The secrets of the past meet the shock of the present, in a page-turning exploration of human nature and divine intervention—and of the darkest corners of the human soul.

Having heard a great deal of praise from Misty over at The Book Rat regarding this debut novel, I was interested in picking it up, just to see if I found it as original and intriguing as it claimed to be.

Madapple certainly has a unique set-up, structurally. It opens with a flashback that seemingly offers little, but in fact provides many hints as to later plot points (yes, I am proud of myself for recognising them immediately) We then jump straight into the middle of a court proceeding, in which our heroine Aslaug is on trial for a double – possible triple – murder. This court case, relayed via transcripts, features in fragments throughout the narrative proper, and often provides tasty little teasers into the action to come. It’s an incredibly effective device, even if I wonder at how many times a lawyer can possibly object to the ‘relevance’ of an answer!

The central story focuses on 17 year-old Aslaug and her far from typical coming-of-age upon the death of her protective and deeply troubled mother, with whom she spent her childhood living in isolation. As a protagonist, Asluag has an incredibly definitive narrative voice, shaped largely by her unconventional education steeped in botany (each chapter title is a different native plant/flower) religion, mythology and science. The reader immediately empathises with Asluag if for no other reason than her extreme ignorance as to her own past, the wider world and to humankind, and upon her encountering the characters of The Pastor, Sanne and Rune, you know that conflict is sure to arise and revelations are to be made.

From the outset, I had already set up some parallels in my mind between this title and The Little Girl Who Was Too Fond of Matches (check it out!!) and indeed, they did prove to have similar tones and a few matching themes and narrative strands. But I think because I had already experienced plenty of ‘shocking revelations’ in the latter, and in my recent readings of fairy tale retellings, then some of the more horrific elements of Madapple failed to have quite as big an impact as perhaps intended. Some reveals I predicted early on, and so when they eventually made their appearance, I was left feeling a little disheartened with how they measured up to my expectations. That said, there are most definitely aspects of this novel that might prove difficult for some to read about, so just note that there is some darker content touched upon.

Character-wise Madapple has a rare distinction in that I found every single character to be – to some extent – mentally, emotionally and morally unstable, and thus I was often questioning the reliability of Asluag’s narration and the testimonies of others. I am not dismissing this, for in having me second-guess almost everybody it certainly made for a more active association with the material! However, I will say that, despite wanting the best for Aslaug on principle, I ultimately struggled to relate to anybody or find them truly sympathetic – and it also meant that the somewhat ‘happy ending’ left me feeling uneasy, dissatisfied and a tad concerned.

Madapple is both a dense and gripping read, and undoubtedly crosses over into some very interesting territory. I would highly recommend it to anybody seeking a change from the more standard YA fare.

Madapple – Christina Meldrum

Knopf Books for Young Readers

ISBN: 0375851763

May 13th 2008

410 pagesmore details…

-          All These Things I’ve Done by Gabrielle Zevin

A refreshing, spirited narrative style with some truly compelling characters and some family drama resulting in very tense situations. Slight futuristic/dystopian elements, but they were certainly the backdrop to a genuinely moving coming-of-age story.

-          A Corner of White by Jaclyn Moriarty

A marvellous blend of contemporary realism and high fantasy, this novel balanced dual protagonists beautifully and effectively captured some distinct emotional struggles, while at the same time incorporating a surprising amount of tongue-in-cheek humour. Was very impressed by all of the typical YA tropes that this novel avoided also!! That’s always a plus.

-          Spark by Amy Kathleen Ryan

As a huge fan of its predecessor, Glow, I was incredibly excited to see how this second instalment would measure up in terms of emotional resonance, thematic tension and so forth. It did not disappoint! This series is fast proving to be one of the most original, genuine and intelligent I have ever encountered in young adult fiction. High recommended, especially for science fiction and dystopia fans.

