up one’s grades, and performing well in one’s extracurricular or job-related pursuits. For Bobby Framingham, senior year means hoping to be recruited by his top-choice college Stanford as a quarterback, helping drive his team to win their state championship, and, perhaps hardest, come to terms with the fact that he is gay.

Out of the Pocket by Bill Konigsberg is a tremendous first novel. In the genre of books like The Geography Club, Konigsberg’s Bobby struggles to keep his true identity under wraps in order to be the best quarterback for Durango High School, as well as continue to make his parents and his classmates proud.

Unlike other books of this sort, though, Bobby wants to tell people, and he wants to do it quickly to avoid furthering the notion he and his best friend Cassie are an item. He tells his best friend and teammate Austin who, though he promises to keep it under wraps, spills the beans to other teammates. And if that breach of trust wasn’t bad enough, word gets out to Finch Gozman, certified high school newspaper geek, with whom Bobby believes he has forged a friendship.

Turns out, that friendship was a convenient way for Gozman to get just the information he needed to break the story about Bobby’s position as a gay quarterback and seal his own dream of attending Stanford for journalism.

As the story unfolds, we see how Bobby, his teammates, his classmates, and his parents react to the news that spreads on a nation-wide level because Bobby has made a name for himself as one of the first athletes with professional potential to be outted. Add to the mix an unexpected family emergency and a budding romance, and you have one strong and likable character that you root for both on and off the field.

Out of the Pocket is one of the best books I’ve read so far this year. I’m not a huge football fan, but I found the sports writing to be well done without being too long-winded or too sparse. This, of course, can be attributed to the author himself who is a sportswriter for the Associated Press and covers sports from the high school to professional level.

Throughout the book, I was impressed with the character development. I found Bobby to be an extremely well written character, and I found his football teammates to also be enjoyable and dynamic. Perhaps most exciting for me in the book is the wonderful family relationship Bobby has. Unlike so many other young adult books, Bobby grows up in a stable, loving two-parent home. What I love about it, though, is how real it is – Bobby’s mom and dad are delineated as two distinct people. When trouble hits one of the parents, the dynamics are real and depicted very well. And, of course, the reactions to Bobby’s coming out both do and do not meet what you as a reader and Bobby himself expect. The father-son relationship here is believable and I think relatable to many teens.

I only had one real issue with the entire book, and that comes in the final three paragraphs of the book. I felt like it wrapped up the story a little too tidily when it was not necessary to do so – perhaps Konigsberg’s journalism background played into this. Another small issue I had was the currency of pop cultural references, which included admiration of Avril Lavigne and the radio song “Over and Over” by Nelly. I think these are a few years prior to the interests and currency of current high school pop culture; however, considering that some of the dating in the book is 2007, I suspect that this book was Konigsberg’s labor of love and took him many years to get just right. The bones were probably taking shape back when those references were more current.

Without a doubt, I would recommend Out of the Pocket to teens between 13 and 18. It’ll be interesting to see who would be receptive to reading this. Sports fans will love the sports writing, as it is fresh and lively.  It’s a great coming-of-age and coming-of-self novel that I think could appeal to many and perhaps it can reach audiences in a wider way than The Geography Club. While it’s a story about coming out, it’s also a story deeply rooted in the notion that it is okay to be yourself and it is okay to love who you are.

Konigsberg has a line in the story when Bobby is being interviewed by a local paper about his coming out, and I think it’s fitting for why this book could reach great audiences: “They know, at seventeen, how important inclusion is and how hypocritical the current ‘gay is fine, just don’t tell me about it’ model is.” Maybe a bit overly optimistic, but if we don’t live with that optimism, we can’t allow that mentality to really happen.

Anything But Typical by Nora Raleigh Baskin

I’m making more headway into my ARC pile, though I suppose more and more of these titles are falling under the “already released” or “just about to be released” pile now. Anything But Typical by Nora Raleigh Baskin will be hitting store shelves in ten days, March 24, 2009.

