Ally Carter takes the high school experience and raises it to a whole new level by introducing her readers to an academy where student education consists of learning doctorate level physics, how to build a proper bomb and the languages of the world, and where career day involves being recruited by the CIA, the NSA or the FBI. As the daughters of career spies, these girls are well prepared for international espionage and how to kill the president of Paraguay with a fork, but not how to flirt with boys and get a date for prom. So when the ultimate chameleon, Cammie, gets made on a covert training mission in town, and made by a boy no less, the girls are a bit suspicious. After all, this boy, Josh, could be a spy, and it’s therefore necessary for Cammie to spend as much time with him as possible. All in the name of international security, of course.
In Cammie, Ally Carter has created a likable female protagonist. She’s sweet, funny, and a little bit dorky as she stumbles through discovering whether she’s experience the regular teenage dating dance with town boy Josh, or dealing with something else entirely. Here’s a girl that everyday experiences the extraordinaire, but longs for the normal she doesn’t have—a boring existence where finding out that your father won’t be coming home from his last mission doesn’t factor in. Josh represents this dream with his nuclear family and roots in Roseville that go back generations, and the longing she feels for these things is clear throughout her narrative. It’s not that Cammie doesn’t love the excitement of her legacy (her mother was a Gallagher Girl, a spy, and is now the head master), but a life without secrets sure looks pretty appealing, even if she has to lie to experience it.
Backing her in Operation: Boy are her friends Bex and Liz (daughters of spies themselves) and the reluctant Macey McHenry (bad girl, debutant, and recent Gallagher transfer); all interesting characters in their own right. Standing in the way of Cammie’s relationship with this possible sweet boy? Her mother, her legacy and the new Covert Operations Professor on the block, Joe Solomon, who just might to have it out for our young heroine.
Instead of falling into the trap of introducing too much plot and making Cammie save the world, Carter keeps the story simple (well, as simple as a teenage spy story can be) as girl meets boy, girl lies to boy to appear normal, and then girl has to deal with the fact that normal isn’t possible for a spy in training. Everything that Cammie does to respond to her life and her relationship with Josh falls within the realm of the world Carter has built. Cammie’s not a normal girl, but her basic wants and needs are the same as any other teenager: the need to fit in, belong and feel loved. The theme (which the author by no means hits the reader over the head with) is applicable to anyone in that lying sucks and there are consequences. Cammie lies to herself, her mother and to Josh, and in doing so hurts them all. While the consequences of this tie up a bit too nicely with the mother, the author doesn’t try to convince us that Josh will forget and forgive. Is there hope? Plenty, but there is also much to be explored in later novels.
With I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You, Ally Carter creates a world that will appeal to anyone who wished their life could be a bit more James Bond and a bit less “Leave It To Beaver”. It’s a fun, fast-paced story that manages to take heavy subject matter—the death of a parent, lying, the high school experience—and brighten and lighten with a coating of lip gloss in much the same way that Bond’s martini washes away the aftertaste of the reality of the international arms race. While Cammie’s narrative isn’t flawless (a few comparisons and descriptions seemed more adult woman than teenage girl—even if she is a spy), it’s a joy to read and I can’t wait for the next novel to come out. The Gallagher girls are sure to have many adventures—and an extensive following—in the years to come. Highly recommended for anyone who would be interested in a blend of the Princess’ Diaries, the Private series and Goose Girl.
You can find I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You here and here and its author, Ally Carter, here.

