Khanh the Killjoy

Those are some rough-looking 23 and 27-year olds, I tell ya. :|

My face feels as if it’s turning as red as kimchi.
I’m out of breath, and my nerves are fried squid.

What. The. Fuck. Just because a character is Asian, it doesn't mean she thinks like that. Never once in my life have I ever had a thought along the line of "Man, I feel as limp as a bowl of Pho noodles." No. Just NO.

This review will be sprinkled with profanity, rage, and random insertions of hot Korean men gifs that serve no purpose whatsoever. Why? Because I can.



It's going to be fucking long because I have a lot to say, there will be 3 parts:

I: WHERE ARE THE HOT KOREAN MEN?! WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT?!
II: Summary & character analysis
III: deus ex fucking machina AKA I DON'T WANT NO FUCKING GROUP OF WHITE MEN SOLVING ALL THE FUCKING PROBLEMS IN A BOOK ABOUT KOREAN MYTHOLOGY, OK?!



Part I: THE RANT

What kind of The Last Samurai bullshit is this? THERE IS NOT A SINGLE KOREAN MALE TEEN IN THIS BOOK. There is something wrong about this, considering THIS BOOK TAKES PLACE IN SOUTH KOREA.

This is not a good book. It had some excellent parts; the setting is wonderful, the mythology is beautiful, the Korean culture is excellent. But they didn't save the book. I wanted to love the book. I wanted to love the main (Asian, whoo!) main character, but every time I feel myself warming to her, she does something so incredibly, unbelievably stupid that completely erases any such sympathy I might have had.

I feel like this book owes Asian guys an apology. Why the fuck would you give a Korean-American girl living in Seoul, South Korea---a WHITE love interest?! There is ONE. ONE Asian guy of her age in the book. And he's an asshat. WHY?! WHY?!

Let's get one thing straight: I do not have a problem with interracial dating. This is not what it's about. I am not racist. I simply wanted an underrepresented group of people to---finally---get a chance to shine. This book failed in so many ways, this is simply one of them.

You know how in the movies, like The Last Samurai, the white guy comes into Japan, out-fucking samurais the fucking samurais, takes over their culture, does their culture better than the Japanese natives, and end up winning the heart of the beautiful Japanese woman in the fucking village because somehow, the Asian guys there just ain't good enough?

Yeah. Look at this book. Fuck this book.

This book takes place in Korea. There are cool name-dropping of places, the book counts out one-two-three for you as hana-dul-set. We get to see the shopping district of Myeongdong. We get to learn a hell of a lot of Tae Kwon Do terminology, but for all intents and purposes, this book could have taken place in the Korean District in Garden Grove instead of South Korea and you wouldn't fucking know the difference. You know how I know? Because I live right next to one in real life. Garden Grove, California. Literally one mile away from my house.

Fucking everyone speaks English within the book. The main character goes to a fucking international school. The students, the few students there are, are named Michelle, Lily (a blonde), Marc, Kumar, Tyler. There is not a single Korean boy in the book besides for the one-time mention of the motherfucking douche who spars with her in Tae Kwon Do class. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THIS.

Asian guys get a bad rap in the media. They're portrayed as spineless. Nerdy. Weak. Geeky. They are portrayed as either too possessive and violent, or completely useless with women and romance in general. Can you think of the last time an Asian guy actually gets a girl in a movie?

I am well aware that there are stereotypes to every race. I am well aware of the fact that South Korea is not populated with guys who look like fucking k-pop idol. Give me some fucking credit, I am realistic here. That's not my point. I know not everyone looks like It is offensive, it is ignorant, and I believe a good book should seek to dispell them. I am perfectly well aware that it is entirely possible for a Korean girl to fall in love with a white guy, but it's like...relocating to Wichita, Kansas, the whitest place you can imagine in the United States...and falling for a guy named Sateesh. It ain't fucking probable.

This is fiction. I wanted a cute Korean guy, ok? I wanted this:



And this:



And this:



Ok, I'm just being gratuitous now. But can you blame me? (The guy on the right is not available because he's in my dreams.)

This is ok. This is cute.



This is what we got in this book. I DON'T WANT IT, OK?

Part II: The actual analysis.

This book had a lot of good things going on for it that ultimately didn't deliver. For one thing, the heroine was so infuriatingly stupid at times. Thoughout the book, I can't even count the times she goes "Oh, no!" "oh my god, I'm so sorry!" "Oh, crap, I fucked up!" etc. She doesn't fucking learn. I love a heroine who makes mistakes. I cannot tolerate one who does not learn from them.

The good: The culture feels authentic. The mythology is well-crafted. The atmosphere of Seoul feels real, but you don't get much of it at all because this book takes place in an international school where everyone might as well be white. It does not feel like a book that takes place in Seoul, S. Korea because of this fact.

The Summary:

“In ancient times there was a daughter of the spirit of the river.”

Her name is Princess Yuhwa. Her beauty was legendary, all who saw her fell in love with her at first sight. Unfortunately for Princess Yuhwa, she caught the attention of a rather unsavory suitor: the demigod Haemosu. Yuhwa doesn't want none of that shit.

“Why don’t princesses ever do something in all these old stories?” I interrupt. “Like try to escape or get someone to help them?”

A ha! She does! She gets the help of her father, only it wasn't enough. Still, she escaped. Princess Yuhwa fled the country. Haemosy's powers are limited to Korea, so he could not pursue her. Like a jilted suitor, Haemosu waits, angry. To this day, the descendants of Princess Yuhwa are doomed to be captured and enslaved into an unwanted wedding with Haemosu.

And thus, Jae Hwa's story begins.

Jae Hwa is sixteen, a Korean-American now forced to live in Seoul, Korea. Her father has relocated, thanks to his job, and she is now attending an international school in Seoul, where she is a fish out of water. She is an expert at Tae Kwon Do and archery, everything else is...not so great. She acts like a dork in front of the guy she likes (Marc). She misses her mother, dead of cancer, her father barely has any time for her, and her formal, disapproving grandfather just wants her out of the country. Why? For her safety. Right.

“You misunderstand me, Jae Hwa. It is not because I do not want you here. It is for your safety.” Then he shoots Dad a tight-lipped look. “You must take her back to America.”

At an archery exhibition, she sees something, a strange vision of a man nobody seems to be able to see. He catches her arrow.

“I knew you would come back, my princess,” he says.
I stop midstride at his words. There’s something about his dark-pooled eyes that causes my breath to catch and my heart to ice over.
“Just give me back my arrow,” I say.
But I never get it back.
Because he vanishes in a trick of the light.

Weird, right? Jae Hwa starts to think she's losing her mind because more and more and more strange things just appear fuck out of nowhere.

A growl rumbles. I look up and freeze. A massive, lionlike creature, eyes glowing yellow, stands in my path.

Strange figures appear, claiming to be her guardian.

“I am the Guardian of Seoul. Some call me Haechi. I have been sent by Palk to warn you and offer my protection.”
“But—but you attacked me,” I sputter. “And how do you know English?”

The everyday world disappears, only to reappear as if nothing had ever transpired.

It’s as if a switch has been flicked. Honking cars, the pound of construction, the roar of the buses replace the creature’s breathing. I swivel in a circle. Everything is back in place as if nothing happened.

Apparently, Jae Hwa isn't crazy, and neither is her grandfather. He told her the story of her past, of their family line. He knows what's in store for her in the future...All female descendants of her line have been captured by Haemosu to be his bride, Jae Hwa is in danger unless she leaves South Korea.

Jae Hwa doesn't have a whole lot of options.

“You can leave the country, although I doubt Haemosu would ever let you on that plane. Find someone to marry you and hope he does not die before you make it down the aisle. Haemosu gets terribly jealous of suitors.”
“Komo.” I give her an incredulous look. “I’m sixteen.”
“Or stay and fight. But whatever happens.” Her eyes narrow as thin as slivers. “Do not let him touch you.”

Do. Not. Let. Him. Touch. You. Remember, Haemosu's strength is superior in sunlight.

Simple enough, right? Well, easier said than done. Obey your family. Listen to them. Keep a low profile. Stay indoors. Whatever you do, do not:

a) Climb down the outside of your 9th story apartment to go to a party in the middle of the night.

It isn’t the first time I’ve dangled over the edge, streetcars zipping below me, to swing into our neighbors’ balconies.
I creep to the railing, careful that Dad doesn’t catch my silhouette through the windows, and climb over the metal bars. I could fall, but I know I won’t.

b) Go shopping with your pals

I should go and not let crazy mythical creatures control my life.

c) Go on a ski trip

Then I think about my aunt. She’s totally against the ski trip, especially since it’s outside of Seoul in the mountains. I thumb through the edges of my notebook. What should I do?
“Marc will be there,” Michelle says slyly.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go.”

d) GO INTO THE SUNLIGHT WHERE HAEMOSU IS THE STRONGEST

[My aunt] would flip if she knew I was out here on such a clear, sunny day. But all that seems so far away. I suck in a gulp of mountain air and feel as if I’ve finally escaped it all.

e) TOUCH THE GUY AFTER BEING TOLD NOT TO

“So you will come, then. To the land of the wonderful dream.” He extends his hand, and I take it without thinking. The instant we touch, it’s as if a small electrical shock surges into my fingertips.

f) TOUCH HIM AGAIN. Oh, but it's ok, because it's to save fucking lover boy, Marc.

No! I leap on Haemosu’s back and wrap my arm around his neck, choking him.

CHOKING COUNTS AS TOUCHING. IT AIN'T HEROIC IF IT'S STUPID.

Jae Hwa discovers a secret that brings in a completely stupid fucking The Last Samurai shit that I will go over later. Until then, will she be able to stop Haemosu from taking everyone she loves? Will Jae Hwa be able to discover the one, stupid, simple solution to all of this that's right in front of her face?

How do I stop him?
Dad knocks and opens the door. “I just got off the phone with your principal,” he says. “The police called the school. You’re suspended for three days. You’re lucky. You could have been deported.”

Let's see: Haemosu's powers are limited to South Korea. Her father won't let her leave South Korea. Hmm.

Jae Hwa-t the FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?: Jae Hwa is a sympathetic character. A second-generation immigrant who is out of touch with her ancestral culture, in a country she should---but doesn't quite fit in. I know how this feels, because I live in a culture of Asian immigrants myself. I was born in Vietnam, but my sister was born here, as are many of my friends. Cultural dissonance exists, and the lack of communication between different generations...parents, child, grandparents...can be jarring.

I liked this part of her. I didn't like how fucking dumb she acted. Jae Hwa was warned, time, after time, of what would happen if she disobeyed the rules. She is not to touch Haemosu. She is not to go into the sunlight. She is not to be pulled into his world. Jae Hwa disregards everything, every time.

"When he touches you, he will leave his mark… and your courting begins. Each time you meet, he will pull a little piece of your soul into his realm. Until you are no longer with us."

She keeps fucking up.

Haemosu left his mark. My stomach rolls, remembering my stupidity.

Again.

But I let him into my head. I’ve fallen into his freaking trap. So stupid!

She keeps realizing her errors. She does nothing to rectify them. She repeatedly makes the same fucking mistakes.

“It would have helped if you had stayed out of the sunlight. Or fought him in our world.” Komo is all brisk-like again. “If you had not let him touch you and pull you into his lands. If you had listened to me.”

She gets angry when confronted with her mistakes. She gets defensive, instead of being sorry.

She scowls, her eyebrows knitting close together. “I told you not to let him touch you.”
It’s as if I’d been slapped. Of all people in the whole entire planet, I thought she’d understand. Now she’s treating me as if I’d done something wrong.

THAT'S JUST IT, JAE HWA DID DO SOMETHING WRONG. Did she want a fucking cookie because she made a mistake? No. It's a matter of fucking life or death here.

PART III: LAST SAMURAI BULLSHITTERY

The Romance:

“I speak and write six languages fluently, been on the honor roll practically my entire life, and even know some judo moves."

The love interest in this book's name is Marc. Marc, spelled d-e-u-s-e-x-m-a-c-h-i-n-a.

For those unfamiliar with the term, it's a plot device I fucking hate in which an improbably person or situation comes in to save the fucking day. That is Marc.

Yeah, there's a lot of romance in this book, but the romance isn't so much a romance as it is a tool to save Jae Hwa's ass almost every fucking time. Marc is the name. Green-eyed Marc. Not Korean Marc. Whiter than white, green-eyed Marc.

Marc is perfect. He is completely, fucking bloody perfect. The sun god Haemosu doesn't shine anywhere so brightly as our beloved Marc. The stars never twinkle as bright as the stars in his eyes. You can see all of eternity if you happened to look up his ass.