Anything But Typical is the story of Jason Blake, a sixth grader with autism. The book follows him through his daily routines, documenting the sometimes turbulent days he experiences at school and with family when his emotions or inability to communication well overtake him. We learn from Jason’s perspective how much his mom, dad, and brother are vital to him and how much love and commitment they have to each other in living with Jason’s autism.

One of Jason’s big escapes is The Storyboard, an online fanfiction forum where he contributes his stories and comments on other stories. It is through The Storyboard where Jason is able to best communicate because it does not require visual communication — something with which he struggles, as he has a hard time looking people in the eye when he talks with them, causing other people to prematurely judge his listening and hearing skills.

Through The Storyboard, Jason meets his first “girlfriend,” Rebecca. Rebecca, posting as PhoenixBird, sends Jason a comment on one of his stories and seeks feedback on hers. Not only that, but Rebecca shares details of her daily life with Jason, making him feel, for the first time, true friendship. These moments make getting through school easier for him.

And thanks to his good behavior in school, Jason’s parents decide that he deserves a reward. What better reward, they think, than taking him to Dallas, Texas, from Connecticut, in order to attend one of the yearly conventions of The Storyboard. This is an opportunity to finally meet some of the people with whom he interacts, as well as sit in on courses for becoming a better story writer.

While the set up sounds like the ideal opportunity to finally meet Rebecca, Jason is terrified to go and meet her, fearful of how she will react to him and his condition. While he plays the potential scenarios through his mind, developing the story of how meeting his first true friend would go, it is only by reading the rest of Anything But Typical that readers know how and if the meeting happens and what results that may or may not bring.

Overall, the story is cute and because it is told from the first person perspective of Jason, provides an interesting insight into the mind of an autistic child. This book follows in the trope of others like Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog at Night Time and Siobhan Dowd’s The London Eye Mystery, among others. And truth be told, I’m skeptical of books that attempt to tell stories from the mind of someone with a condition like autism — just how authentic can it be unless the author him/her self is living with the condition AS a child? Alas, the aforementioned titles do a good job selling the idea to me. Unfortunately, I don’t feel that Anything But Typical quite holds a candle to that.

The story seems to lack a lot of details and leaves many loose ends in the story that, just in my understanding of conditions like autism and asperger’s syndrome, do not seem “typical.” I think that Baskin aims her story at a younger audience than most, but some of the language used throughout the story is beyond the typical 10-13 year old vocabulary. Although that in and of itself doesn’t necessarily create a problem, that in conjunction with the story being told from an autistic’s perspective could be challenging and confusing. Likewise, many abbreviations and diognastic words in the story are not defined, making the story more challenging.

I think that there were many challenges, too, in the pacing of the story. Jason’s friendship with Rebecca happens much too quickly, particularly as it relates to learning he will be able to attend The Storyboard convention. He seems to have only had 4 or 5 short message interactions with her at that point. I don’t think a book that is this length (just shy of 200 pages) requires a whole lot of development in relationships, particularly between young characters, but seeing that they are sixth graders, it seems a little hinged on a reader’s acceptance of possibility. I wish Baskin developed this a bit further and given the readers more reason to believe why Jason would find meeting Rebecca so scary; right now, there doesn’t seem to be enough of a relationship to make that worry necessary.

I would have liked more story about a typical day in Jason’s life at school and what brought his family to finally make the decision to get him tested for autism. Although he briefly discusses incidents in his earlier years, it wasn’t until he was in 3rd grade anything happened. I wanted more of the whys and hows of his and his parents’ stories. Baskin developed interesting characters with the potential for real dynamicism, but they don’t grow to the potential they could have.

At the end, I was dissatisfied. I had more questions to which I wanted answers. While I don’t expect a book to have answered all my questions at the end, I felt like it just stopped once Jason and his mother returned from the convention. There were many more places the story could have gone and/or a better resolution to what Jason’s life would be like post attendance. Because he is fixated on wanting to stop being a writer when he actually gets to Dallas, I want to know what actually happens when he returns to Connecticut. What happens when he gets back to school?

