'Ghosts of Tupelo Landing' by Sheila Turnage

Starting the sequel to a book I loved is always a bit of a risk. But it was one that paid off with Sheila Turnage's Ghosts of Tupelo Landing, the sequel to last year's sidesplitting Three Times Lucky. Despite the volume of books I read, there are few that can make me laugh out loud without a care for how many funny looks I'm getting from commuters or coworkers around me. But like its predecessor, Ghosts of Tupelo Landing had me chortling on the regular. Mo's voice is so strong, and the humor comes in many flavors, from the bait-and-switch ("Connoisseur", I whispered. "French for 'know-it-all.'") to rueful self-deprecation (The problem with having a temper is you find out what you're going to say at the same time everyone else does.). I can't help but recognize a bit of the fiery troublemaking kid I was in Mo, but even if I didn't have that soft spot, I'd still be laughing my ass off.

I trusted Turnage not to try to "one-up" the plot of the first book (one of my biggest peeves about mystery series) and she didn't disappoint. This time instead of a murderer on the loose, the real threat is to the livelihood of Mo's nearest and dearest, and in a way she can't fix just by figuring out whodunit. This is only tangentially a ghost story, with the title referring more to the shades of the town's past than to the actual ghost Mo and Dale are chasing. The overall feel of the book is of things coming full circle-- an out of town boy coming back to live with his grandfather, schoolchildren learning about their town's history by interviewing their elders, a historic building given new life through the town's collective effort. It's a deft way to frame the characters' development as they take on bigger challenges, both practical and personal.

Change is a common theme in middle-grade fiction, as most of its readers are already hurtling into adolescence at breakneck speed. Mo is growing and changing-- it's no coincidence that for the first time we see her in school-- and the scope of her world is growing too, as she turns her outward "Upstream Mother" focus inward to the people around her, and her place among them. The mystery was harder to solve, too, as it involved navigating the often confusing world of adult emotions and motivations. But Mo's facility for people (and for bullshitting her way out of sticky situations) helps her hold her own against bitter bootleggers and grouchy grannies alike, keeping the story moving constantly forward.

But the biggest strength of this book is in its unquestioning acceptance of Mo's experiences, and how it refuses to compromise her agency as the storyteller. Whether or not the ghost of Nellie Blake is "real" is never even brought up-- Mo experiences her as real, and therefore so do we, the readers. It's part of what makes Mo such a great narrator and such a strong character-- her world is the world we live in while we're with her, and it's a colorful explosion that doesn't step outside itself for a moment. Turnage has said that when she first sat down to write Three Times Lucky, Mo emerged almost fully formed, her voice clear and distinct, and that solidity certainly translates to my experience as a reader. If only all characters-- especially all female characters-- were as complete in their humanity as Mo LoBeau.

I'm assuming Turnage will be putting out another sequel soon, only because I can't imagine saying goodbye to a character and a place I've come to adore so much after only two books. People often deride adults who read children's books (James Wood's recent invective, quoted here, springs to mind), but whatever your age, Ghosts of Tupelo Landing gets my full-throated recommendation to anyone who likes good writing or is in need of a good laugh.

Overall rating: 4.5/5 stars (rounded up to 5 for how much it made me laugh)
Geek quotient: 2/5 stars
Girl quotient: 5/5 stars
Gay quotient: 2/5 stars (Mo has a gay "uncle" who's a very positive role model in her life- normally I wouldn't give this two stars, but in a book for this age group it gets more weight.)

'A Matter of Blood' by Sarah Pinborough

The opening act of Sarah Pinborough's urban fantasy horror trilogy is dark. It's gory, it's harsh and unflinching in its descriptions of an ugly world; no romps with city-dwelling fairies here. It's urban fantasy at its most brutal, illuminating a bleak potential future where-- as our killer makes a habit of pointing out-- nothing is sacred. It's that idea of the sacrosanct that winds its way throughout the book, touching each of the characters in turn, leading the jaded Detective Jones to a thorough examination of not only the ways in which his society is broken, but in which he is as well.

'Doll Bones' by Holly Black

Still working on my review of Sarah Pinborough's A Matter of Blood, but I finished Doll Bones this morning and couldn't stop myself from writing about it instantly.

