Tournament of Books Round 4: An Ember in the Ashes vs. The Alex Crow

I Will Survive: The Alex Crow by Andrew Smith vs An Ember in the Ashes by Sabaa Tahir

At this point in the Battle, these two titles have been reviewed multiple times, so please bear with me if I repeat anything others said before me; I tried to avoid reading the reviews to avoid spoiling or biasing myself.

At first glance, these two titles don’t have much in common. On the one hand, with The Alex Crow you have a story that takes place in a mostly contemporary setting with no magic but plenty of science to back up claims of the supernatural and on the other, you have a magical, ancient Roman-esque setting in An Ember in the Ashes. A mostly male lineup of characters in the former versus a relatively balanced lineup in the latter. The completely unexpected versus the more formulaic. No romance versus a double love triangle. Etcetera, etcetera, these two titles seem to be about as different from each other as it is possible for two books to be. But what these two titles do have in common are the underlying themes of fear, survival, uncertainty, and a loss of family that the main characters have to experience and endure. In those ways, these books aren’t so different after all.

The Alex Crow

Finding himself the lone survivor of a terrorist attack on his small Middle Eastern village, 15-year-old Ariel is swept away by the U.S. military to join a new family and lead a new life in the United States. By all accounts, he should be grateful that he’s escaping a brutal, lonely, war-torn existence in favor of a comparatively quieter life with a wholesome West Virginian family. But when Ariel is sent off to the Merrie-Seymour Camp with his adoptive brother for the summer, multiple events occur which allow Ariel to see his adoptive family and his new life are anything but wholesome.

The Alex Crow is a highly clever, creative, and wholly unique book – something that I’ve heard is the case for Andrew Smith books in general (though I don’t have firsthand knowledge of this given it is my first time partaking in his writing). It blends contemporary with a touch of humor, sci-fi, and faux historical fiction, and Smith masterfully works multiple subplots into one larger, seamless yet surprising and compelling story. Besides the nonlinear storyline depicting Ariel’s time both in the Middle East and in the U.S., Smith also adroitly weaves together threads that tell the stories of animals long extinct and the mostly-failed boat expeditions of a time before the world was largely conquered by man.

In his portrayal of modern warfare and the collateral damages and spoils thereof, Smith doesn’t shy away from depicting horrifying acts, which are more than hinted at but that somehow manage to avoid crossing into the obscene or gratuitous. They are scenes chockful of discomfort but they feel unrelenting in their realness.

To that point, Ariel is not a character with whom many people can sympathize but he is a character who is becoming more and more conceptually familiar in our society due to current international events. Throughout the story, Smith manages to believably convey Ariel as haunted by his past and unsure of his future. His companions throughout the story help to provide comic relief and assist in pushing the plot along but in doing so, they never quite manage to gain any depth.

An Ember in the Ashes

500 years of Martial rule have wrought oppression and persecution for the Scholars of the Empire but in all that time, it hasn’t managed to dampen their passion for learning or their desire for freedom. Laia, a member of a prominent Scholar family, helps her grandparents to earn a meager living until her brother Darin is caught and arrested as a traitor of the Empire. Not content to let Darin meet his fate in the Empire’s hands, Laia goes undercover as a spy for the Resistance and in the process, many of her preconceived notions about who she is and what she is capable of are challenged.

Although this fantasy book is riddled with familiar tropes that almost make it sound like a dystopian novel – quashed intellect, a great foretelling, fights to the death, a despotic regime – they are presented in ways that make them feel new and exciting. It helps quite a bit that Tahir presents a world in which many of the characters are not strictly good or evil, but realistically complex beings who make both good and bad choices.

Although the Commandant, the rather frightening face of the Empire, is decidedly less nuanced than that, Laia, Elias, Cook, and Helene are all great counter-examples to the Commandant and brilliant examples of the complexity Tahir was able to inject into the story. Laia and Elias, especially, are equally deep characters who have faced great losses in their lives and must overcome their fears and weaknesses to prevail against the Empire.

