The Darkest Minds by Alexandra Bracken

In The Darkest Minds, the first installment of The Darkest Minds Trilogy, we are introduced to a world afflicted by the IAAN disease, short for Idiopathic Adolescent Acute Neurodegeneration.  Only affecting children in the early stages of puberty, this disease results in the death of nearly every child in America.  Those that manage to survivor find themselves with one of five strange psychokinetic powers: hyper-intelligence (labeled a Green), telekinesis (Blue), electrokinesis (Yellow), pyrokinesis (Red), and mind control (Orange).  Under the guise of rehabilitation, all children who managed to survive IAAN, now labeled as “psi,” are rounded up and placed into camps, where they are kept under strict control and prevented from using their abilities.  It’s on Ruby’s tenth birthday that she inadvertently uses her new found abilities as an Orange and is soon taken to one such camp.  She manages to remain undetected by masquerading as a Green for six years but is forced to flee with the help of an anti-governmental group, The Children’s League.  It isn’t long until she realizes they aren’t what they seem and is on the run again, managing to escape with a small group of renegade kids off in search of a safe haven for all those labeled as psi.  But is the sanctuary everything it seems, or is it merely a staging area for greater forces?

There’s no denying that this is an exciting YA trilogy.  In today’s market dystopian fiction and superpowers are an immensely popular combination that, if written well, are sure to find a thrilled audience.  Sadly, The Darkest Minds doesn’t really hold much under the surface.  There’s a story being told and the coming-of-age lessons that are trying to be told are clear, but the manner in which both are delivered leaves a lot to be desired.

Before delving into some of its problems, I want to say I don’t think that this is an awful book.  It’s well-written and, if you don’t think too much, the story is consistent within its own reality. Plus, some of the mutations/powers are fairly interesting.  I can also see the appeal to a reader audience who want either a) some story to encompass a romance and are just interested in the struggle of those involved with said romance or b) a coming-of-age story that, though fictitious, has qualities relatable to the real world.  In that regard, this story is better than a number of series on the market, thus far at least.

At the same time, this story does seem rather formulaic.  There is a clear-cut bad person/organization.  There is an opposing person/organization that seems good but, surprise, is actually just as bad.  There is another person/organization that is less powerful but is, ultimately, good.  Or is it?  [Insert ominously foreboding soundtrack here]  Then there is the main character who finds a small group of friends, all of whom just want to survive, free of the games of those who wish to use them as pawns or do them harm.  Ultimately, through a progression of events, the main character(s) grow and realize they can’t just run from the fight but must throw themselves into the fray for the greater good.

In any good story there will be complex characters who undergo some development – at least to some small degree in a story that’s part of a series. That being the case no character should be perfect, much less start out perfect.  That’s definitely not the case here, with a main character, Ruby, who is most definitely not perfect in a multitude of ways.  While there is some character growth, at the end of this trilogy’s first installment, Ruby has only grown into a likeable character.  This means that for the majority of the story, Ruby was altogether unbearable.  Given the scenario (which I’ll get into in a moment) Ruby acting the way she does is believable.  However, believable doesn’t mean good.  It’s one thing to write a character who is believable and another thing entirely to write a believable character that people are actually interested in reading about, following, and cheering on.

The scenario for this world is difficult to swallow.  Simply put, bad guys are bad because bad guys have to be bad.  There isn’t a lot of legitimate reasoning behind why the villains are acting like villains other than the story needs an antagonistic force for the reader to be aware of. The reasoning behind the main conflict, locking up all the children because they are powerful (which goes into the whole ‘fearing what you don’t understand’), only makes sense if you don’t actually think about it.  When all your country’s children are infected with something, locking them all up in prison camps without looking for a way to cure them seems like a good way to effectively set an expiration date on your country.  Plus, too much of the story is a road trip.  It’s interspersed by some moments of actions and exposition, but it’s too drawn out and makes it difficult to stay with the story without hoping for something else to happen already.