Marc is Caucasian. He out-Asians Jae-Hwa.

“I’m fluent in Chinese!” he yells over the rush of everyone dashing into class.
I freeze. What can that boy not do?

He speaks better Korean than Jae Hwa herself.

Marc and Grandfather chat in Korean for the rest of the taxi ride. Marc is more fluent than I am.

Jae Hwa needs someone who understands what she's going through? Marc's here!

Marc slides his hand in mine. I don’t pull away. “I’m saying I can see things. You know, supernatural stuff."

Need to break into a super-high security place? MARC TO THE RESCUE.

He isn’t laughing. “I know where they keep their keys. I know where the back door is. And I know where the power box is.”

Need someone to save the awesome, Tae Kwon Do practicing, archery mistress Jae Hwa's life? MARC TO THE FUCKING RESCUE!

All I can think about is how Marc saved me and I did nothing. There must have been something I could’ve done.

LAST SAMURAI BULLSHITTERY: I fucking hate this. I'm not racist! I really am not! I just do not like the idea that a stranger can come into a land of culture and tradition and somehow find the fucking solution that's somehow unseen by the native experts themselves. It's a matter of cultural respect. It is a matter of decency. You do not come into a culture and expect to appropriate it. It is just rude, and that's what this book does.

Not only does it have a foreigner out-Asian the main character AND HER FAMILY, it has other Causasians who somehow infiltrate a Korean mystical order because the knowledge they contribute is so fucking knowledgeable. They somehow manage to upstage the original culture themselves?!

"Your dad isn’t Korean; and if it’s all so secret, then why do you know all this?”
“My dad is an expert in religious studies, and he’s an archaeologist.” Marc’s voice turns to a whisper. “Because of his expertise, he gained the trust of the Guardians."

Well, isn't that fucking terrific. Tell me something, would the Illuminati be so open the the idea of a foreigner entering their society? Would such a very insular community allow in foreigners JUST LIKE THAT?

If I know something about Asians, it's that Asians trust their own culture ONLY. You would be hard-pressed to find an extremely traditional Korean talking well about a Japanese, for instance.

I don't buy this.

Oh, and just because I can.



You're welcome.

Khanh is ANGRY.

Warning: long-ass rant. Read at your own risk. I'm not done with this review, but it's fucking 3 AM and I need to sleep. Part II (full story and character analysis) will come tomorrow night.

What kind of The Last Samurai bullshit is this? THERE IS NOT A SINGLE KOREAN MALE TEEN IN THIS BOOK. There is something wrong about this, considering THIS BOOK TAKES PLACE IN SOUTH KOREA.

This is not a good book. It had some excellent parts; the setting is wonderful, the mythology is beautiful, the Korean culture is excellent. But they didn't save the book. I wanted to love the book. I wanted to love the main (Asian, whoo!) main character, but every time I feel myself warming to her, she does something so incredibly, unbelievably stupid that completely erases any such sympathy I might have had.

I feel like this book owes Asian guys an apology. Why the fuck would you give a Korean-American girl living in Seoul, South Korea---a WHITE love interest?! There is ONE. ONE Asian guy of her age in the book. And he's an asshat. WHY?! WHY?!

Let's get one thing straight: I do not have a problem with interracial dating. This is not what it's about. I am not racist. I simply wanted an underrepresented group of people to---finally---get a chance to shine. This book failed in so many ways, this is simply one of them.

You know how in the movies, like The Last Samurai, the white guy comes into Japan, out-fucking samurais the fucking samurais, takes over their culture, does their culture better than the Japanese natives, and end up winning the heart of the beautiful Japanese woman in the fucking village because somehow, the Asian guys there just ain't good enough?

Yeah. Look at this book. Fuck this book.

This book takes place in Korea. There are cool name-dropping of places, the book counts out one-two-three for you as hana-dul-set. We get to see the shopping district of Myeongdong. We get to learn a hell of a lot of Tae Kwon Do terminology, but for all intents and purposes, this book could have taken place in the Korean District in Garden Grove instead of South Korea and you wouldn't fucking know the difference. You know how I know? Because I live right next to one in real life. Garden Grove, California. Literally one mile away from my house.

Fucking everyone speaks English within the book. The main character goes to a fucking international school. The students, the few students there are, are named Michelle, Lily (a blonde), Marc, Kumar, Tyler. There is not a single Korean boy in the book besides for the one-time mention of the motherfucking douche who spars with her in Tae Kwon Do class. THERE IS SOMETHING WRONG WITH THIS.

Asian guys get a bad rap in the media. They're portrayed as spineless. Nerdy. Weak. Geeky. They are portrayed as either too possessive and violent, or completely useless with women and romance in general. Can you think of the last time an Asian guy actually gets a girl in a movie?

I am well aware that there are stereotypes to every race. I am well aware of the fact that South Korea is not populated with guys who look like fucking k-pop idol. Give me some fucking credit, I am realistic here. That's not my point. Stereotypes are offensive, they are ignorant, and I believe a good book should seek to dispel them. I am perfectly well aware that it is entirely possible for a Korean girl to fall in love with a white guy, but it's like...relocating to Wichita, Kansas, the whitest place you can imagine in the United States...and falling for a guy named Sateesh. It ain't fucking probable.

This is fiction. I wanted a cute Korean guy, ok? I wanted this:



And this:



And this:



Ok, I'm just being gratuitous now. But can you blame me? (The guy on the right is not available because he's in my dreams.)

This is ok. This is cute.



This is what we got in this book. I DON'T WANT IT, OK?

More to come. Be warned.

Khanh is angry.

“A story? You are recording your horrors?”
“How am I to accurately write about something unless I have been a firsthand witness to it?”

There is nothing bad about this book, but fans of The Madman's Daughter series will find that this series pales in comparison. It is so, so predictable.

This book has a beautiful atmosphere, it has an enjoyable main character and narrator. However, the pacing is slow, the plot is easily foreseeable by anyone not mentally deficient, and there was not enough horror to hold my interest. The mysteries, the "hints," the murders...all fell flat. The mystery feels incomplete.

This book also takes a considerable amount of liberties with Edgar Allan Poe. Poe Purists will not enjoy this book.

This is going to be a very brief review (for me, that is), because there's just not much I can say about this book. I just don't have a whole lot of complaints or praises for this book. It doesn't hurt, but neither is it great. I made a reference to The Madman's Daughter and I meant it. That book is superior to this one in every way. You will find more horror in that book, you will find a better mystery, you will find a character who is not so dishwater-pale. This book is not terrible, but it is just washed out in comparison.

The Summary:

It seems the stories I have been told were untrue. The streets of America are not paved with gold but with uneven stones.

Annabel Lenore Lee has newly arrived in Philadelphia. It is 1826. Annabel has spent the past 10 years living with her beloved mother (now deceased) in Siam (present-day Thailand). Compared to beautiful, colorful, vibrant, sunny Siam, dank, dark, gloomy Philadelphia could not be more different. Her home is beautiful, grand, a majestic mansion.

A sense of unease fills my stomach as I stare up at what is to be my new home.
Dark and foreboding, it appears just as unwelcoming as the rest of Philadelphia.

But it's all the less welcoming for it.

Life in a new country takes getting used to. From knowing "her place" as the young mistress of a house...apparentlyy, a young lady is not expected to help out around the house---as compared to Siam, where there are no class lines among the villagers and missionaries.

I hurry out of bed and reach for the bucket. “Let me help you with that.”
“No, miss,” she scolds. “It isn’t yer place.”

To dressing, to behaving like a young lady in a culture so completely foreign to her.

“Practice makes perfect. It shall certainly take time to prove this with someone of your limited background.”
Dropping my arms, I feel an ache in my shoulders.
Clearly, my education is going to require a vast amount of practice.

Frankly, life in America sucks. She is a disgrace. Her father is disappointed in her. Annabel is unwanted, a disappointment. A disgrace.

Father takes another step closer. Deep lines mark his face. He looks almost as old as Grandpere. “She bowed like a man, for God’s sake. Her manners are sorely lacking, and until they have been improved, I shall not encourage her.”

The only bright spot in her life are her beloved grandfather...and a young man. Allan Poe.

All is not well in Philadelphia. The headlines of the newspaper scream of murder, death, dismemberment.

MURDER AT RITTENHOUSE SQUARE.
POLICE FIND GRISLY SCENE OF DISMEMBERMENT
...the limbs had been torn asunder from the torso and the head cleaved from his neck. POLICE urge all women and children to take heed of this atrocity and to take special cautions.

The streets of Philadelphia aren't the only place that holds secrets and danger. There are mysterious figures walking her gardens at night. There is a strange, nervous, twitchy young man newly hired to watch over the grounds of the mansion. There are hidden rooms in Annabel's new home. Rooms that she should not explore.

Every muscle in my body has tightened and my hand shakes when I place it upon the doorknob. I take a deep breath and try to steady my nerves, and just as I am about to turn the knob—

Someone grabs hold of me.

And then there's the kindly Allan's cousin. One who terrifies her. One who holds suspicion.

“Allan’s always a gentleman, that one,” Cook replies.
“He’s very different from his cousin, Edgar,” I say. “I’m amazed they are even related.”
The room instantly goes silent. Cook stares intently at her tea as Maddy and Johanna exchange glances.
“Just stay away from him, miss. Stay away. He’s a right nasty one.”

There are many secrets and mysteries within her house, surrounding her friends, and a man she is coming to love. Annabel must confront these mysteries, as well as come to face with the darkness that may be within her.

I did it because I thought you would be scared.” He watches me carefully. “But I suppose it is in your blood. You were never going to be scared by any of this, were you? You are your father’s daughter after all, Annabel Lee.”

The Setting: There is a dark Gothic feel about this book, and it is quite atmospheric. It is to be expected, since the basis of this book is Edgar Allan Poe, after all.

All I can make out is a large structure of pale stones, tall doors, and rows of windows gleaming like sharp teeth against the night.

There are a ton of rains and thunderstorms, and dreary weather in general. It doesn't hold a candle to the beautiful gaslamp-lit setting in The Madman's Daughter. There are a few grisly scenes in a book, some involving the dissection of an animal. Again, there is no comparison. I was only mildly intrigued. I was never disgusted by any of the very minute gore in this book, and I longed for more blood, more horror. I never got it.

The Characters: Bland. All of them. Including Edgar & Allan Poe, which is simply unforgivable. Allan Poe is more romantic lover and brooding poet than a wildly exciting hero...which is rather appropriate to the actual person, I suppose. We see Allan as he struggles to put down his words, to write his story.

His attention returns to me. “Have you ever felt a story was inside you, but you could not do it justice? It’s as if there were something standing in your way, blocking you from being able to write the story, and only this other piece of you could understand whatever it was?”

As for Annabel, I just don't have much to say. She is likeable, but she is so bland that I feel she has no personality at all. I like her; if we were to meet in the streets as strangers, she is the sort at which I would nod a polite hello, but I would completely forget her by the next street.

Annabel is a really nice person. She is truly, genuinely nice. She is smart. She is an aspiring surgeon, which displeases her father to no ends. Annabel truly wants to please her father. She is a people-pleaser, and it upsets her so much that she keeps continuing to be a disappointment.

I am saddened that I have already offended Father with my rough manners and poorly chosen gift.
I wonder if I shall always be such a disappointment to him.

She has knowledge of medicinal herbs, and she constantly makes references to Siam, which is appropriate, but I felt like it disrupted the flow of the book quite a bit. Not to mention the discrepancies in the references to Siam.

They don't have kimonos in Thailand. Wrong country.

The Romance: There is no insta-love, but there is a fair amount of romance. I did not mind the romance. I did not mind that her heart beats quickly at the thought of Allan. It is appropriate for the time, it is expected of a sheltered young woman, with few friends, who seeks the kindness and love and acceptance that she does not receive from her own father.

The romance is predictable, and unremarkable, like everything in this book.

Quotes taken from an uncorrected proof subject to change in the final edition.

Why the fuck are you giving a Korean-American girl living in Seoul a WHITE love interest?

As if Asian guys don't get enough of a bad rap. I find this so fucking insulting.

"Liv...it’s a name, a verb, a command. A notion of mortality. That’s a name ripe for some epic poetry. If I could write, I’d write you one, a poem.”

In YA literature, I often find myself wishing I could kill the main character.

This book did me a favor: it DID kill off the main character. Sadly, it didn't help. My headache persisted.

You see, the girl still lives on, as an extremely irritating ghost, a tiresome, ceaselessly self-centered narrator.

This book is categorized as "paranormal" only by technicality. It is nothing but nauseating, mindless wish-fulfillment. There is a girl who died in a well. If you are hoping for Anna Dressed in BloodRingu, you are sadly out of luck.