Tahir also excelled in her ability to flawlessly provide a great deal of backstory – via flashbacks, dreams, and dialogue – for the characters, the magic, and for what led up to the events that take place in the story, all without slowing down the story’s quick-paced tempo. More than Alex, the pages of this book kept themselves turning without cause for much hesitation or fear of the kind of discomfort that might be found in the upcoming pages. Unpleasant things may be (and certainly were) headed the reader’s way in Ember but they surely couldn’t be (and weren’t) as strange and unexpected as something Smith would write.

The most disappointing aspect of Ember is the fact that it contains a double love triangle: Laia-Elias-Keenan and Elias-Laia-Helene. In both cases, there is at least one instance of characters being pulled towards another simply due to the way they look. In particular, Tahir did a less than stellar job fleshing out the Keenan character and making him believably compelling as a romantic interest for anyone other than those who like the silent, emotionally detached yet moody types. I know there is an appeal for some in those types of romantic partners but encouraging it in a novel meant for teens is a pet peeve of mine.

What It All Comes Down To

The Alex Crow has so many things working in its favor but this title is not for everyone. Besides its well-crafted absurdity, The Alex Crow falls very short in how it treats females. It’s not that female characters are simply underdeveloped (though they are) or even lacking in greater representation (while it would have been nice to see more females in the story, the minimal inclusion makes sense due to the setting), it’s that those who do exist in the story are insulting and disagreeable depictions of what a girl or woman can be.

Female readers deserve a clever, creative, wholly unique book that does not paint the only representatives of their sex as overly and dangerously accommodating (Natalie Burgess), too good and sexually available to be true (Crystal Lutz), or radically calling for the end of men, only to disappear themselves (Mrs. Nussbaum). Perhaps there is a deeper meaning or a social criticism from Smith that I am missing but if there isn’t, it’s unfortunate that this is the case because Smith hit every other note exactly right, slowly pulling the reader into a reality that no one would want to claim as their own but would delight in reading about.

Where The Alex Crow fails spectacularly, An Ember in the Ashes shines. Although Ember similarly suffers from a surprising lack of female characters (again, the setting provides some annoying but believable limitations), it does have more than Alex and the way Tahir handles the few who are present is a breath of fresh air after Smith’s male-centric storytelling. Tahir herself pays the characters more respect, making them capable and giving them ambition, intelligence, and a full array of emotions. Tahir also acknowledges that in the society in which these female characters exist, things are stacked against them. Fewer are accepted into prestigious positions than men and those who are have to continually prove themselves to the men around them. However, the fact that the females make an effort to fight against those injustices makes all the difference in the world.

In the end, it was Tahir who wrote a book that is accessible and non-polarizing, not to mention completely captivating.

WINNER: AN EMBER IN THE ASHES BY SABAA TAHIR

Reviewed by Alea Perez, Westmont Public Library

Tournament of Books Round 3: Red Queen vs. The Alex Crow

This was an interesting match-up for two reasons. 1) I have issues with Andrew Smith. 2) I really liked The Scorpion Rules, and was disappointed that it didn’t move to the second round. Despite my personal feelings, I tried really hard to judge both of these books on their own merits.

The Alex Crow is made up of four intertwined male-centric stories. Two of the storylines follow Ariel, an orphaned refugee from a never-explicitly-named country, who has been adopted by an American family and sent to a Kafkaesque summer camp for boys to bond with his new brother, Max. A third storyline follows the schizophrenic melting man on an epic road trip. The fourth is a diary from a horrific sea voyage undertaken by a ship named The Alex Crow, which provides backstory to the rest of the novel.

Although I was captivated by the Ariel’s camp story and background story, Smith made it hard to judge The Alex Crow on its merits when he had Ariel think things like, “I hadn’t known [my adoptive mother] very long, but who could ever get to know that woman, anyway?” This thought repeats sentiments Smith has expressed in an interview. So, I wasn’t able to set aside my biggest issue with Smith. As much as I enjoyed Ariel’s two storylines, I was disappointed that the female characters are so underdeveloped. Besides the unknowable mother, there are Mrs. Nussbaum (a Battleaxe Nurse trope) and Crystal Lutz, an accordion-playing figment of the melting man’s imagination.

Still, the good stuff is really good. The boys’ experiences at camp are funny. I even chuckled at Max’s constant stream of masturbation jokes. Ariel’s refugee experience is gripping and heartbreakingly believable. I would have liked The Alex Crow better if Smith had stuck to Ariel’s two narrative strands, and devoted more creative energy to developing his female characters. The melting man turns out to be a red herring, anyway; and the voyage of The Alex Crow could have been condensed within a short passage from Mrs. Nussbaum’s book, which Ariel reads at camp.

