Sekret, by Lindsay Smith

Let's talk about figurative language.

Oh, goodness, I can hear you lot moaning already.

I think, in some cases, English classes taught in schools lead us to believe that discussing diction, syntax, and figurative language is the most boring thing that anyone could ever go through.

EVER.

But it's not, not really. Mostly, we just hate the lectures and the pages and pages of explanation we have to write; that's what's redundant and annoying. If you're a native English speaker, you definitely understand the difference between words and metaphors. 

No? Let me switch approaches, then. Sekret's a book about young Yulia Andreevna Chernina, a former child of party members in Soviet Russia. After her family is thrown from power, she, her mother, and her younger brother hide in their aunt's apartment while her father is off doing god-knows-what: it's important, that's all Yulia is told. To survive, Yulia has to trade their old possessions down in the black market for food, medical supplies, and anything else they may need. In this endeavor, she may have a slight advantage.

She can read minds through touch.

Soon, however, the KaGeBezniks -- what they call KGB agents -- find her, and she is separated from her family and taken to a facility where six teenagers with similar abilities learn how to serve the Motherland. If she doesn't cooperate, they will kill her family.

I'm not here to discuss the plot, though. This all ties back into word usage -- you wouldn't believe how creative Smith's description is.

In describing the warden's smile, she writes, "She bares her ragged teeth in a grin. They remind me of the metal tank traps along the Moskva River that held back the fascists." (39) When was the last time you heard a smile, no matter how ugly and menacing, likened to tank traps?

There's more.

"His words are trimmed in razor wire." (62)

"His [eyes] are a burned shade of brown. smoldering like the last winter log." (49)

"A man stands over the documents -- gaunt to a degree only Russian men can be, as though his whole face hangs on the two pegs of his cheekbones." (54)

The last one's my absolute favorite. Can you imagine the man? Maybe not, maybe not completely -- after all, there's no description given regarding his hair and his eyes and lips and things. But it's enough, isn't it? You get a feel of the person, the words gaunt and pegs and hangs telling you all you need to know.

Smith's writing is like this at every turn: words and phrases that you as the reader know could have been completely commonplace, and instead they tell you more about the story and characters than you'd ever expect. It's a learning experience, too; as you read, you can see where the words you would've chosen would be too simple, and watch phrases interact with each other, devilishly spinning a tale that runs cold fingers up and down your spine.

If the unique description weren't there, I doubt I'd notice. But it is, and that makes the book so much more satisfying.

Faking It, by Misha Hicks and Defying Stereotypes

The only thing I love more than books without stereotypes are books that take something stereotypical and defy that stereotype at every turn.

The first stereotype the unassuming little e-book annihilates is the stereotype that stories on Wattpad are terrible. This book is imaginatively written and laugh-out-loud hilarious, and I honestly believe that the writer could get it published.

The next stereotype that it squashes lies in the plot. Faking It is about a girl, Amy, who moves to a super rich town to live with her dad after her mother kicks her out. Her new school's star quarterback lives right next door, and they soon make fast friends. Later in the summer, they decide to pretend to be dating during the next school year so Amy has a better time making friends.

Do you think she and quarterback Matthew will fall in love?

Ding dong, you are wrong.

Matthew agreed to fake date Amy only because his teammates were constantly trying to hook him up with girls, and Matthew would prefer lovers more...masculine. And Amy needs help making friends because she's whip-smart and brutally honest, and people tend to hate her for it. Except for Matthew, obviously. He's easily her most loyal friend by the end of the book, and these two get into heaps of trouble.

All right. Next stereotype. Amy's faux beau is gay, but he isn't the stereotypical gay man. Shopping makes him uncomfortable, and the football team and he get into all sorts of teenage boy trouble (have you noticed that everyone seems to be getting in trouble? There's a reason the book's subtitle is A Comedy of Errors).

