Set in the mid-19th century, when British imperialism was at its pinnacle and explorers were mapping the last uncharted corners of the globe, English Passengers spins a delicious yarn of intrigue, torment, and reckless lawbreaking on the high seas and within the plains and forests of Tasmania. It is crewed by a fascinatingly diverse cast of characters, including a likable yet eccentric rum-smuggling captain by the name of Illiam Quillian Kewley, a motley band of seafaring Manxmen, an unlikely trio of obnoxious Brits, and a tormented tribe of indigenous Tasmanians.

One night, five children mysteriously disappear from their homes in Paris, Glasgow, Rome, and London. Five years later, the five teenagers and their governess, Madame Vileroy, arrive at an exclusive holiday party in New York. The Faust "family" has just enrolled in Marlowe, a school for elite students, in the middle of the year. They use their "gifts" given to them by Madame Vileroy to rise to suspicious heights at Marlowe. Driven by selfish obsession and making deals with the very devil, the Faust teens draw nearer their goals. That is, until two of them uncover a secret.

Another Faust is an exciting book. The plot draws you in more and more as you read on. During the last few chapters, the book becomes very difficult to put down. I commend the writers on such a well paced build up. Another exceptional aspect of the book's writing is the short "pre-chapters." At the beginning of every chapter, there are a few sentences/paragraphs of italicized writing. They usually do not relate to the story at the present, but over time, their meaning becomes clear. Either that, or they foreshadow a future plot development. The pre-chapters add suspense but also aid understanding. It is a creative, enriching touch.

As mentioned in the plot summary above, the children make deals with the very devil. The devil exploits their weaknesses and desires to coerce them into making deals. This a very interesting concept, although not original to this book (it is not called Another Faust for nothing). There a personal conflict between immediate gratification and redemption. It makes a meaningful story, but sometimes, this one character comes off as downright repulsive. The girl, Victoria, is obsessed with winning. She makes a deal so she can read minds to cheat. She is absolutely soulless. Everything about her revolves around being the best and winning. She can be really obnoxious, but the book would suffer without her presence. If you ever become disgusted with her while you are reading, just keep going. It will get better. Fortunately, not all the characters are as horrible as Victoria.

The fierce faults of Victoria might not upset you. I just felt a little threatened. I mean, honestly, this girl got to make a deal with the devil! And I call myself an evil cousin... I shall have to try harder.

I give Another Faust by Daniel and Dina Nayeri a Satanic 4 out of 5 daggers.







Devilishly yours,
Gabriel Gethin

The Wave, by Todd Strasser, is the story of Gordon High School, a regular American institution of lockers and bells, dreaded phys ed and social cliques. The novel takes place in the early 1970s, separated by years and oceans from the genocide of World War II. As they learn about the Holocaust in history class, everyone acknowledges that indeed, the Holocaust was horrible and despicable, but they all are equally certain that something like that could never happen in present day. Concerned with this complacency, the history teacher, Mr. Ross, sets out to show his students that a situation like Nazi Germany is never out of reach.

His experiment begins harmlessly enough; students must stand at attention before answering a question in class and say “Mr. Ross,” crisply before speaking. But gradually the experiment grows, there is a salute and a sign and the new way of acting carries beyond the classroom. Soon this experiment, called The Wave, has spread through the school, a special society in which all are strong, disciplined, equal.

Yet with the power and the unity of the Wave comes negative aspects, as well. Gradually, as more and more students join the Wave, they begin to get intoxicated with the mass feeling of brotherhood and security among their fellow Wave members. To help foster this bond, Mr. Ross organizes rallies and meetings only for Wave members, and in a surprisingly short amount of time the majority of the school is fully on board with the Wave and all that it stands for. Although once a member, all are supposedly equal and accepted, those few students who resist the Waves begin to experience negative repercussions. They are separated from their friends as they are not allowed at Wave rallies or lunches, and Wave members quickly take it upon themselves to ban non-Wave members from school events like sports games. They are ridiculed, isolated, even beaten. All those who are not part of the Wave are enemies to it, and a school that was once simply a school has become the headquarters of this hungry new regime.

The Wave is a terrifying picture of the tangibility of Nazi Germany. We find that the Nazis were not simply a huge concentration of bigoted, wicked people, but, dare I say it, people like us who went horribly wrong? In the Wave, we see how it is to get swept up in the tantalizing and reassuring world of mindlessness. Members of both the Nazi party and the Wave were freed of their obligation to make choices. They did not have to be different. And because they were human, fallible, swayable, they fell into the Nazi mold and became monsters, committing unspeakable acts of evil.