The Big Bang Theory is wrong. The universe was created from the birth of Olivia Bloom. She is the center of the universe. Multiple ecosystems spawned from the fertility of her poop. The sun shines out of her asshole. This book is about nothing, nobody, but Liv.

This book is less:



And more:



The only thing terrifying about this book is the astoundingly quick insta-love. There is a girl who is accepted to a most prestigious academy through no intelligence. She is picked up to her school by a white-gloved chaffeur and whisked off to her beautiful Gothic boarding school by a limousine. At her school, she is served by waiters at mealtime. Her things are unpacked, her room cared for by unseen servants. She has the most popular, most handsome boy in school pining for her since the moment they first lay eyes on each other. He will do anything for her. She instantly makes another guy friend who will also do anything for her.

Including go to jail to help solve the mystery of her death. It's no big deal. What's more important is Liv, the dead Liv.

“I appreciate the effort, man, but let it go,” Gabe said, sincerely. “You know what’s most important right now: to learn the truth and bring justice. For her.”

No classes. No female friends. Stupid female rivals. Hot guys who adore her AND befriend her. This book is truly the epitome of idiotic, simpering wishfulness.

The Summary:

Part I: The Wish Fulfillment; Liv is an orphan. She lives with her foster parents. Don't worry, her foster parents aren't worthy of any mention in the book; they are placeholder only.

Liv somehow gets accepted into the ultra-prestigious Wickham Hall. It's "the best prep school in the country." We have no idea how the fuck she gets in, except it's something vague about her art. Because her brains it ain't.

My grades certainly didn’t get me into Wickham Hall. I assumed it was my portfolio.

The school is beautiful. Stunning. The students are dull. Every single girl is a clone, except for Liv.

They dressed the same. Their hair was almost identical. Their skin was milky with the occasional bout of freckles. Their noses even turned up in the same way. But mostly, they all talked the same.

Liv, who stands out. Liv, who is the object of ostracization because every single girl hates her.

Liv, who immediately falls for the most unattainable boy in school, Malcolm Astor.

That’s when I noticed him. He was standing next to the headmaster, still looking at me even though the others had turned away. Our eyes met, and I quickly looked away. But I could feel his gaze linger. I desperately willed my face not to flush, my lips not to purse. Suddenly I was aware of every single muscle in my face.

Malcolm Astor, who immediately singles Liv out for his specialized attention, the most prestigious First Dance at the school ball.

I looked up, mouth full of bread, to see what had happened and...he was there.
He stood in front of me and asked, “May I have this dance?”

Not only is there Golden Boy Malcolm, but there is brooding, dark Gabe.

He was skittish and intense, but his brown eyes were gentle. Still, I wanted to keep at least three feet away. He was almost exactly how I’d always pictured Vincent Van Gogh—in other words, pretty crazy.

Two boys, ever so different. *rolls eyes*

Classes, fuck classes. What classes?

It's apparently a boarding school (and a prestigious educational institution) in name only, because it seems that all Liv does is paint and continue her courtship of Malcolm.

This is a paranormal book, after all, but the only thing I found abnormal about this book is Malcolm's perfection and their courtship.

They kiss within 10% of the book. They go on romantic dates. There has never been such an idealized teenaged boy as Malcolm. He takes her on trips to dark, romantic gravestones. He makes her a playlist.

Malcolm let go of my hand and took out his iPod. He clicked it on and then handed it to me. A playlist called Liv, Forever was cued up.
“I made it for you. Obviously.”

Malcolm then takes her on a romantic sun-dappled tour of the school based on that playlist.

And we walked along a sun-dappled path, comfortable like two people who’d known each other forever.
I looked out over the terrain. Lush and seemingly endless. And we walked right into it, serenaded by the Beatles’s “I’m Looking Through You.”

*gag*

Malcolm offers to be her fucking canvas.

He turned to me. “Draw on me.”
“What?”
“Draw on me.""

After he said that, he took his shirt off. His body was perfect.

Of course it is.

Oh, wait. Isn't this supposed to be a paranormal novel? Oh, here it comes. SHE DIES!

My head whipped back from its force. And that’s when everything went black.

Part II: I'm pretty when I'm dead; And the wish-fulfillment continues. You see, Liv is pretty, even when she's dead.

My body was cold and dull. Plump with death. I looked almost serene. My dark hair spread around my head, kind of like that famous painting of Ophelia floating in the river. Funny, I’d made so many self-portraits and yet I’d never really looked at myself and realized I was actually kind of pretty.

Her so-perfect lover weeps over her, ever so dramatically. She is loved when she is lost.

He kneeled on the ground next to my body and kissed my cheek.

Crime-scene contamination, be damned.

Liv is dead. So beautiful. So young. So tragic. Like the a sad, sad night lit by stars.

I was separate from the world. I had become the star, hadn’t I? That tragic, lonely thing.

Like a fallen angel, beautiful in her fragility!

I imagined myself an angel. I kind of was, wasn’t I?

For someone dead, she sure is full of herself.

Apparently, she's a ghost now. Liv is dead! Murdered! Ohnoes! Now we must investigate her death. But however will she do that?! Enter Gabe also known as walking, talking deus ex fucking machina because he can hear ghosts. Together, the three of them will investigate her death! Liv will use her supernatural abilities as a ghost to discover who killed her!!!!!!!!!!!

Part II: Love after death

I waited and waited until there was enough condensation for me to write a single sentence. It took every ounce of willpower to ignore the pain in my fingertip. But I did it.
I will hold u again, I wrote on the glass.

Or she could just use it to write a note to her lover. Same thing, really.

-_________________-

The Setting: WHAT SETTING? ARE WE IN HIGH SCHOOL? You wouldn't bloody know. There is not a single instance of actually attending any class outside of art, in which they're pretty much fucking free to do what they want. It's supposed to be a beautiful Northeastern United States setting with pretty leaves, pretty buildings...and that's it.

There are no relevant students because the only person the book is concerned with is Liv and those connected to her.

There are no academics because Liv doesn't give a fuck about academia.

There are no classes because it would interfere with Liv's social life and her courtship with Malcolm.

There are a lot of walking around on the beautiful campus...because it's a beautiful campus.

It was mid-afternoon so there were no stars, of course, but the leaves were every possible orange and the clouds were perfect puffs.

It's not so much a school campus, as it is vacation resort.

The Mary Sue: There is room for only one relevant female in this book, and there is no doubt that star is Liv Bloom. Liv is one of the most useless, self-centered character I have ever encountered. She is a heroine of the Bella Swan sort because she is completely, utterly worthless in every way but her love interests can't see it. She is an artist, but we don't really see much of that, nor is she a credible one, because her art is, well...herself.

A self-portrait. Almost all my drawings are self-portraits. They don’t necessarily look like me—in fact, they rarely do—but they represent me.

Yet somehow, everyone thinks she is fucking perfection. Her new art teacher raves over her talents. Talents of which we are never convinced.

“You are so talented. Do you understand? Your skill is exceptional. If you unleash and add true emotion to your work, it will sing, Olivia! It will fly!”

Her new boy toy knows that she is the one approximately 15 minutes after meeting her, after knowing nothing about her.

“I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”
“It must’ve been a pretty boring life.”
“It was. Then I met you.”

The Artistic References: Listen, I like art as much as the next person. I studied it for years when I was younger, but there is a way to appreciate art, and shoving it down the readers' throat isn't it. There is an incredible amount of artistic name-dropping in this book. Klimt. Pollock. Modigliani. Yue. Van Gogh. Rothko.

But then images started to emerge from the darkness around us. At first they were pleasant: a Titian cherub, a Chagall angel. But then one of Bosch’s devils appeared. And Munch’s screaming terror. Francis Bacon’s agonizing Pope. And one of Basquiat’s jagged skulls.

It feels forced. It feels false. It feels like the book is trying too hard.

The Romance: This book is filled with the most romantic, the most unrealistic of fantasies. The perfect golden boy, the "Abercrombie & Fitch" boy. The one who recites poetry to her underneath a moonlit, star-filled sky.

There was an opening in the canopy of trees where we could see the brilliant moon. And stars. Hundreds of them. He took my hand. He held it strongly—with commitment. We lay there silently for a long while until he spoke.
“Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art—
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night

Fuck curfew. What curfew. Is this even a school?

The romance in this book is so incredibly unrealistic. It truly is insta-love. They fall for each other within 10% of the book. The Big L word is said before 33% of the book is through. The hearts go pitter and patter, but true to the art theme in this book, it has to sound good in an artistic manner.

I was dying inside. Brain exploding like a Pollock. Heart melting like one of Dalí’s clocks.

Malcolm is completely unrealistic. he is too perfect to be true. He cries.

And he cried. He didn’t have that embarrassed look guys usually have when they cry, like the way my dad had struggled against his tears. Malcolm let go, without shame.

Repeatedly. Unashamedly. I'm not saying that men can't cry, I'm saying that Malcolm's image in this book is too romanticized, too idealistic to ever be true.

Malcolm talks to his dead lover's ghost. He speaks words right out of the scripts of a chick-flick romance.

“You know what I wish?” he asked.
What?
“That I could just see you one last time—hear your voice. Hold you.”

The romance is completely, utterly ludicrous. As is the entirety of this book.

When it rains, it pours.

I notice that I always get trolls in waves. It's rather funny.

They stepped into the cafeteria. A cacophony of voices rushed at Mackenzie.
—five french fries today. Five. No more. My thighs are too—
—There’s an empty seat at Jake’s table! Should I take it? But Amanda said—
—Did I just get my period?—
As each thought hit Mackenzie’s mind, so did a stabbing pain in her forehead.

I know just how she feels. This is a "no-thinking-required" type of book. I suggest you read it with several aspirins or (not and!) a few shots of tequila.

This book is about a flu shot that went horribly wrong. I thought the premise was cool, why? Well, for one thing, I had a doctor's visit today.


A most belligerent patient. A most unhappy reader.

...and 15 minutes later:


You see that Band-Aid on my arm? That's for a very late seasonal flu shot. I had a flu shot! The teenagers in this book had a flu shot! What excellent timing. THIS IS GONNA BE AWESOME, RIGHT?!

Not.

This book was not what I wanted it to be. I wanted sci-fi. I wanted a conspiracy theory. I wanted bad-ass teamwork!

Instead, I got a whole lot of teenaged drama. A whole lot of romance. And the utilization of the awesome powers of ESP to...get a boyfriend.

Olivia felt a wee bit guilty that Lazar didn’t know she was reading his mind. But not too guilty. It wasn’t like she asked to be able to read his mind.
And she wasn’t trying to trick him. She was trying to date him.

If you wanted some cool shit to come out of the whole "ESP flu shot" premise, you're shit out of luck. This book is presented as a "contemporary teen fiction with romance, secrets, scandals, and ESP." Not really. The ESP is used as a plot device for all the romance, secrets, and scandals. That's all.

This book is what I like to call "Very YA," meaning there is absolutely no question that this book is written for a Young Adult audience. It is very juvenile. The teenagers act like the most clichéd of all teenagers. You will encounter no end to teenaged tropes in this book. There are not one, but several, instances of love-triangle-what-the-fuckery in this book. There is more romance, more worrying, more concerns over very teenaged worries than anything serious in this book. There is nothing but brain floss within this book. There is no sci-fi.

The Summary: It is a typically day at Bloomberg High School, with one difference. It's flu shot day! There are 23 students from homeroom 10B getting the flu shot that day. It's business as usual...until the next day. Until Olivia realizes something...odd, while attempting to give a speech in front of class.

Everyone in class continued to talk.
“It’s so hot in here.”
“Forgot my Spanish homework.”
“Should have had a third cup of coffee.”
“Why didn’t I pee before class?”
Olivia looked around the room. Everyone was talking, but no one was moving his or her lips.

Soon, it became obvious that something is very, very wrong. Certain people are able to hear peoples' thoughts. There's a connection between the people with "ESP": they all received the flu shot that day.

What follows is the forming of a secret society, the "Espies" (short for Extrasensory Perception) a group composed of the 23 teenagers who are now able to hear thoughts. And they're very, very teenagers thoughts, which is to say, they hurt.

As soon as Sadie stepped inside the classroom, Teddy’s brain went into overdrive. She’s here! Awesome. I hope she’s feeling better. Her hair is so shiny.

And they're very self-centered.

The Espies have to keep this secret. They have to protect each other.

Excellent point, Pi thought back. “One last vote. Are we all in it together?”
And we all raised our hands, Mackenzie included.
We would not tell.

With this awesome ability, they can conquer the world! Think of the possibilities! They can...um...use it to see whether a boy likes them?