Another loose end I wanted explored came from an interesting announcement played over the school intercom — it stated that Jason would be out of town at The Storyboard convention because he won a creative writing award. While he says that he knew it was a lie, I felt like this line could have been better exploited. If it was there, what purpose did it serve? It seemed to me that in a realistic situation that because Jason made the arrangements to leave, it was not necessary to tell such a silly lie to the whole school. I think Baskin could have made this a reality and given Jason and/or his parents more depth here.

Overall, it’s a cute story that I think younger readers would relate to, either because they themselves struggle with a condition like autism or they know someone who does. I think this could be a great read for people who have a hard time understanding that not everyone is the same as them. And I think younger readers are much more accepting of story holes than I am, so some of the issues I had with the smoothness and completeness would be less a concern. I don’t particularly think this book adds much difference to the other books already published exploring similar ideas, nor do I think it is the best. However, it certainly would be a good piece to read in addition to or anticipation of other similar reads.

More superficially, I love the cover and the art that leads into each chapter. The font is very fun in the book, as well. I think that this could be a book youth would be drawn to because it is entirely approachable. I’d love to see more books take this approach and fewer take the approach of a girl or guy that looks somehow in distress or in lust or other pose that has nothing to do with the story itself.

Confetti Girl, Diana Lopez

I’ve finally had the chance to dig into a few of the ARCS I brought home from ALA Midwinter a little more seriously. This one, with its bright cover and promising premise of Latino cultural influences struck me as one worth digging into early, and I am glad I did!

Confetti Girl follows a few months in the life of Corpus Christi native Apolonia Flores — Lina, for sure — an energetic 8th grader with a sock obsession who loves to play sports (particularly volleyball, since she was born with the height of the whooping crane). Lina’s life turned upside down a bit more than a year ago due to the unexpected death of her mother from illness. Since then, home life has not been the same. Lina finds her father retreating into books, piling and shelving them throughout the house, and spending all his free time outside work reading. As he retreats further into his fictional worlds, he presses Lina to read and delve into those worlds, as well. She lacks the interest, as is reflected in her declining grades and ultimate suspension from the basketball and soccer seasons. Lina is much more interested in science than literature.

Vanessa is Lina’s best friend. Together, they share many enjoyable times, secrets, and perhaps most enjoyably, an obsession with boys. Vanessa finds herself attached to Carlos, which ultimately leads to many issues of commitment with Lina; fortunately for Lina, she finds herself pairing up with Luis, a dorky boy who has a bit of a stuttering problem. Like Lina, Vanessa also resides in a one parent household, living with her mother who is obsessed with making cascarones, wearing over-sized clothing, and thriving off the drama of the latest lifetime films. Her mother and father divorced, and her father moved out and began dating another woman. Since that event, Vanessa’s mother has filled her house with man-anger and confetti egg creation.

Lina’s grades begin slipping, and her daily quizzes on Watership Down have become a psychological assessment, borne from her wildest imagination. With a father to worry about and sports, as well as boys, why would Lina spend her time reading about a bunch of silly rabbits anyway? This action, of course, leads to her English teacher to recommend her to the school counselor, who uses these quizzes to help Lina work through some of the challenges she has had dealing with the death of her mother and distancing of her father.

Of course, no story about two girls with single parents would be complete without the belief that their parents would get together. Although it seems inevitable, I’ll leave it to you to read the story and see exactly how that relationship plays out. And of course, Lina and Vanessa’s puppy love moments are adorable, and Lina’s first kiss to Luis is well-done and aww-inspiring.

What stands out about Confetti Girl is the Latino influence in the story. Each chapter begins with a dicho (a Spanish lesson statement written both in Spanish and in English), each of which tie into the chapter and then tie into the greater picture of who Lina and her family are. The value and emphasis on family and heritage are great within the story, as are the cultural elements. The book features a quinceanara scene that was described well enough for the young readers of the story who either fantasize about theirs or who will never experience one but may have heard of them. And the cascarones with which Vanessa’s mom spends her days are a tradition that many young (and older!) readers likely do not know about and which play a central and sweet role in the development of not only Lina and Vanessa, but both their parents and their sometimes tumultuous lives.