I began reading Red Queen a few days ago with high hopes. I generally enjoy fantasy, scifi, superhero, and dystopia stories – all elements contained within this attractively-bound book. In a nutshell, Mare Barrow is a member of the oppressed Reds who discovers that she has a special power that simultaneously makes her useful to and a threat to the wealthy, powerful Silvers. Complicating matters are three guys with three different agendas, all pulling her head and heart in three different directions. Can she use her newfound ability and position to help her people? And which guy will she choose? It had me at hello.

Then Silver blood was spilled, and my brain had trouble suspending disbelief. Humans with silver blood? I found myself wondering what could make blood that color, and went so far as to google it. Did you know there is a species of Antarctic fish that has translucent white blood? It’s because it has no hemoglobin! That doesn’t explain how a race of humans could evolve to survive without hemoglobin in their blood (the fish don’t need it because they live in very oxygen-rich water). Never mind, let’s just assume that aliens were involved. If the Silvers are a new race of alien/human/mutant/superheroes, though, did they really need to be white? Silvers turn white when they blush – they are literally the whitest people ever.

Still, when I was able to shut off my brain and not think too much, I enjoyed Red Queen. It features a plucky heroine, some good action, a few pleasing twists, and plenty of teen angst. Though the big twist suffers from too much foreshadowing, I did get swept up in the climactic battle at the end. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late to elevate Red Queen from the middle of the dystopia pack.

Granted, it really just needed to rise above The Alex Crow. The truth is, when I think about Red Queen, it wasn’t just the silver blood that bothered me. Aveyard’s world-building in general wasn’t very thorough; and while she created a Strong Female Character in Mare, her other characters seemed a bit flat. I actually wanted to learn more about Evangeline, Mare’s main rival. She was depicted as a heartless bitch, and I felt like she got short shrift. Descriptions of places were vague, and the kingdom of Norta never came to life for me. I wish I could have seen the map that Mare studied at Summerton.

That’s why The Alex Crow is the victor in this battle. As flawed as it is, Ariel and Max lived and breathed from beginning to end. Maybe I’m a sucker for orphans and masturbation jokes?

WINNER: THE ALEX CROW BY ANDREW SMITH

Reviewed by Donna Block, Niles Public Library District

 

 

Tournament of Books Round 2: Walk on Earth a Stranger vs. The Alex Crow

Comparing The Alex Crow and Walk on Earth a Stranger is tricky. One might think comparing two books is like deciding between Red Delicious and Granny Smith apples. In this case, it’s more like comparing apples to celery. Or comparing a goldfish to a shoe. These books are so completely different, a comparison is very, very tricky.

Walk on Earth a Stranger by Rae Carson is the story of Lee, a 16-year-old girl living in Virginia in 1849. Lee has a gift that comes in very useful in this time and place – she can sense gold. Nuggets buried in dirt, dust in a stream, or even jewelry around someone’s neck, gold takes her breath away and calls to her. Lee and her parents have used this talent wisely. They are no richer nor poorer than anyone else in their small town, and they are a close, happy trio. One day, this all goes wrong. Lee returns home to find her parents murdered and their hidden stash of gold stolen. Disguising herself as a boy, Lee flees to California with her best friend Jefferson, drawn by the recent discovery of gold in the area.

I really enjoyed Walk on Earth a Stranger. Historical fiction is my cup of tea, and this was a well-done story about a time period that doesn’t get much play in YA fiction. The bit of fantasy thrown into the otherwise realistic story is also a fun touch. The only downfall of the story, if there was one, is that it was slightly predictable. It follows the format that so many other novels follow – young orphan gets by with plucky attitude and talents, has a number of minor adventures, and *SPOILER* confronts the bad guy at the end. However, this doesn’t detract from the story in any way. I finished this and felt for sure it was going to be the winner of my two books.