Emily Fields, Aria Montgomery, Spencer Hastings, Hanna Marin and Alison DiLaurentis are the best of friends. Having bonded originally during charity work at Rosewood Day School, their link to one another solidifies after the Jenna incident (a mysterious event alluded to with mentions of ambulances and police officers). It is through their connection to Alison—the brightest and most beautiful of the Rosewood girls—that they become popular, but it is due to her domineering personality that they live in doubt. Alison is the Queen Bee, the girl in charge, and should anyone step out of line she let’s them know.
But then one evening, during a botched slumber party, Alison disappears.
Fast forward several years, with Emily, Aria, Spencer and Hanna all going their separate ways; no longer friends and no longer even really on speaking terms. Emily’s still swimming, but doubting her commitment and still missing Alison, the one love of her life; Aria’s just moved back from Iceland where she’s lived quite happily, and is thrust back into memories that she’d rather forget along with a forbidden relationship with her teacher; Spencer’s walking the tight rope of perfectionism with increasingly imperfect balance as she competes against a sister who will always win; and Hanna’s perfect façade, relationship and control are cracking as she spirals back into the binging and purging that allowed her to achieve her so-called perfection in the first place. And helping each character get her comeuppance is the mysterious A, who texts and tattles their deepest secrets and fears.
Is A, Alison, the only person who could conceivably know of their many perceived flaws and mistakes? Is their long, lost friend exerting her influence to once again to control their lives or is A someone else entirely, someone bent on revenge for the Jenna incident that these girls caused back in middle school? What happens when someone tries to take down the popular girls one at a time?
Sara Shepard does not attempt to answers all these questions in Pretty Little Liars, but instead lays the groundwork for the downfall of these “perfect” Rosewood girls in this novel (the first in a series of four). Nor does she try to convince us that these girls live lives that anyone should emulate, showing that each perfect façade is built on a rotten foundation. Emily, Aria, Spencer and Hanna aren’t bad girls, so much as girls who’ve each gone out of control in their own way. With no safety nets like close friends or family to fall back on, A is able to pull them all apart piece by piece, even causing them to doubt one another, the only people that dould understand their situations and constraints. In the end, Shepard leaves them with a chance to band together and help one another, but it is clear that A is not done with them yet.
Pretty Little Liars defies the definition of being a guilty pleasure (a label often applied to Gossip Girls and others) through a combination of smart writing and an interesting plot, but it is not without its flaws. Emily’s forays into lesbianism with Maya, while they may fall under the label “forbidden,” ranks low on the list of crimes—moral or legal—the other girls have committed (Hanna’s thievery, Aria’s relationship with her teacher, and Spencer’s relationship with her sister’s boyfriend). Her fumbling and heart-felt conclusion that she doesn’t want to live a lie anymore seems to counter any reason A has for her persecution. Emily, of all the girls, seemed to truly love Alison the most (and feel the most regret for the Jenna incident) and comes to some serious realizations about herself as the others self-destruct. The introduction at the end of her parents’ racist thoughts as a further barrier to her growth seemed almost a tag on, as if to reaffirm the overarching theme of parental pressure and disapproval that all the girls are operating under, destroying the story’s one possibility at a semi-healthy family.
In fact, I take issue with the portrayal of all the parents within the novel. Not one girl seems to have a supportive or cohesive parental unit that is there for them: Hanna’s mother seems to be in a subversive competition with her daughter, urging her on even as she tears her down; Spencer’s parents are so focused on perfectionism that they can’t see her self-destruction or recognize any aberrant behavior for what it is—a way to escape her sister’s shadow; and Aria is forced by her parents into an adult role through her knowledge of her father’s affair and her practically limitless freedom in Europe, only to have that yanked away when they arrive back in the United States. With parents like these, it is no wonder that each girl acts out in destructive ways and has no one to lean on. I know that this is meant to cause the girls to rely on one another, and these parental relationships are realistic in their portrayal, but the overall smear against parental authority is overkill.
Still, there are the only sour notes in this otherwise engrossing society girl who-done-it, appropriate for older teens and adults alike. Alison’s fate—revealed at the end of the novel—only causes more questions than answers, and Jenna’s arrival on the scene does not bode well. A is utterly faceless and remorseless, relentlessly picking away at the each girl and cackling over their downfall. It’s clear that s/he is not done with Hanna, Emily, Aria or Spencer, nor is s/he prepared to reveal the reasons for her/his revenge. Poised for their complete social downfall, these girls only have each other, and their own abilities to cope with the situations they have caused.
If you’re interesting in checking out Pretty Little Liars and following the mysterious of what happened to Alison DiLaurentis, you can find it here and here. If you’re interesting in learning more about Sara Shepard and her next book Flawless, you can find her here.

