September 27, 2013

Review: Unremembered


Unremembered
Unremembered by Jessica Brody

My rating: 1 of 5 stars



This book started out so promisingly...and was such a disappointment in the end.

For quite a while now, the trendy thing in young-adult novels is the first person, present tense point of view. I personally think this POV is a bit problematic; I've written stories using it, but it's very easy to go over the top. There's a reason the past-tense POV is pretty much universal: it stays in the background and allows the story and characters to take over, rather than focus the attention on the author's hip, pretentious, artsy-fartsy style of writing.

That being said, this book's first-person, present tense, stream-of-consciousness POV is perfect for this story: a teenager waking up in the middle of the ocean, floating on debris, with absolutely no idea of who she is or how she got there. We learn what happened the same instant Violet (later Seraphina, her real name) does. She is, we come to find out, an unnaturally beautiful, unnaturally strong, unnaturally intelligent (she has a savant-like way with numbers) and unnaturally fast person who...isn't a "natural" person at all.

This is all revealed like a slow peeling of a tasty, sharp red onion, layer within layer. She wasn't actually on the plane she was supposed to be on. There's a boy following her around who tells her she's in danger, there are people hunting for her. Said people do show up, whereupon she finds out she can kick car doors clear off their hinges and outrun racehorses. The boy tells her she actually comes from a lab called Diotech. (The boy, Zen, also claims to have been her boyfriend and soul mate.) She's kidnapped by the bad people and meets another man, Rio, who tells her she is indeed an artificial person, created by the Diotech corporation. She and Zen get away from Rio, and Zen tells her all her still-vanished memories have been downloaded onto a tiny cube. He hooks her up to so-called "cognitive receptors"--tiny disks attached to her skull--so she can access them.

The story progresses, with Seraphina and Zen now on the run from the bad guys. Then the bad guys catch up to them and take Zen. This is definitely a turning point for Seraphina; she is determined to free him and is willing to sacrifice herself to do so. Going on the Internet to find a clue where he might be, she runs across Maxxer, a former Diotech employee who is willing to help her get Zen back. By this time, I realize we must be moving into far-future territory: nothing remotely like all this technology exists today. Sure enough, we find out Diotech actually exists about a hundred years in the future. Okay, so time travel is involved: a genuine science-fiction trope, along with genetic engineering and downloading of memories. (This doesn't come out of the blue, by the way; the idea has been well planted, with the repeated clue of the number "1609", which turns out to be the year.) I do pause when I read it; it's a bit of a heavy lift for a YA novel, but the story has been progressing so well to this point, I'm willing to continue. I wonder what machine the author will use for the actual time travel; the heart-shaped locket found on Seraphina seems altogether too flimsy to accomplish such a thing.

But when a final clue is revealed, the time-travel device isn't a machine at all; it's a gene, and an artificially created gene at that, which allows the bearer to "transesse" (short for chrono-spatial transession. I give the author credit for trying to create a sufficiently scientific-sounding term, but this simply doesn't work; it sounds like a brand of intersex cosmetic).

At this point, the story collapses under its own weight, and takes my suspension of disbelief with it.

Look, this simply isn't plausible. At all. Catherine Asaro and Julie E. Czerneda, two of my favorite authors and an actual physicist and biologist respectively, would not dare write such a hackneyed explanation as this. How the hell would you create something like this in the lab? What combination of DNA and proteins would you even use? There's at best a feeble attempt to explain it, which amounts to a lot of frantic handwaving. And only one gene, one artificial gene, can accomplish such a thing? Why wouldn't you need an entire artificial genome for something as monumental as time travel? How could you use such a gene to travel into the past? Just pick out a year and project yourself there, knowing nothing of where you might end up? If Seraphina got separated from Zen during their attempted flight to 1609, how the hell did she end up, all-too-conveniently, on a piece of floating debris after a plane crash? Why didn't she end up five miles into the atmosphere, or five miles under the surface of the ocean for that matter? And Dr. Maxxer says you can implant this artificial gene directly into yourself? Where, pray tell? Is it just floating around in her bloodstream? Seraphina gets the gene by drinking a liquid containing it. Why doesn't her stomach acid destroy it? How does she access it?