The Alex Crow by Andrew Smith doesn’t summarize well. I read the LOC summary and thought “This book sounds like four unrelated stories crammed into one.” Primarily, it is the story of a boy named Ariel, who is the sole survivor of a massacre in his Middle Eastern Village. Ariel is taken from his refugee village and “adopted” by an American army major. He is placed in a small West Virginian town with a family that includes Max, a boy only 16 days older than Ariel. Max’s father works for a research group who is creating all sorts of top-secret devices and incredible projects, including bringing animals like the Polynesian Crow back from extinction. (So what if this de-extinction process has the small side effect of making the animals suicidal?) Mixed in with Ariel’s stories of his present and past are diary entries of an arctic expedition gone wrong and sections about the “melting man,” who is listening to Joseph Stalin talk in his head and is building a giant bomb in his U-haul.

The different stories, as crazy as it sounds, tie together in the end. Smith drops hints as the novel progresses and the reader begins to see how these are all related. Each different story has a clear voice and style so there is no doubt which narrative one is reading and no confusion, which really surprised and pleased me. Even though there are unusual elements to the story, it’s definitely not a fantasy and would fall under the emerging genre of Realistic Fantasy.

I was so sure Walk on Earth a Stranger was my winner, I didn’t start The Alex Crow for a few days. But when I finally did start it, I couldn’t put it down. The Alex Crow is more intricate, more intriguing, and written with more depth and complexity than Walk on Earth a Stranger. These two books have different audiences and will each appeal to teens in a different way. While it’s not really fair to compare these two books (again, like comparing tacos to gingko trees), The Alex Crow is the clear winner for its unique format, clever storyline, and interesting characters. I can’t adequately sell it to you. Just read it.

WINNER: THE ALEX CROW BY ANDREW SMITH

Reviewed by Gail Guzman, Librarian at Thornton Fractional South High School

Tournament of Books Round 1: The Alex Crow vs. Ink and Bone

Two books- one set in (mostly) modern day with a splash of sci/fi vs a dystopian fantasy novel- which one will win and move on in the tournament?!

The Alex Crow written by Andrew Smith is weird, Weird, WEIRD. Smith’s books typically revolve around teen boys and extreme situations, and this book follows suit. There are several seemingly unrelated stories that somehow end up intersecting and are relayed through different narrators. The narrators and different story arcs include a boy named Ariel from the Middle East who survives his town’s slaughter and then his journey to freedom and eventual adoption by an American family, a schizophrenic man on a mad mission, a failed naval expedition to the Arctic from the late 1800’s, maladjusted boys at summer camp and a tech company that is developing biological implants. Ariel and his adoptive brother Max’s adventures at camp are absurd but terribly honest, and you learn about one hundred different and raunchy ways to say masturbation. This is a layered story that is deeper than one might think in the beginning, with thought provoking issues. If you resist the urge the put the book down in the beginning, you will not be disappointed with the end!

Ink and Bone written by Rachel Caine was the opposite reading experience, where I was intrigued in the beginning, but let down at the end. In a steampunk dystopian alternate world, the Alexandria Library never burned, leading libraries to gain great knowledge to be kept hoarded away from the masses, with personal ownership of books outlawed. Jess Brightwell, whose family business is smuggling books to the rich, is accepted as an apprentice to be trained to enter the Great Library’s ranks. He and his fellow recruits are winnowed down to a smaller group by their teacher Scholar Wolfe, and later sent on a dangerous mission to help retrieve some original books from a war torn region. The book has several parallels to the Harry Potter series such as students trying to find their footing at a new school, a cold teacher who is not what he seems, and fighting against a powerful evil. I tire of almost all Science Fiction/Fantasy novels having to be series, often leading to long winded and confusing plot lines. As expected this book is the first in a series, so the ending is set up to continue storylines that were left open ended.

Both books deal primarily with male main characters, include a large group of motley side characters and are action driven, making them well matched. I liked both main characters, but Ariel in The Alex Crow was the more enduring of the two, with me rooting for his hard won happy ending. While Ink and Bone had many merits and I originally thought it would win, I wasn’t invested enough in the story, due to its several convoluted plot threads, to want to continue the series. Thus, the stand alone novel, The Alex Crow, is the winner!