Caitlin Ross’s life is falling apart: her parents are divorced (with her mother gaining custody and her father gaining a new life with his sweet, young thing on the other side of the country), her brother is training to be the next rampaging school boy and her mother is addicted to pills. As if that weren’t enough, said pill-addicted mother has come up with the brilliant plan to travel to a remote island in the Outer Banks (North Carolina), ruining Caitlin’s summer schedule of hanging with her friends, singing back up in her boyfriend’s band, and doing all the shopping that her home in La Jolla, CA has to offer. To further complicate matters, it appears that Mom’s summer togetherness scheme is all about meeting up with an ex-boyfriend who seems to have transferred some of his rather creepy intentions towards Caitlin.
Lost Summer’s set up has the potential to be an intriguing story. Bill’s pedophilic interest in Caitlin and his need to reclaim his lost youth, Caitlin’s inability to get anyone to believer her, and the island’s abandoned nature could have led to an interesting face-off between the two of them in a place where Bill held all the power. McAulay doesn’t utilize this potential however, making Bill a caricature that enlightens Caitlin to his evil intentions much too soon. In turn this frightens Caitlin into running away and taking shelter with Goth girl and island rebel, Danielle, the only person who believes Caitlin’s accusations. Even at this point the plot could have been salvaged had Bill’s campaign to terrorize Caitlin had been an ongoing thread. Instead Bill disappears for a good half of the book as Caitlin flits around island, meets a boy, moves in with him, witnesses a murder and gets caught in a hurricane.
I may have been able to follow Caitlin’s adventures with interest (despite their implausibility) had I been engaged by Caitlin as a character. The entire story is told from Caitlin’s point of view, but by using a distant third person McAulay creates a disconnect between the reader and the story. Caitlin’s voice is lost as her worries and fears become filtered through this third person narrative. When her words and reactions do come across clearly they’re exacerbated by continued telling instead of showing.
Whether the story would have benefited from a first person narrative (thus cutting down on the disconnect) or simply a more sympathetic protagonist it’s unclear. Caitlin, as a character, does not grow within the confines of the story. She reacts to situations by running, and rarely by saving herself. Even in the big climax, it is her brother that does the final saving, scuttling the moment where she may have finally proven herself. This lack of growth holds true for most of the characters in the story, with any and all apparent change being superficial: Danielle, despite her uncharacteristic friendship with Caitlin, does not open up or become more accepting of others; Luke, despite his apparent warmth towards Danielle’s grandmother, does not seem to gain any respect towards the rest of the women in his life or a desire to live in a world not created by video games and movies; and Caitlin’s mother’s decision to give up drugs is not even explored. Given the third person narrative of the story, these all would have been possible avenues to explore as well as “heads to hop into” so to speak. Instead we end up back where we started, in Caitlin’s room in La Jolla with this reader uncaring whether or not they’ll be able to advance from this place.
The blurb on the back of Lost Summer claims it’s “Laguna Beach meets Cape Fear,” an apt description had the book lived up to its potential. Had all the threads woven together into a cohesive plot helmed by a likable protagonist (or even just a really good snarky protagonist), Lost Summer would have been a welcome addition to the ranks of Young Adult literature. Instead it plays out like a series of misplaced plot pieces and clichés, crowding out the suspenseful subplot that could have driven the story and led to significant character growth for Caitlin.
If you’re interested in purchasing Lost Summer, you can find it here. If you are interested in reading more novels by Alex McAulay then you can visit his website here.