-          Cinder by Marissa Meyer

One of the most blatantly enjoyable fairy tale retellings I have encountered in a long time; unapologetically fun at times, while never sacrificing character and story. The Cinderella elements are all present and accounted for, but it’s still very much its own unique story, and Cinder quickly became one of my most cherished heroines in recent reads.

-          The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly

Somewhat defying age distinctions, this is technically an adult novel featuring a 12 year-old protagonist, but could certainly be read and enjoyed easily by young adults.  The fairy tale elements are a strong and constant presence throughout the novel, but can be seen in very different ways than most contemporary readers would be accustomed to. The level of graphic detail and dark thematic content might be a little unsettling to some, but it undeniably makes for a gripping read. The novel also features one of the most despicable, heartless villains ever put to paper.

Sixteen year-old Adelice is a Spinster. She can weave time and matter. But no one knows just how talented she is….

The Guild demands loyalty, and everyone has their secrets. But Adelice is about to unravel the deadliest one of all, a sinister truth that could destroy reality as she knows it….

Once you become a Spinster, there’s no turning back.

Months prior to it being in my hands, Crewel had the advantage of containing several of my personal literary ‘buzz words’ – namely “weave” and “spinster”. I was envisioning some sort of take on the Fates of Greek mythology, intercepted with commentary on female roles and functions in society. Needless to say, I allowed myself to build up my own idea of what this book would contain, and perhaps that was my downfall. While I certainly can appreciate the original elements and unique world-building that Albin employed, Crewel was sadly a case of having set my expectations too high.

An interesting blend of genres – at once dystopia, science-fiction and good old fashioned fantasy – Crewel essentially adheres to many of the trappings of other young adult titles in these genres, but occasionally takes some surprising, somewhat unexpected turns. The action takes place in the universe of Arras, a baffling futuristic society in which women are once again designated to the second-class citizens, serving only as wives/mothers, secretaries or in the revered position of a Spinster. A Spinster weaves time and space – the very matter of Arras – and as such has control over life and death, creation and destruction, all living and physical things. Nothing can exist in Arras without the work of a Spinster; in theory, they play God. However, as our protagonist Adelice is to learn, they are not in possession of any true power and things are a great deal more oppressive within the Coventry than they are outside of its walls.

I really wanted to empathise with Adelice; I truly did. The poor girl is not in control of her seemingly astonishing weaving abilities, and these lead inevitably to her separation from her family, the murder of loved ones, and the loss of her personal and social freedom (what little there was!) However, Adelice was nothing if not inconsistent as a character for me, leaping from being rather shallow and self-centred to more proactive and aware without much growth in-between. And in what actually proved a problem for many characters, her rather ‘modern’ attitudes and opinions were, rather than comforting and familiar, far too at-odds with the world she would have grown up in. At times, it felt as though Albin was hesitant of providing her cast of players with beliefs and ideas that might sit uncomfortably with a reader but would maintain coherence with Arras as a society. This was quite disarming, especially towards the novel’s beginning, when the world was still being gradually revealed piece-by-piece.

The romance of the novel also fell quite flat for me, as is often the case: there was a somewhat forced attempt at a love triangle, which I am never a fan of, with Adelice juggling between her more superficial attraction to the cocky Erik and her ‘deeper’ connection to the stoic, Jost. Throw in the unwanted attentions of the villainous and older Ambassador Cormac and there were simply far too many men interested in this girl for me to find it at all credible! Cormac at least, in his bad guy role, was slightly more consistent that most other characters, and despite the stereotypical attributes, I found some of his brutal honesty refreshing, as did Adelice. Side characters such the loyal Enora and the allusive mentor Loricel could have been much more than their designated functions  – and at times they almost got there, which was tantalising but ultimately frustrating.

The overall tone of the novel never felt as though it had been decided upon exactly; there were moments where I thought Albin was reaching for some social commentary and some rather sweet and considerate messages about sexual and gender equality. So many themes were possible in this particular universe that she crafted; I am just very sad that there weren’t explored as deeply as they could have been. Of course, this is only the first in a series, so perhaps I am judging too harshly, too quickly. The world-building itself was also somewhat confusing for me; depictions of the weaving in particular were fascinating yet unrelentingly vague. I wanted so badly to get a clear image of how this skill worked and formed the world of Arras, but it never came to light for me. Perhaps I am simply too restricted in my imagination to glimpse it, which I regret!