WINNER: THE ALEX CROW BY ANDREW SMITH

Reviewed by Nancy Reimer McKay, Ella Johnson Memorial Library

Round Two: I’ll Give You the Sun vs. Grasshopper Jungle

So here’s the thing: Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith got kind of a bum deal this round. I’m glad I read this book. There are a lot of things I liked about it – the gross-out humor, the crazy science, Robby and Ingrid and the underground compound with all its weird pieces sprinkled throughout Ealing, this dying Iowa town that felt so real in its insular detail. I loved the Unstoppable Corn and the Unstoppable Soldiers and the surreal quality of the science fiction laid over this absolutely normal town in the middle of nowhere.

Little things like how Smith uses food metaphors to describe the skin tones of all the white Iowans in the book – subtly pointing out how ridiculous a thing this is to do when describing a person of any color. Big things like how authentic Austin’s confusion regarding sexuality feels. Austin knows he’s in love with both his girlfriend Shann and his best friend Robby, but what does that mean? What should he do? And why does everything on Earth make him horny all the time?

Austin’s voice – and the question of how much of this history he’s sharing is actually, reliably true – and the question that rises from that – how much of any history is actually, reliably true? This is the heart of the book.

But (and you knew that but was coming from about a mile away – or the beginning of this post, anyway) – I am not the reader for this book. I know there are people out there who love this book. I know there are teens out there to whom I will recommend Grasshopper Jungle and who will adore it. It’s not you Grasshopper Jungle, it’s me. Austin kept going around and around in circles with his history and the voice kept me at arm’s distance, and honestly, I don’t like to have to think so hard about what the author is trying to do while I read (see, bum deal, right?).  I knew going in that there were going to be giant, unstoppable bugs who would only want two things – to paraphrase a bit: to eat and to copulate, but it felt like it took forever to get to the, er, copulating bugs!!

And then I read Jandy Nelson’s I’ll Give You the Sun. And I fell in love. This book – oh man this book. It kept me up ‘til 2 in the morning when I finally had to put it down and go to sleep only to wake up and immediately start reading it again. The twin voices of Noah and Jude separated by time and all the secrets and lies between them captured me in a way Austin’s voice just didn’t. Just like in Grasshopper Jungle there are complex explorations of identity and sexuality going on here both for Jude and for Noah, who are both attracted to boys.

The way Nelson structures the two narratives is masterful – revealing clues to what happened in the years between through both sides of the timeline without the plot or the timing ever seeming forced. Because it’s broken up like this, it’s almost a puzzle structure (literary catnip to me – more of GJ’s bum deal) where you can see the pieces falling into place faster and faster towards the end.

Grief is a theme of intense interest to me – my brother died in a car accident over 8 years ago and a close friend followed several years after from the flu – and this book is chock full of grief. Grief not only for those who have left us through death, but grief for how we hide ourselves from the world and grief for how often we seem to harm the ones we love.

But Nelson also shows how humor is still there – even when our worlds are falling apart. I kept stopping to read funny parts out loud to my husband. “I’m so glad I’m not a horse.” “Did you just say you’re glad you’re not a horse?” The way Nelson captures these things makes me wonder what kind of loss and grief she has lived through that she can depict them so well. I can only hope that any teens I know who are dealing with grief in their lives find their way to books like this one.

And to top it all off – I’ll Give You the Sun is also about the power of art to change lives, to remake the world, to break your heart open wide so it can be whole again. (I was a music major in college and my best friend was an art major – seriously the deck just could not BE more stacked against GJ.)

With all these themes (I didn’t even talk about forgiveness or ghosts or magic), I never felt bogged down in my reading. There were so many avenues of thought to explore, but I didn’t feel like I was admiring Nelson’s technique from afar – I was right there in the middle of it.. And on a slightly shallower note, the make-out scenes in I’ll Give You the Sun were really, really hot. Plus, I’m a sucker for a happy ending.

So, Grasshopper Jungle I like you a lot, I hope we can be friends. But my heart belongs to I’ll Give You the Sun. I just hope the next judge treats you kindly.

Winner: I’ll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

Round One: Guy in Real Life vs. 100 Sideways Miles

Guy is Real Life features alternating first person narratives between Lesh, a trench-coat wearing punk guy who gets sucked into playing a massively multiplayer online role-playing game (MMORPG, or MMO) and Svetlana, a willowy hippie girl who is the dungeon master for a tabletop role-playing game. Their lives collide quite literally when she wings him while on her bicycle, and they both expect that will be their last interaction.