And that is why the Wave is so frightening. It shows us how susceptible even we are to falling into something like Nazi-hood or the Wave. Hitler with the Third Reich and Mr. Ross, the history teacher with the Wave, both designed their regimes to play into human vulnerabilities, to exploit them and use them to turn people blind and unfailingly obedient.

The Wave is short, no more than a compact 125 pages, but within those pages is a startling and incredible read. I’ve read the novella several times, and each time the blow is just as strong, just as incredible, and just as terrifying. It is well written and well researched, based off a 1980 classroom experiment much like the one depicted in the book. It is scary to read but absolutely riveting, and essential for us to read if we are to understand the lure of mindless unity and protect ourselves against it. The Wave is, without a doubt, one of the best books I have ever read.

Lee Fiora is a modest girl from the Midwest, blessed by luck and hours of effort, who has won a place and a scholarship to the Ault school, a prestigious Northeastern boarding school. Vineyard Vines, Ralph Lauren and J. Crew labels are everywhere to be seen, while the school demands more academically than Lee has ever experienced. Awed and apprehensive, Lee begins her Ault career, unsure of her place in this affluent, preppy world. As the weeks and months continue, Lee becomes progressively more alienated, feeling friendless and very much an outsider. She is not privy to East Coast slang, the favorite brands; her hair is not long and sleek, her body not completely soft and slender. The novel follows Lee for her four years at Ault, during which time she becomes hardly more integrated. She spends the overwhelming majority of her high school years feeling self-conscious and rather miserable, because she feels that any thought, expression or action outside of the norm will alienate her further and cause others to think badly of her.

I liken this feeling of being scrutinized to the concept of the “panopticon,” in the book The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks. A panopticon is a circular jail, arranged around a central well so that the prisoners could be watched at all times. Because of the constant assumption that they were being watched, the prisoners behaved and little watching ever really had to occur. In Prep, and in The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks, the boarding school atmosphere makes for a sort of panopticon—an environment in which everyone feels as though they are always being watched, and behave accordingly. For Frankie, in Disreputable History, the panopticon serves to fascinate her and spark a rebellion within her. In Prep, the panopticon makes Lee miserable, for she feels as though her every move must be calculated to follow what the popular students are doing, and she spends more time desperately trying to fit in than she does nearly anything else. Life with a desperate and masochistic motivation such as this is not a happy one; Lee is constantly miserable and ends up allowing herself to be used sexually by a popular boy, for after wanting so long to be wanted, she grasps at the first possibility. Lee acts for almost the sole motivation of wanting not necessarily to be accepted –for being different is never desirable—but included.

Prep was written by Curtis Sittenfeld, sort of as a memoir. Sittenfeld attended a very prestigious boarding school as a teenager, and changed the name and a few key facts in the book, in order to somewhat protect its identity. Knowing this as I read was a little sad, for Curtis, alias Lee, has such an awful time in the text.

Prep is the bittersweet story of a girl who enters into a lavish world that seems ideal to her, but quickly learns that the pressure to be the unattainable elite is suffocating, and she finds herself barely gasping for breath over the four years of her life there. The really sad thing was that by the end of the novel, Lee does not seem to have really learned anything. She has not decided to be true to herself, or not care what others think of her. Perhaps this is more realistic, but it is still rather melancholy.

Prep is basically a depressing read. And though the insights on life at such an institution as Ault were interesting and well-explored, often the book lagged in Lee’s despair and alienation.

For those of you who desire the short, sweet version, Nightlight is a parody of Twilight. The basic storyline is similar enough to mock Twilight, yet different enough to be its own work of fiction. Belle Goose moves from Pheonix to Switchblade, Oregon to live with her father Jim, a window wiper. Belle has an obsession with dating a vampire. At her new school, she meets Edwart Mullen, a super-hot (yet fictitious) computer nerd with such a lack of social skills, one could argue he has negative social skills. After noticing a few events, such as Edwart leaving his lunch untouched, Belle realizes Edwart is a vampire. Clearly, this girl is a master of the scientific method.