I will probably give the next instalment in this series a whirl, just out of curiosity, but I still can’t help wishing that the Crewel I had formed in my head was the Crewel that I held in my hands.

Crewel – Gennifer Albin

Faber and Faber Limited

more details…

ISBN – 0374316414

369 pages

October 16th 2012

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“The carnival pulsed in the centre of The City – a swirl of masked pleasure and violence. All around the carnival, transactions of varying degrees of legality and ethical questionability were happening. The City wasn’t a world that seemed beautiful to everyone. It was their world, though”

As an avid fan of Melissa Marr’s Wicked Lovely series, as well as her short stories, I was eager to pick up her latest YA title, Carnival of Souls, especially as it was a departure from her work with fae, instead focusing on daimons and witches (her adult novel, Graveminder, focuses on revenants/ghosts, so Marr is close to tackling all the popular supernatural creatures!) Having recently read and enjoyed Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus, I was also momentarily convinced that this novel might house a similar atmosphere – especially as it seemed that masks were involved.

But where Morgenstern concerned herself with performance art in the traditional setting of a touring circus, Marr’s carnival was a decadent, dark and violent market of sorts, trading in all forms of nefarious wares, and basing itself around the bloody and brutal ‘Competition’. This where many readers might well draw comparisons to Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games, as two of our protagonists are contestants in this ‘Competition’, fighting fellow daimons often to the death for the chance to raise their social status and gain access to a better life.

Both Kaleb (daimon) and Ayra (part witch, part daimon) fight for very different reasons, and with contrasting methods, but ultimately their motivations are to gain wealth, social freedom and personal success. You can certainly empathise with them both to a certain extent, with Kaleb wanting better living conditions for lower-caste daimons and Ayra wanting independence and power as a female, but personality-wise both characters struggled to deliver enough likeability and warmth for me to connect to them.

The same could also be said of the novel’s third protagonist, the ‘human’ teenager Mallory. Marr initially sets up to focus more on Mallory’s narrative in the real world, which would be an understandable touchstone for the reader in between the fantastical setting of the Carnival. However, Mallory quickly fades into the background, all the while seeming to shift personality traits and attitudes, resulting in a very inconsistent portrait. The romance between Mallory and Adam was also tinged with some troubling power dynamics, which could never fully be explained away by the daimon lore that supposedly governed some of Adam’s decisions.

I have always always respected Marr for presenting readers with incredibly flawed, morally grey characters, but for the most part, almost everybody in Carnival of Souls was either insanely self-centered, astoundingly naive, or just unnecessarily cruel. I wanted to understand them and their motives but it was quite a struggle.

The overall feel of the novel was one of incompletion, which makes me wonder if perhaps many changes were made in between the proof I read, and the final published product. It just felt like I was simply looking upon the skeleton of the larger work; there was too much repetition of phrases and sentiments, too much inconsistency between the shifting points-of-view, too vague a construction of the mythology concerned, and too little control in the tone of the piece for it to be satisfying. I have no doubt, with its themes of forbidden love, struggles against tyrannical power, and a bloody battle between mythological beings, that Carnival of Souls will find fans in many readers. I just wish I could have been one of them!

Carnival of Souls – Melissa Marr

Harper Collins Australia

more details…

ISBN – 0061659282

306 pages

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September 4th 2012

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Forget everything you ever knew about unicorns…
Real unicorns are venomous, man-eating monsters with huge fangs and razor-sharp horns. Fortunately, they’ve been extinct for a hundred and fifty years.
Or not.

I had been curious to read Rampant ever since I discovered that, in addition to featuring killer unicorns and teenage huntresses, it also explores the themes of female sexuality and gender discrimination, all under the guise of an epic fantasy adventure.

