Anna Faúndez

Author: Anna Faúndez

  • Shadow Spinner

    Shadow Spinner

    By Susan Fletcher

    I don’t recall when I first read this book, but it was probably in 2002 or 2003. I loved it as a kid, and I love it still! I’ve always been intrigued with the story of Shahrazad and 1001 Nights and every other iteration of this tale. This particular version stuck with me through the years.

    Shadow Spinner’s crowning achievement is the ticking clock style of the book. The story is concise and interesting. Its pace is fast. And, for a kids book, it deals with some pretty heavy themes.

    The main character is disabled—a rare enough occurrence as it is in books—and the book treats the character’s disability as a normal part of life, which it is. It’s not a secret special power. It’s not a disability that ends up helping the character. In fact, the disability nearly gets her killed or caught a few times during key moments of the book.

    Also, every character deals with abuse! Shadow Spinner does not shy from this at all, and it creates a more powerful atmosphere in the book. Shahrazad deals with emotional abuse. Marjan deals with physical and emotional abuse tied with past trauma. Any woman in the harem under the Khatun’s thumb suffered, sometimes severe, physical abuse. Every woman in Shadow Spinner lives in constant fear of the Sultan and his whims. The book begins with a bloody history of the Sultan marrying a different woman every night and murdering her in the morning. (Again, heavy for a kids book.)

    With that said, I’m not in camp “forgive the Sultan just because his first wife cheated on him” like some characters who won’t be named are. I did leave the book annoyed that the Sultan suffered no real consequences for murdering an undisclosed number of women. (Yes, I know. He’s the Sultan and unlikely to suffer consequences for anything, ever.) However, the Sultan’s punishment, or lack of, is not the point of the book. It isn’t the “lesson.” The lesson lies with Marjan and her own battle with forgiveness. But I wish the parallel drawn between Marjan and the Sultan and the ability to forgive was not so stark.

    I’d still recommend this book to a reader though! My qualms with the story are not book-avoiding worthy. Maybe read it for yourself and let me know your thoughts!

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 17)

  • Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge

    Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge

    By Kathryn Reiss

    I had so much fun reading Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge again!

    When I was thirteen, I had an elective class in middle school as a Library Aid. One day, I was putting away some books for the librarian when this little gem caught my eye on the cart. I was already an avid reader, and I couldn’t resist stealing away a few minutes in the stacks to read the back and the first few pages of Reiss’s novel. I had never been the kid to read things like ghost stories or Goosebumps; I was a huge chicken and stayed far away from scary things. But this book made me curious, so instead of putting it away, I checked it out and spent the next few nights scaring myself to death reading it. It’s stuck with me all these years. (I still sometimes have nightmares involving disembodied hands. I am twenty-seven as of writing this post in April of 2022.)

    It’s unclear what year Sweet Miss Honeywell’s Revenge takes place in, but I think it’s safe to assume the early 2000s. Your main characters are four 12-year-old girls: one is spunky, one is anxious, one is daring, and the last is . . . mean? They do have some development, but each girl does have a predominant emotion that colors their actions/reactions.

    Personally, I found the alternating chapters between 2000-something and 1919 to be really well done. The 1919 chapters were definitely my favorites as that’s where you get all the ghost story backstory! As a child, I didn’t question Miss Honeywell’s behavior as anything more than controlling-adult-hates-children-and-wants-them-to-suffer. As an adult myself, I think there was something much more wrong with Miss Honeywell than a basic villainous intent to further the plot. I think she was mentally ill. That doesn’t excuse her behaviors at all, but it does add some depth to the character that I appreciated.

     

    The four girls do grow up a bit throughout the story too. There’s a bit of a “found family” story mixed in with the ghost story. The girls have to learn more about teamwork, loyalty, and how their past actions can affect the future. It’s a good way to make kids utilize their just-developing critical thinking skills.

    Please keep in mind that this book was written for kids; you won’t find amazing zingers and pretty prose in these pages. It’s actually repetitive enough that I found the same adjectives used too close together a few times.

    But really, if your preteen likes ghost stories, they will adore this book. And possibly be forever freaked out by porcelain dolls, if they aren’t already.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 16)

     

  • The Shade of the Moon

    The Shade of the Moon

    The Last Survivors

    By Susan Beth Pfeffer

    {Warnings for The Shade of the Moon: bigotry and sexual violence}

    Alright, I’ll come out and say it: I didn’t enjoy this book. You won’t find a glowing review here. You won’t even find a dim-ray-of-hope review here.