Now, maybe Ruby gets more complex and bearable in the following story.  Maybe the villains become more complex.  Maybe the reasoning becomes more apparent.  I have strong doubts about that last point, but the first two are possible.  However, there has to be a reason to want to read more and look for that explanation.  A good assessment of something should encompass the whole of its part but, while I am curious, there’s no incentive that’s provided to actually keep the reader going.  It’s out of sheer curiosity about why this series has the popularity it does that I’ll read the second novel, and nothing more.

As I said before, this story has merits when not examined too deeply, and I can see the appeal it might have to specific audiences (ones I personally don’t fall into).  While I might not recommend this story as heartily as other YA series, this isn’t a book that I’d outright dissuade someone from reading.  Fair warning though, don’t expect too much.

Rating: 2/5

The Alex Crow by Andrew Smith

Ariel, a refugee who is the lone survivor of a massacre in his village who now finds himself living in Sunday, West Virginia.  Journal entries taken from the journal of the navigator of an Arctic expedition (appropriately name the Alex Crow expedition) over 125 years ago.  The melting man, a schizophrenic bomber out to get the Beaver King.  Then there’s the reincarnated, bionic, and suicidally depressed crow.  The Alex Crow weaves together multiple narratives to bring you a story of survival, brotherly love, morally questionable science, and the Dumpling Man.








Though not a completely negative trait of this story, The Alex Crow is different from Smith’s previous books.  Different is not bad, but when you go into a book expecting one thing and getting another you can be caught off guard.  This book, while still holding many of the same excellent qualities of Smith’s other books—its insightfulness, simultaneously serious yet ridiculous aspects, and overall good writing—some aspects of the stories almost felt lacking.  Yes, a schizophrenic bomber, a failed Arctic expedition, a refugee, and some morally questionable science can make for an interesting read.  These stories also don’t take place within the same time, the same place, or even around the same person.  Taken by itself, that can be an exciting quality in a book but in the case of The Alex Crow the content fell a bit flat.

There are some narrative bits that deviate from this but, for the most part, The Alex Crow is told from three main perspectives.  There is the main one, following Ariel, and two other secondary stories: one following the navigator of the late 19^th century Alex Crow Arctic expedition via journal entries and the other following a schizophrenic bomber.  While the connections made from the secondary stories to the first are fun, overall they didn’t add much other than length.  Does a cool ending or tie-in validate storylines that needlessly break up an interesting main story?  My answer is no. 

First let’s look at Ariel’s story.  Now here is a good story.  Here’s a kid who, by a couple strokes of luck, manages to survive the complete and utter massacre of his village—which is located somewhere on the other side of the plan and, given the time the story takes place, the US military involvement, and the names of the people who live in the area, I think it’s safe to assume it’s somewhere in the Middle East.  Then he spends time traveling/surviving with some US troops.  Then with varying groups of refugees.  Then back with the military.  Then is adopted by an American family.  Then is thrown into a summer camp for kids who have become addicted to technology.  Next, throw in the fact that his father works for a company where he is one of the leads in working on de-extinction and other mad-scientist level experiments, as well as some questionably real urban myths.  There’s a lot there for a good story.  His story provides current day narrative, as well as retelling of events from the massacre until they finally catch up with the events of the book.  There’s an awesome base for an amazing story right there, then mix in Smith’s flare for the bizarre and you have yourself an outstanding adventure.

It’s when the other two stories are thrown in that the book started to seem a bit odd, and not in the good way.  The expedition and schizo-bomber were seemingly added for no other reason than cool tie-ins, lone elements that would not detrimentally impact the main story at all were they missing.  As I got through the book I wondered what importance they might hold but, by the end, the expedition story was made redundant almost instantly, and the schizo-bomber wouldn’t have changed anything with his lack of presence. 

The first of those, the Alex Crow expedition, by itself could have made for an interesting read on an online forum, maybe even in a book that had a more direct and active relation to the pseudo-historical events described in the journal entries.  It could have also made a good horror/thriller novel, depending on the route taken with the information it held.  As a complete story, I may have even liked it more than Alex Crow.  The story, as it’s delivered to the reader, is so broken up that any impact it may have had on the reader is taken away.  The information it held played into the story slightly, but only to the point of a few “oh, that’s neat” and “huh, well what do you know” moments. 