17 year-old Astrid Llewelyn is dismissive for years of the warnings and ramblings of her mother, who proclaims the existence of unicorns and Astrid’s lineage of unicorn-slaying. However, a seemingly chance and violent encounter with a unicorn one evening convinces her otherwise, and suddenly Astrid finds herself being shipped off to Italy, along with several other teenage girls, to ‘fulfil her destiny’.

Despite common associations nowadays liking unicorns to cuddly, cute, sparkly little critters, Diana Peterfruend appreciates the history of the unicorn as a mythological creature, and applies this knowledge by burdening her cast of female characters with a centuries-old destiny/duty to fight mythical creatures typically associated with the idea of “purity”. The innate and understandable struggle that arises for protagonist Astrid, and her young comrades, is effectively drawn and admirable in its influence on the romantic sub-plots of the novel, which for once are refreshingly genuine and credible. Astrid’s attempts at a relationship with Giovanni, for instance, begin (very realistically) not with any notion of ‘true love’ but with sexual attraction, which eventually leads to actual affection and trust, and a difficult path for both parties to navigate, given Astrid’s new ‘profession’.

Of course, there is plenty of action and excitement to appeal to readers as well, but for me personally it was the moral and social debates contained within the novel that made Rampant such a worthwhile read. The characters are also dynamic and interesting: while it’s true that there are simply too many young huntresses to get to know them all intimately, some, such as the intense Cory and the vibrant (and tragic) Phil, are intriguing in their own right. As for villains – let’s just say that the real bad guys of the narrative are not at all who you expect, and the unicorns, despite appearances, prove to be creatures of immense fascination and even empathy, rather than mere murderous beasts.

I loved Rampant so much that I immediately followed on to its sequel, Ascendant, which proved just as addictive and emotionally engaging (many tears were shed!) While at present there is, sadly, no plans for a third instalment, I highly recommend The Killer Unicorn series to anyone who appreciates a gripping yarn, some highly personable female characters, and themes that deserve more recognition in YA fiction.

Rampant – Diana Peterfruend

Harper Teen

ISBN: 0061490008

402 pages

August, 25^th 2009

Seventeen-year-old Ellie Spencer hangs out with her best friend Kevin, she obsesses over Mark, a cute and mysterious bad boy, and her biggest worry is her paper deadline. But then everything changes.

The news headlines are all abuzz about a local string of serial killings that all share the same morbid trademark: the victims were discovered with their eyes missing. Then a beautiful yet eerie woman enters Ellie’s circle of friends and develops an unhealthy fascination with Kevin, and a crazed old man grabs Ellie in a public square and shoves a tattered Bible into her hands, exclaiming, “You need it. It will save your soul.”

Chance is a funny, funny thing. If I had never watched once particular book haul video a few years back, I would quite likely have never known of this novel’s existence. But now, having read both of Karen Healey’s YA titles, I can safely say that her writing has come to mean something quite definitive for me: originality. While her debut, Guardian of the Dead appears to contain many of the expected trappings of a paranormal romance – complete with a ‘typical’ heroine who has secret powers, a gorgeous yet mysterious love interest, and a high school backdrop – it actually manages to surprise you on many occasions.

Most notably, this novel is set in New Zealand and is adorned with varying elements of Maori mythology throughout – so much so that there is a (much-appreciated!) glossary of terms included. This lends some of the more traditional supernatural aspects, such as fae involvement and magic, an altogether different, exotic flavour, and I personally think it makes for a fantastic introduction to Maori culture, especially for international readers.

Plot-wise, the novel does seem to follow the much-trodden path of girl at school – sudden strange happenings – girl suspects boy of magic – all hell breaks loose. However, what truly sets these events apart is the atmosphere depicted and the characters involved.

The lush, dense wilderness of New Zealand’s north island is given ample attention despite much of the narrative’s action occurring in and around a high school. Healey describes the natural world with evocative flare, which certainly aids in the unsettling, unnatural events that occur within it.