After he’s grounded for the shenanigans that led him to be in the path of Svetlana’s bicycle, Lesh’s friend convinces him to sign up for a MMO. Half-hearted about playing an orc with his friend, Lesh remembers the hot girl he’d run into and creates a second character that looks like her and uses a variant of her name.

Their lives intertwine as they find themselves in the same lunch period, and as Lesh gets to know her, he realizes how different she is than the idealized character he’d made on the game, but he also realizes that he likes the experience of imagining himself in a woman’s role, and he likes the attention he gets from the other gamers. His reconciling his attraction to the real girl and his exploration into who girls get to be in this culture is by far the most interesting aspect of the book.

Their voices are fairly distinct and authentic, definitely a high point. It’s not a fast-paced book, but the alternating narratives help it move along. The exploration of gender roles and expectations makes this one worth a second look. Though Lesh is not gay (though he wonders briefly about it) and he’s not becoming a transvestite (though he wonders a little more about that), he still confronts some of the plusses and minuses of being labeled a “girl” in this culture, and he comes out a different person because of it.

One of the fallacies of the book is that there’s not a lot chances for social overlap between Svetlana and Lesh before they make an effort, but I don’t think that’s true. I am a gamer, and most of the gamers I know who play tabletop games like Dungeons and Dragons also enjoy computer and console gaming. I also know a fair number of gamers who were or are into grunge, punk, and all things gothic. I suppose some people make anything into a social distinction, but this is something that doesn’t match up to my experience of the subculture at all. It lessened my enjoyment of the book, but I think its handling of other issues more than makes up for it.

For 100 Sideways Miles, my first recommendation to anyone even thinking about reading it is to skip the front cover flap. Over 50% of the events listed in the hook on the front flap don’t happen until after page 200, and it doesn’t do justice the book’s strengths. The book is light on plot with not much to write in a traditional summary, rather the story is about self-discovery and coming of age in a hundred little ways, often with a hilarious edge to it.

Flynn is epileptic as the result of an injury he sustained while he was seven, and though he’s recovered well, he feels like the epilepsy limits how those around him see him, particularly his father. Flynn’s father is a misanthropic author who had one hugely successful book: an apocalyptic science fiction featuring characters that are very much taken from Flynn’s life after the accident. The publicity that the book generated leaves Flynn feeling trapped within that portrayal. The bulk of the action is the everyday progression of incidents that leads Flynn to discover that he’s not limited by what people think of him, that he’s more than how he’s portrayed in his father’s book, and that his future is his to decide.

The characters are a delight. Flynn’s best friend is the most inappropriate guy in their class (there’s one in every class) and provides most of the humor and profanity in the book. Flynn’s love interest, Julia, has her own quirks and issues that are portrayed well. Flynn’s father was my favorite character from the book – he has his own understated humor, and most interestingly, he had his own issues about coming to terms with Flynn’s disability. Flynn himself is a compelling narrator. He’s a fairly literal guy, which it is suggested is a side effect of the accident, but Smith did not get most of the other details of epilepsy right. Flynn does a lot of things that an epileptic really should not do. The most glaring example is the several times that Flynn swimming is a plot point. It seems like Smith was selective about what aspects of the disorder that he wanted to include, and they only crop up in the plot when it’s convenient, disappearing the rest of the time into a generic feeling of not belonging.

At the start of the book, Smith writes in a more stream of consciousness narrative, with many tangents and side scenes that all eventually do add up to a point. While being more true to actual trains of thought and courses of conversations, it was a little disconcerting. Making it an even more questionable stylistic choice, the narration style only lasted a few chapters before becoming much more linear for the rest of the book.  It might have been more of a plus if he had been more deliberate with it; as it is, it seems like a half-hearted stunt to get attention early on in the book.

So, the verdict: They both have strong characters and voices. They both have plausible enough realistic fiction plots. Both have some sexual sparks but deliberate choices for no actual sex. Both have a sense of humor without being just a funny book. 100 Sideways Miles, however, wishes it was Catcher in the Rye and falls short, while Guy in Real Life at least brings up interesting and timely questions of masculinity and how men are and are not allowed to express themselves in our society.