I would say more in my quick summary, but I don't want to spoil the book! It's a very short read. Therefore, the summary is also short. Ironically, my summary for the 400 something page Twilight is about the same length... Quality beats quantity, which is why I recommend Nightlight over Twilight. Nightlight is hilarious! The book is like a Mel Brooks' movie. It's totally cheesy, it's a bit stupid at times, but overall, it is amazing! Some parts will make you laugh out loud (which you can shorten to "lol" if you wish). Other parts will seem a bit over-the-top and stupid. However, the length of the book makes the stupid parts less annoying.

There's not a whole lot to review in regards to this book. It's a parody. Is it funny? Yes. Therefore, it is a success. I recommend reading it, for kicks and giggles.

Four humorous daggers out of five.






Yours vampirically,
Gabriel Gethin

Kate Malone is one of those over-achievers; every school has one. Not only is she a straight-A student with especially outstanding grades in math and science, she also happens to be a long distance-running track superstar. She is a minister's daughter. She is dating Mitchell "Mitch" Pangborn III, who is got accepted Early Decision into Harvard. She is the unwilling caretaker of her family, between the death of her mother and the religious duties of her father, Kate is left with most of the house chores. On top of all this, she is a master of avoiding emotions. However, her emotional avoidance skills get put to the test after a series of cataclysmic events turn her life upside-down.

The storyline is pretty good. No complaints about the seriousness of the aforementioned cataclysmic events, they are really quite life changing. The story is easy to relate to, especially for high school students. All high school seniors share a good degree of nervousness over college acceptance. Also, the characters are pretty unique, yet stereotypical. Sound contradicting? It is. Kate Malone, for example, is a classic example of the overachiever student everyone knows will go to some Ivy League school and invent some radical new piece of technology. However, she is not so simple. Sure, she is smart, but she only applies to one school, MIT. Anderson is a master of creating believable, yet unique characters with refreshing amounts of wit. She also develops her characters, and their relationships with one another, beautifully.

Another aspect of Anderson's writing I simply love is her mastery of changing points of view. Not from first person to third person, but changing the way people see the world around them. As the characters' view of one another and the surrounding world change, so also do the reader's. The reader follows the characters' journey as if he/she were a part of it.

The story is set in the same community as Speak, which is pretty exciting if you've read Speak. If you haven't read Speak, what are you waiting for? I gave it five out of five daggers! That's more than enough to convince you to read it. Anyways, there's a great moment in Catalyst where Kate Malone refers to Melinda from Speak, got to love it.

If you've read this far, congratulations. You have patience. Some call it a virtue. As a reward, you get to hear my negative criticism for Catalyst. First things first, it's not as good as Speak. Speak was more humorous, more emotional, and (from a certain angle) more believable. Catalyst wasn't far-fetched. However, the way the events snowball and cause this sort of domino effect makes the story seem less likely to ever happen to a real life person (however, I'm sure someone is going to get lucky). Also, I felt much sorrier for Melinda than for Kate.

Nevertheless, Catalyst was most certainly enjoyable.

4 potentially painful daggers, out of the potentially more painful 5.

WARNING: The following review contains spoilers of Skin Hunger, the first book in this series. If you have not read Skin Hunger, dash off to your local library as fast as you can and read it! Then you may read this review, and subsequently Sacred Scars, at your leisure.

When we left Sadima at the end of Skin Hunger, she, Franklin, and Somiss were in a cave with several orphan boys, kidnapped from Limori. Sadima is miserable living in the cave. She feels the fear and loneliness of the trapped boys, whom Somiss forces to learn how to copy the Gypsy symbols. Somiss is even more reclusive- and yet somehow even more frightening- than before. Worst of all, Franklin is gone all night, stealing food, and asleep all day, so Sadima has almost no time with him. As more and more time passes, she realizes that maybe he doesn’t even love her anymore. And slowly, she realizes something she knew all along. She cannot stay in this cave. She must escape.

Hahp, at the end of Skin Hunger, had made a pact with his roommate Gerrard to destroy the academy at all costs. They both realized the danger of their agreement, and as their fragile almost-friendship teeters on the verge of breaking, it seems to Hahp that Gerrard isn’t keeping his end of the deal. But that is far from being the boys’ only problem. As their lessons become more and more difficult, life becomes more painful. The wizards are acting even more strangely. Hahp’s sleep is haunted by dreams that blur the lines between fantasy and reality. Worst of all, the safety of all the boys is threatened by the violent, unpredictable, and dying Luke. As the pact between Gerrard and Hahp expands to include the rest of the boys, they are forced to make the most difficult choices of their lives. And as the connection between the story’s two plots becomes more apparent, the eternal question still nags at the reader: where is Sadima?