The novel’s protagonist, Ellie Spencer is many, many things that your typical YA heroine is not: she has a black-belt in karate, she has an asexual male best friend, she is half-Maori, she is slightly overweight, and she is angry. Really, really angry. While her abrasive personality and tendency to whine is most likely a major deterrent for many readers, it was oddly one of the things I appreciated most about Guardian of the Dead. For all of her flaws, Ellie seemed to me always believable and still, a year on from reading the book, remains memorable.

I do wish that more people could encounter Karen Healey’s works, if only for a slight, refreshing change from the standard fare of YA paranormal. We really do need more works that embrace cultural and sexual diversity, innovative mythology and which also aren’t afraid to end things on a relatively sombre, bittersweet note. I am very thankful to have watched that book haul video back in 2010!

Guardian of the Dead – Karen Healey

Allen and Unwin Australiamore details…

ISBN – 031604430X

346 pages

April 1^st, 2010

Four decades of peace have done little to ease the mistrust between humans and dragons in the kingdom of Goredd. Seraphina Dombegh has reason to fear both sides, having spent her young life concealing the truth of her parentage and authentic nature. This task proves ever more difficult when she is thrust into the spotlight of the royal court just as a member of the royal family is murdered—in suspiciously draconian fashion. Seraphina is drawn into the investigation, and struggles to protect her own secret, one so terrible that its discovery could mean her very life.

Even prior to its release, I had been hearing nothing but positive declarations regarding Rachel Hartman’s debut Seraphina, particularly from readers of young adult high fantasy. These very affirmative murmurings really stood apart from the reviews that tend to follow many other dragon novels in the YA market; Seraphina wasn’t merely hyped  -it was genuinely praised, and that made me curious.

Rachel Hartman has crafted a very detailed and vast universe for which to set her coming-of-age draconic tale – so detailed in fact that the novel comes equipped with a list of the cast of characters as well as a glossary of terms contained in its final pages. For myself, I can say that the glossary of terms most certainly proved necessary!!! Not one to provide large passages of information from the outset, Hartman instead wastes no time in immersing the reader in the city of Gorred and its citizens, complete with all of their idiosyncratic mannerisms and unique language. Ultimately, this helped to establish a very credible sense of place and time, however it was on occasion somewhat overwhelming for a first-time visitor to this world.

The characters that inhabit the pages of Seraphina are perhaps its most memorable and engaging element. Seraphina herself proves to be a worthy heroine, at once plucky and independent, while never giving the impression that there isn’t room to learn, grow and make valuable mistakes in her journey towards self-acceptance. Her romance with Prince Lucian Kiggs is honestly one of the best developed and well-paced I have encountered in young adult fiction for a very, very long time. And while there is a long list of excellent supporting characters, both nice and not-so-nice, my favourite without a doubt was Orma, Seraphina’s uncle, who struggles as a dragon in human form, overcome at times by emotions and completely unable to make sense of them. Any time I saw Orma’s name upon the page, my heart soared!

Some readers have questioned whether Hartman’s world-building overshadowed the plot of the novel, however I found the gradual pacing and building of suspense to be quite effective, ultimately preferring a focus on character over a focus on merely constructing event after event. The ‘action’ of the narrative might prove too slight for some fantasy fans, but I felt it was all the more potent for its sparseness, and remarkably for the first in a series, the conclusion held no cliff-hanger or overt lead-in to the second instalment.

Seraphina may not convert me into an instant fan of dragon literature within YA, but it has certainly helped to regenerate my faith in YA authors to create worthwhile characters, intriguing universes, and intelligent love stories and character relationships.

Seraphina – Rachel Hartman

Random House Australia

ISBN – 0375866566

467 pages

July 10th 2012

Seventeen-year-old Amy joins her parents as frozen cargo aboard the vast spaceship Godspeed and expects to awaken on a new planet, three hundred years in the future. Never could she have known that her frozen slumber would come to an end fifty years too soon and that she would be thrust into the brave new world of a spaceship that lives by its own rules.