Virginia Sauter’s given up the beauty-pageant circuit and the majorette leotard and embraced the drums (her true love), short hair (so much easier to deal with) and a nose piercing (pure, beauty queen rebellion). Unfortunately she has to share drum major duty with Drew Morrow: boyfriend of one (or both) of the Reardon twins; hot, crush-worthy boy; and all around pain. According to the old band teacher, Mr. O’Toole, Virginia and Drew tied (vote-wise) for the position, but rumors is that either Virginia slept with him to win the honor of the drum major role, or that Drew—the sole drum major from the year before—had been voted out for acting superior only to have O’Toole refuse to turn the whole job over to a girl. Their unresolved differences and resentments with each other lead to an antagonistic partnership with Virginia hiding Drew’s band shoes (fully knowing that an improper appearance will earn him a dressing down from his father), and Drew ignoring Virginia’s abilities when it comes to their job.
The result is a discordant and disorganized band, something the new band teacher, Mr. Rush, is adamant about changing. Whether he needs to employee some pop psychology—or just a few well placed cuss words—this band will the best it can possibly be, and if that doesn’t include Drew or Virginia then so be it. By threatening to hand the job over to Clayton Porridge, he’s got them acting like a team and adding a sexy, little dance dip to their Major routine. Too bad all this enforced touching is turning Virginia’s tiny little crush on Drew into a major one.
Reader, don’t be fooled by the cutesiness of the cartoon cover, Major Crush is a sharp-witted tale for teens and adults alike. Echols does not pull any punches with her humor or her subject matter, allowing her teen characters to make dark, age appropriate jokes even while confronting the serious issues of sexism and racism that exist within the school. Virginia’s femininity is treated like a detriment to her position (before Mr. Rush took over the band), and used as an excuse to ignore her. Instead of turning this into an opportunity to cast Drew’s more masculine responses to certain situations in a harsh light, Echols’ makes it clear that one is no better than the other. Virginia’s quiet, one-on-one talks with individual band members are just as effective as Drew’s commanding presence, each reaching the band in a different way.
Echols handles the ingrained racism within the school almost as deftly, with the thematic arc faltering only a little. It makes sense to have Mr. Rush act as the outside catalyst to spur the school to realize that the segregated Homecoming Queen/Miss Victory titles needed to be combined; he’d just moved to the town and could see with fresh eyes what those who’d lived there for ever might have missed. Casting the Reardon Twins as the only holdouts against the change, however, weakened the possibility of a more in-depth exploration of the school’s tensions and made them out to be too evil for words. The internal racism that Allison (Virginia’s African-American best friend) displays towards Luther’s (another African-American Student) clothing choices and way of acting is glossed over as well as that he feels towards her due to her wealth and “acceptance” in the white pageant society. Yes, they do become friends and love interests, but neither ever seems to really confront these issues.
Of course, given that this is a first person narrative told entirely from Virginia’s point of view, it is entirely possible that Allison and Luther’s conversations take place “off screen.” As it is their story arc is secondary to Virginia’s growth and acceptance of herself, her parents, and her place in the world. No one is perfect in Jennifer Echols’ world including her narrator who makes the common high school mistakes of crushing after the guy you can’t have and hurting/using the guy can (but don’t want). Virginia is confused and angry, and the result of these emotions is expressed in the way she acts out, abuses her friendship with Walter (her best male friend), and views her parents. Unlike many teen novels, these actions are reasonable—even expected—and never reach a point where they can be viewed as over the top.
Drew’s reactions to his own home situation, the responsibility placed on him, and the possible loss of his own dreams have just as much truth. Although his situation is viewed through Virginia’s eyes, their relationship allows us to understand his sometimes autocratic actions. Having been placed in the defacto role of parent/provider by his own parents, it makes sense that he would rebel by making childish decisions elsewhere (e.g. dating one of the Reardon Twins despite the fact that everyone knows they are trouble).
This is not to say that the parents are the “bad guys” in this book. Their actions and reactions are as real as their children’s even if they’re not given a lot of page time to explain the whys and hows. While this could be viewed as a short-coming of the novel—much like the use of racism—it really is the result of this being a fully realized world built around Virginia and Drew’s story. The only two-dimensional characters to exist within the pages are the Reardon Twins who solely occupy the role of villain and never advance beyond it. Even when their current behavior is given context, it doesn’t explain their past actions or make them anymore sympathetic. Truly though, this is a slight complaint in an overall wonderful and engaging story.
If you’re looking for a sweet romance, snappy dialogue and well-rounded characters, you can find Major Crush here and here. If you want to read more about Jennifer Echols (and maybe bug her a little about writing Walter’s story), you can find her here and here.