This book most definitely lived up to the precedent set for it by Skin Hunger. Although Sadima’s story lagged somewhat in the beginning of the book and at certain points throughout, most of that plotline, and all of Hahp’s, moved at a fairly brisk pace. There were numerous plot twists and unexpected events sprinkled throughout to keep the story moving.

Hahp’s story was definitely the more engaging of the two plots. There was so much story material there, weaving a rich, detailed plot, and as always, Hahp is a realistic and dynamic character. But this should not be taken to mean that Sadima’s story was not also compelling; on the contrary, since the action progressed somewhat more slowly for most of the book, it provided a nice complement to the tension of Hahp’s story, building up to the dramatic climax and cliffhanger ending in both cases.

Overall, Sacred Scars is a fabulous second installment in the Resurrection of Magic trilogy; I’m anxious for the conclusion. Four and a half magical daggers.






Yours in suspense,
Tay

It is the peak of immigration in New York City, at the dawn of the twentieth century. Shouts in dozens of languages whoop through the air and smells from every dish imaginable waft through the streets of the Lower East Side. Tenements, rickety but home, climb the sky, fire escapes snaking down. The streets are crowded with pushcarts and calls. Thus is the setting for The Uprising, by Margaret Peterson Haddix.

Bella is a young immigrant girl, fresh from Italy and weighted with the daunting task of providing for her family overseas. She is lucky to find a job, though the hours spent hunched over a sewing machine in the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory are not quite what she expected.

Yetta has worked at Triangle for months. She lives with her equally rebellious elder sister, and, like Bella, sends most of her earnings home to her family in Russia. She is lively with life and pulsing with her want to change the world, to mean something, to matter. She wants women’s rights and safer conditions at work, shorter hours and higher wages. She is determined and fiery, willing to stand for months in the blistering heat and shivering cold, holding a picket sign and striking for union recognition in factories. Yetta is spirited and intense, gladly giving every bit of herself to her cause.

Jane, lastly, is a society girl with an intellectual spark. She is curious and compassionate, spending time with strikers and at rallies for no gain of her own, and finds herself swept up into this passionate world of striking and working and wanting and hoping. There is more to feel, she finds, outside of her ignorant, sheltered life. And these ardent factory girls so desperate for their cause accept her and love her—she finds a place with them that she cannot find at home.

Uprising is the story of these three girls. It is inspiring and adrenalizing (if that was not previously a word, I now deem it one), making me want to jump up and devote myself to a cause with all of my everything. On the other hand, the book does such a good job of enticing the readers into the world it creates, that it runs the risk of romanticizing poverty to some extent.

However, all in all, I love the way the book was crafted. The fire at the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory looms ahead for the entire novel. Right from the first chapter, we learn that two of the three best friends will die in the fire, though we do not know which ones they will be. This sets up an interesting dynamic--as I would read and get to know each character better, I would start to root for her to survive, before realizing, dismayed, that the other two would have to perish. It gave the book momentum and a reason for me to keep reading at the few moments the plot lagged.

Furthermore, the author was very skilled at weaving fiction and fact together, creating a story that haunts and perplexes, makes you think about the world and what you can do to change it, but also makes you care deeply for the three main characters. She succeeded in bringing life to a tragedy that occurred almost a hundred years ago. In making us care not only for the girls who died, but for the factory owners and the workers who survived as well. In painting a horrifying picture of flame and sky and the impossible choice—to jump or to burn? In making readers understand that if we want change to we have to fight for it, as the shirtwaist girls did in their months-long strike. The author wrote the story to make us u

On her way home from school, Sophie Amundsen finds two notes in her mailbox. On each note is written a simple, yet infinitely profound question. "Who are you?" and "Where does the world come from?" These questions are the humble beginnings of Sophie's very own basic course in Philosophy being taught by a mysterious nameless philosopher. As Sophie progresses through the History of Western Philosophy, strange things begin to happen. Sophie gets letters intended for Hilde, a girl with the same birthday as Sophie. To unravel the mystery behind the letters, and the other strange events which occur, Sophie must use philosophy. However, the inevitable truth is unfathomable until it is finally revealed.