For the most part, the story is fluid and does a solid job of developing a character who seeks family and understanding of what happened to her without over sentamentalizing or creating a problem character. Lina and Vanessa, as well as Carlos and Luis, are definitely true-to-age 8th graders. Their social challenges are humorous, and though the book delves into some tough issues, the writing is light and often funny.

Like many books of this ilk, the adults throughout the story are dolts; while this gets a little silly for an adult reading it and understanding why they are that way, this is precisely the mentality of readers this age and is funny. This stood out to me in the story particularly when Lina asks her father if she can spend some time with Luis, and her father says yes, only if she gives Luis “this card.” The card was for a local speech pathologist who Luis ultimately visits and gets tremendous help from. However, I found this rushed and a little out of place, but since this comes from the perspective of Lina, it is clear it makes sense in her mind and would make sense in the mind of the reader. Adults operate elsewhere, and the whys and hows are not central to the story.

Confetti Girl is a clean, sweet, and approachable book for readers age 8-14. It is a story of growing up and of family and friendship. It introduces readers to great Latino cultural elements without inundating them with what could be trite or meaningless ideas and things. Lopez can balance the story with the setting and the culture. The cast of quirky but realistic charactes are relatable and pretty amusing. This is definitely a book reluctant readers would likely enjoy because it offers real characters and real situations without moralizing or without focusing on the deeper meanings and problems of the situation. More advanced readers would enjoy that they can delve deeper and see how the threads throughout the book, including the cascarones and Watership Down, tie at the end.

I’m excited to see how readers react when this book hits book stores and libraries in June 2009. This is Lopez’s first book for younger readers, and I think it will likely NOT be her last. The book targets younger readers than I normally read, but she may convince me it’s worth reading even the more junior novels. I would NOT be surprised if this is up for a Schneider Family Award from ALA next year and join the ranks of Leslie Conner’s Waiting for Normal — another junior novel definitely worth checking out. Kudos!

Also, how cool is it that Diana Lopez links to my review from her website? Thanks, Diana!

Wintergirls, Laurie Halse Anderson

(more…)

What I Saw and How I Lied

As a young adult (really) who missed out on the young adult genre in my teen years, it’s been a real interest of mine to read as much of it as possible. Since I’m considering a career as a teen librarian, it seems appropriate to bone up as much as possible now that I’ve completed school. So, besides taking my normal approach of wandering the library’s bookshelves, as well as reading various blogs, message boards, and social networking sites for recommendations, I thought it would also be worthwhile to make sure to get through books that have been considered for some of the most prestigious writing awards. While I don’t necessarily take a whole lot of stock in them as representative of a genre as a whole, I think they’re a good place to see really good writing. What I Saw and How I Lied was one of the five finalists for the National Book Award for teen writing this year, and, as it turns out, this year’s winner.

Before diving into the book and the story itself, it’s worth noting that Blundell is a prolific writer herself. Interestingly, she writes under a number of pen names, and one of them is Jude Watson — a well-known Star Wars writer! I found this tidbit merely a cool fact when I began the book, but as I came around to the end of the story, I think this may have actually had quite an impact on how the story was told and how I felt about it.

What I Saw and How I Lied begins with the return of Joe Spooner, Evie’s step-father, from assignment in World War II. Evie, Joe, and Beverley celebrate the end of war with a trip to Palm Beach, Florida. Abandoning responsibilities, they head south. When they arrive, the family discovers that Palm Beach is a deserted resort town during the fall, but without too much problem, Joe and Bev befriend the Graysons who are also in town from New York City. While their relationships strengthen, Evie’s eyes are set upon Peter — a boy more than 10 years her senior. As it turns out, Peter served with Joe in the war, and their relationship is not solid.

As the story progresses, we learn about the lies which Evie has grown to accept as truths in her young life about her family and about the war. Simultaneously, we see Evie grow up and discover how emotions — romantic and otherwise — can impact the stories she hears and accepts. While unraveling the lies, tragedy strikes Palm Beach in both the form of a hurricane and in the form of an unlikely boating accident. The accident isn’t what it appears to be, and it is left to Evie to make the decision whether to lie for her family or lie for the man with whom she thinks she’s in love.