'Bronze Gods' by A. A. Aguirre

So, in complete contrast to my reaction to Fade to Black, Bronze Gods surprised me by how much I loved it. I won't say I didn't expect to enjoy myself, because a crime fighting team in a steampunk universe with magic sounds like bona fide enjoyment material in my book. But I expected fluff-- a quick read, nothing heavy. I was pleasantly surprised to discover instead a wholly engaging read with characters that leapt off the page and a world I wanted to explore every nook and cranny of.

'Daughter of Smoke and Bone' by Laini Taylor

For my first review back from what was, admittedly, a hiatus that stretched the meaning of the word past its breaking point, I wanted to come back with a bang. And Daughter of Smoke and Bone is nothing if not full of bang.

"Boneshaker" by Cherie Priest

Looks like setting myself a schedule has worked out well so far; here I am, back with my review of Boneshaker a few days earlier than promised, and that is because once I started reading I could not put the thing down until I'd finished it.

hark, a book review!

Wow, so I've really made good use of this, huh? >.>;;; In my defense, shortly after I created it, I got promoted at work, and that was basically the past six months done and gone. Oh retail Christmas, how I love to hate you.

Anyway, I thought I'd ring in 2011 by actually using this thing a bit. And to start I'm reviewing what turned out to be one of my favorite books of 2010, China Mieville's Kraken. Let me preface this by saying I am a huge Mieville fan; at this point I don't think he could write a book I wouldn't give five stars to. I even had to go back and add a star to my review of The City & The City because even weeks after I'd finished it I just could not stop thinking about it. And this, now, this little piece of genius has pretty much cemented him as my favorite author. I would write him fan mail if it wouldn't be epically creepy to do so.

Anyway-- an actual review of the book. Kraken begins with an impossible theft, that of the preserved giant squid from inside London's Natural History Museum, and its discovery by a very average, slightly nerdy scientist who works there. Billy Harrow is a wonderful protagonist-- one of the genius aspects of Mieville's writing is that his characters always feel like they might be you or someone you know-- and his descent from his very average life into a hidden city of cults and magic is immediately gripping because of the way the writing pulls you along every step of the way. You're experiencing everything with Billy-- the wonder, the fear, trying to reason out what's happening, rejecting the rules and deciding to do his own thing-- until you are in as deeply over your head as he is. And then along comes Dane. If Billy is the embodiment of everything familiar, Dane is the exact opposite: a holy assassin playing security guard, a man on fire with faith and devotion to a god most would call him insane to worship, a self-made exile from everything he holds dear for the sake of protecting the man he believes can save it. Everything about him is strange at first, but as Billy goes further and further into Dane's world, he comes to see his new protector as not only familiar but safe. And then, as a team, as partners, they dive all the way down the rabbit hole and try to save the world.

This book, like all of Mieville's, is astonishing in its complexity. The amount of work that had to have gone into plotting this thing out-- imagining all the cults, the creatures, the characters that are all intricate and complete entities even if their totality is only hinted at-- it boggles the mind. Chaos Nazis! Living tattoos! Tribbles and phasers that actually work! And characters like Wati, formerly a spirit buried with an Egyptian pharaoh to serve him in the afterlife, now the socialist strike leader for all the familiars of London. Like Goss and Subby, a pair of Croup-and-Vandemar-esque assassins who meander around the book bumping off the good guys with excruciating enjoyment. And Kath Collingswood, who really defies description but is one of the best characters I've had the pleasure of encountering in the pages of urban fantasy. But part of what really makes the book come to life is how London itself feels like a character. Certainly it's living and breathing to the characters that populate it, and under Mieville's loving pen it comes alive even for me, who's never seen it except in books and pictures.

Kraken combines the best of Neverwhere with the best of American Gods, adds in as many chases and fight scenes and displays of badassery my action-movie-loving heart could desire, along with a dash of grotesquerie and a healthy helping of Mieville's characteristic New Weird. The result is a wild and unpredictable ride that gathers momentum and doesn't come to rest until after its heart-stopping climax. I loved it beyond words-- despite the fact that I've just used several hundred to describe how much-- and if you pick it up, don't be surprised if it keeps you held tight in its tentacles until you've turned the last page.