Amy quickly realizes that her awakening was no mere computer malfunction. Someone – one of the few thousand inhabitants of the spaceship – tried to kill her. And if Amy doesn’t do something soon, her parents will be next.

Now Amy must race to unlock Godspeed’s hidden secrets. But out of her list of murder suspects, there’s only one who matters: Elder, the future leader of the ship and the love she could never have seen coming.

This title was incredibly hyped within the YA community prior to and upon its release, and has since received a large amount of praise and recognition. While the attractive cover and the Beatles-inspired title certainly earned my interest, I was a little hesitant as to whether the science-fiction elements would prove to have any substance and originality, or whether this would fall into yet another trap of being a romance hiding behind another genre.  Thankfully, the former won out, and in addition, the book proved to have strong elements of murder mystery and dystopian fiction which melded seamlessly with the inter-galactic setting.

Told in dual narration, Across the Universe offers two unique perspectives on an uncertain future in the vast nothingness of space; Amy is our connection to the Earth that we know, and Elder is a resident of the human population born into space. Both characters have incredibly jarring and contrasting views on basic human behaviour as well as larger moral issues (evident in some quite disturbing scenes of sexual activity) which help to present a more immediate portrayal of the dual decline and advancement of human nature during its time in space.

Amy and Elder boast strong character traits, making for worthy protagonists, and their eventual romance doesn’t feel too forced or rushed, and is in fact quite credibly drawn, given the wider context of murder and social collapse that surrounds them. However, the true drawcard of this novel came for me in the supporting characters, namely Elder’s friend Harley, whose emotional breakdown was the real moment of connection for me as a reader.

The pacing of the novel was well-crafted, with much of the mystery remaining out of reach until effectively unravelled; also, as this is the first instalment in a series, there was the sense of ‘to be continued’ but never the infuriatingly feeling of details being purposefully omitted. Beth Revis also does atmosphere superbly, and this is evident from the novel’s opening chapter, in which Amy is cryogenically frozen, narrating each stomach-churning detail as it happens. Never before have I felt so incredibly claustrophobic while reading!!

I found Across The Universe to be an enjoyable read, with some interesting moral dilemmas raised, and given its popularity and strong readership, I think it will continue to have a great deal of well-earned success. Now I must just get my hands on its sequel, A Million Suns!

Across the Universe – Beth Revis

Razorbill Australia

ISBN – 1595143971

416 pages

January 11th 2011

Madeleine Tully lives in Cambridge, England, the World – a city of spires, Isaac Newton and Auntie’s Tea Shop. Elliot Baranski lives in Bonfire, the Farms, the Kingdom of Cello – where seasons roam, the Butterfly Child sleeps in a glass jar, and bells warn of attacks from dangerous Colours. They are worlds apart – until a crack opens up between them; a corner of white – the slim seam of a letter.

As I do so love to create these comparisons, I shall proudly state that I found Jaclyn Moriarty’s A Corner of White to be the book baby that would result from John Green and Neil Gaiman coming together to write a novel. And trust me, this is a compliment indeed!

Moriarty weaves a quite seamless tale of dual universes, dual protagonists and contrasting lifestyles in such an original and vibrant fashion that even when there were inevitable questions and moments of confusion, the sheer delight of this journey overshadowed everything else. It should also be noted that for the first instalment in a series, there was an overriding sense of satisfaction and containment within the novel, which is very rare for a series opener.

Effectively combining elements of contemporary realism with a splash of epic fantasy and magic, A Corner of White depicts the experiences and struggles of Madeline, who resides in The World (our world) and Elliott, a resident of The Kingdom of Cello (not our world!) Both are teenagers, however the wider cast of characters in both universes spans all ages and offers insight into a variety of human experiences and emotions. While the novel’s core focus on two teenage protagonists will no doubt see this classified as a young adult title, I do feel sincerely that it could effectively cross over into the adult age bracket.

