Angieville

I feel like contemporary YA and I are going through a rough patch. We're having trouble seeing eye to eye. We seem to be going in different directions. We don't want the same things anymore. Take your pick. I realize this is likely just an unfortunate string of mismatches, but after a little while it's hard not to take it personally, you know? So much good chatter surrounded today's release of Jessi Kirby 's Golden . Not having ready Kirby's previous two novels, I found myself curious about the fervor. Then I heard whispers of a decade-old unresolved mystery and something about Robert Frost and I was on board . Somewhat uninspiring Generic Sunlit Girl cover aside, I like that it doesn't lead the reader too much as to what to expect inside. That combined with my lack of knowledge of the author's work in general made it possible for me to go in with fairly untouched expectations. Which is always a nice thing. Parker Frost (yes, that Frost her father ma...

It's difficult to resist the siren song of an as-yet-unread contemporary author, isn't it? For the most part, I tend to dip into those waters with caution. Sometimes I make out like gangbusters . And others I wind up feeling as though I was force-fed treacle , or that I was curiously emptied while reading the book rather than filled. I tell myself it's worth it, though, to find those gems that make your blood pump and the tips of your fingers tingle. I tell myself it's worth the racing anticipation and the occasional deep disappointment. And it is. Even if an author's entire bibliography doesn't work for you. It's worth it if that one, perfect match does. Cause then you get to hold onto it for the rest of your reading life, and pull it out and revisit those characters and that place and those moments whenever you need them. All of which is a rather long winded way of explaining how I found myself giving Sarah Ockler a try for the first time. I wasn't...