As Tess put on a purple shirt, she thought about what it would mean if she found out Teddy didn’t like her. What if he thought she was ugly? Or fat? Did she really want to know what he thought of her? Was she opening some sort of Pandora’s box?

Or to make sure a date goes smoothly.

Every concern Lazar had, Olivia heard.
If she doesn’t walk faster, we’re going to be late.
Olivia walked faster.
What did she just say? She speaks so softly.
Olivia spoke up.
I wonder what her favorite band is. I hope she likes Delivery.
“I just love Delivery! They’re the best.”
“Did you like the new Thomas Allen movie?” It was so amateur. I hope she didn’t like it.
“No way,” Olivia said. “It was so amateur.”
But Lazar nodded, his eyes wide. It’s like she’s taking the words right out of my mouth!

*groans*

We hear everything. From the most mundane thoughts of a 3-year old sibling ("Funny mousies funny mousies") to parents thinking about sex (ew).

Her dad patted her mom on the leg. I can’t wait to take off Linda’s robe.
Huh? Oh no. Mackenzie slammed her eyes shut.
Her parents. Were. Going. To. Have. Sex.
Sex!
Imminently!
She backed slowly out of the room.

It's strange, considering that they can read minds, they can still get surprised by pop quizzes.

Third period, Pi had a surprise quiz in precalc.
She was not prepared.

It all leads up to the events of a Sweet Sixteen birthday party, where hearts (and jaws) will be broken.

That's it.

The Narrators:

Maybe you think Olivia is telling the story. Or Mackenzie, or Cooper, or someone else in our homeroom you haven’t met yet.
It could be any of us.
But it’s not.
It’s all of us. We’re telling you this story together.

When a book begins by telling you that there are multiple narrators, all ambiguous, I had a chill of forboding in the back of my neck. I was right.

This book is kind of a mess. It is told in omniscient POV, there are multiple narrators. We see things from multiple POVs. There are 22 people involved in this book's core plot. Thankfully, not all of them are the focus, but it made things damned confusing.

The Plot: There are several main narrators in this book, like Mackenzie, Cooper, Tess, Olivia, Pi, among others. Almost all their stories revolve around romance. This is absolutely shocking, because, hello! FUCKING ESP-CAUSING FLU VIRUS. Shouldn't someone, I don't know, TELL SOMEONE ABOUT THIS? Ok, I understand why they wouldn't, because it's a pretty powerful ability, but there is so much possibility with this premise, and this book goes nowhere with it. The idea of ESP is completely undermined by a bunch of very, very self-centered, very immature kids.

There is no science in this book. Absolute none at all. The concept of the whys, the hows of the ESP is completely skipped over.

The ending also didn't make any sense. If you want to know what happened and my rant commentary on it, click the spoiler tag below.

In the end, it was discovered that there was something wrong with the batch of flu vaccine (no shit). The CDC wanted to give the teenagers $50,000 to overlook the whole event, not to mention give them an antidote to erase the effects of the ESP.

First off, $50,000. That is chump change. I don't know if you've read about pharmaceutical liabilities cases, but the damages given in those lawsuits are a hell of a lot more than $50,000. Think MILLIONS. Think of what would happen if this were made public. $50,000. I don't fucking think so.

And the idea that the government would just erase these kids' abilities.

DOES THIS MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE TO YOU?

People who can read minds. This is some fucking CIA shit going on. Do you seriously think that such a valuable tool would be just---erased by the United States government without using it to the full extent of its powers? Would the CIA/the CDC allow these teenagers to go off scot-free knowing what they can do? There are CIA/spy movies based on this premise. It is a powerful, powerful spy tool. Think of reading the minds of criminals, terrorists.

This is fucking powerful shit, and this book completely lets it go. I don't fucking buy it.

The "Thoughts": They're dumbed down, simplified. The human mind works abstractly. We do not think in sentences, we do not think in segments, we do not think in order. When I have a thought, it's going to be fleeting; a thought is less a sentence than a concept, an idea in my mind that is not verbalized. This book completely verbalizes all thoughts, in a "stream of consciousness" dialogue that is completely unconvincing. Not to mention headache-inducing.

They're just teenaged thoughts. And they are so annoying. If I wanted my head to hurt this much, I'd volunteer at a middle school. They're childish, silly, catty without meaning to be, they're occasionally funny, but they grate on my nerves.

I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to think that! You’re very pretty! If you went to the gym twice a week, you’d be gorgeous! Shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry! I can’t help it!
Tess knew that Mackenzie was gorgeous. Everyone knew that Mackenzie was gorgeous. But Tess had always hoped that Mackenzie had thought Tess was gorgeous too. As is.

The Romance: Also known as: The Plot. We get to know these teens' love lives (SO MANY OF THEM) in intimate detail.

*takes a deep breath*

Mackenzie is dating Cooper who is the class clown and who adores her, while thinking of her hook-up Bennett, on the side. She now regrets it, and wishes she had held out. Now her secret's out! Everyone knows! Will Cooper ever find out?!

She wasn’t sure what to tell Cooper. She wasn’t sure why she’d done it. She loved Cooper, didn’t she?
Mackenzie couldn’t tell Cooper. He’d break up with her. And then what? She’d lose him. He’d hate her.

Tess is best friends with Teddy, only he doesn't know it, and treats her blissfully like a best guy pal instead of a...girl. Tess has ESP now! Tess can tell whether Teddy likes her or not. But then there are complications! There's Sadie, gorgeous, gorgeous Sadie. She's really nice, but it doesn't change the fact that Teddy is in love with her. But it's ok, Sadie is dating Keith! Oh, no!

He was her Teddy. Even if Sadie was dating Keith, it was still possible that she could fall madly in love with Teddy, right? Even if he was a sophomore and Keith was a senior? Unlikely, yes, but still possible.

There's Olivia, who desperately wants a date with Lazar. Thanks to her ESP, she can read his mind and become the perfect girl---in his mind.

Lazar cleared his throat. “Olivia?”
“Yes?” Olivia said. She turned around to face him. She tried to look surprised.
Oh no, she looks like she doesn’t want to talk to me.
No! No! I do want to talk to you! She tried to make her face look unsurprised. Expecting.
She looks like she’s in a hurry.
Ahhhh! What was wrong with her face?
Maybe I shouldn’t ask her out. He stood up. “Have a good weekend.”
No, no, no. That was not how this was supposed to go.

WILL THEY HAVE A HAPPILY EVER AFTER?

I don't care.

Daddy said that you can’t change the way things are by saving one person. He said the best we can do in life is surround ourselves with people who make us happy, because the rest of the world is too big to find meaning in.

But if everyone just forgets about terrible things they can’t understand—like what happened to Isabella and Matt Weaver—who will be left to remember?

Nancy Drew could only aspire to be as cool as Anne Dowling.

Have you met Anne? You must. There has scarcely ever been such a level-headed, intelligent, delightfully winsome teenaged detective in all of YA literature.

There is little to dislike about this book, and a great deal to love. If you enjoy a boarding school setting, you will adore this book. If you like a strong, smart female character, you will adore this book. If you enjoy reading about realistic teenagers, you will love this book.

The Summary:

I’ve been expelled from my beloved Manhattan school, questioned as a person of interest in a murder investigation, and nearly shot to death in the woods, but I’m convinced Monday morning is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

Our beloved amateur detective is back. In the last book, she unsolved a friend's murderer, nearly got killed; you can't blame her for wanting to chill a little bit. Currently, life is blissfully free from murder, she's going out with the incredibly hot (and incredibly sweet) Brent. But something doesn't feel right. Something connected to the murder that was supposed to have been solved.

The dead leave lots of things behind. Like messes you can’t see. Or sometimes, actual things.
Like the photograph I found in an old library book Isabella checked out before her death—the one of Matthew Weaver, a student who disappeared over thirty years ago, standing with the Wheatley Crew team.
The one with THEY KILLED HIM written on the back.

They don't call it women's intuition for a reason. Matthew Weaver's disappearance happened so long ago that it feels like a boarding school urban legend, Anne knows that she would be dismissed as crazy if she brought up the fact that she wants to investigate it.

Her therapist thinks she's just looking for trouble. Even Anne thinks he has a point.

He also asked me if I found myself bored in the weeks after Dr. Harrow’s arrest. I’m not an idiot: He thinks I want there to be more to the mystery. Sort of like I’m having mystery withdrawals or whatever.
But part of me thinks he has a point.
Either way, I have too many questions and no ways to get answers. When I told Dr. R I felt this way, he agreed.
“Sometimes it’s best for our sanity to let sleeping dogs lie,” he said.

But it seems the mystery won't leave her alone. An active mind makes connections on its own, and there are far too many clues for Anne to overlook.

Such as the fact that her boyfriend's father, among others, are Matthew Weaver's former crew members and classmates. Over 30 years after Matthew's disappearance, they are now successful and influential men, but what secrets are they hiding? What about the rumors that Matthew is a sacrifice in a Satanic ritual? Why did Matthew Weaver draw himself as the Biblical Adam?

Matt Weaver drew himself as Adam.
Adam/Matt is frowning, a tear pooling at the corner of his eye. In his hand is a half-eaten apple. A serpent with hollow black eyes is coiled around his arm.
Matt Weaver saw himself as Adam. So what did he do to get kicked out of Paradise?

Unfortunately, Matthew Weaver's death is not the only thing on Anne's mind. There is something going on in school, people are being hurt, secrets are being kept; betrayals abound.

...the picture makes me want to throw up.
Eight guys stand shoulder to shoulder, their wrists bound in front of them with rope. I don’t recognize anyone in it. Probably because they all have potato sacks over their heads.

Anne sees this case through. She spies, she snoops. She breaks curfew (and incurs the ire of the Residential Advisor). Anne mines information from microfiches to Wikipedia to...VHS tapes.

“Where can I find a VCR?” I say from the doorway.
Remy blinks at me. “Um, the nineties?”
“No, really.”

No clue is left unturned. Along the way, she has to reluctantly seek the assistance from a former (and rather unsavory) acquaintance.

“Hi. Um. It’s me. Anne. Look, I know we haven’t talked in a while. But I really need to talk. To you. It’s important.”
Then I hang up.

Anne needs to be careful. If Matthew Weaver died 30 years ago, the killer is still loose. And they may be coming for Anne.

I think of all the Wheatley School students who have wound up dead (or presumably, at least): Isabella Fernandez. Matthew Weaver. Cynthia Durham. I’ve never believed in curses or any of that garbage. But I will admit it: I’m starting to worry that if I stay at the Wheatley School, I might be next.

The Setting: I have to admit, I love a boarding school setting, and this book did the trick. Unlike other books set in school, this book never lets you forget that the kids in this book are high schoolers, they have homework, they have relationship dramas, they have classes. This book portrays such a wonderfully authentic school atmosphere.

The teens study together. They have classes together. They hang out together. They act silly and party together. They're not perfect. The kids are great students, but they're human. The teens in this book are great kids, but they occasionally fuck up, they have relationship drama. They do drugs, they sleep around. It is never overdone to an extent to which that it take over the plot.

“Oh, no,” April says over the sound of Murali, Phil, and Cole’s laughter. “There are tons of bananas in the fridge. You’re not doing the Sprite-banana challenge, are you?”

Unlike in other "high school" books, we actually have classes, and homework.

Everyone is in self-imposed isolation today: We all got drunker than we meant to last night, and there’s lots of shit due in class tomorrow.

There's plenty of teenaged groping and canoodling, only there's not a whole lot of privacy in the dorms, lol.

Brent sits up, his back against his pillow, and I sit on his lap facing him. He kisses my neck, and when I kiss his earlobe his whole body contracts into mine.
“GODDAMNED SPIKED SHELL!” Murali screams from the living room.

This is such an awesome boarding school setting; it's the sort that makes me long for a better high school experience.

Anne: Anne is back, and she is fucking awesome. In case I haven't made it clear, I absolutely freaking ADORE Anne. Rarely have I encountered a female main character whom I love so much. Anne is smart. She is rational. Her family is well-off, she is pretty, but she never, ever lords it over other girls. Anne has an unprecedented sense of justice (her father is a lawyer) as well as a good dose of rationality to help her through the case, even if the reality is not one she likes.

Occam’s razor: It’s a theory of logic stating that the simplest explanation to a problem is usually the best one. It’s my father’s worst nightmare in the courtroom.
What I know: Someone is trying to stop me from digging into the crew team’s past.
What I wish I didn’t know: [Redacted] and the other guys were in the tunnels earlier tonight.
The simplest explanation is that they were the ones who left me the photo.

She is never, ever judgmental and hateful of other girls, even a potential love rival.

