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Fantastic Fantasy, Scintillating Science Fiction (a Twofer)
For the reader, like me, who prefers fantasy to reality, at least in books, this has been a pretty knockout year. We seem to finally be fully beyond the various waves (paranormal romance, dystopias, love triangles) that have dominated YA fantasy and science fiction for the past decade. This has been a slow creep, and this year marks the first year where I don’t see any dominant trends. Microtrends, sure — the Arabian Nights and djinn tales have been increasing each year, series fiction is still quite common, and really we’ll never entirely be done with dystopic fiction (that usually isn’t technically set in a dystopia).
(Having said all that, someone will probably point out some trend I am willfully ignoring. I still say this is a banner year.)
So rather than an army of same old same old, this year has brought us a legion of fresh, original genre fiction — I’ve already talked about The Archivist Wasp and Razorhurst, and we’ve all admired Bone Gap and Shadowshaper (and yes, I KNOW we need to review those already. We haven’t forgotten). Joy had a lot of admiration for More Happy Than Not; The Walls Around Us is a tour de force, really, that I am still thinking about. Even genre books we haven’t 100% adored and/or may not be covering here (The Game of Love and Death, Walk on Earth a Stranger, Newt’s Emerald) are distinctly their own books and don’t fit into any easy boxes.
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In short, I’m calling this the year fantasy finally moved on from blockbusters and into its own (magical) pride of place.
And today I’ve got not one but TWO fabulous genre books to add to the list of books we say nice things about.
First, the darker horse (fantasy and science fiction is always a dark horse, though, so it’s all relative).
Cuckoo Song, Frances Hardinge
Amulet, May 2015
Reviewed from ARC; 5 starred reviews
Why is this one the darker horse?
Well, for starters, it really is a very dark book, full of misery and despair and a lot of people lost in the vagaries of a shifting world.
Also, it’s young, but not young. The protagonist is 11, which makes it seem like a kids book although developmentally it’s the classic journey that I use to distinguish between children’s and YA: the journey from acted upon to acting upon. (I’m not saying all YA has to be this, mind — but when I have a book on the cusp, this tends to be the thing that makes a book feel YA or not to me, which is subjective but would also be an argument I would bring to the table, looking at developmental assets, were I discussing a cusp book at the table.)
In this case, I don’t believe this is Newbery eligible because the author is British, but eligibity aside, this is almost perfect in terms of suitability for either award.
So that’s why it’s dark, but what makes it a contender?
The writing is stunning. Line after line, page after page, I’ve marked sentences, turns of phrase, images. Precise metaphors that speak volumes, small moments that betray worlds.
The characters are interesting, especially the sisters at the heart, Triss/Not-Triss/Trista and Pen. Their developing relationship is delicate and beautiful; their loneliness and the ways they’ve been neglected and don’t even see it is painful. Their resilience in the face of horror comes across as both absolutely believable for how they’ve been written and also genuinely exciting as they grow and continue to fight their way through a world full of unexpected horrors — and not just the Besiders, who are in some ways easier to understand than their parents.
And the world. I love me a good changeling tale, and I’ve read plenty. This is a new twist on that old tale, and Hardinge pulls it off with aplomb.
(None of which is to say this is flawless — it’s very slow for the first half, and sometimes the specificity of the time period feels slippery, occasionally almost Victorian, other times mid-century in feel. But in the end that paled beside the inventiveness and the language.)
The Scorpion Rules, Erin Bow
Margaret K. McElderry, September 2015
Reviewed from ARC; 3 starred reviews
I love this book, so I need to gush: Goats! Talis! Greta and Xie! Talis! And oh, that ending.
It’s been months since I read this and yet I keep thinking about it. I find myself recommending it over and over (and incidentally, it’s been a huge hit with my students, which I can’t say for much of anything else we’ve reviewed. That shiny cover probably doesn’t hurt, but mostly it’s just that good). I think I’m half in love with Talis, which is probably something I shouldn’t admit, but he’s the best dictator fiction has ever provided: he’s funny and smart and kind of obnoxious and terribly cruel but also infinitely compassionate, heartless and yet filled with hope for the world, even if hope means killing people. He might actually be saving the world, in his own bizarre and unorthodox and child-killing way. From a critical perspective, the depth of this character stands out; Bow has created something — someone? — who feels utterly alien and yet makes perfect sense. He’s both human and not, petty and immense at the same time. In a year that does not lack for incredible characters, Talis still stands out.
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And Greta, who is, in her life, almost better at being what we think AI should be than Talis is — she’s cool and calm and reserved, an ice princess. But also she’s a passionate lover, a deep thinker, and brave. She may not be the most sympathetic character, and yet Bow makes her into someone the reader can admire, cheer for, and even love.
And then there’s the feat of imagination that is the world: the preceptures, the shape of the alliances and conflicts. This could be shelved with all those wannabe Hunger Games dystopias, sure, but here we have a world that is so unlike the high octane formula we’ve come to associate with the subgenre. There is nuance here. This is in many ways a quiet story, set in a tiny, safe corner of an unsafe world, and yet it’s dangerous and exciting, and incredibly creative and unusual.
Then there’s the richness of this at the meta level: there is so much encoded in the text about love: what it is, where the limits lie — or don’t. Love is the literal shackle that keeps the world safe, both danger and savior. Power, love, choice: important ideas, handled nimbly.
And the goats. Did I mention the goats? Uncontrollable and impossible and unexpectedly funny: like a microcosm of the Children.
Really the only downside is that I hear there’s a sequel planned, because the ending struck me as perfect: open, but not unfinished, full of possibility; like Greta, poised on the verge, with anything possible. Having those answers might detract from the artfulness that is the book, but that doesn’t actually matter at the table, so maybe this one has a chance? It deserves a dozen.
Filed under: Books to look for
About Karyn Silverman
Karyn Silverman is the High School Librarian and Educational Technology Department Chair at LREI, Little Red School House & Elisabeth Irwin High School (say that ten times fast!). Karyn has served on YALSA’s Quick Picks and Best Books committees and was a member of the 2009 Printz committee. She has reviewed for Kirkus and School Library Journal. She has a lot of opinions about almost everything, as long as all the things are books. Said opinions do not reflect the attitudes or opinions of SLJ, LREI, YALSA or any other institutions with which she is affiliated. Find her on Twitter @InfoWitch or e-mail her at karynsilverman at gmail dot com.
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