As you can tell, I'm very irritated by this entire concept. To put it bluntly, it ruined the book for me, and I came near to smashing it against the wall. I forced myself to finish the story, mainly because by that time I was so invested in the characters. Seraphina does rescue Zen, and uses her lone artifical gene to get them out of the cave where they're being held. Even this, the way it's described, seems more like simple teleportation--another established science fiction trope--instead of this "transession" nonsense. They end up jumping off a cliff and supposedly finishing their aborted journey, back to 1609.

Bah. I'm sorry, but this is just stupid. It's really sad, because the book was so good. I can't imagine why the editor didn't demand this gene business be dropped. I could actually accept the time-travel idea if it had been done by a machine instead of how it was presented, but I suppose that would have made it too easy for the bad guys to follow our heroes. At any rate, be warned. Needless to say, I'm not reading the sequel.



View all my reviews

September 21, 2013

The Bell Tolls For Thee

This was on the front page of today's Arizona Republic.

Phoenix summer was hottest ever: 3 months of misery wasn't all in your head

The story explained the average temperature in Phoenix from June through August was 95.1 degrees. This was followed by a little table listing the five hottest summers on record, dating from 1895.

The four hottest summers were 2013, 2011, 2007 and 2002.

Coincidence, I'm sure.

What I found interesting about this story (and not in a good way) is that the words "climate change" were never mentioned, and there was only a brief one-sentence quote in the story from a climate scientist.

The story also includes this, almost as a throwaway.

It wasn’t just Phoenix that simmered this summer. It was the fifth-hottest summer worldwide since record-keeping began in 1880, and the 15th-hottest in the United States, Crouch said. Most of the hotter areas were in the West.

Nationwide, the numbers reflect a warming trend of 1 degree over the past century. In Arizona, the increase has been about 2 degrees, he said.

It is a thoroughly irresponsible lapse in journalism to write these facts and not provide the explanation behind them--namely, that global warming is taking place, and humans are the cause.

Nonsense like this is why nothing will be done, and humans will continue their slide into the abyss, taking the planet with them.

September 15, 2013

Review: Solstice


Solstice
Solstice by P.J. Hoover

My rating: 4 of 5 stars



This is a rather improbable combination of science fiction and Greek mythology that (mostly) works.

The science fiction part is a harrowing extrapolation of current trends re: climate change--rising sea levels (at one point the protagonist, Piper, says most of Florida and parts of Louisiana are under water), tsumanis, extinction of vegetation and animal life, and extreme heat waves (here called heat bubbles). The book opens with a suspenseful, well-written scene describing the temperature reaching a danger point of over 121 degrees, and the population of Austin, Texas, including Piper and her school friends having to take shelter while a so-called "heat disperser" missile is fired. This does work, and the entire first chapter is an unsettling introduction to Piper's world.

Then we start reading about Piper's clingy, suffocating mother, and her determination to keep her daughter chained to her side even as Piper turns eighteen. Piper meets and is instantly attracted to two new boys in town, Shayne and Reese. One wonders what one plot thread has to do with the other, but don't worry--all will eventually be revealed.

Some books require a rather heavier suspension of disbelief than others. This book walked one of the highest, thinnest tightropes I have read in a long time, and it's a credit to the author's skill that she pulls it off. We find out that the Greek pantheon of gods really exists; that Shayne is Hades, King of the Underworld, and Reese is Ares, God of war--and Piper is really Persephone, Hades' wife, stolen away from the Underworld by her mother Demeter in a last-ditch, illegal attempt to bring her daughter back under her control.

(Unfortunately, this was more than a little telegraphed. Piper Snow/Persephone? Come on, P.J. I figured it out as soon as I heard Piper's last name.)

Oh, yeah--Piper's becoming human, and her mother not fulfilling her godly duties, is the reason for the Global Heating Crisis.

Talk about weighing your protagonist down with burdens. Piper has guilt over her mother, guilt over her husband, guilt over being attracted to Reese/Ares (who turns out to be a thoroughly nasty, manipulative little prick, and also an attempted rapist; I cheered Piper's blasting him with Underworld fire, even though I knew it wouldn't be fatal), and guilt over her best friend Chloe, who she saves from the Fates only to see kill herself later. This is all pretty unresolved by the end of the book; I'm assuming a sequel (if there is one) will address these problems.

I'll definitely read it. This book is unique--I haven't run across a young-adult novel quite like it--and I'm looking forward to Piper's further adventures.