Absent, thankfully, is Jill Wexler, who is tall and thin and blond and in love with Brent. Which isn’t grounds to hate her. I’m not like that.
But the last time Jill and I were at the same party, she almost got me expelled-and-or-jailed afterward. So I’m happy no one invited her tonight.

She is truly a friend to the other girls in the book. You will find no girl-on-girl hate here.

“Don’t ever say you hate yourself for that. You know what I hate? The idea that we’re supposed to hate ourselves for having sex.”

Anne has a wry sense of humor, and I love that about her. Her sense of humor is more deadpan than anything, and she never grates on my nerves.

Anne is not perfect. She makes mistakes. She gets caught. She breaks down, and I love it when she does. She is occasionally weak...

I’m not going to let myself cry. I worked too damn hard on my eye makeup.

...but never for long.

The Investigation: I felt Anne's investigative skills were well-done and credible. There is a little suspension of disbelief here, because one of her "sources" is just, well, too good to be true. Otherwise, Anne uses her Internet skills, her snooping skills, and her deductive abilities to figure out the case. It is almost like doing a research project.

“You found all that out on your own?”
I nod.
“I can’t...I mean, this is just crazy.” A low whistle escapes him. “Don’t you have other things to do? I don’t know, maybe homework or something?”
“Obviously it’s been a while since you’ve done homework if you think that’s more interesting than a cold case.”

The Romance: I didn't have much of a problem with the romance in this book, but I have to warn you that there's a love triangle. To be honest, I didn't mind it at all, for the most part.

The love triangle is not gratuitous. It did not bother me. It felt like a natural progression of relationships, and I thought it was well done.

I have to admit that this book kept me guessing. The relationships were extremely well-done. There is the dreamy, sweet Brent; their relationship in the book is sweet, calm, soothing. But there are hints of unease beneath the surface.

“I’ll see you in a few, I guess.”
I’m completely stunned that he I-guessed me. I mean, I guess isn’t that bad in itself, but it’s a sign that next time I’m going to get a Do what you want. Or even worse: Whatever.

The romance is not a heavy element in this book. When it happens, it was well done and believable.

“No, there’s more. I don’t want to pretend I don’t give a shit what you think of me. Because I do. I don’t want to be the waste product you think I am. It’s all I think about lately.” His eyes are pleading, begging me to understand what he’s really saying. “You’re all I think about, and I can’t stop.”

They're teenagers. The romance was never overdone. There is never insta-love, and relationships happen naturally. I liked them all, love triangles be damned.

The ending had me screaming.

"I’ve been expelled from my beloved Manhattan school, questioned as a person of interest in a murder investigation, and nearly shot to death in the woods, but I’m convinced Monday morning is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me."

Anne is back, and she is delightful. Like a Nancy Drew with more bad-assery.

“I thought we were supposed to use time travel to help people,” I say. “I thought that’s what I did.”

He wheels around and aims a finger at me. “That’s not what you did. You played dress-up while you chased after some ridiculous teenage fantasy. You can’t make that much of an impact on the past. You can’t fall in love.”

I guess this is what you would call speculative fiction, because try as I might, I can't really make much sense of this book. There is plenty of time-hopping, as well as a supposedly compelling reason behind it. I couldn't see it. For me, the book's time-traveling premise felt more like a tool to showcase different time periods (and clothes! and parties!), and not the danger-packed events they should have been.

Plot aside, the main character is not a girl I admire. Alex Wayfare is selfish, she is truculent, she is thoughtless. She grew up somewhat during the length of the book, but by then, I had ceased to care.

The Summary: Alex Wayfare uses her "visions" as an excuse to be a horrible person. Ever since she was a child, she has had these "visions," in which she blacks out in real life, then sees herself transported through time to another reality in the past. Like one time, she blacks out and gets visions of herself in the Puritan Jamestown colony, during a long, hard winter.

The Jamestown settlers had to turn to cannibalism. It's not in the class textbook, but Alex saw it. Therefore it must be true. She writes an essay on the Jamestown cannibalism, surprise, surprise, she gets an F because IT WASN'T IN THE FUCKING TEXTBOOK. In revenge for her F, Alex humiliates her teacher in front of the entire school. Sounds totally fair, right?

His phone rings in his pocket. The vibrator motor stings his thigh, and he shrieks into the microphone. He actually shrieks. The ringtone peels thrtough the gym, the rapper rhyming about beating up his cheating girlfriend “because she deserved it” and dropping he F-bomb every other word. The entire student body bursts into howls of laughter.

And that's just one of the many bullshit acts she pulls because, you know, she has visions and all. Life is so fucking hard because it's not like everyone thinks she has epilepsy and pities her. Oh wait, they do.

During one of these "blackouts," Alex gets transported to the Roaring Twenties. She looks just like herself, only, you know, hotter, thinner.

Soft, wavy tendrils framed my face, gently brushing my red cheeks in the crisp autumn air. Everything else was the same – my nose, my lips, my chin – only I looked thinner, possibly two sizes smaller beneath that long wool coat.

Unlike other visions, Alex actually gets to STAY in this one. And boy, is it worth staying, cause there's "Blue." "Blue's" name's Nick, and he may be a gangster, but he's hot, so you know, who the fuck cares, lol. They nearly get shot. Yeah, you heard me.

It felt like ages before the gunfire stopped and the roadster sped away, but as soon as it did, Blue Eyes pulled me to my feet.

Before you know it, she's falling for Blue, because getting nearly shot together is such a "meet cute" moment. It's so sweet, they encounter gangsters together. Pshaw, who's worried about a bunch of Tommy-gun-wielding gangsters, anyway. Certainly not Alex!

Back home, I would’ve run for my life if I’d come face-to-face with a guy like him in an alley. But in this body, I wasn’t scared.

So yeah, FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!

Six to one. I didn’t know a damn thing about fighting, but I knew those weren’t good odds.
My feet were planted. And my fists craved contact. I was hungry for a fight, and somehow I knew I could hold my own.

Uh huh.

Thankfully, she is saved by an act known as deus ex fucking machina in which she blacks out JUST IN TIME to be saved from a gunshot.

Back in the present, Alex receives a cryptic message from an unknown man.

I’m not sure what I’m doing, following a cryptic flyer to meet some old guy I don’t know. I know a hundred different ways this meeting could take a turn for the worse.

You don't say? Surprise, surprise, Alex goes to meet him anyway. Thankfully, Alex doesn't end up being the victim of a serial killer, and she actually learns something about her time-traveling condition from a man, Porter.

As it turns out, Alex is rare. Different. Special.

“You’re the only one of your kind,” Porter says, making it sound like an honor. “The only reincarnated Descender. A Transcender."

She can travel through lives and past lives. Alex has had 56 previous lives. Before Porter could completely explain the concept of time travel to her, Alex is like lol, fuck it, I'm going to the past to see Blue. She travels back to the Roaring 20s to see her new squeeze.

You know that thing about not making an impact on the past, because it could affect the present? Alex says to that concept: FUCK YOU.

Using her past body, Alex does such compelling, important things as: get dolled up.

When Helena finished my makeup, I looked in her mirror and turned my chin to the left and right. A movie starlet stared back at me.

Porter yells at her to come back. She doesn't listen.

Porter’s voice elbowed its way inside my head, just as startling and unsettling as the first time.

Forget Porter's warnings, there are more important things to do. Like go to the Chicago Theater!

We stood outside the Chicago Theater, waiting in line under a huge, glittering marquee that read The Jazz Singer. My jaw dropped when I first saw it.

Not to mention spending a moonlit night on the rooftops of Chicago!

He helped me onto the roof, and we gazed out at the city, breathing in the night and listening to the distant street sounds. The stars seemed close enough to fog with your breath.

And Porter's voice yelling at her in her head? Fuck that shit, IGNORE HIM.

You need to come back now. I didn’t tell you the rules. You have to come back before you–
His words resonated inside my skull like the gong of a bell. I fought harder.
I struggled longer.
Porter was gone. Equal parts relief and guilt twisted inside me.

And she would have gone on partying like that until she got forcefully pulled back to the present. And Alex pouted like a little girl when she's told that she has to repair the damage of her presence in the past.

I stare at him like there are marbles spilling from his ears. “You can’t be serious. Everything I went through, everything that happened...You want me to erase it?”

He lifts his chin, daring me to defy him. “Yes.”

“But...” I grasp at straws, trying to delay the inevitable. “I didn’t sleep in until lunchtime. I landed at lunchtime.”

Now do you realize why I don't like Alex?

It turns out that there's a bigger plot at hand. There is an evil man out to kill Alex. Will she stop being a belligerent little bitch in time to save her own ass?

The Plot: Rambling. All over the damn place. That whole "Blue" arc was completely irrelevant and useless, and it took up almost half the fucking book. Alex gets to travel through her other past lives, several of them, and those events barely take up any notice in the book because they happen so quickly. This book is not so much the 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare, but more like the 3.25 lives of Alex Wayfare.

There is no danger, because the "past" seems more designed to be presented as a cool setting than anything relevant to the plot. We get to see her looking like "Marilyn Monroe" when she travels back to the 1960s. We get to see her on a cool train robbery in the 1870s. These time-traveling events do not feel like they made much impact on the plot, despite the fact that they are supposed to be crucial.

Alex: Frustratingly childish. She is so self-centered. She has no survival skills. In her everyday life, she uses her "I have visions" excuse to basically fail at life. And by that, I mean, she is failing 11th grade. She is intelligent, brilliant, but she uses her skills for petty revenge instead of anything noble.

“I may have posted a few of Tabitha’s personal text messages on the cafeteria’s scrolling message board...”

She is a disappointment to her family, and her family has enough hardships on their plate, like her sister, who is dying of leukemia.

Alex is the type who thinks that all adults are stupid, terrible people.

“Sadly, I haven’t met too many elders worthy of respect outside my family. Adults seem pissed off because of their life choices and take it out on us kids because, unlike them, we still have time; or they’re blind and forgot what it was like to be a kid so they try to put us in a glass box; or they’re jackasses just for the fun of it; or they’re blissfully ignorant of, like, everything."

SHe flaunts the rules, and is shocked and angry when she gets caught. She violates the very backbone of time-traveling rules. All for the sake of romance.

We don’t make an impact. But you?” His short laugh is dry and hollow. “You broke just about every rule we have – short of killing someone – on your first run. I think that must be some kind of record.”

The Premise: Honestly, it doesn't make much sense. The premise of time travel in this book is half fantasy, half sci-fi. We're just expected to believe that time travel is possible, and two scientists came to achieve it. No explanations given.

"And they were geniuses. But there was more to it than that. They had an upper hand. A secret weapon no one else knew about. They could travel back in time.”

...that's it. There are people who can travel back in time. Accept it, because no further explanations are given.

There's a lot of terminology thrown at us: Limbo, Transcenders, Descenders, Newlife, Base Life. It doesn't really make any sense, because there is no credible basis and explanation for the time travel except that, well, some people have it. It's a "maybe she's born it it, maybe it's Maybelline"-type of bullshittery. How did they manage it? Oh. Limbo.

“How did they travel?”
“By accessing Limbo.”
“Limbo? Like Dante’s Limbo?”
“Exactly, yes. Everyone passes through Limbo on their way to Afterlife when they die, but only a few can access Limbo while still alive."

...What? Um, ok.

Not recommended. Fuzzy logic, fuzzy concepts, an annoying character who is so self-centered that it takes away from the story.

"If you want, I’ll finish combing your hair.”

I stared at his outstretched hand, totally floored.

I loved getting my hair brushed. More than getting my back scratched, more than getting a massage, more than anything, and I’d always dreamed about having a cute boy brush my hair.

Thad had just served up my secret fantasy on an island platter.

Teenagers trapped on an island "RIFE WITH DANGERS." Oh my. Oh my goodness. Could it be...Battle Royale? Could it be Lost? FUCK YEAH!

*chants* BLOOD! MURDER! DEATH!

...MODELS?!!

I sat on the bed while Natalie messed with my hair. It was the latest surreal Nil moment of the day. Less Survivor, more like America’s Next Top Model, island-edition.

Wait, what?

It's less...



And more...



This was truly an atrocious book. There was no sense of danger, no sense of imminence, despite the fact that death looms if they overstay their welcome on the island. This is mainly because there is such a tremendous amount of insta-love and romance that it overshadows everything else. The book completely fails at creating any sense of urgency because of the utterly silly way the setting and the characters are portrayed.

The book is told from two POVs, a boy and a girl (both of whom fall in insta-love). If you did not read the chapter titles, you could hardly tell which narrator was whom because the male narrator is completely unconvincing as a boy.