The second, that of the schizophrenic bomber, had the same impact as the expedition arc.  By itself it also would have made for an interesting read on an online forum (though most likely a different forum than the expedition would be found on).  All in all, even though I wanted to know just what relevancy his character had to the story, and even though I enjoyed how these sections were written, I couldn’t help but groan when I saw I’d arrived at one of his moments.  The tie in was neat but didn’t have any impact and, again, held no overall relevancy to the story as a whole. 

I want to be clear on this point.  I enjoyed the expedition story—I even wish there was more of it because of my level of enjoyment—and liked the schizophrenia story.  They were fun to read.  At the same time it seemed like they were ideas for stand-alone stories that didn’t come to fruition so, instead, they were tacked onto Alex Crow because someone in the publishing process liked them enough.  With the back and forth between the various storylines of varying qualities, these mostly unnecessary storylines distracted too much from what mattered and diminished much of the excitement that might otherwise have come about.  Throughout the story, knowing Smith’s writing, I was positive that they’d all tie together in some way.  I just didn’t care.

Even though aspects of the story didn’t appeal to me (though Ariel’s story did to a large degree), I still enjoyed the mechanics of it.  The way multiple semi-unrelated stories were told together with odd interweavings was fun.  Taken in parts the book was incredibly exciting, interesting, fun, and thoughtful.  Yet, when all of those parts were put together it somehow lost something.  At the end of the day, the biggest problem is that there were some well written and interesting but overall pointless side stories.  Nevertheless, although the story is a bit different than I expected, The Alex Crow is a well-written book that could very easily appeal to fans of good writing as well as fans of good stories.  Ever present in Smith’s writing is his easily identifiable narrative voice.  For anyone who hasn’t read any of Smith’s works, which I recommend you do, it’s as though the narrator of the story is aware that they’re telling a story but they’re not really talking to anyone (except for the times that they clearly are).  The diction and syntax just happen to work that way and it makes the experience of reading that much more pleasant.  If nothing else, the physical act of reading the words on the page will be relaxing.

If you’ve read and enjoyed Smith’s previous stories by no means should you skip this book.  Smith maintains his positions as one of the top YA authors, appropriately making this perfect for any fans of YA fiction out there.  Likewise, I’d recommend this book for any historical or science fiction fans because—even though they’re a bit hidden—the sci-fi and pseudo-historical elements in this book should keep your interest.

Rating: 3.5/5

Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith

Grasshopper Jungle is set in modern, poverty stricken Ealing, Iowa and narrated by Austin Szerba.  Sex and sexuality, adults, bullies, [censored], and sex. Austin and Robby, retrieving some items placed on the roof of the local mall by a group of bullies, decide to slip into “From Attic to Seller Consignment Store” where they see [censored], [censored], [censored], and [censored].  While in the store, the group of bullies break in and [censored].  As they sneak out, making sure to avoid the group of bullies, they see [censored], setting off a strange chain of events that [censored].

You’re probably wondering why I did that to the story’s summary. Spoilers are one of my biggest pet peeves, whether it applies to books, movies, games, anything.  Hate ‘em.  Don’t want ‘em near me, don’t wanna look at ‘em. I wish all spoilers would just die.  Okay, that last bit might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it irritates me to no end when I read the back of a book or the inside sleeve of a book gives away crucial information.  If I could go on and on about how much I hate spoilers, I would, complete with an extensive multimedia presentation.  However, I won’t because I’m talking about Grasshopper Jungle right now.  The reason I bring up my disdain for spoilers is because of what would have been ruined for me in this book had I known about it prior.  Nothing that would have destroyed my experience, but it would have taken away something special.  In keeping with that I have made the summary I normally include short and vague.  I want all you potential readers to have that same moment I did.  To best describe that moment, I’ll say this:  I never saw anything but the title of Simon Pegg’s The World End before I watched the movie.  My feelings of unadulterated bewilderment and pure glee when “the shift” happened (I’m hoping this is explanatory enough) in that movie perfectly mirror my reactions when I read this book.  Now that I’ve finished the book and read the back (basically, now that I’ve looked at even the most precursory information about this book) I see it’s actually not that a surprising a shift (much like World’s End wasn’t if anyone saw even a single trailer or looked at the movie posters).  However, I went into this book with only my experience of his earlier books—Ghost Medicine, Passenger, In the Path of Falling Objects—playing into what I expected out of this book (If I’d remembered Marbury Lens I may have seen it coming).  So, if possible, I’d like to give you the same experience I had.  Smith is great at writing captivating coming of age stories, and Grasshopper Jungle is that and more.  For first time Andrew Smith readers, this book is as excellent a place to start as any.