    The Shade of the Moon takes place three years (ish) after This World We Live In. This time, your narrator is Jon, Miranda’s younger brother. So this character has been around for a while, but we’ve never gotten to know him besides very basic traits and interaction through Miranda’s eyes in Life as We Knew It. Which would be fine if Jon turned out to be a likable character on his own. He is not.

    By the time The Shade of the Moon comes along, Jon is about 16 years old. It’s apparent he is entitled and bigoted just a few pages in, and this makes him incredibly hard to like. Jon believes anyone living outside the main town where the “elites,” including himself, are undeserving of the very little they have. He and his friends burn down a school. He contemplates beating one of the “grubs” working in his household, essentially a slave. He treats his own family like trash for giving up their passes to allow him to live with the elites and be given an education and nutrition and opportunities they’d never see for the rest of their lives. “Grubs” he calls them.

    But it gets worse. Much worse. Half of the book is spent with Jon agonizing over his guilt for “what I did to Julie,” who (spoilers for book 3 ahead) died at the end of This World We Live In. It’s implied that Jon raped Julie just before she died. And then, a few chapters later, Jon recounts the full story: no, he didn’t actually rape Julie, but that’s only because she got away. He says, in retrospect, that he would have stopped. That he loved Julie.

    I don’t believe that for a second. A toddler knows what the words “no” and “stop” mean. There is absolutely no excuse for Jon’s behavior and I 100% blame him for Julie’s death. Julie, a 13-year-old girl, ran into a bad storm to escape Jon. This storm formed a tornado and the damage ultimately killed Julie.

    Then we have Jon’s “friends.” They’re much worse than Jon. A good portion of Jon’s problematic behavior stems from inaction rather than direct action, but who you’re friends with reflects back to you. What behavior are you willing to condone? Apparently, Jon will condone a lot.

    So, you have a main character and side characters that are absolutely impossible to like. The only reason I bothered finishing the book? It’s on my bookshelf, and I promised myself I’d read everything there. That’s it.

    Let’s forget about bad characters for a moment and talk about the plot. That should be better, right? Nope, not really. The plot of The Shade of the Moon is . . . predictable and boring. Some of it makes sense, but the main resolution of the plot point is unbelievable and borders on ridiculous. The book really boils down to “entitled teenager finds out the whole world didn’t destroy itself to spite him.”

    If I had to pick one book from this series that stood out from the rest, it would be The Dead and the Gone. It’s not even required to read Life as We Knew It to understand the plot. Personally, I’d recommend the first two books in the series: Life as We Knew It and The Dead and the Gone. The third, This World We Live In, is just okay and doesn’t add all that much. But The Shade of the Moon is unnecessary and you may genuinely be happier without it. I know I would be.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 15)

  • This World We Live In

    This World We Live In

    The Last Survivors

    By Susan Beth Pfeffer

    I got my wish! This World We Live In continues a few months after the end of Life as We Knew It. We’re back with the original narrator, Miranda, and her family. Which is all well and good until a new group of people is introduced, Alex and his sister in tow.

    Neat right? The books converge! Characters interact! New problems!

    I wish I could stay excited about it.

    This World We Live In flopped pretty hard for me.

    The story itself was pretty generic in comparison to The Dead and the Gone. We, once again, have the original, less compelling stakes from Life as We Knew It. All that’s really added is an additional group of people and convincing the local authority—pretty easy—to give them more food. Sure, nothing is certain, but with the ending of Life as We Knew It being all about hope, it’s hard to believe the food runs will stop.

    So then what drives the story? A shaky will-he-won’t-he with Alex—I’ll come back to him—planning to take his sister away to live at a convent. Will he do it? Will he really send her away? But, oh no! He likes Miranda and doesn’t want to leave!

    It’s hard to be totally spoiler-free in this one as nothing much changes throughout the book. Things happen; they can’t leave. Things are said; they can’t leave. Someone gets sick; they can’t leave. They finally leave; they can’t leave.