Guy in Real Life, For the Win!

Round one: Glory O’ Brien’s History of the Future VS Grasshopper Jungle AKA Chronicles of the Apocalypse

In Glory O’Brien’s History of the Future by A. S. King, Glory O’Brien has no future. Despite her impending high school graduation, and her talent as a reflective and creative photographer, Glory has applied to no colleges and made no plans. Glory has become paralyzed by the fear of becoming her mother, Darla. Darla O’Brien, also a smart, funny, creative young woman and a gifted photographer, committed suicide when Glory was four years old. Glory’s father never recovered, giving up on his own career as a painter and eating himself to 400 pounds; he has stopped truly living. Glory has a “best friend,” Ellie, who is a friend only by default of proximity. Though Ellie brags about one day running away from her family’s controlling hippie commune, she too has no future plans.

When Glory and Ellie drink the desiccated remains of a bat, the two girls can suddenly see the past and future of each person they meet. And Glory sees horrific things. Everyone’s future culminates in a second Civil War, the history of which Glory begins to write down. She seeks out new people to piece together the story of this future she uncovers, and in doing so discovers her own past, present, and future. She gains the courage to ask questions about her mom, sets healthier boundaries with the parasitic Ellie, and reconnects with her dad. Readers watch a frightened teen become a compassionate, courageous young adult who not only turns away from numb despair toward hope, but helps others do the same. Despite the dark future Glory sees, knowledge that she will play a role in the future empowers her. She has the power to build her own future and begins to do just that.

A more visceral apocalyptic tale, Andrew Smith’s Grasshopper Jungle is quite literally a story of piss, shit, blood, and semen – the very stuff of life. The dust jacket promises catastrophic action, with 6-foot, man-eating praying mantises, yet these monsters don’t appear till almost 150 pages into the story. And while they do provide pretty provocative action, they are but a metaphorical and atmospheric backdrop for Austin Sczerba’s quest for truth. Austin is chronicling the history of the end of the world as these giant bugs take over. And much like the giant bugs, EVERYTHING in the history of the end of the world makes Austin horny – most of all his girlfriend, Shann, and his best friend Robby. They are both in love with him, and he with them.  Austin can’t decide between the two people he loves more than anything in the world and he smashes both their hearts trying not to decide between them. But this is not the real crux of the story either.

As Austin tells his personal history of the end of the world, he recounts the history of his Polish immigrant ancestors (and their glamorous urinals), vagrants, cooks, neighbors (and their testicles), friends, strangers, politicians (and their testicles), teachers, Saint Casimir, a mad scientist (and his semen), cave painters, and humanity itself. In the larger narrative created, we are a bunch of messy animals, trying and failing miserably to prevent the repetition of our own mistakes. And the inevitability of it is gut wrenching, terrifying, and tragic. The bugs, Austin, his friends, and family become a metaphor for all of humanity desperately chronicling their terrible mistakes in an effort to create some tiny change in human history. It’s funny and clever, crude and uncomfortable, raw and poignant, and absolutely heartbreaking. This is a story, like all of Andrew Smith’s, that will stay with me.

These were excellent books to juxtapose – both about teens finding themselves amidst tragedy, the unraveling of civilizations, and the connectedness of past, present, and future. But the history chronicled by Glory O’Brien pales in comparison to that written by Austin Sczerba. Glory’s magical visions of the future are almost unnecessary to the novel. They are emotionally distant, lifeless, lacking detail. But her story is more accessible than Grasshopper Jungle. I will be book-talking Glory’s story to my students, not Austin’s. Yet Grasshopper Jungle wins this competition, hands down. Austin’s history of apocalypse is acerbic, poetically profane, and epic in scope. The many layered meanings of Austin’s story, while creating a rich and complex picture of the human condition, do make it impenetrable to an inexperienced teen reader. This book requires a special student – one with advanced reading skills but also liberal appreciation of scatological and sexual references. For that reader, however, this book will dig inside and crack them open like the giant bugs of MI Plague Strain 412E.

P.S. I’m glad that Edgar Wright (Scott Pilgrim, Shaun of the Dead) has signed on to direct the movie version of Grasshopper Jungle. If anyone can do this book justice, it’s the creator of The World’s End.

Winner: Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith