Novel Review: Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins

            So here it is: The finale. The end. The very last post I may ever write about Suzanne Collins’s The Hunger Games.

            My review of Mockingjay.

            Well. Let’s clear up some stuff first. Number One—the first HG book was awful. Number Two—the second HG book wasn’t much better. Number Three—these books offer no hope that humanity will change, that there is a force of good that can overcome the evil of carnality and bring us to a place of peace and goodness. Mockingjay was no different.

            While some character(s) advanced a little (Finnick, by name), the writing quality really didn’t. Katniss is still the flipping-back-and-forth girl we’ve seen since book one. She doesn’t change at all. AT ALL. Hasn’t changed in three books! I detect no growth here, in the finale, and I didn’t think there would be any, anyway. And while Peeta had a more determined air about him, he was still soppy and bent on keeping Katniss alive at all costs. Granted, he loves her, but really? You’re going to kill yourself to keep her alive, Peeta? Stupid, if you ask me. Why not fight for her, BY HER SIDE, until the end creeps up on you? Whenever that may be? And Gale? That moment when he was about to cry really made me . . . annoyed.

            And the plot? While near the ending the twists became clear, the fulfillment of answers and the reveal were nonexistent. We know next to nothing about Coin’s full plan and how she enacted it, who she got to be with her, and why she wanted Katniss alive even after the former thought the latter was dead. (Oh, wait. Spoiler alert.) On that Katniss note, why did she not kill the Mockingjay in her sleep? With an overdose of morphling? Would have been so easy. But no. Nothing like that. Bah. Major holes riddled the book, like how Katniss and Finnick “figured out” the Capitol was set up like the arena, which was a scene not entirely clear in wording or in action anyway. Oh, and the whole meeting-of-former-tributes near the end about enacting one last Hunger Games? Random, and quite frankly unneeded. And the fact that Katniss, who was a confessed hater of the Capitol and their Games, said “Yes do it?” . . . what? Again I say, honestly?

            Oh, and that’s another thing. Hate. This book’s energy is hate. The plot’s driver is hate. The entire reason Katniss exists is her HATRED of the Capitol. That’s why she does what she does, is because of hatred! Even close to the end of the book, there, she’s devising ways to kill herself. She loses her hatred, and therefore her reason for being flies out the window, so she gives up. And the fact that she “lets” Peeta revive her? Don’t get me wrong, I always knew she would end up with him (sorry, spoiler alert), but I didn’t think their final reunion would be so . . . not cheesy, but random. There should have been more leading up to it. A talk, for instance. In which there is both healing and baring of souls and uniting of hearts. Instead, they have sex. How shallow.

            And don’t get me started on the epilogue. Sure, we see Katniss’s and Peeta’s kids, their finality in marrying and stuff, but what of Panem? What of Gale? What of Haymitch and District 12 and how the country really turned out? We. Get. NOTHING.

            The entire Hunger Games series presents nothing for a world full of hatred already. The point that  brutality can only be beaten by brutality is not one a hopeless world needs to hear. Violence cannot quell the human corruption called carnality. Only Jesus can soothe our wounds and hurts and bring us into a fullness we can only imagine without Him. The Hunger Games presents us with a perfect picture of how hopeless our world truly is, and how desperately it is crying out for a Savior.

            Luckily, we’ve already been given one.

            Speaking of giving, I give Mockingjay Two flipped pages out of Ten. Why two? Because we didn’t go into the arena again.

Novel Review: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children by Ransom Riggs

            Okay. This is my last review for the night, and I’ll have to see more movies and read more books to get on the review train again. I haven’t been caught up in a while, so this is rather relieving for me. That stupid sticky won’t stare me down anymore. Ha! VICTORY.

            Moving on.

            Since I saw it on Wal-Mart shelves (I know, not the best place to book spy), I’ve wondered what Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children was all about. Recently I ordered it and polished all 348 pages of it off in three days. Oh, it was that good.

            The story moves kind of slowly at first. We’re introduced to a not-so-hard-to-figure-out MC (main character) named Jacob Portman, and his grandfather tells stories about an island where the sun never stopped shining and peculiar children lived, himself included. Well, Jacob’s progression from his grandfather’s death to finally stepping through to the world that was told of if a somewhat tedious experience, but there are moments where you’re grabbed by the face and forced to keep reading, like when Jacob first finds the house. Then when he goes there and opens the trunk.

            When it comes to character, all the peculiar children—and even Miss Peregrine—were extremely well-written. But Jacob fell flat in places. Sometimes he just seemed like some whiny rich kid who was chasing after his grandfather’s stories for answers. Other times he was the heroic and conflicted hero we all want to see win. The flip may have been intentional, but the progression was slower than it needed to be.

            Two things saved this book: (1) the unique and refreshing integration of strange antique photographs to make the story come to life, and (2) the crazy-creative villains and wide-open space for a series. I. Hated. Dr. Golan. Period. What a jerkbag! Oh, I knew there was something fishy about him, especially when he was at the airport, but the end clinched it for me. And what an end for him. Ha. Take that, nosy parker.

Ransom Riggs’ debut novel could have used some major polishing in some areas, but when Jacob transformed into the hero (finally) I couldn’t wait to keep turning the pages. For Pete’s sake, Emma was such a BA, she outshined Jacob the entire time. No pun intended.

One thing I didn’t appreciate was the unnecessary use of excessive language. A cuss here or there doesn’t bother me, but when you take the Lord’s name in vain? There’s never any call for that, I don’t care how dramatic a scene may be. Minor cusses, fine. Misusing God’s name, not okay. That’s a huge factor in lowering the book’s score. I give it Four flipped pages out of Ten.

Novel Review: Seekers: Return to the Wild, Book One - Island of Shadows by Erin Hunter

            I read a blog post on novelmatters.com recently that really grabbed my attention. It was called “Storyteller Vs. Status Seeker.” The premise of the post was that real and true storytellers can’t wait to get back in and start writing again, no matter how “important” publicity may be. They want words, and they will get their words one way or another. Status seekers are storytellers who get caught up in pumping out the next novel for the sake of noveling. They want as many books as possible to be recognized as “that author.” Unfortunately, it happens a lot.

            Mega-unfortunately, it’s happened to one of my favorite authors of all time.

            Erin Hunter had an amazing first series of Warriors books that captured my imagination and took me to the forest I have never left in my mind as I followed Fireheart and Graystripe on their perilous journey to stay alive amidst so much war and devastation among the cat Clans. I will never forget the amazingness of that first series. However, as the years go by, the team of five have fallen from storytellers to status seekers. I witnessed this over their last warrior cat arc, Warriors: Omen of the Stars. Quality fell dramatically. All but two of the characters fell into the “blah” and “gray” categories. It was like a mass merging of personalities into one entity that somehow split itself into multiple creatures with slightly altering factors. Needless to say, I was severely annoyed. This quality downturn took a sharp hook into their bear series, Seekers.

            Now, the first series I can’t review because I read it a while ago and can’t remember everything about the books. But I can say that the last one in the first series disappointed. Hunter built up the plot to where the bears—Toklo, Lusa, Ujurak, and Kallik—were going to do something amazing, but what they ended up doing was destroying an oil tower to “save the wild.” (insert disappointed stoic face) Wow, really? This trend continues in the second series, Seekers: Return to the Wild.

            The first book pretty much was about this: travel and getting lost. The teaser offered us that Toklo, Lusa, Kallik, and now Yakone were going to get lost in a set of dark tunnels and be stuck there amidst peril and adventure as they tried to find their way out. Did it happen? No. They were lost for approximately two chapters, three at most. This—aggravated—me. To no end did it aggravate me. And the little bear they ended up encountering? Yeah, Nanulak was more a pestilence and annoyance than anything. I hated him so much I cannot begin to convey the frustration I harbored towards this bear. Oh, and yes, hunting and stuff is essential, but when the book is comprised of 80% hunting and travel with random, meaningless appearances from other bears (Tekani, the polar bear Toklo met up with briefly), then I fail to understand how the book made it onto the New York Times bestseller list. It failed in delivering what it promised. Miserably.

            Seekers: Return to the Wild: Island of Shadows gets Three flipped pages out of Ten.

Novel Review: House of Secrets by Tracie Peterson

            The time I post these are always contrary to the time I write them. FYI, it is currently 1:48 AM. I—cannot—sleep.

            To the matter at hand.

            Now. Normally when a normal person reads a fantasy book, they feel the need to go back to the real world with a life-fiction, as I call them. For me, it’s the other way around. I can only take so much life-fiction before I have to delve back into the realm of the speculatively concrete world of fantasy, where anything is possible. To test a popular CBA author, I wanted to read one of her most recent books that my mother just so happened to have (thanks, Mom!). House of Secrets by Tracie Peterson . . . the cover entranced me. Usually books have elaborate layouts with inset text giving reviews or little teaser taglines. Not House of Secrets. The cover is simply three sisters holding each other in a family embrace, their backs turned to the viewer, and a forest in front of them. The title and author’s name are simply typed onto the picture in such a plain way, I was immediately drawn to the novel. Which is unusual, considering a year ago, I probably would have never considered this book to be on my TBR list.

            Anyway, to the writing. Bailee Cooper, the main character and oldest Cooper sister, had a distinct-ish voice. You could tell that she was trying to keep the family secrets and keep her sisters safe from what she thought would harm them. However, something about her felt a little too plain. A little too . . . expected. This was the case with most of the characters in the novel. Too much expectedness.