    My biggest problem with This World We Live In are the couple of badly thought out romances Pfeffer inserted into the book. The first one, Miranda’s brother and a random stranger, is the least of my worries and side characters often do weird things to plod along a plot. But Miranda and Alex? Nope, that one came out of nowhere. The romance had no build whatsoever. Miranda thought Alex was attractive in her diary entries, but she doesn’t seem to focus on it too much. She’s a little dramatic—as usual—with talking about “the last boy on earth” and all that jazz, but nothing more. She was fully convinced Alex didn’t even like her. Then suddenly they’re madly in love and thinking about running away together. And I do mean suddenly.

    Which brings me to Alex’s character. Yes, it’s been months since he and his sister got out of New York City and traveled to places unknown and destroyed. He somehow meets up with Miranda’s father and ends up in Pennsylvania with plans to take his sister to a convent and then join a monastery and spend his life in . . . self-loathing and begging forgiveness? I’m not too clear on that part or how it makes sense even after it’s explained in the book. Either way, prepare for Alex to have a shiny, new personality that’s pretty one-dimensional to fit Miranda’s.

    My favorite character is the cat. Long live Horton.

    So, that’s three books down. Just one left and I’m . . . hesitant. I’ll hope for the best, so be sure to check back for the series finale, The Shade of the Moon.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 14)

  • The Dead and the Gone

    The Dead and the Gone

    The Last Survivors

    By Susan Beth Pfeffer

    So far, The Dead and the Gone is my favorite of the Life as We Knew It series. It was marketed as a companion book, but I feel it surpasses the original story Pfeffer wrote. Remember when I compared Life as We Knew It to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road? I take it back; this book is much more similar—but still for a younger audience.

    The Dead and the Gone features the same premise as Life as We Knew It, but there are some big changes that have a powerful pull: the setting is New York City, a place which suffers immediate, direct, and deadly consequences after the moon disaster. Your narrator is still a teenager—Alex, a boy this time. However, he suddenly finds himself alone with two younger sisters to care for. Alex is constantly pitted against morality versus survival. What is he willing to do to survive in a city ravaged by tragedy with no help coming? The stakes in The Dead and the Gone are much, much higher.

    Religion comes back full force in The Dead and the Gone. This time, it’s devout Catholicism. It fits into the story pretty well as Alex and his family are all of Puerto Rican descent. (The majority of Puerto Rico identifies as Catholic.) While religion of any type isn’t necessary to wrestle with morality, I do think Catholicism was a good choice to frame the story from. The three characters we see the most in The Dead and the Gone are each Catholic, but one is extremely devout, one is somewhere in the middle, and one struggles with their faith. (You can find out who’s who if you read the book!) The good framework comes from the dependencies and concessions Alex is shown to have with the church, confession, and education. Science versus religion isn’t really a problem in this book.

    There are, of course, some plot points that I wish had been better formed. One point was why Alex didn’t break into more homes—because he does enter other people’s deserted homes to search for food, blankets, and items to trade. After months, Alex knows with something very close to certainty that he and his sisters are alone in their apartment building. Yes, yes, stealing is wrong, and that does come up, but possible starvation should overrule the fear of being found out when 90% of New York City has already been looted for the food sources it may be hiding.

    Another was the fact a few schools stayed open under the pretense of education when it was really to feed the few kids left some lunch. I’m not saying this was a bad thing, but in a major United States city that’s been flooded, has no power, and millions of people living in it with no food trucks coming in and a single, weekly government handout that is unreliable and dangerous to be in line for—how do these two little schools find the resources to feed twenty or so kids lunch every day for months? Are adults starving so the children can eat? I’d believe it, but the answer the book gives us was no less than an unsatisfactory, “The church provides” or “God provides.” Annoying explanation, to be frank. Not actually an explanation at all.

    That said, The Dead and the Gone still functions as a great book. It’s heart-wrenching, and can be scary, and, fantastical apocalypse aside, quite realistic in its portrayal of a broken humanity.

    There’s two more books in this series, and I’m very curious about where Pfeffer plans to go next. Personally, I’m hoping for a continuation of events as the first two books quite thoroughly covered the immediate consequences of the moon disaster. Fingers crossed! Next up: This World We Live In.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 13)

  • Life as We Knew It

    Life as We Knew It

    The Last Survivors

    By Susan Beth Pfeffer

    I woke up last week remembering a book I’d enjoyed when I was in middle school. Half asleep and still in pajamas, I looked it up after spending a while remembering the title. Then I realized that book had actually been part of a series! Being who I am, I ordered the series with glee and devoured the book I remembered in a single day.

    Now, I’ve always been one for disaster movies: 2012, The Day After Tomorrow, and Poseidon were a few of my favorites. It didn’t occur to me until I was waiting for my newest box set to arrive that I’d obviously like books in the same vein—and clearly had.

    I wasn’t disappointed. However, if you’re looking for an action-packed YA novel with heart-stopping scenes, this is not the book for you. Life as We Knew It is a drama. It focuses heavily on the day-to-day emotional impacts of the theoretical (and sometimes outright fantastical) events that occur in the beginning chapters. You’ll have adventure; just not the action-based kind. If I had to compare it to an adult novel, I’d choose Cormac McCarthy’s The Road.

    Your narrator is a 16-year-old girl. Don’t expect logical or concise decisions to be made at all times. Expect high emotional responses, grieving for a life-that-was or could have been, rebelliousness, selfishness, and a craving for instant gratification. Even if you aren’t a teenager anymore and have learned to regulate these traits and emotions in yourself, you can empathize.

    Life as We Knew It tells its story at a slant. Life for the characters doesn’t drastically change following the events with the moon. Life erodes among bursts of activity—kind of like a twitch after death. You get to experience the collapse of society at a distance! The setting is somewhere in northeastern Pennsylvania in the United States: a small town in the middle-of-nowhere. At first, things are okay enough. Kids still go to school and adults still go to work. Then there’s the obligatory panic buying when news of the disasters trickle in. Electrical failures, strange weather, and lists of the dead.

    Do keep in mind that Life as We Knew It is still young adult fiction. It is meant for twelve and thirteen-year-olds at the very least. You won’t find all the gruesome detail concerning bodies within these pages. You won’t find cannibalism or kidnapping. Yes, some of the book is still unsettling—I certainly remember being unsettled when I first read it as a kid—but, ultimately, you get a happy ending. More or less. You get to keep hope.

    I did want to touch on one more aspect: religion in Life as We Knew It. I’ll preface this section with the fact that I, myself, am not religious. Spiritual, sure. But organized religion is not for me. With that in mind, I think Pfeffer’s choice to only show the radicalized religious odd. Most of the beliefs found in Life as We Knew It come from a single source: a peer, and friend, of the narrator. This friend is not unkind or particularly judging, but she has clearly been manipulated into believing a fair few unhealthy and dangerous ideas at an impressionable point in her life. You can read for yourself what happens to her, but the real kicker is the single scene where the narrator meets the pastor of this group of people. He is shown to be unkind, aloof, and self-righteous—not that you like him before meeting him for a moment anyway. And this is all fine. My issue comes in with this being the only religious group the book touches on. I’d have liked to see a bit more balance. However, it does provide some darker realities to reflect on. In short, I didn’t hate it, but I think it could have been handled as part of the narrative a bit better.

    Since I did buy the series, I do plan to finish the whole thing before moving on to other books. So next time shall be Pfeffer’s companion book to this one, The Dead and the Gone.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 12)

     

  • The Lovely Bones

    The Lovely Bones

    By Alice Sebold

    {Warnings for The Lovely Bones: sexual and physical violence}

    The Lovely Bones is about moving on, both after death and for those who are still living and have experienced a death or trauma. Its message is sound and practical, and leads with a semi-omniscient narrator, Susie. The point of the book isn’t actually the murder; it’s the after. The family. The friends. How each person deals with the trauma and how much time it takes to be “okay” again.

    I liked that aspect of the book most. Sebold does create relatable and imperfect characters who clash and grieve over long periods of time. As a reader, you get to see the little effects the death of the narrator had on the people around her.

    Truthfully though, this book wasn’t my cup of tea, and I kind of had to make myself read it at certain points. It’s the type of slower drama that also tries to be a mystery, but you have all the answers already, so there’s no real stakes.

    My biggest beef is with the ending, and it’s something I can’t make completely spoiler-free to talk about, so spoilers beyond the cut.

    ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

    I want to speak for a second about unfairness: Sebold does it well. The murderer is never caught; instead, he dies by complete accident. There is no justice here. The Lovely Bones has false accusations, ostracism, unfair beatings, affairs, and abandonment. It is real, it is gritty, and it is everything Susie wants now that she’s lost it.

    But I’m not annoyed with any of that in the least. The realism of the living’s everyday is one of the only things that kept my attention while reading.

    What is rather annoying is how Susie is finally able to let go and move on to actual heaven. Of course, the entire book centers around some magical realism, but Susie is never able to change what’s happening on Earth. She can’t affect anything. She has no control. Part of her life after death is being doomed to watch but never interact; some of these instances in the book actually help Susie understand and accept her circumstances.

    The end suddenly gives her that control. In fact, Susie outright possesses another character and proceeds to use that girl’s body to have sex with her school girl crush before being pulled back to her heaven. For a character that was raped and brutally murdered, you’d think Susie would have some strong thoughts about consent. Not to mention the psychological trauma she would have from her experience. The whole set of pages in that section felt out-of-character and notably cheapens the entire novel.

    On top of that, Susie doesn’t think to use her last few hours to check on her family? Say goodbye? Tell them she’ll be okay? Sure, Susie is forever fourteen years old, but the book indicates some level of maturation after death. To see that ripped from her the second she moves back into a physical body makes no sense in that Susie herself is the same person she’s been and grown into after she died.

    In short, this book isn’t one I plan to pick up again anytime soon. Possibly ever.

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 11)

  • Sapphique

    Sapphique

    By Catherine Fisher

    Okay, so it turns out, I did read Sapphique after Incarceron as a teenager. I didn’t forget about it! I actually mixed the two books into one in my head! Personally, I call that a good thing. Fisher’s two books smooth into one another without any hiccups, and the story moves along, picking up right where Incarceron left us.

    Sapphique is much more cerebral than the thrilling Incarceron, and I enjoyed getting to know the worlds a little more through its pages. Its genre still sits well within adventure fantasy though! Fisher’s writing is exciting and tasteful.

    Most of Sapphique takes place in the outside world, and I loved getting to submerge myself in it. Claudia and Jared gave us glimpses in Incarceron, but the sequel lets us bathe in the everyday, the people who are so far past delusion they seem perfectly sane, including you as the reader! Every creeping step toward disaster in Sapphique plays an excellent role in giving off the “oh, this is not good” vibe that Fisher is clearly reaching for with each page turn.

    I think my only disappointment with Sapphique is the ending. There’s nothing wrong with it, per se, but I really wish there had been a more practical answer to the danger and threats that were weaved into both Incarceron and Sapphique. As it is, I felt a bit jilted, as though Fisher pulled half a Deus ex Machina. On top of that, it’s not explained very w

    ell how said event occurred either. Fisher created a gorgeous machine and intelligence through word and it fell flat in the conclusion.

    Does that mean I was less interested in how the book ended? Both yes and no. Yes, because it was such a letdown and left me with question marks floating above my head. No, because this event happens

    less than twenty pages before the end of the book. You think, “Okay, maybe I’ll get something better before the end, during the wrap-up.” You won’t.

    Sapphique ends on a note of “Well, what do we do now?” that many post-apocalyptic novels and movies end on. It even has a line that’s in the spirit of “Now we survive” that so many of those same novels and movies end with before the traditional fade-to-black. But what problem was solved? The problem of the prison? The outside world? Neither, if I’m being honest. Sapphique’s ending wasn’t terribly satisfying because of this.

    Part of me believes that Fisher may have hoped to write a third book for this series, but, so far, that hasn’t occurred. There’s certainly more than enough material for another book. There’s tons of room for character growth and new problems to be had!

    Join me next time as I take a sharp turn and tackle The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold!

    ~ Anna
    (Entry 10)

  • Incarceron

    Incarceron

    By Catherine Fisher

    I have so much hype for Incarceron! If I recall correctly, this was the first book I read by Fisher back when it was new in 2007 or so. I really enjoyed it then, and I have the same feeling now.

    Incarceron is fast-paced, mysterious, and kind of creepy. Of course, the first time, I thought it was quite a bit more unsettling than I did this time around, but due to reading things like Stephen King’s The Shining and ’Salem’s Lot, it didn’t quite hit the same “eek” chords.

    But some of Fisher’s descriptions in Incarceron are to die for. She does such a fabulous job of creating a strong sense of place, especially when her characters spend a lot of time in the dark. I won’t mention specifics, but it’s incredibly easy to create a story map in your head through Fisher’s words. A+ on that.

    Incarceron jumps between two points of view. One in the prison. One out. Eventually, these two points merge. The pacing of each chapter was well-in-hand, not allowing for too much of one POV before switching back to the other. It’s definitely what helped move the book along, keeping that integral string of mystery alive throughout the novel.