Sophie's World is a thrill ride. There is no other way to fully describe Sophie's World in such simple terms. Right from the beginning, the reader begins to ask themselves the same questions being faced by Sophie. Who are you? and Where does the world come from? are just the beginning. Sophie's anonymous teacher takes her from the Pre-Socratic natural philosophers, through the famous Greek trio of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, up to Descartes, Spinoza, Hume, Hegel, Kant, Marx, even Darwin and Freud. These are just to name a few. The wealth of knowledge in this book makes Bill Gates look poor.

The most remarkable thing about this book? It pulls you in. It fascinates you. It makes you hunger and thirst for more. You cannot put it down. Ever heard of food for thought? Well this is a feast, only not just a feast. It induces a kind of intellectual high too. It's like flying. The mind is opened up to such a multitude of things. You're left feeling weightless, capable of anything. You feel all this, right from the beginning. Right from chapter one until you close the book, the intensity rises, the fascination grows. About two-thirds into the book, the most dramatic twist I have ever seen in any piece of literature occurs. From then until the end, the puzzle pieces begin to fit together into a big picture. It is impossible to summarize the twist, or its effect on the already mounting tension. Simply put, it is mind-blowing, earth-shattering, and totally wicked!

I give Sophie's World by Jostein Gaarder 5 out of 5 daggers.






It is quite possibly the best book I've ever read.

Yours in wonder and awe,
Gabriel Gethin


P.S. I apologize in advance for sounding like a screaming schoolgirl in the front row of a Jonas Brothers concert for the majority of my review. The fact of the matter is, this book is just fantastic. I loved it. Therefore, it is impossible to separate emotion from my own personal reading experience.

How to Say Goodbye in Robot, by Natalie Standiford, is the story of Beatrice Szabo and her very unique friendship with Jonah “Ghost Boy” Tate. Bea’s family moves all the time, so when Beatrice is told that they are moving to Baltimore for her senior year, she readies herself for yet another year of gossip and parties and shallow friends. Instead, she meets Jonah, nicknamed “Ghost Boy” by his taunting peers, and the two of them embark on a relationship that cannot appropriately be pinpointed by words such as “friend” or “boyfriend.” To Bea and Jonah, their togetherness is much more than that. It is sharing a love for a late night radio show, talking over beer and music in their favorite downtown hang out, and planning secret visits to Jonah’s sort-of-dead twin brother.

Quite honestly, I didn’t feel it. I liked the idea of a friendship above words and gossip and shallowness, but I felt that the author didn’t develop the characters or the relationship enough so that when the friends had a falling out, I didn’t care at all, really. When Bea’s parents had problems, I didn’t feel for them or for her. Overall, I got the impression of a sort of bleak world filled with chickens, greasy hair, and beer, and it was not a world in which I particularly wanted to stay. Not in a good way, either—some books paint a bleak world intentionally and the darkness can be powerful, but in How to Say Goodbye in Robot this was not the case. There were certainly a few touching moments, and the themes of loss and death and how thinking about them is not necessarily a bad thing were very nice, but I didn’t feel any sort of real connection with the characters.

I liked the never-quite-shot-down ideas of inhabitants from the future living in our time thread, and I found the radio show, The Night Lights, very sweet and quirky. I liked the idea that one could have a whole sort of radio community of friends, and that there can be friendship based on more than just gossip and the troubles of this world. Unfortunately, the author didn’t quite portray the sweet world of their friendship, so there was no basis to build off of.

If you care to do your homework and go all the way back to my Toad Hill days, you'll know what this means: How to Say Goodbye in Robot was a bit less than crinterprood.

And that's that.

Briar.

Noughts and Crosses, by Malorie Blackman is the tale of a world with a clear class distinction, an alternate universe in which racial and social roles are completely reversed. The world is run by the dark-skinned Crosses and served by the white Noughts—hatefully called daggers and blankers, respectively.

The story is that of Sephy Hadley and Callum McGregor , whose love and friendship struggle against the wide gap between their social standings. Sephy, a Cross, is the daughter of one of the most powerful politicians in the country, while Callum is a low-class “blanker,” and would never have met Persephone had his mother not been working for hers. Still, Sephy and Callum build their friendship in secret hours on a strip of beach and midnight meetings in a rose garden. To them, it doesn’t matter that she is a Cross and he is a Nought; they are both simply people. But when Callum is accepted as one of the first Noughts into Sephy’s all-Cross school, everything changes. And as Callum’s family gets more wrapped up in the violent civil rights terrorist organization known as the Liberation Militia, the stakes get even higher. The story whirls into a fast-paced tale of love and trust and hatred and hurting, race and rights and human nature, all tying into the breathtaking climax; a ending no one could have predicted.