The Summary: Charley is a tall, gorgeous girl who thinks she's a "freak show," while in a Target parking lot, she spots a shimmer in the air. Ok, that's weird---but then the shimmer eats her. The next thing she knows, Charley wakes up stark naked on an beautiful island. She is completely alone.

It's ok, she's not naked for long. Conveniently, she finds a pair of clothes, boys' clothes that just fits her perfectly, considering she's a freak show and all.

When all the girls grew curves, I’d just stretched, growing like crazy until I hit six feet. Recently my chest had made a small effort to catch up— the key word there was small— but I still had no hips. The boyish Bermudas were perfect.

Lol, that's funny. Where I come from, we call 6 feet tall and flat-chested "supermodel material."

Meanwhile, Thad is with his peepz in the "City," also on the island. He's talking about this woman--island---thing named Nil. Nil "whispers," at him. She, it, whatever "cackles," in his head. We're not sure what the fuck is going on here. But lo and behold, he finds a girl! Our "freak show" girl. Charley!

Charley thinks she's hideous.

For a second, I saw myself through his eyes: gaunt, sunburned, not a speck of makeup, looking like some six-foot wild child from the bush after twelve days of oceanside camping. I was a tropical freak show.

Thad sees something else completely.

She’d stood on the black sand, chin raised, Kevin’s shorts slung low on her hips and his bandana wrapped around her chest, her dark hair whipping around her shoulders, like a kick-ass character from a graphic novel.

Aaaaaaaaaand cue insta-love!

Life is hard, so hard on the tropical island. It's so dangerous. Lives are at stake. It's terrifying. A complete battle for survival.

Life is so difficult because they have such limited food supplies. You know, because it's a tropical island with temperate weather and everything. Every day is a desperate fight for survival, right? I mean, it's not like pineapples and coconuts are everywhere.

Oh, wait, they are. Pineapples and coconuts are everywhere. They suffer so much, having to eat pineapples and coconuts, fresh from the trees, day in and out.

“Is that breakfast? Something smells delicious.”
“Definitely. I’m guessing roast fish, warm pineapple. It’s a break from yesterday’s roast fish and warm pineapple.”

It's horrifying, really. Teenagers forced to eat freshly caught fish on a tropical island. My heart weeps.

White and flaky, with a hint of citrus, the fish melted in my mouth.

It's such a limited diet, I mean ALL THEY HAVE TO EAT IS SEAFOOD. Luckily, they can improvise. Like plump, sweet shrimps.

Expecting fi sh, I was thrilled to find shrimp. The only thing better would’ve been a big ole pile of cheese grits on the side, but shrimp was shrimp, and this shrimp was good. Plump and tasty, it was seasoned with coarse sea salt and chopped fruit.

And thankfully, they can spice things up with wraps with edible leaves!

It's a tough life, eating freshly caught seafood. The landscape itself is treacherous. Terrifying.

The Cove. Beautiful water as clear as glass, cascading into a black rock pool as cold as ice. Trees with deep green leaves the color of lush magnolias, kissing an Easter egg blue sky, lime green moss clinging to life on damp charcoal rock that will never burn.

Oh.

Well, um. It's dangerous and difficult, because every day is spent fighting for survival! Right? I mean, there wouldn't be any time for parties or bonfires...

There was a pit in the sand, lined with coals and an honest-to-goodness pig. There was a bonfire surrounded by black rock. Fish and crabs steamed over the fire, and yams baked near the crabs.

Or playing volleyball.

Up the beach, Heesham and Rives were pounding two wooden poles into the sand. A net stretched across the middle. Talla held a green ball; it appeared to be woven from the same green strips I’d tried to fashion a net from on my second week here, only these strips were cross-hatched in a tight pattern, forming a ball.

A volleyball.

Nor would we have time for surfing.

Afternoon, a group of us went surfing. I managed to actually stand up for more than two seconds without falling off.

Or paragliding.

Slowing in the headwind, we glided over the rocks about seven meters off the ground. Jason cruised ahead of me. Landing was its own little rush, not quite like takeoff, but close.

Nor would every single teenager look like they just stepped out of the pages of Abercrombie & Fitch, they wouldn't be CHILLING. I mean, let's be realistic here!

A fire pit wafted lazy smoke into the air. Around the fire, kids laughed and talked. Two shirtless boys were playing catch with a coconut, throwing it like a football, their shoulders and backs rippling under a sheen of sweat. A girl built like a Playboy bunny was sprinting down the beach beside a tall boy with dreadlocks, like an advertisement for island athletic wear. Other kids floated on surfboards past the whitewater.

And surely, they must be more concerned about survival than on relationship drama!

“How do you know I kissed him?”
“Please. I think everyone saw that kiss by the fire. And it’s about damn time.” She smiled.

WELL, FUCK THIS BOOK. The Setting & Premise: The problem with this book is that it creates no sense of urgency whatsoever, because this book is mainly concerned about describing a beautiful island, with beautiful teenagers, with wonderful, fresh foods, and spectacular scenery and heart-rending romance. Everything else is secondary.

The crux of this book is that it's a secret island, with paranormal elements because the kids are being dropped out of thin air. The details are far too slowly given to us: it's not until 1/3 of the book that we've given the fact that the kids have 365 days on the island before they disappear. It could mean death. I didn't give a fuck.

In order for me to believe in the danger, I have to feel that there is darkness lurking beneath the surface of the beauty. There isn't. The island itself is so spectacularly beautiful that it fails to impress on me the idea that it is dangerous whatsoever. We have lovely coves, beautiful scenery, flower fields.

Blue sky shone ahead, and when we broke through the trees, an open meadow burst with color: purples, blues, pinks, reds, yellows, and lots of white. Riding the breeze, the colors shifted in gentle waves.

There are resources in abundance, and it's hard to pity a bunch of teenagers who are feasting on fresh fish, fresh fruits like pineapples and citrus fruits and mangoes, day in and out. Nor is their food limited to that, because they hunt wild games, and occasionally, a pig just walks by to be killed.

They have milk (because conveniently, a cow appears through the portal). They have bread because one of the island inhabitants is a baker (never mind how the fuck they found yeast on the island).

There is no sense of danger because they spend their time doing stupid ass things like making soap.

Soon everything smelled like coconut-lime shower gel from Bath & Body Works.
“Who makes the soap?” I asked.

“Li. She’s crazy good with floral stuff. Her sandsoap’s the best.

And there are convenient things like a motherfucking paper tree. The premise of the island is stupid, it doesn't make any sense because it's not the top priority. It's just a bunch of teenagers who are slightly panicked because there is a deadline, but otherwise, they're enjoying a tropical motherfucking vacation.

Teenagers? More Like Abercrombie & Fitch Models: And speaking of teenagers, the kids in this book are all ridiculously good-looking. From the love interest, who looks like he stepped out of a romance novel.

Blessed with high cheekbones and sandy blond hair that brushed his broad shoulders, he looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of a cheesy romance novel in the grocery store book section.

To the female side cast, who are Swimsuit Illustrated-ready.

“Talla.” Straight blond hair, knockout body. I missed her day
count because I was so distracted by her chest. No one should get boobs and muscles, but Talla had gobs of both.

To the model-material men.

Perfect latte skin, model-worthy dreadlocks, the shade of summer limeade.

Everyone is absolutely stunning in this book.

The Main Characters: I could hardly tell the two narrators apart. The male narrator had such a feminine voice, so overwhelmed by unnecessary romantic observations that were the chapters not titled for the narrators, I would have the most difficult time distinguishing them.

For example, here is a sample of the male, Thad's narrative.

I love you.
The rush of emotion hit me so hard, the words stuck in my throat.
Unable to speak, barely able to breathe, I twisted my fingers in her hair and pulled her lips to mine. Then, breaking away, I held her tight. No words, no expectations, just Charley in my arms and my eyes wide open.

Thad is incredibly emotional, incredibly feminine. I'm not saying that guys do not have a right to be emotional or act feminine, but most female authors write a completely unconvincing male character and this book is no exception.

Charley stepped onto the sand. Wearing Kevin’s shorts and a simple chest wrap, she wore her hair long and loose; it blew around her shoulders, like the first day I’d met her.

Charley herself barely made an impression. Charley is completely useless, until she pulls a hat trick out of thin fucking air. Thad makes a big deal out of Charley surviving on her own, but hello? They're on a motherfucking tropical island with abundant food and shelter material everywhere. Everyone else on the island has done it, too. Charley can't do much more than take care of her own skin. She can't contribute anything to the island and its inhabitants, all of whom have a role to play.

I couldn’t spear fish, weave a stupid net, or make fire. I’d no clue how to bake island bread. At home I made cakes from a box.

That pretty much says it all.

The Romance: It is horrible. Frankly, I expected romance, it is a YA novel, after all, but there is an incomprehensible amount of insta-love in this book. From the first moment, Thad and Charley are captivated by each other. And from that moment on, they never, ever, ever stop noticing how they other smells. How the other looks. How their fart sounds like musical windchimes. Not even 48 hours has passed since the moment they meet, and Thad thinks the sun shines out of Charley's asshole.

Watching Charley smile, I was dying to kiss her.
I fought the urge to wrap my arms around this girl I’d just met less than forty-eight hours ago.

Barely knowing Charley, Thad wants to stay on the island, knowing that it is his death sentence, in order to be with her.

To stay.

To be with Charley, a girl I didn’t know but wanted to—more than I’d wanted anything in months. For the first time since my feet hit Nil dirt, there was something I wanted more than leaving: time. Time without limits, time to get to know the girl who made me feel alive again.

Incessantly, Thad notices Charley's "honey" voice, her "golden eyes." The observations never stop. I just wanted to smack Thad on the head. And let's not forget this horrible, horrible play on Charley's name. The cheesiest hit line ever made. If my name was Charley and a guy tried to sell this line to me in real life, I would sucker punch him in the face after laughing at him.

How to spell Charley's name:

“Tell me how to finish...i-e or e-y?”
“E-y,” I answered.
He chuckled. “So right.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He said, “Because for your name to end in a lie doesn’t fit. You’re the most real girl I’ve ever met, on or off Nil.”

My Fair Lady in Tang Dynasty China? Yes, please!

In the field of fiction, Jeannie Lin's novels are unicorns. They are the rarest of mythical creatures: Historical Romances set in Tang Dynasty, China. I have always loved Jeannie Lin's romance, and this is among my favorite of her novels. This book is delightful in every way. We have a truly compelling situation, the "My Fair Lady" scenario isn't made on a whim, there is familial honor and duty at stake. There is a wonderful supporting cast, from the spirited maidservant Dao to the irrepressible Bai Shen (OHMIGOD I LOVE HIM), and a love story that builds gradually. There is no insta-love here.

This is truly a fantastic book.

The Summary:

Yan Ling turned to wipe down her already-cleaned table once more when the stranger spoke.
‘I need a woman,’ he mumbled. ‘Any woman would do.’

Fei Long does need a woman, but not in the way you would imagine.

Fei Long is a Tang Dynasty nobleman, and he is a noble man in every sense of the word. He is kind, he is a benevolent master, an obedient son, but an absent one. His father has died, and he has returned home to find it in chaos. Debt collectors are pounding at the door, and to make matters worse, his little sister, Pearl, is nowhere to be seen. She has eloped with their neighbor.

This would be a bad enough situation on its own, but what makes it considerably worse is that his sister is not free to marry. Pearl was supposed to have been elevated to the rank of Imperial Princess, then sent off to marry the far-away Khitan king. A wedding of convenience, one that would ensure the peace of two nations, one that would secure the wealth and honor of the family line.

And now she is eloped to someone else. Fei Long catches up with the lovers, but does not have the heart to force his beloved sister into an unwanted marriage. He lets them go.

His sister had turned to Han because she’d had no one else.
The tension drained out of Fei Long, stealing away his rage. His throat pulled tight as he forced out the next word. ‘Go.’
The two of them stared at him in disbelief.
‘Go,’ he repeated roughly.

Well, fuck, now Fei Long is truly screwed. He doesn't have a sister to deliver to Khitan, but at least his sister is happy.

Now, do you see why Fei Long needs a woman?

Enter Yan Ling.



A 19-year old teahouse maid, down on her luck, hungry day in and out. When the drunk Fei Long mutters "I need a woman" to her, what else is she to think? She throws a pot of tea at him. She regrets it immediately. One impulsive action got her fired, and onto the streets. She begs Fei Long for help, it was HIS fault that she got fired, after all. Fei Long looks at her...and has other ideas.

