The Drowned Cities (by Paolo Bacigalupi)

In 2011 Paolo Bacigalupi won the Michael L. Printz award with Ship Breaker and this year the companion novel The Drowned Cities has been appearing on a lot of Printz-contenders lists. The Drowned Cities definitely ticks a lot of ‘award winning’ boxes and delivers on a number of different fronts to result in a great – if not disturbingly acute – read. First off, more than its predecessor, The Drowned Cities is a war book, featuring the usual casualties of any war: the kids. However, everything is set in the same world as Ship Breaker: at once bleak, raw and highly believable. Also, it’s one of the few books this year so far that has a true “multi-cultural” feel to it, something that the Printzers might also want in a book.

Because Mahlia – the daughter of a peacekeeper and a Drowned Cities woman – has Chinese features, she is a target in the war between the different (war) factions . It’s in one of the attacks that Mouse rescues the castoff Mahlia. Despite only having one arm (the other hand was chopped off and is now a stump) she becomes a much needed medical assistant to Dr Mahfouz. Mouse, on the other hand, is an orphan, also in Dr Mahfouz’s care. While Mahlia’s father – a peacekeeper – just left, his parents died in a random attack. Random attacks, orphaned kids, kids recruited to be boy soldiers, this is the bleak reality of the damaged world in The Drowned Cities.  For war maggots like Mahlia and Mouse, the future is hopeless, violence only begetting more violence. Bacigalupi, though, explains how “The Drowned Cities hadn’t always been broken. People broke it.”  In the world of The Drowned Cities (a world set in the USA) “no price is too high, and no fight can be surrendered. They [people] aren’t fighting for money, or power or control. Not really. They’re fighting to destroy their enemies. So even if they destroy everything around them, it’s worth it, because they know that they’ll have destroyed the traitors.”  It’s a pretty depressing story, one in which violence is both random and the most obvious solution to any civil war scenario.

However, even though Mahlia and Mouse are the two human protagonists, the main “attraction” if you will of this book is the half-man and augment Tool, who’s actually the true embodiment of a war in which things spiral ever more out of control until you get something that is utterly unmanageable. Tool first showed up in Ship Breaker. Different from the rest of his race, he still does not pledge allegiance to just one master and does not lose his will to live once his master dies. Instead, Tool is all about the survival instinct, a master at reading any given war situation. Tool was bred for war, and now actually surpasses the expectations of his breed by surviving this long.  It is both ironic and only fitting that things start to change for Mahlia and Mouse once they encounter a heavily wounded Tool, who has just escaped from his captors, the troops of Colonel Stern of the UPF. In the jungle, Tool forces Mahlia to get medicine by keeping Mouse hostage. When Mouse gets captured and recruited into the UPF, Mahlia and Tool form a hesitant alliance as Mahlia has had enough of running away from the violence, but rather  wants to enter into the warzone of the Drowned Cities to rescue Mouse who once saved her too.

Bacigalupi’s world is both alienating and completely convincing. Reading this almost feels like Children of Men in the jungle of Apocalypse Now. In a world hit by global warming, global political powers have shifted significantly. Nothing in The Drowned Cities is unbelievable, though, far from it: people destroying people for the sake of destroying things, not knowing any more what the initial reason was? China as the new center of civilization and the USA the main warzone, “because no one took responsibility for what they did, and how it would drive others to respond”… nothing here is fantastical. The (geo)political message is definitely more overt in The Drowned Cities, and unlike in Ship Breaker we get an idea of how this new world order – or rather new world chaos – came about: the sea levels have risen so much that part of countries or whole cities and countries are now ‘drowned’. Some countries thought ahead: China for instance managed to save its main cities. The United States, on the other hand, did not manage to do the same thing because of internal disputes, leading to civil wars. China then sent in peacekeepers to stop the fighting and killing, but once it was obvious that the situation was way beyond their control, they left and different war lords and factions like Army of God or United Patriots Front started to take over. Now they just fight for territory. Also, the way new boy soldiers are recruited is definitely not a figment of Bacigalupi’s imagination. We only have to think of child soldiers in Somalia, Uganda, Congo or Myanmar, and we know that the way Mouse is broken in, is the way it also happens in those countries where war militia make use of children and make monsters of men.