View all my reviews

September 7, 2013

The YA Boom; or, What I Did With My Money, Honey

A few weeks ago, I did something I've never done before.

I walked into my local bookstore and bought not one, not two, but four new hardbacks.

 (Believe me when I say I'm notoriously stingy with my dollars, and before this I would wait for the paperbacks or peruse the used section. But I also paid off my mortgage at the beginning of the year, and eight months later, that sunk in to the point where I could actually let myself buy BOOKS.)

Two of these were sequels to books I already own. Two were from authors I'd never heard of, but I'd seen reviews in various places and thought they would be something I'd like.

 All four of them were from the same genre--Young Adult.

 Now, this is a new development. I've started making the YA section of my library a regular stop, even though I'm a *cough*few decades*cough* past the target audience. It's actually a rather pitiful little section that could use a major expansion, but it does hold such gems as Andrew Fukuda's fantastic Hunt series. I'm sure I've gotten a few sideways looks from the teenagers sitting up there browsing their Facebook pages, or playing whatever video games are popular nowadays, when I go to dig through the New Arrivals shelves.

Because as far as I can see--and this has been true for a good while--some of the best new fiction being published today is Young Adult.

Maybe The Hunger Games started it all. But the coming-of-age/angst-ridden/high school/sexual-awakening stories (Paul Zindel, Judy Blume et al) I remember aren't there now, not as they used to be. What I see now are dystopias. Tons of them. Along with science fiction and fantasy worlds of all stripes. Vampires, werewolves, and zombies abound (Carrie Ryan's Forest of Hands and Teeth trilogy, for example, hands down the most depressing books I have ever read) along with lesser-known beasties like water horses (Maggie Stiefvater's fantastic The Scorpio Races).

All these books have teenage protagonists (usually female) dealing with life-and-death issues no teenager should ever have to deal with. First kisses, crushes on your best friend's sibling, and the infamous What I Did On My Summer Vacation essay are right out as problems in these kids' lives.
 
Instead, you have things like: a souped-up global warming scenario crossed with the Greek pantheon, and discovering you're really Persephone, snatched away from the Underworld, and your mother is the cause of the former; and humanity, decimated by a virus that rebirths a few select teenage "survivors" as intelligent, emotionless, non-decaying killer zombies.

(These are the plots of two of the books I bought. I'll review them in detail soon.)

I love this kind of stuff. It's right up my alley. I keep adding books to my Amazon Wish List, not necessarily to pick them up second-hand as soon as they come out (I've contributed my fair share of hardback royalties this year, I think), but mostly to keep track of them; it seems like there's another terrific-sounding book being released every day.

I don't know if I'll ever write Young Adult myself--everybody and their second cousin is doing it nowadays, it seems, which of course means it's in danger of overexposing itself. But even if it is in the middle of a boom-and-bust cycle, and the pendulum is going to swing back soon (as it always does), we're getting some wonderful stories in the meantime.

Let's enjoy them.

September 2, 2013

Review: Does Jesus Really Love Me?: A Gay Christian's Pilgrimage in Search of God in America


Does Jesus Really Love Me?: A Gay Christian's Pilgrimage in Search of God in America
Does Jesus Really Love Me?: A Gay Christian's Pilgrimage in Search of God in America by Jeff Chu

My rating: 3 of 5 stars



This is an interesting book. It poses far more questions than it answers, and exposes more than a few churches and individuals to extremely unflattering lights. But, like all the best journalism, it merely lays out the facts and the author's impressions of the people he's talking to, and lets the readers draw their own conclusions.

The writer, Jeff Chu, goes on a year-long personal and spiritual journey trying to reconcile what he views as two conflicting aspects of his personality: "gay" and "Christian." Ultimately, the journey itself is the reward, as he admits. What makes this journey different is the author is an absolutely sparkling writer. His clarity of ideas and wonderful turns of phrase hold the reader's attention throughout. Just one example, plucked randomly from p. 33: "Belief grows or dies for all different reasons; the ecosystem of personal faith is rich and difficult terrain, a spiritual jungle as dense as the Amazon."

How can you not love a writer like that?

Chu treats his complex, controversial subject remarkably well. In the end, he affirms his faith and his belief in God, but admits that both have changed, and will keep on changing. Hopefully, in ten or fifteen more years he will write a sequel to this book. I would love to read it.



View all my reviews