Noughts and Crosses is possibly one of the best books I have ever read.

It could easily have been a simplistic story about how racism is bad and all are equal (which is perfectly good and true, but makes for a rather predictable novel), but Noughts and Crosses delves into the deeper, rawer side of that. Rather than simply black-white racism itself, the story examines human nature and the foundation of prejudice. I think the most important thing was the reversal of who had the power. With the dark-skinned people in charge rather than the light-skinned, real-life politics and pre-formed notions are stripped away, and we are left with simply a picture of prejudice.

What was interesting was how false notions about African Americans that have mostly died out the idea that they smell bad, are less clean, and so on, translated to the blacks’ perception of whites. And it fit perfectly! In this scenario, the whites were portrayed as the dirty second class, and all of the terrible racial stereotypes people held and still hold about blacks are given to the whites in this book. One can see that they have nothing to do with a particular skin color, merely the fact that the color is different and perceived as inferior.

The book studies these ideas far more naturally and subtly than I do, giving them a pronounced presence in the story without ever having to state them bluntly as I have just done. Truly, this book is excellent. It does delve into really interesting questions and ideas, but it also paints a picture of friendship and love startlingly well.

Noughts and Crosses is the first in a trilogy, and I give it five out of five daggers. And no, I don’t mean the fictional slur for the Cross class.

Thinking and mind-blown,

Briar

The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins, was the wildly popular dystopia novel released last year. Catching Fire, the eagerly awaited sequel, was equally as riveting—full of extraordinary twists and turns as well as further fleshing of conflicts introduced in its predecessor.

For those unfamiliar with The Hunger Games, the story centers around Katniss Everdeen, who takes her young sister’s place in the The Hunger Games. The Games consist of twenty-four “tributes,” or teenage citizens, who are put in an arena and forced to kill each other off in the hopes of being the last one standing. The book finishes with the end of the Games, and Catching Fire picks up a few weeks after it is all over.

I received this book in early summer as an ARC (Advanced Reader’s Copy) from Scholastic, and positively gobbled it up. The second installment is just as fast-paced and riveting as the first, with even more surprise twists and deeper exploration of the legend of District 13. Katniss grapples with more ethical issues and discovers that whatever she started with the berries in the arena is far from over. A rebellion is stirring, and Katniss finds herself, willing or not, the rallying point of a revolution.

Catching Fire was wonderful. The characters were genuine, and the alternate universe was just as thrilling as it was the first time around. There is the constant, looming threat of the Capitol, and this not-quite-fake charade of love that must be kept up at all times. There is the uncertainty of which boy Katniss should choose, and this whispered revolution that is putting everyone Katniss cares about in danger.

The first half focuses on Katniss’s life in District 12, as well as the victory tour that she and Peeta must go on. There is one massive twist that dictates the second half of the novel so I dare not describe it further, though I will say that the book ends with a huge cliffhanger.

One aspect of this book that did not flow as smoothly as it might have, was that the twists seem a little forced and deliberate—like the novel was so keen on making startling twists that it failed to have the effect of a change that is unexpected.

All in all, however, I think Catching Fire will live up to expectations. There is still the horrifying presence of a “game” in which children are encouraged to kill one another; something I still find difficult to think about. Both books provide originality in a genre that is prone to clichés, and both are well written with genuine characters who suffer real human dilemmas. Five evil daggers, without a doubt.

Yours, Briar

A while back, the wonderful Tay posted a review on The Book Thief by Markus Zusak. I read the book, and thought it was so wonderful and special that I simply had to review it myself. Tay's awesome review can be found below mine, so you can compare our experiences with the book.

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak, is the inspiring story of a young German girl who is growing up in the midst of World War II. Abandoned by her mother, underfed and constantly reprimanded by her loving but fierce foster-mother, Leisel Meminger is a girl who finds all the brightness of life in words. Words are her greatest love and her most infuriating enemy—words are the things that allow her to live but Hitler to control and rule.