Next enters bad boy Johnathan, brother to Matthew. He and Amy definitely have a thing by the end of the book, but that is where the similarity to Twilight ends. Johnathan is not just a bad boy. Johnathan is a musical prodigy who got kicked out of a high end school because he dared to envision Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker differently (the fact that it had professional pole dancers is completely irrelevant. It was visionary). And obviously they get into trouble too.

 Amy's mother is a drunk. That's another stereotype that's been tarred and feathered. Amy's mother is not just a drunk, she's a gifted writer, and wrote a book on feminism that had a cult following for years. The latter half of the book delves into the relationship between Amy and her mother; it's the perfect blend of emotion and sarcastic jokes.

Guys. I cannot explain to you how much I want you to read this book. I will shove it down your noses and preach its literary genius for years upon years if that means Faking It will get the recognition it deserves. Its plot is feminist, pro-gay rights, and against the elitist art movement. It's pro-hippy, anti-high school hierarchy (sorry Mean Girls) and seriously hysterical.

It's the perfect book, and it can be found right here

Divergent: Setting

Two months ago, my good friend Maya gave me her copy of Divergent after I said that I hadn't read it. Yes, I did say two months ago. Two. Months. Ago.

I really have no excuse. Have I mentioned my reading slump? It's so hard to yank yourself out of that, even if last week I read two books in as many days. I think it's because I've gotten this app, Wattpad, and I've been reading short stories on that most of the time. Maybe next week I'll write a post about a story I read on there.

Aaaanyways, Divergent.

The setting in Divergent is a dystopian world where each person gets sorted into a faction: Abnegation, Amity, Candor, Dauntless, and Erudite. (I just noticed something. Why are the first three factions nouns, and the last two adjectives?)

Most of you are probably already aware of the personality traits of each faction. Moving on.

I'm honestly a little worried about the setting of the story. The roads are cracked and it doesn't matter because no one has cars. Some sections of the city are dilapidated and crumbling. Abnegation volunteers its members to help rebuild some parts of the ailing city. Veronica Roth writes, "We don't need stoplights, either, but in some places they dangle precariously over the road like they might crash down any minute." (Roth 24)

What happened? Why is the city in such terrible shape? Does it have something to do with the beginning of the factions? I'm beginning to wonder if it does, and I'm scared for the main character, Tris. I've already become attached to her and it's been 70 pages.

I think I'm in for a world of pain.

Divergent Movie Trailer

Artemis Fowl: The Last Guardian, And Why Juvenile Books Are OK

Surprise!

I have finished Dragon's Keep already, and have now started on another book. I'm so proud of myself, and dread the day this streak ends in a pit of fiery book hiatus.

Before you laugh at me for reading a book directed to an age group I surpassed two years ago, let me explain. My brother got this book from the library because it's the newest (and last) installment to the Artemis Fowl saga, a series I loved when I was younger. I had accompanied him into the library and I got Dragon's Keep while I was there. And I finished it within two days. Now he's moved on to another book, having read Artemis Fowl in one day, and I needed something to read.

What was I to do? I obviously started reading it, and got sucked into the fantastic universe that I had loved not two winters ago. I love Artemis, and his sassy intelligence. I love the valiant Captain Holly Short and her affinity for burning rulebook upon rulebook.

 And I feel guilty.

I cannot count the number of times I've slid the book back into my bag so one of you lot won't see what I'm reading (so obviously, to preserve the book's anonymity I'm writing a blog post about it). I constantly divert questions away from what I'm reading so I won't have to hear, "Oh, I used to love that series!"

I've seen so many of you reading mature books, with adult characters and deep reflections into the meaning of life and love and family. When was the last time you reread a book or series you used to love, just for the heck of it? Not to look cool, not to read what your friends read, not to appear well-adjusted and grown up?

I know I'm not talking about the book Artemis Fowl itself, and I'm sorry. But I think we'd all be happier if reading a book from your past wasn't so uncool and childish. We don't always do it to enjoy the book like we enjoy books for older audiences.

I remember the first couple chapters of this book, my mind automatically generating the old mental image I had for Artemis. The first couple chapters were the best, because it was pure childish joy. I just basked in the memories of my childhood and all the little things that author Eoin Colfer includes that make the series so well known.