‘I have a proposal for you.’
‘I know exactly what sort of proposal you mean.’ She shook an accusing finger at him. ‘I don’t care how rich you are, I was right to pour that tea on you.’
Her step quickened. ‘Leave me alone. I may not be learned or wear expensive clothes like you, but I’m a respectable girl. I won’t do...do that.’
‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

Yan Ling is passably pretty. She's got fire in her, a fire that his timid, demure sister lacks. With enough training, her edges sharpened down, Yan Ling could pass as his sister. And let's face it, a life as a royal princess in Khitan is better than a life on the street any day.

A ripple of pleasure ran through her, lazy and warm with promise. She would never need to worry about being cold or hungry again. Her back wouldn’t ache from serving customers from the first light of day to deep in the night.

The training is difficult and tedious. It is no easy feat to be a lady, as Yan Ling soon learns. For example, despite the fact that she has worked at a tea house for years, she doesn't know proper tea etiquette.

‘And when you took the cup from me, you did it with one hand.’
Had she?
‘Two hands,’ he went on. ‘With a slight bow of your head as you accept the cup.’
Heaven and earth, she didn’t even know how to drink tea properly! She, who had grown up in a teahouse.

And don't even mention the dresses, Jesus Christ! How the fuck does one move properly in those things?!

The cloth pooled around her feet as she tried to move forwards, wrapping about her ankles until he was certain she would topple. Fortunately she didn’t. She kicked at the train, much like—heaven help him—one would kick a stray dog. He raised a hand over his mouth.
‘Are you laughing at me?’

Yan Ling is smart, persistent. She is so innocent, so eager to please. She is truly grateful to Fei Long for bringing her into this whole situation. For the first time in her life, she has friends, she has company, she feels needed.

The last weeks in the Chang household had been the happiest time she’d ever known. She wore the fanciest silks and ate delicious meals from painted plates and bowls.
More precious than that, she had companionship. True companionship that came from the time that was her own.

Fei Long has the fantastic Bai Shen to help her to be a lady. Bai Shen may be a man, but he is an accomplished actor, and he's more *snaps fingers* fa-bu-lous than you will ever be.

‘There are a thousand looks. A hundred gestures. I’ve studied them all.’ He circled his hand with a flourish. ‘The secret is to create the illusion. You don’t need it all. Emphasise certain characteristics and the audience will believe.’

And she'd better succeed in all of this girly shit. There's feminine honor on the line! She can't be outdone by a man!

‘And don’t forget you have one grand advantage,’ he said.
‘What is that?’
He shrugged. ‘You actually are a woman.’

Teehee.

Fei Long is not absent. He has been tutoring her, watching her, seeing her grow in confidence day by day. He has his doubts, he has his fears. There is so much responsibility on his shoulders, but Fei Long is not alone.

‘You don’t need to thank me for anything,’ he said gently. ‘I should be thanking you.’
‘Because we’re in this together,’ she said uncertainly.
He nodded, breathing deep. ‘Together.’

As the days go by, as they encounter more challenges to their lives, as the past catches up to them, will they ever be able to overcome their differences? Will Fei Long be able to overcome his stern exterior--will his need to do what's right destroy the spark of life within the woman he loves?

Fei Long could hear Yan Ling’s laughter just over his shoulder while he sat in isolation, unable to share in it.
He was the only one not in disguise that night, yet he was the one hiding.

When the time comes to deliver Yan Ling to the Khitan, will he ever be able to let her go?

The Setting: AWESOME. Oh my god, if you've ever watched a Chinese drama, you will love this book. We see the city of Changan, vibrant with color.

Wealth was in the red banners cascading from the balconies of the wine-houses and restaurants of Changan. The rainbow bolts of silk in the marketplace. Even the fruit piled in the stalls sparkled like jewels: rosy peaches and startling pink dragonfruit with green-tipped scales.

There is an ample amount of detail, and the Chinese fangirl within me loved all of it. From the Chinese theatres, to the street stalls, to the mansion itself and its furnishings. There is no shortage of the life and color and beauty of Ancient China within these pages.

Yan Ling: I absolutely adore her character, and how she grows. Bai Shen tells her to be a phoenix in the book, and I can see her transformation. From spirited, irreverent teahouse maid, to a demure lady who could pass as a princess, we see every step of her transformation.

Yan Ling starts off being completely in awe of Fei Long, and who can blame her? She is no doormat, but she wants to please him, she wants to do right by him, because he has rescued her from the streets. Yan Ling has so much faith in Fei Long, she completely trusts him.

‘Promise me you’ll stay beside me the entire time.’
‘I promise.’
His gaze held on to her and she knew then that Fei Long wouldn’t let anything happen. She would do this for him. So he could be proud and think well of her.

Yan Ling grows, but she never becomes weak. She becomes a lady, but she is never cowed. Her feelings for Fei Long grows bit by bit, but she knows it is hopeless, because of where it will all lead.

‘Ah, of course.’ Her throat tightened around the words. ‘The grand scheme, above all else.’

Whatever romantic aspirations Yan Ling has is completely solidified by reality: Yan Ling is not a silly girl, she knows her dream is just a dream.

He felt nothing. None of the unwanted fire within her. Silly girl, why would he?

In the end, we will see clearly that Yan Ling has more strength and bravery within her than we would ever have expected.

Fei Long: A truly admirable character. He is stern and seriously because he has to be. He is never cruel. He strives to do everything correctly in life. He is such an honorable man. So honorable that he could never allow himself to take advantage of his situation to compromise a girl whose life he holds in his hands.

‘I think of you, Yan Ling, more than I should.’ A wave of longing struck him. ‘When I see your face at night, I don’t see the tea girl or the elegant lady. I only see you.’
‘If I acted on these feelings, if I...if I took what I wanted, it would be an abuse of authority. You’re under my care. That was what I meant when I spoke of our positions. I won’t treat you like that.’ His mouth twisted. ‘As if you’re here for my pleasure.’

He sees Yan Ling transform day by day, to be better for him. He feels guilty for making her lose her inner spark.

When she walked into a room, he could no longer see any remnants of the tea girl he’d first met. Occasionally, he would see her doubled over in laughter with Dao or Bai Shen and the sight always sent an inexplicable ache through him. She never laughed that way in his presence.
Yan Ling was exceeding all his expectations—and he hated it.

BAI SHEN: WHY IS HIS NAME CAPITALIZED? BECAUSE HE'S FUCKING AWESOME, THAT'S WHY. Oh, sure, the other characters in the book are awesome, but you don't know fabulous until you've met Bai Shen.



He is not gay. He is an actor in Ancient China, which means that he has to play female characters. And damn, does he do it well. When trouble comes, when a girl doesn't know how to act feminine, who's Fei Long gonna call?

If Yan Ling was to become a princess, or at least pretend to be one, they would need to transform her. He needed someone who was a master at deception.

Meet Bai Shen.

The gentleman was already seated on the couch. His robe was adorned with a brilliant border of maroon brocade and his topknot was affixed with a straight silver pin. He had narrow, handsome features, with dark eyebrows that accented his face in two bold lines.

And what's he gonna do?

He tapped his chest twice. ‘Bai Shen is one of the premier actors of the Nine Dragon theatre troupe and that, dear miss, is not a pretty face you’re making. I can see why Fei Long needs my help.’

OH YEAH.

He's not only gorgeous, he's not only a fabulous acrobatic actor, Bai Shen is also well-versed in the matters of the heart.

‘Be careful, Fei Long,’ Bai Shen said sombrely.
‘I’m being very careful. I’m taking every precaution when dealing with Tong.’
With a sigh, Bai Shen turned around to continue surveying the perimeter. ‘You fool,’ he muttered. ‘That’s not what I was talking about at all.’

READ THIS BOOK.

“Fo’ shizzle,” Quentin agrees.
“Fo’ shizzle?” Tara asks, rounding on Quentin. “What are you supposed to be, Q-dog? A gangsta? A redneck gangsta? That’s like the worst fake accent I’ve ever heard.”
“Girl,” Quentin throws his screwdriver to the floor, “please don’t be gettin’ in my face. I’ll bust yo—”

I hope you like annoying teenagers, because this book presents no shortage of them. There are plenty of zombies, but there are also an ample number some of the most irritating teenagers I've ever encountered, as well as a love triangle, and a constant notice of so-and-so's eyes, chest, gorgeous hair, Burberry-model looks, etc. Who has time to worry about zombies when you can use the zombie apocalypse as an excuse to get close to your crush. Like he can find anyone else, right? Everyone's dead, lol!1!!1

Because, you know, zombie apocalypse or not, we gotta have luuuuuuuurve, right?

This isn't a serious zombie novel by any means. You know those 90s horror films that are so bad that they're good, and you only watch them so that you can laugh at the idiotic high school students and their idiocy? The kind where you watch with a group of friends with whom you shriek "DON'T GO INTO THE BASEMENT ALONE, YOU DUMBASS! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU THINKING?! THE THING IS OBVIOUSLY HIDING RIGHT THERE!!!" or "Oh, that dumb jock. Of course he's going to die."

Yeah, it's one of those books.

The problem with this book is that while it's meant to be humorous, it didn't work for me as such. You see, a humorous novel shouldn't make me desperately beg that the main character gets killed by the monsters. Nor should it give me a migraine.

Things I wanted to do to Donna, the main character in this book.

1. Wire her jaw shut

2. Bury her alive under a stack of 19th century Russian literature (it should only take 5 books, given how long the fucking things are)

3. Tie her up, duct tape her mouth, then stuff her in a closet, leaving a distinct blood trail with a blood-painted sign saying
I like a heroine who is witty and snarky, the main character in this book is just plain annoying and dumb.

The Summary: Donna and her best friend Deke is on board a cruise ship in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, when they hear a broadcast from CNN about a outbreak of a virus that's decimated the world outside. This is bad. I would be freaking the fuck out, Donna doesn't exactly react the way I expect her to:

“The virus referred to as Bleek-Burns has now spread across all fifty states and most of North America. China was ground zero for this one, and last we heard, their population will more than likely be decimated by the virus.”
“Decimated?” I ask Deke. “Like practically wiped out?”
“Well, technically, that’s not what the word means.”
“Right,” I answer absentmindedly. “The historical definition of decimate is ‘to destroy one tenth of a population.’ But you know how the English language keeps evolving.” Once again, I’m babbling to hide my rising fear. “Nowadays, most people misuse ‘decimate’ to refer to the death of a large mass of people.”

You know how some people just keep talking and talking and talking and they never ever ever stop talking because they're so nervous that they just have to keep talking and talking and rambling on endlessly about nothing at all to hide the fact that they're nervous?

Donna is one of those people. God help us all.

You might be thinking: ZOMBIE OUTBREAK ON A SHIP! AWESOME. Don't. You're setting yourself up for disappointment. Within 10 pages, we're off the ship (apparently, a huge ass cruise ship can hightail it back to Florida from the middle of the Atlantic pretty fucking fast). Don't worry, no awesome cruise-ship zombie-fighting action here!

:(

Donna and Deke hightail it off the boat, leaving behind their Sea Captain father and grandmother, and somehow find their way back to their high school. The rest of the book will have you gritting your teeth as you put up with the useless, grating, insipid, trope-filled cast of high school characters within the book, whose innately obnoxious qualities are only outdone by the narrator herself.

Done-a with Donna: I have scarcely encountered a more annoying character within a book. Some of you may find Charley Davidson to be an annoying character. You ain't met annoying until you've met Donna. She is stupid, she is truly stupid, as in no intelligence whatsoever. She's peppy, I'll give you that, and apparently, Donna is really beautiful without knowing it; she has "iridescent silver eyes.".

“With you,” he continues, “there’s no arrogance, no self-centeredness. What I find most unfathomable is that you have no clue how beautiful you are.”

Whuh...?

Donna babbles on ceaselessly. She never lets anyone finish a fucking sentence.

Deke clicks off the TV, swinging around to face me. “Donna,” he says carefully, “I’ve got to tell you something, but I need you to stay calm, okay?”
I spring off the bed, almost taking the burritos with me. “Is Muriel all right?”
“Yes,” Deke stands. “She’s fine. Donna—”
“Where’s my dad? Is he okay?”
Deke reaches over to steady the room service tray teetering dangerously on the edge of my bunk. “He’s fine, too. Still on the bridge. Donna—”
“They had a fight, didn’t they? And you and Muriel are leav—”
“Jeez, Donna! Shut up for a second so I can explain.”

AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

Donna is...not smart. There is a girl in every school: she's beautiful, she's got brains, but she's uninterested in learning. But she always makes good grades because there's always adoring smart boys around to help her with her schoolwork? That's Donna. She doesn't know her science. She needs stuff to be dumbed down in order for her to understand things.

From the expression on Deke’s face, I know he’s figuring out how to explain something. With science stuff, Deke usually has to dumb it down so I can understand.