            A lot of the book involved talking, too. I mean, don’t get me wrong; novels are comprised of 85% dialogue. It’s what moves the story forward. But a little action now and then wouldn’t hurt, and I’m not talking about cooking a simple meal. Yeah, that’s action, but when the meal is alluded to instead of some talking while cooking (seeing as how the sisters had some special spaghetti recipe) irked me. Instead the talking was done mostly around seating areas and the seaside. These intimate spaces served well for the dialogue exchange but impeded any real movement that could have added to both the characters’ personalities and the story’s lack of action.

            Dialogue aside, there were few twists, and the one I didn’t completely see coming wasn’t all shocking because I had a niggle about it anyway. I think that Geena, the second-oldest Cooper sister, should have been diagnosed with their mother’s psychological disease to make things more intense. Geena could have added a lot of tension with normality one second, craziness the second. That would have been a twist we wouldn’t have seen coming but only suspected, because Piper, the youngest Cooper, displayed signs of the illness (I won’t tell you what it was in case you want to read the book). It turned out that Piper only had hypothyroidism, not the mental illness, but Geena should have had it. I can only grieve the lost action and detail that could have been added, the tension that could have smoked things up.

            Now, these aren’t the major reason I had a problem with the novel. My biggest irk was the romance plot. It—was—blatant—and—obvious. Bailee hardly struggled with herself, Mark seemed far too perfect to be human, and their kiss? Pah. I expected fireworks. I got a sparkler. A good novel is supposed to make you feel. I felt nothing. I wanted more heat, more struggle, more undeniable passion that made the two unable to stay away from each other, but Bailee could have fought against that even more and made the first kiss that much more explosive! Sadly, it didn’t happen.

            All in all, I wouldn’t call House of Secrets a bad book. It was good to read. Easy. But it didn’t challenge me. Not in life or faith or writing skill. And I never got punched in the face. (A good book always punches you in the face somehow.) Tracie Peterson kinda fell flat on this one, folks. Five flipped pages out of Ten.

Novel Review: Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher

            Well. We’ve all had our share of depression, right? Right. Sometimes authors just want to shed a little light on a topic that’s hard to swallow, and suicide is one of those stickers that lodges itself in your throat. No one wants to talk about it. Why? I don’t know, but Thirteen Reasons Why by Jay Asher gave me a little more insight into how everyone affects everyone.

            I had never really thought about it before, but Hannah Baker is right. Everyone does affect everyone, and whether we like it or not, our lives intertwine with EVERYONE ELSE’S ON THE ENTIRE PLANET. Let me give you an example.

            I may know someone who lives in Colorado who teaches a kid whose parent runs a business that has dealings in California. Well, the California business trades and has close ties with corporations in Japan, and this corporation deals with the distribution of emergency supplies to third world countries, and one shipment going out has the boss’s right hand man on board. The right hand man knows a worker in Africa that’s from New Zealand, who’s a recorded artist with three albums, who works with relief efforts to dig wells in this country their relieving. The kids in the country go to schools built by a Russian missionary who attended seminary in France and made several European friends, including a French woman who works with an American who lives in Sweden now, and this American is married to an Icelandic woman who has British friends, including my own cousin. My cousin knows me. And I may know someone . . . .

            You get the picture.

            That being said, we affect everyone we come into contact with. And Jay Asher displays this really well in Thirteen Reasons Why. Clay Jensen’s receiving of the tapes is a catalyst to a whole world of introspection. How did he make Hannah Baker’s life different? How did he interact with the very people who betrayed her and made her life miserable? Did he take time to know her parents and even her? He felt extreme guilt, overall, because her reputation scared him. And because he didn’t get to know her so they’d talk and she’d have someone to vent to, she bottled everything up. And when she bottled everything up, she got to thinking. And when she got to thinking, she thought no one truly cared and decided that her life was meaningless anyway; why not end it?

            You see? Human strings are entangling.

            The novel hit close to home for me. With God’s amazing help, I’ve persuaded two friends out of suicide. They started caring because someone else did. They saw the value in life because someone saw value in them.

            Looks like this review turned into more of an essay-like thing, huh?

            Well, let me quickly break down what I thought of the novel. Plot was interesting, and I’ve never seen a book that deals with suicide deal with it like this before. Everything else has the victim’s family and stuff looking back, but this was from the victim’s viewpoint herself, which was neat, and sad. Characters were real—and sometimes infuriating. I wanted to personally kick Bryce Walker below the belt, and the same with Justin, who let Courtney get raped. And I felt bad for Clay because he wanted so badly to tell Hannah not to do it, that she was valuable . . . but it was too late. That hurt the most. Mechanics and grammar were fine, and the viewpoint was really done well. The book would have dragged and suffered under anything other than first-person present tense.

            Overall, Jay Asher did a really good job handling a prickly topic with gentle hands. Brutal, but gentle. Eight flipped pages out of Ten.