    Okay, fine, I have one unhappiness with Incarceron. The character, Finn. Compared to the other characters, he’s pretty weak. He doesn’t do as much thinking for himself (which sometimes makes sense in context of his character, but not always,) and he spends more time reacting to things happening to and around him than anything else. It doesn’t take away from the story, really, but it does create a sense of “eh” when Finn gets into trouble or needs saving or situations look dire. Finn only seems to have a personality adjacent to the people he’s surrounded by.

    When thinking of core character traits, I think of it like this (and this is a fabulous exercise for building your own characters): Attia? Loyal, stalwart, and observant. Keiro? Brash, selfish, and stubborn. Gildas? Determined, obsessive, and arrogant. Claudia? Calculating, passionate, and willful. Jared? Practical, introspective, and kind. But what about Finn? He’s indecisive, I’ll give him that, but that’s not really a strong character trait. Reading the list above, it should be pretty obvious what each character is generally like, how they might react to each other, and how they might respond to stress.

    Finn’s relatively weak characterization is no reason to leave Incarceron on the shelf though! It’s confusing and unique and, honestly, just a lot of fun. Even as a YA novel, it skirts many issues such as human nature, good versus evil, loyalty versus ambition, and the oldie-but-goodie: Do our memories make us who we are?

    If you’re looking for a steampunk-ish fantasy adventure, Incarceron is the book for you!

    Because I have no memory of reading (perhaps just finishing) Incarceron’s sequel, Sapphique, I’ll be reading it next to finish off the series and finally get some closure! See you next time!

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 9)

  • The Two Princesses of Bamarre

    The Two Princesses of Bamarre

    By Gail Carson Levine

    Success! I read Levine’s The Two Princesses of Bamarre in one go, and I loved it so much. It’s been over a decade since I’ve read this book, and after Just Ella, I was prepared to be a little disappointed. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case, and I spent a few hours reading and thoroughly enjoying myself, happy my nostalgia wasn’t misplaced again.

    What to say first . . .

    Princess Addie, the protagonist, is a wonderful character. The best part? She’s introverted! I so rarely see introverts depicted honestly and with kindness in books, and Levine did such a nice job with Addie. This book isn’t the (incredibly annoying) depiction of “introvert somehow turns into an extrovert during the course of the story as a part of ‘character development’” either. And please, don’t confuse confidence with extroversion. Addie learns to trust herself and does gain confidence in her own abilities throughout the story, but she remains the same person: introspective, reserved, and thoughtful.

    Second best thing? The relationship! What would any children’s book for the budding teen be without a little romance? Full disclosure, I had a huge crush on the sorcerer dude as a kid, and he definitely inspired a character of mine a few years after I read it. However, we’re not here to gush about fictional character crushes. No, the relationship between Addie and Rhys (pronounced Reese) is one of the most natural developments I can recall ever seeing in a kid’s book. They meet. It’s cute and a little awkward—perfectly in line with Addie’s introverted self. They talk on and off whenever they see each other. And, my favorite part, because this is exactly what happens to imaginative, introverted girls in real life: Addie begins to see Rhys as her person rather than the mythical hero she’s daydreamed of for years. Better yet, this guy is actually there for her! He’s conveniently unavailable to go with Addie on her journey, but Levine handles it in a mature way. He pops in to check on Addie when he can. He encourages her. He’s kind. He believes she can do what she set out to. It’s a fabulous lesson to teach young kids, and I doubt I’m exaggerating when I say this book helped shape the way I thought about early relationships.

    The Two Princesses of Bamarre masterfully uses the “ticking clock” story style. Levine hands you one problem after the next, always keeping in the reader’s mind that the end goal has an expiration date attached to it too. You’ll spend around the first fifty pages developing a relationship with your main characters so you’ll care about said ticking clock, but even those pages are filled with adventure of the lighthearted variety.

    I think the only thing in the writing that periodically stood out to me was the frequent use of adverbs. The book does says ages eight to twelve, but Levine still could’ve had a little more fun with the “show, don’t tell” advice. You’re not going to find any high level wordsmithing here; you’re not supposed to. However, that doesn’t mean I enjoyed the book any less. It just means the adverbs made me wonder what this story would be like written for adults. And now I really want that, darn it.

    ~ Anna

    (Entry 8)