The novel’s tone and sensibility was easily one of its most engaging and entertaining factors; there is a pervading and surprising sense of humour throughout, often quite tongue-cheek, which had me smiling and giggling continually. There are even slight ‘meta’ moments within the narrative, with Madeline’s character being in doubt of Elliot’s existence and often asking him if his ‘Kingdom’ includes such common fantasy tropes as “some kind of strong-willed princess with rebellion on her mind?” These were incredibly fun to recognise and enjoy!

Both the characters of Madeline and Elliott were incredibly sympathetic and relatable in their own, unique ways and both had worthwhile journeys to undertake; seeing their connection with one another was equally as interesting as seeing their individual lives unfold. Within all of the novel’s characters, there was always a strong sense of these people as human beings, incredibly flawed and genuine, and this was refreshing and admirable.

Finally, the fantastical aspects of the novel were wonderfully obscure and strange, and it was very deliberate and gradual reveal of the ‘laws’ of this universe that made Moriarty’s creation so memorable. The Kingdom, with its violent colours and its changing seasons, is both a place that repelled and intrigued me.

Just as Madeline and Elliott came to feel about their relationship with one another, I am heartily glad and thankful to have encountered A Corner of White, and I very much look forward to the continuation of the series.

A Corner of White – Jaclyn Moriarty (The Colours of Madeline,  Book One)

PanMacmillan Australia

ISBN – 13 – 9781742611396

400 pages

September 18, 2012

High in his attic bedroom, twelve-year-old David mourns the death of his mother, with only the books on his shelf for company. But those books have begun to whisper to him in the darkness. Angry and alone, he takes refuge in his imagination and soon finds that reality and fantasy have begun to meld. While his family falls apart around him, David is violently propelled into a world that is a strange reflection of his own — populated by heroes and monsters and ruled by a faded king who keeps his secrets in a mysterious book, The Book of Lost Things.

Despite having never heard of this title prior to a single recommendation from a trusted book reviewer, I quickly became eager to pick up The Book of Lost Things the moment I heard of its fairy tale elements. Said element proved to be very much present and accounted for, but ultimately it supported an even more engaging and original tale of loss, mourning and coming-of-age.

Known predominantly for his crime fiction, John Connelly effectively created his own fairy tale narrative within this novel and inserted it with a very realistic and very tangible amount of violence, brutality, cynicism and bittersweet truth. While this may deter some readers, and certainly had me feeling incredibly uncomfortable and emotionally drained much of the time, it was ultimately a very effective means of conveying the stark nature and often indirect moral compass of the original fairy tale/folk lore format.

Our twelve year-old protagonist, David, was really put through his paces in this novel; the poor boy had to deal with taunting visions of his dead mother, sudden and unexplained fainting fits that left him bleeding and incoherent, several gruesome and unnerving encounters with a number of truly despicable beings, and the constant threat posed by the Crooked Man (who remains one of the most unforgiving villains I have ever encountered.) David handles all of his challenges with a mix of bravery, recklessness and fear that was very telling and true of his age and upbringing. Additionally, Connelly’s decision to place the fantasy action alongside the ‘real world’ setting of war-time London was also a wise move, with much of David’s home-grown fear of German invasion and destruction feeding into his imaginings.

Although there are not many ‘light’ moments within the novel, and they appear fleetingly, it is important to note the two elements that really made this work enjoyable for me: the twists on known fairy tales, and the sheer love and affection conveyed for the written word and the act of reading. David’s avid love and almost palpable connection to books is evident from the first page, and the sensation this creates forms an active metaphor for the transformative experience of reading, especially at a young age. Also, the inclusion of Connelly’s own retellings of known tales such Snow White are both amusing and unsettling.

While both the US and UK covers for this novel might suggest a middle-grade audience, I would certainly not be recommending it to readers under the age of 15, due to the mature and violent content. However, I do sincerely believe that older readers will find something truly engaging and memorable in David’s fantastical and harrowing journey.

The Book of Lost Things – John Connelly

Atria Books

ISBN – 0743298853

339 pages

November 7th 2006