Barnes perfectly captures the teenage voice (not surprising given that she was nineteen herself when she finished Golden), and what a voice it is. This first person narrative is smooth and engaging, never seeming to info dump about Lissy or others. Though the story is devoid of the trend-dropping (or name-dropping) that the Young Adult genre is often accused of, I had a clear picture of the trendy Goldens (Lilah, Tracy and Fuchsia) as well as the “loser” Nons (Lissy, Audra and Dylan). The characters were fully developed, a hard task given that we only ever received Lissy’s explanation for events and actions, and they are people I hope to revisit later in the series. I especially look forward to Lilah’s story, awaiting the time when I get to visit the psyche of this teen queen extraordinaire and expert of the bitch-slap compliment.
Lockwood attempts, but does not quite capture the teenage voice in her first person narration. Miranda’s tone stumbles a bit when she throws out a hybrid phrase or word and the parenthetical explanation that naturally follows destroys the flow. Her descriptions of clothing and styles not only read as a bit of an info-dump, but like linking to any trend it serves to date the book even before it finally hits the shelves. For example, at one point Miranda mentions that she looks like Mary-Kate Olsen with her dyed hair, a style Mary-Kate has since traded in.
This is not to say that I did not enjoy the novel, despite Miranda’s narrative fumbles the world that Lockwood has created is an interesting twist on ground that Jasper Fforde has covered before. By the end of the novel I found myself not only amused by how Miranda and her friends dealt with Bard and its eccentricities, but wishing I could visit this world as well. I’m sure as the Bard series progresses, Lockwood will become immersed in the voice she has created and the small narrative problems that inhabit the first book will disappear. As it stands now, Wuthering High is part fantasy, part soap opera, and part high school experience: a fun, fast read perfect for a rainy day and I am already scheming about how to get a copy of the next book, Scarlet Letterman.
De la Cruz offers up an interesting premise populated by beautiful people: Mimi Force, unofficial ruler of the Duchesne School with an unnatural attachment to her twin brother; Jack Force, lacrosse star with suicidal tendencies and a need to break from his entwined destiny with his sister; Schuyler, half-blood anomaly and daughter of one of the most powerful—but now comatose—Blue Bloods; Oliver, Schuyler’s red-blooded conduit and best friend; and Bliss, former Texas Queen turned Blue Blooded Mimi follower and the girlfriend of the tragic and mysterious Dylan. It is through the female half of this cast (with small contributions from Jack) that the Blue Blooded society is explained. Given the high society placement and limitless spending of the protagonists, the text is littered with name-dropping and trends. While this is used in some ways to define characters (Mimi and Bliss especially) and tie in with the plot (props to Ms. de la Cruz for the creation of Stitched for Civilization), it does not always add to the overall story, quite possibly because the information is dropped upon the reader all at once. Had the descriptions about the personal appearance of the characters not been served up in paragraph sized chunks I don’t think I would have been bothered by them at all. As it stands they were small ripples in an otherwise smooth narrative.
Blue Bloods, like Golden and Wuthering High, is the beginning of a series, but unlike the first two who tie up most of their plot points, it leaves many major threads dangling. Instead of reading as a fully finished novel, I felt like I only viewed the first act of a play. It’s a long, long intermission (Spring 2007) before the next begins and I can finally receive some answers about the evil Silver Bloods, Schuyler’s mother’s coma, and the possible fate of the Blue Blood society. Like de la Cruz’s characters I’m in the dark about where this all could finally lead.
Whether you’re a teenager or an adult, Barnes, Lockwood and de la Cruz have written novels that will appeal to lovers of the paranormal genre. The basics of the high school experience are the same whether its twenty years ago or yesterday, and these authors use it blend the paranormal with the everyday to create new and exciting worlds.
If you would like to learn more about Jennifer Lynn and her world you can find her here, and if that perks your interest you can purchase Golden here and here.
You can find Cara Lockwood (who writes Chick Lit under the same name) here, and her Wuthering High series here and here.
Melissa de la Cruz is the author of multiple books (of which the Au Pair series is perhaps the most famous) and you can find her here. You can find Blue Bloods here and here.