One thing Blundell is able to do throughout the story is write. The scene setting and time placement of this story are impeccable. Without question, this book emanates post-war consumption and pleasure. Her descriptions are top notch and her ability to vividly describe feelings, both physical and emotional, is done well and with little cliche. It seems that Blundell’s experience in writing science fiction-fantasy is an asset to this story, as she is able to marry romantic imagery in a fantastical manner, giving it grounding. Likewise, the concept to this story is unique and imaginative, as it pits the coming-of-age tale with a historical moment. Evie is a well-developed, selfish, and self-absorbed character, like any character within this moment would be: she is 16, has everything at her disposal, no responsibilities, and a handsome older guy to chase.

Unfortunately, the book’s strengths seem to lie primarily in these aspects. Blundell’s story is poorly timed and offers a lot of half-baked loose ends that, were they to be pulled together better, would have made a phenomenal story. While Evie is a well-developed character, she’s the only character in the book who has any multitudes to her. Joe and Bev are extremely flat characters, and Joe’s development comes only through dialog between Evie and Peter. And since readers are keenly aware of the strange airs between Peter and Joe, this development is not necessarily the most trustworthy. Likewise, Blundell’s story includes elements that just don’t make sense — while we know that Evie is not beginning school in New York, twice in the story she’s instructed to go work on homework (the first hint of anything school related occurs on page 94 and another on about page 200). These instances are poor plot devices to move the story along while getting Evie out of the central narrative, and any observant reader would realize these don’t make sense since Evie is not in school. Additionally, since this story is set in the late 1940s, she is clearly not completing her education via correspondence or the internet.

Perhaps most frustrating throughout the story is the attempt to weave a German/Jewish struggle on American ground. In the story, we learn that Joe and Mr. Grayson want to purchase the hotel they’re staying at in Palm Beach. However, this deal becomes complicated through the plot device of a phone call from one of Mr. Grayson’s family members. While we had not been introduced to the climate of cultural distrust, this becomes an issue more than half way through the book. Sadly, it’s quite predictable and flat, not to mention cliche. Had Blundell teased this out a little further, perhaps through developing the Grayson characters, it would be more interesting.

It’s at this point in the book, too, that we finally learn what the lies Evie has heard are, and they swarm around these cultural conflicts Joe and Peter experienced while in Europe fighting in the war. Again, Blundell should have brought this out earlier in the story to make it more compelling. Setting a pleasant post-war scene and then filling in lines with tension makes this aspect of the story uneven. While a very minor detail, I found the use of the word “shyster” to describe a non-Jewish lawyer intriguing — whether intentional or not, the word can be construed as a slur. Although it’s such a fitting description, it’s used incorrectly, at the wrong time, or accidentally where it’s used. That said, the writing needed some fine tuning to better emphasize, deemphasize, or clarify ideas. There’s a lot of conflict in my mind over intentionality and accidental luck in terms of these sorts of language choices.

While I think that Blundell has beautiful writing and has a way with capturing and setting a scene and carrying it throughout the book, What I Saw and How I Lied falls short for me in the story department. There are too many plot devices, too many predictable turns, and too many missed opportunities. Likewise, I think this story comes into a very crowded field of books centering around World War II and post-war German/Jewish relationships in America. The writing here might be strong, but the story doesn’t impress me as much as others I have read, including The History of Love by Nicole Krauss and Those Who Save Us by Jenna Blum. Though those two books are written for the adult audience and this story was written for young adults, I still think that it is, on the whole, not very strong. When I finished the story, I felt like Blundell depended upon her ability as a science fiction-fantasy writer to make things happen, even though she was writing a piece of historical fiction.

For anyone interested in historical fiction or young adult reading, it’s worth the read for the beautiful landscape the author creates. The historical aspects are weak, as is the story, but the writing will help make the book sail by quickly. I’m quite surprised this book won the National Book Award; I’ve read a couple of the other selections and am working on the other, and I do not feel this one compares. Such is the imprecise science of awarding one book the honor: it’s left entirely to a room of judges on the basis of emotion at any moment (that’s not to discredit the work, of course).