She gets shitty grades in math because she spends most of her time in math class observing the guy of her dreams.

I had pre-algebra with him that year, and he sat two rows to the left of me. When I turned my body slightly, stretching my legs in the aisle between desks, I could watch him out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t make very good math grades that year.

Donna keeps babbling. er internal dialogue is a foray into madness and idiocy. The girl just doesn't shut up. She has the dumbest thoughts ever. In the middle of a zombie apocalypse, you should not worry about stupid shit like your nail polish, your iPod, or your formal dress

My house, Deke’s house, and all the other houses in our ’burb, are probably infested with the walking dead. I picture corpses hiding in my closet, lurking behind my school clothes, my raincoat, my dress for the dance. What if one of them tries on my red semi-formal gown? I shake my head.

She always act so incredibly stupid...but her dumbest observation turns out to be right. I just don't fucking get it.

“You’re a little slow on the uptake,” I tell him, glancing at the sky. “The sun is up now. Duh. Zombies don’t like light.”
Deke scowls at me like I’m a total idiot. “It’s vampires that don’t like light.”
I shoot him an equally fierce gaze. “I don’t care what you think. They’re zombies, Deke.”

ZOMBIES. ZOMBIES. JUST CALL THEM ZOMBIES!!! In The Walking Dead, the show, they have this stupid thing of not calling zombies, well...zombies. Biters. Roamers. Walkers. They just don't call the motherfucking zombies by what they actually are...ZOMBIES.

Same for this book. Oh my god, oh my fucking god, if there were a virus that decimated the earth and turned everyone into walking, shambling, flesh-hungry monsters, do you know what you'd call the creatures. ZOMBIES! NOT THIS BOOK. NOBODY WANTS TO CALL THE UNDEAD ZOMBIES IN THIS BOOK.

Denial, it's not just a river in Egypt.

He snorts. “They are not zombies. Zombies are dead people who have been reanimated. These people are still alive.”

Oh my god, wake the FUCK up!

“It is not alive. It’s a zombie!” I yell.
Deke scowls at me. “There’s no such thing as zombies.”

Right, those things that want to eat you are just really angry people.

Gretchen seems to forget us, and rambles to herself, “He’s not human, but he’s not a...a...”
“Zombie.” For a moment, I don’t realize I’ve said the word aloud. My voice carries in the quiet room. A few nervous snickers erupt from the group. No one looks at me. I don’t care. They have to face facts sooner or later.
“Zombie?” Gretchen snaps back to her politician routine. “You’re so funny, Donna.” She laughs her best fake laugh. Everyone joins in, and the tension breaks.

Oh, spare me.

The Teenagers: Very teenagers. Much hate. Ugh. There's no shortage of tropes in this book. All the teenagers in this book's zombie high school setting is a trope. From the goth, to the peppy "plastic," "brownnoser," overachieving, backstabbing class president with corkscrew curls, to the white boy who wants to be a rapper, to the tiny, nerdy 4'10 brilliant scientist who pulls a hat trick every fucking time. There's no end to the stereotypes.

There's Tara and Lara: the cheerleaders. They---wait for it---cheer.

“We’re going for water!” She grips Bo’s hands and they dance in a circle. “Water! Water! Water!”
Lara snaps out of her stupor and joins the chant. “Water water water!!”
Oh God, please tell me they’re not gonna cheer.
“We’ve got water, yes we do! We’ve got water—”
Yep, they’re gonna cheer.
Tara does a few back handsprings. Her short skirt flips inside out. Deke and Fabio watch, their mouths gaping slightly.

They're just comical. One boy welcomes the zombie apocalypse: why?

“I was supposed to get braces after Thanksgiving. See, I already got the spacers. And dang, girl, those babies hurt when they put them in.” He laughs. “Now, I don’t have to go to the orthodontist no more. So I’m fine with this whole worldwide-plague thing.”

They're irritating. They make irritating noises.

"...anyone who touches the metal doorframes receives a severe electrical shock.”
In the front row, Veronica makes a loud bzzzzt noise that reminds me of a bug zapper. Immediately, three or four other kids from the robotics dork brigade start going bzzzzt, bzzzzt.

The Romance: There's a love triangle, but even more painful than the love triangle is the constant awareness of *sigh* HIS BODY. HIS PRESENCE. I mean, zombies? Fuck zombies. There's...*sigh* Liam! Liam who FINALLY NOTICES HER! Hallelujah! It only took a zombie apocalypse!

Oh. My. God. Liam just whispered to me. To me. Like we’re friends or something.

What better excuse to get close to the man of your dream.

“Yay!” We fist bump. I’ve never touched Liam before and my hands tingle from the contact.

To be aware of every cell on his body. His chiseled face.

He’s beyond hot when he smiles—chiseled cheekbones, easy confidence. I remember why half the girls at school were crushing on him.

Why concern yourself with the undead when you can ogle hot, sweaty guys?

I’ve never been so happy to see Liam. And it has nothing to do with the fact that his shirt, slightly sweaty from being outside, is now clinging to his muscled chest.

And fantasize about him.

Liam comes toward me. Maybe he’ll scoop me up in his arms. Bury his face in my hair. Tell me how much he missed me. Let me feel his chest.

And the love triangle? Same old. Lifelong best friend vs. hot crush who's never given Donna the time of day before.

Not recommended unless you like annoying teenagers, or are easily amused by them.

Wah wah wah bully bully mental illness crap.

...it’s the name of the most evil Black Witch there has ever been.”

I want to say “Marcus.” He’s my father and I want to say his name, but I’m too afraid. I’m always too afraid to say his name.

Oh, hi, Voldemort!

This book is Snape: The Teenage Years. Only without much magic. WHERE'S MY MOTHERFUCKING MAGIC? Is it too much to ask for magic in a book about WITCHES?! If I'm going to read Dracula, I want some fucking vampires, and I want them to suck the blood hell out of some humans. If I'm going to read about witches, I want some fucking hocus pocus shit, ok?

This is basically the story of Harry Potter's Severus Snape, if Voldemort had been his daddy. He's also got a Lily to comfort him.

If you are a Harry Potter fan, you will find the setting in this world quite familiar, which is good, because the setting in this book is very poorly built. This book has excellent character development, a sympathetic main character (OH COME ON, WHO DOESN'T LOVE SNAPE?!), but almost no magic at all for a book with witches. The plot is vague, the setting is unclear, it's well-written for a character insight, but that's the limit of this book.

The plot is long-winded, and there's not much of it. There are a lot of beatings, a lot of torture, a lot of discrimination and hate, a lot of angst, and not a whole lot of story or world-building. The book was just all over the fucking place.

Let's get the elephant in the room out of the way: there are a lot of similarities to Harry Potter in this book, but there is no comparison with the original series. In this book, we have a corrupt Council (HP's Ministry of Magic), we have Hunters (Aurors), we have the Pure (Purebloods), a term for non-magical humans, Fain (Muggles), and for god's sakes, we have a Cobalt Alley...

The beginning of this book is confusing as fuck. This was literally my reaction for the first 10% of the book:



Hang in there. It gets better.

The Summary: Some people have the worst fucking luck in the world. Meet Nathan Byrn. He is Half-Black. No, it doesn't mean he's got African ancestry, it means that he is half Black Witch. His father is a notorious Black Witch, a murderer of hundreds. A name reviled by the White Witch community. As his son, Nathan is despised. Nobody loves him but (most of) his immediate family. Not his mother, because his mother is dead. Dead because of him.

“She’s dead because of you.”
I back against the wall.
Jessica shouts at me. “She killed herself because of you!”

His oldest sister reviles him. His other siblings and Gran love him and try to protect him, but they can only do so much against a world that is inclined to discriminate against those with Half Black blood.

This is not a happy book. Throughout the book, we see how the world turns against Nathan. From his own sister, who constantly tries to intimidate him, to the bullies at school, who pound him into the ground.

Niall catches me on the side of the head with the brick and Connor is clinging on to me.
Then I get rammed in my back, which must be with the brick again.
It reverberates down my spine and stops me dead.
I’ve been hammered into the tarmac like a nail.

Pain and misery and torture. That is the extent of Nathan's life. It never stops.

He puts the point back into my left shoulder blade and I clench my jaw and scream while he makes another cut.
He stops again and says, “You should have listened to him.”
He makes another slow cut.
And I am going mad screaming and praying for someone to make him stop.
But he makes another cut and then another and all I can do is scream and pray.

Even his mentor is more prisoner than friend.

The routine is the same as ever. And so is the cage. And so are the shackles. The choker is still on, loose but there. If I try to leave, I’ll die, no doubt about it.

It never seems to end.

I scream and curse him and move my finger as much as I can but the ring tightens and the needle goes into me again.
As it comes out I’m sweating.
He moves on to the top of my finger, over the fingernail. The needle goes through again.

That's pretty much the entire book. There is a lot of torture, a lot of pain, and some very vague plans to find his daddy. He-Who-Must-Be-Named. Actually, his name is Marcus.

So I must go to him.
I must go and find my father.

The Setting: Vague as fuck. There is just no background. It is a contemporary English setting, without much of the setting at all. I wouldn't have known besides the fact that they watch "the telly." The existence of witches doesn't really make any impression, because the book acts like "oh, everyone knows it, there's no need for any sort of information whatsoever." So BOOM. No setting. We know there's a vague...Council. We know that there are Hunters.

Hunters are the elite group of White Witches employed by the Council to hunt down Black Witches in Britain. Gran says they are employed by other Councils in Europe more and more as there are so few Blacks left in Britain. Hunters are mainly women, but include a few talented male witches. They are all ruthless and efficient.

And as you can tell from that passage, the world building is terribly trite and mundane; there's no evocative writing here.

I'm glad that I read Harry Potter first, because the world setting is very similar, in that magic is apparently an inherited trait, delivered by blood on a Witch's 17th birthday.

There is:

1. Almost no magic at all within the book

2. No history, no background

3. An unclear reason as to why the fuck Black witches are so bad. If someone were to tell you "Oh, XXX is a terrible person," you wouldn't just buy their words for it. You'd want to know why the fuck that is. There's not much of an explanation for why Black Witches are so reviled in this book. We know that Marcus, the most evil one, kills and steals magic. Do they all do that?

The Black Witches in this book are the Boogeyman. They're just a vague presence in the background to scare children. That's it.

The Plot: There is not much of a plot here. We see Nathan from up, from a child, to a 17-year old. He gets tortured. He runs away. That's it. There is no huge, compelling, overwhelming plot, and the main clue that we were given turned out to be a red herring because the book didn't turn out at all the way I expected it to go ased on the hints.

Nathan: I felt incredibly bad for the main character of the book. This truly is Severus Snape, the teenaged years. Everyone hates him. He is small, puny, and unlike Snape, Nathan is dumb as fuck. In secondary school, he is barely literate. Here's a sample of his writing:

i hava bordr and sisser my bordrs Arran
he is niss and Debsis clvrer

He gets bullied. He gets beaten. Thankfully, he has a Lily (named Annalise) to befriend him. A beautiful, clever, kind girl.

Annalise has long blonde hair that glistens like melted white chocolate over her shoulders. She has blue eyes and long pale eyelashes. She smiles a lot, revealing her straight, white teeth. Her hands are impossibly clean, her skin is the color of honey, and her fingernails gleam.

Annalise is a Pure blood, in the HP Universe, we would call her a Slytherin. A kind Slytherin.

I hold out my picture. “What do you think? Now it’s finished.”
I’m prepared for her to say something horrible, laugh at it or at me. But I don’t think she’ll do that.
She smiles and says, “It’s really good.”

Nathan is so lonely. His other siblings, Deborah, and Arran, love him, but that's not enough when he knows that the entire Witch world hates him for his father's blood. Nathan constantly dreams of his father. Wild, impossible dreams that give him hope.

It is a secret story that I tell myself when I’m in bed at night. My father is not evil at all; he is powerful and strong. And he cares about me . . . he loves me. And he wants to bring me up as his true son, to teach me about witchcraft, to show me the world. But he is constantly persecuted by White Witches who give him no opportunity to explain. But he is waiting for the right time to come for me and take me away with him.

Nathan is so hideously persecuted. Nobody wants him. Nobody believes him.

Of course I know. I know that even if I don’t fight, even if I avoid Annalise, even if I get on my knees and lick Niall’s and Connor’s boots, it will make no difference; they will do what they like and say what they like, and what they say will be believed.

He is unsure about his nature: White or Black. But it's all up to his personal choice:

"You aren’t evil, Nathan. Nothing about you is evil. You will have a powerful Gift—we can all see that—but it’s how you use it that will show you to be good or bad."

Recommended with reservations.