Now that I’ve finished belaboring that single part, I’ll actually get into the actual review.  Sex. Boom, the reader’s hooked.  This is a great coming of age story that, among the many factors to come, isn’t afraid to be in the head of an adolescent boy and elaborate on all of his thoughts.  A few of those thoughts aren’t even about sex.  Along with Austin’s many mixed feelings towards sex and sexuality, his overall attitude towards friends, romantic interests, adults, and bullies are dead on and I would challenge any reader to say that they can’t find a single instance in the story where they aren’t taken back to a similar moment in their own adolescence. [As this is a male character and I’m male, I can’t speak from experience, but I’d wager that this also applies true to females as well.]  The narrative style is that of first person train-of-thought for 10^th grade Austin Szerba, and I can’t imagine any other form being this captivating.  There’s always the issue that train-of-thought writing might sound too manufactured or it might be too erratic, but Smith has succeeded in spades.  Also, did I mention that Austin is very, very horny?

As a science fiction, Grasshopper Jungle is almost required to speak to some real modern day issue by way of its sci-fi narrative.   Grasshopper Jungle addresses sexuality in a way that isn’t typically addressed in YA fiction outside of novel solely dedicated to that topic.  This helps pull the topic from sensitive subject matter and makes it part of normal conversation so, regardless of the quality of the story (which is exceptionally high), the impact this book has and will have gets it major points in my book.  It’s clear in every one of his novels, but Smith has an interestingly profound understanding of what it is to be a teenage boy.

The quips and overall comedic tone in here are great.  They’re not forced, they’re clever, they’re fun, and they’re plentiful.  I started with a small list of lines that I thought about including here, but after I’d accumulated a couple dozen from the first forty pages alone (out of nearly four hundred) I realized that the list might exceed the length of the rest of my review.  Not a page will go by that you don’t chuckle, at the very least.  They also make sense, working with the established voice of the story and making the reader enjoy the act of reading while not pulling them out of the story.  Hell, forget quips, it’s all funny, the whole damn book.  And in every single chuckle and thoughtful moment of the book, there are hardly any “book” moments, and when I say “book” moments, I mean events that could only happen in a book.  Thinking them over, I could see them all happening in real life (well…with some obvious exceptions).  There’s a life in this book, making it more than a story and making it incredibly clear that no one could finish this book being worse off.

The premise of the story (and yes, this will be vague) is one we’ve all heard before.  Important/relevant older figure has store with strange odds and ends.  Kids break in.  Kids find things hidden away off main store floor.  Kids witness object’s misuse.  Chaos/plot ensues.  It’s a solid angle that works and Smith puts his own flourish on it.  The characters, primarily Austin and Robby, are also constructed incredibly well, coming off as intelligent and self-aware while being believable as teenagers, not appearing as teenage puppets worked by their adult and experienced creator. 

“The shift” that I referred to earlier—the cause of my vagueness and, most likely, your irritation towards how unhelpful my review is—results in one of the mostly calmingly surreal stories I’ve read in a while.  There is no loss in teenage awkwardness, no overselling of certain emotions, and the ending is a blast.

I’d recommend this book to anyone who enjoys slice-of-life stories, science fiction, and chuckles, as well as anyone dealing with, or trying to understand, teenager-hood.  Actually, I’d recommend this to anyone of any age who likes a good, fun story.  This is, at least, one of my top five YA novels.  Now, while you go read Grasshopper Jungle, I think I’ll go check out Alex Crow…

Rating: 4/5