Hitler, Leisel realizes, can change a country’s image of Jews by using words to warp them into something disgusting, malicious, and sub-human. He can take a country that is scared and off-balance, and use words to soothe and hypnotize. Hitler uses words as his single greatest weapon, and without them, he would be powerless.

On the other hand, Leisel uses words to explore and grow. She uses words and books as her sanctuary in the fear-filled world of Nazi Germany. She uses words to light the eyes of the frail Jewish man in her basement, reminding him of sunlight and happiness as she describes clouds that resemble ropes and a brilliant dripping sun. Leisel uses words to spark happiness and gain knowledge—without them, she would be powerless, too.

This tale of words and power is told in the point of view of an unlikely narrator—Death himself. Death is not God, nor does he even decide when one will die; his job is simply to carry away the souls of the deceased. The best souls, we learn, sit up to meet him, reluctant to die but accepting all the same. Death is in the perfect position make to such striking observations about death and war—he likens himself to the best Nazi, killing and killing and yet still being asked for more.

For the first half of the novel, I was fairly interested in the subject of the story and intrigued by the unorthodox choice of narrator, but was not bringing the book with me everywhere as I later would. It was no chore to read, but it was no great treat either. However, once half of the book was finished and I was now fully acquainted with the cast of characters and the author’s writing style, the story began to pick up. I found myself increasingly interested in the events that took place and by the end of the novel I was practically ripping at the pages, shaken and moved by the beautiful description and the heartfelt dialogue. The author introduced the story’s ending about three quarters in, but the warning did not dilute the power of the end, it made it more poignant. Somehow both times the ending was explained (the first merely an outline, the second fully fleshed out) it was shattering and breathtaking.

The Book Thief takes a while to get started, but once you’re hooked, you simply can’t stop reading. It’s a powerful story of loss and happiness, love and heartbreak, reading and rule and life. Four and a half evil daggers.

Yours,

Briar

Set in Germany in the early 1940’s, The Book Thief is the heartwarming and heartbreaking story of a foster child, fourteen books, many colors, an accordion, death, a Jewish fist fighter, a basement, two wars, a kiss, and a boy with hair the color of lemons.

Liesel Meminger has witnessed more than her share of horrors. Her father disappeared when she was little, and an aura of mystery still surrounds his name. Her brother died on a train on the way to their foster home in Molching, Germany. And there are more horrors to come, though Liesel has no way of knowing. Through it all, Liesel turns to books as a refuge from the death, abandonment, and fear that fills her life, and the lives of all those around her.

Liesel’s long and illustrious career in book thievery begins with The Grave Digger’s Handbook, stolen from the snow at her brother’s burial. Next comes The Shoulder Shrug, stolen from fire. Liesel continues to steal books wherever she can find them. But her personal peace cannot last, and soon the danger of the war looms closer, lurking even within her own home, drawing her always closer to the inevitable. Liesel’s life becomes one of secrets and lies, and truth comes from the most surprising places.

This book is simply amazing. The author has a way of making the smallest details- the color of someone’s eyes, or the texture of their hair- the most important, and mystery is interwoven with every event, no matter how tiny. The unusual format, cavalier use of foreshadowing, and, shall we say, unconventional narration make the book a bit confusing in places, but really drive the point home. On the whole, this is a fabulous, yet absolutely heartbreaking book, and an unusual perspective on World War II. I give it the full five daggers, reluctant that there are no more to give.







Yours,
Tay

Spoiler Warning: If you have not read all 7 Harry Potter books, read at your own risk. (I may be an evil cousin, but no one should be robbed the experience of reading the Harry Potter series.) However, if you haven't read them by now, shame on you. Stop reading this review and go read the bloody series!

We've all heard such timeless (Disney) classics as Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, and Snow White. These are our beloved childhood bedtime stories, our fairy tales. Well, Wizards and Witches have classic fairy tales too! Five of which can be found in the Wizarding classic The Tales of Beedle the Bard. Just like Muggle fairy tales, each of the five stories deals with a different theme and teaches a lesson. However, as a Muggle, it may be difficult to truly grasp all of the lessons taught by Beedle the Bard. To help us better understand these magical tales, Albus Dumbledore has kindly given extensive commentary on each tale. (The commentary was published without Dumbledore's consent. It was found among his other belongings after his dead.)