Not that the heroine of Serena Robar’s young adult novel, Braced2Bite, has any problems with the high school scene. She’s the top of the cheerleader pyramid, an honors student, and gunning for the man of her dreams. Okay, so she’s also a vampire, no, half-vampire. Genealogy is a tricky thing.

After being turned by a vampire, Colby Blanchard discovers some strange things about her new life. One is that she’s able to walk in the sunshine (albeit with a very, very high SPF). Second, due to an overly helpful orthodontist father, she has a perfect smile but no fangs (luckily, he’s both dentist and inventor). Third, half-vampires are not accepted in vamp society, and she’s got to prove her right to exist or die.

At the hands of a really cute vampire exterminator.

So while facing a potential death sentence despite being dead, Colby is also dealing with an off-balance Creator trying to bring her into his “family”. After being dumb enough to walk down a dark path alone at night, she’s smart enough to resist his overtures. There’s a nice push-me, pull-you feeling to the scenes between Colby and “Chuck”. Okay, enough with the air quotes already.

Colby Blanchard is the type of girl you love to hate. Life comes a little too easy for her – and that might be the greatest flaw of this novel. While Robar has dark elements in the story, Colby’s successes are easily achieved. Sure, you can argue that it’s a young adult novel, but when you’re turned into a vampire, issues arise. Colby is one of those resilient characters that you want to see hit the ground a bit harder. She can take it and the reader needs it.

After a little misdirected conflict with her father, Colby’s family is remarkably comfortable with her undead state. I don’t mind this shoulder shrugging approach when the world-building includes vampire-cogniscent neighborhoods. Let’s just say that despite the presence of conveniently informed great aunt – wherein the author all but puts flares around a connection between Blanchard generations and the vampires, but our character miss – the Blanchard world is far removed from vampire-aware.

Colby takes her undead state in stride, more like yellow eyes and a thirst for blood are hurdles to overcome than a major life change. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been dead, but I’d expect a lot more worrying and freaking out. Her transition is a little too smooth – the combined effects of a short novel and author style. Given the presence of dark forces in Seattle (of all places), I wanted a lot more grounding in this world. Even a self-assured, college-bound, knows-she’s-too-cute-for-school girl needs to falter.

Especially when her (undead) life is on the line. This is a book that would have benefited from increased word count. So much is happening. Robar shoves a romance into the mix, a sweet, tension-filled scenario that requires far more time and development than it gets. Then there’s Colby’s rivalry with a Goth-chick who calls her “Cheese”. And Colby’s lust-object football player crush being implicated in her attack because she’d told everyone he was driving her home the night she met up with the vamp. Even the relationship between Colby and her next-door neighbor (former best friend, now grown apart) Piper needed more development.

I wanted to savor these elements, and I believe really good young adult fiction succeeds when characters and stories feel real and universal. Let’s face it: being a vampire isn’t really the worst thing that could happen to a teenager, not when you still have to deal with competitive cheerleaders and college interviews. The easy resolution of the conflict in this story makes it feel fleeting. This is a book you read for a few hours’ diversion, not something you pick up time and again. Scaling the story back or adding pages would have been my choices. What? I can’t offer helpful advice?

Robar’s writing style is light and accessible (I’m giving her extra credit for her spot-on acknowledgments page) but not necessarily deep. She skims along the surface emotions, choosing humor over complexity. There are moments, such as when Colby and her friend Piper investigate the apparent murder of another victim of Colby’s Creator, that rise above the fast-paced banter and show unexpected depth. Colby’s sharp-edged humor shines when she’s pushed to the edge when Thomas, love interest and Vampire Investigator, demands that she show her non-existent fangs. There was a special edge there that made me sit up and take notice.

Somehow, I caught a series on the first book – it looks like the next story moves Colby to college and sorority life. Serena Robar shows flashes of insight and quirky humor throughout this book, enough that I can see her potential to find a real groove in this genre. I know debut novels don’t necessarily define a career, and I think this is an author I’ll keep on my radar. I have contacts in her target audience who read voraciously, and, yes, I’m vain enough to feel pride when they think I’m cool because I can recommend fun new books.

Serena Robar can be found here. You can buy Braced2Bite here or here.