I think we all need to read a book from our childhood to remember what it was like to love characters unconditionally, or we'll forget why we ever read in the first place.

Dragon's Keep: Predictions

Yes, I know, it's incredible. I've actually started a new book. That's right, folks; I have finished a book and started another one.

It's unprecedented. Sort of.

Dragon's Keep is about a princess prophesied to restore her family's honor on the throne. The only problem is, one of her fingers is a dragon claw. How is she supposed to be a good wife, mother and queen if one of her fingers is an actual, scaly, real life dragon claw? I'm not that far in yet, but the summary on the back cover reveals that there's a dragon plaguing their island kingdom, and this dragon captures Princess Rosalind. But, instead of eating her, he finds her dragon claw fascinating.

This is huge. Never in Rosalind's life has her claw ever been called anything other than a problem, a deformity, a mark of the devil. When something so savage and cruel tells her that her claw is, well, cool, she experiences a feeling that she's never even thought about feeling. Hope.

I predict that she'll eventually come back to her kingdom stronger and more prepared to be a good leader than she was before, because she'll understand that physical markings aren't a sign of true power. I also hope that the author doesn't get rid of her claw, but rather the people that think her claw is disgusting. If the claw were removed, then the message of the story almost becomes "Accept yourself for who you are so your flaws will disappear," rather than "Accept your flaws so you can live your life knowing your flaws are what make you so fantastically you."

And, obviously, I hope the dragon continues to kick some serious medieval butt.

STILL READING: How To Catch A Bogle

I wish I had more time to read. 

Well, that's actually not the problem. I do have free time when I could be reading, but I always spend it scrolling through miles of posts on Tumblr or texting or watching kittens do silly things on YouTube. It's a huuuuuuuuge problem, and I don't know how to fix it. Honestly, if you've got a suggestion, leave it in the comments. Thanks. 

Anyways, I do enjoy reading How to Catch a Bogle, and part of it is because of the dialogue. The book is set in the less civilized parts of Victorian London, and the dialogue is the perfect blend of authentic colloquialisms and modern day language for the sake of clarity. When I read the lines, I can literally hear a cockney person talking in my head. It's fantastic. For instance, on page 11, Birdie says, "There's nothing to fear. Why, it's no more'n catching a rat. For there's rats as big as bogles where I come from, and they ain't never eaten us yet!" 

It's nice to read a book where the voices in your head come alive, and the differences in accents between a posh older woman and dear Birdie are so drastic that you can actually hear them. It's like being part of the book, and I love that feeling. Being part of an adventure or something important is really the reason I read so many science fictions and fantasy novels. Real life is boring, wouldn't you rather catch bogles in Victorian London?

How to Catch a Bogle, by Catherine Jinks

Who's the author?

Well, her name's Catherine Jinks. We know that much. And she's written another series, the first book titled Evil Genius. I've read it.

And I didn't like it.

That was something that made me reluctant to open How To Catch A Bogle and read, because how on earth can I like a book if the author has written books I haven't liked?

So I googled her, and found out she's from Australia; Brisbane, to be exact. She's written 30 books, is two years older than me mum, and spent her formative years in Papua New Guinea. Plus she's got tons of awards for her writing, including the Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year Award (three times), the Victorian Premier’s Award, the Aurealis Award for Science Fiction, the Australian Ibby Award, and the Davitt Award for Crime Fiction.

I'm considering re-reading Evil Genius, to be honest.

She's got a degree in Medieval History, which sounds very cool, and, unlike my traditional vision of an author, she likes movies and television. And look what she has to say about her experience with school:

"I didn't enjoy primary school much because my family moved around all the time. I enjoyed high school because I made some really, really good friends there. I liked English when it was all about writing stories and putting on plays, but when we started concentrating on essays for exams in the last two years, I lost my fondness for it."
 

Me too, Catherine Jinks, me too.

Review of How to Catch a Bogle