Anyone who has read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is at least vaguely familiar with this book of tales. Hermione receives a copy, from Dumbledore if I am not mistaken. Well, Rowling decided to publish a copy of Beedle's tales for Muggle enjoyment. All the sales go to the Children's High Level Group, a charity that provides support to children in need. The children tend to be poor, disabled, or from ethnic minorities. If you want to support a lovely charity AND get a little light-hearted reading on the side, or vice versa, this is definitely the book for you.

If you are still not convinced that this book is worth the buy, here is my criticism of the book (which happens to be mostly good).

The tales themselves are nothing special. They're mostly just cute. The stories are imaginative, but they're nothing like the books. The books are very long, detailed, and everything mentioned seems to have some significance before the series ends (which is one of the reasons I love Rowling's writing so much). These tales are short. There's no time for that kind of no-loose-ends writing. However, Rowling makes up for it by adding Dumbledore's commentary. His words are thoughtful, witty, and all around awesome! Not only does he add insight into the theme and lesson of each story. He also rambles on about little side notes (from letters between himself and Lucius Malfoy to his criticism of Madam Bloxam's revised version of Beedle's "The Wizard and the Hopping Pot"), both of which were quite humorous to say the least. Dumbledore will keep you alternating between the thinker pose (hand stroking the chin) and simply laughing uncontrollably and a variation of a giggle fit.

All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed Beedle's tales. The book is a very quick read, which was rather disappointing to me, but it's still a great little book.

I give The Tales of Beedle the Bard a respectable 3.5 daggers out of 5.







Yours without magic,
Gabriel Gethin

Honey and Agnes have lived all of their lives in an isolated religious commune, Mount Blessing, in Connecticut. Electronics are forbidden, and the commune is serene and free from outside temptation or sin. However, underneath the holy and placid surface, there lies Mount Blessing’s best kept secret: the Regulation Room, a room in which sinners are beaten and humiliated by the godlike commune leader, a practice meant to strengthen them and reorient them toward the holy.

Upon discovering this room, Agnes’s skeptical grandmother resolves to take Honey and Agnes out of the commune at her first opportunity, but an accident ending in near-severed fingers and a misguided “miracle,” makes escape urgent and imperative. Honey, Agnes, and the latter’s younger brother are pulled into their grandmother’s car and driven as far from the place as possible, beginning a journey of self-discovery and faith that lasts the entire book.

As the story weaves on, one discovers the day-to-day horrors that consume the lives of the commune’s patrons. Girls starving themselves as they fast for sainthood; tying strings around their waists so tight it is all they can do to keep breathing; hurting, hating themselves for being flawed—always striving for an unattainable perfection, in the name of assimilating to the near-fictional saints of a storybook.

This book was quite realistic, aided most likely by the fact that the author herself had grown up in a religious commune not unlike Mount Blessing. It examines the role of parents—how can they stand by when their children are being beaten, even if they accept that it is in the name of religion? It asks if a child can find it in herself to speak up, even if it means getting loved ones in trouble. It looks at the flaws of organized religion—comparing it to an abstract spirituality or belief in God; questioning if the former is always as holy as it claims. It ponders if one can shed the skin of a twisted childhood, drop the warped habits and viewpoints learned, and heal. But most of all, Patron Saint of Butterflies explores the theme of friendship: how two girls with utterly different outlooks on life share the capacity to heal together and be equals.

I really liked this book. Upon finishing it, I was full of praise, and in the days after I found myself bringing it up again and again. While it examines complex themes and dives into some heavy material, the characters are teenage girls and the storyline is straightforward—making it a simple book to read, but one that forces the reader to confront challenging concepts once the story is over.

I give Patron Saint of Butterflies an evil four out of five daggers.

Skin Hunger, the first book in the Resurrection of Magic trilogy, tells two stories, centuries apart but mysteriously linked. The first is the tale of a rural teenager named Sadima, who lives in a world where magic exists but true magic is forbidden. At the time of Sadima’s birth, a “magician” assisting with the birth stole her family’s valuables and left her mother to die. As Sadima grows, she discovers a talent for speaking to animals, but conceals it for fear of arousing her father’s bitterness towards magicians. One day, an enigmatic visitor to Sadima’s family’s farm, introducing himself as Franklin, recognizes Sadima’s ability and offers to take her away to the city, but Sadima, frightened, declines. Secretly, though, Sadima yearns for freedom, and years later, she decides to seek Franklin out.

I award this wickedly clever book four and a half scintillating daggers.