The Drowned Cities is despite its themes of war hostilities, child soldiers, acts of barbarism not without hope. The hope here lies in the humanity and humaneness of its characters, Mahlia and Mouse, but also the half-man Tool who discovers that he is more than his breed. The Drowned Cities is Paolo Bacigalupi at his best.  By just enhancing and switching around a couple of present-day realities Bacigalupi shows us a world that could be our global future. However, he’s not being preachy about it, but instead shows what people do in extreme and hopeless situations. A scary vision, but hopefully one that is still avoidable.

The White Darkness (by Geraldine McCaughrean)

The Printz committee has a knack for choosing the more challenging books as their winners and the road less traveled often prevails. In the case of  The White Darkness that is something to be taken literally too: an exploration into the white darkness of the Antarctic is not really a common topic in YA, but it doesn’t mean it can’t produce a gem of a novel that surpasses the mere adventure novel. There’s also Marcus Sedgwick’s Revolver, really a world apart from The White Darkness, and this book too caught the eye of the Printz Committee… they sure like it cool!

In The White Darkness it is Sym’s voice that is somehow as magnetic as the pole she’s about to explore with her ‘Uncle’ Victor.  Sym is 14 and like many protagonists in YA novels she is withdrawn from her contemporaries who all just seem to be interested in boys and make-up. Sym, on the other hand, is shy and at the age of 14 she is in love with Titus Oates, the voice in her head. For the reader and for Sym this is not something out of the ordinary. Titus is just there. Although this is obviously a coping mechanism (Sym’s father has died), the voice Sym hears and is in love with also represents her lifelong passion: the Antarctic. In the beginning of the novel, Sym’s Uncle Victor – who’s actually a friend of the family – offers to take Sym and her mother on a trip to France. But at the airport Sym’s mother can’t find her passport, and Victor and Sym leave without her. What sets out to be a weekend in Paris, turns into what should become Sym’s adventure of a lieftime: a trip to the Antarctic… the one place she’s always dreamed of as it’s the place that Titus also explored so many years before. From the start the reader realizes that something is ‘off’ about Uncle Victor, but Sym still believes vehemently in the genius that is Uncle Victor… It is only throughout the entire trip that she realizes that she has been conned by him…for a very long time. Because Uncle Victor is actually looking for Symmes’ Hole and the journey into the white darkness is the journey of an obsessive madman.

There are a couple of elements that make of The White Darkness such a thrilling and challenging read. First there’s the link with Titus Oates.  Titus Oates is actually Captain Lawrence Oates, an English Antarctic explorer, who explored the South Pole at the beginning of the 20th century. He died in an act of self-sacrifice, but his body was never found. In the book his voice, springing from the vivid imagination of Sym, is a presence all in its own: guide, conscience, friend, hero…he takes on whatever form Sym needs him to be. And though it may sound contradictory, but it is the voice in Sym’s head – her true confidant and the one protector against the evil machinations of ‘Uncle’ Victor – that keeps her sane in the mad world that Uncle Victor has created for her. Second, there’s an obvious theme of abuse in the book, but contrary to most abuse stories, the abuse here is not sexual or physical (except for one crucial element, which I will not spoil!), but entirely psychological, and as pervasive as any form of abuse. The last challenging element is the narrator’s voice. As a reader you just know that something is not quite right, even though you can’t exactly put your finger on it, and as a reader, you will get frustrated with Sym for not figuring things out about what is going on with her. Also, the almost outrageous adventure (a girl taken on a trip to the Antarctic without her mother’s knowledge!) that Sym is about to experience takes a lot of willpower on the part of the reader. Once you’ve overcome those hesitations, however, you will marvel at the exquisite beauty of the white darkness of the arctic. Sym’s voice is captivating and magnetic. The arctic is intoxicating in that all-absorbing sort of way.

All props here go to McCaughrean who has created a multi-layered plot (history blending with a present-day coming-of-age story) while not sacrificing the attention to language. Her prose has the sort of astonishing beauty that the Antarctic she’s describing also has: atmospheric, desolate and treacherous: “When the White Darkness sets in, it’s such a kindness. All shadows disappear – the sky, the ground – leaving nothing but a milky, trembling nothingness. It’s a sweet light, a pleasant light, like lying under a sheet on a summer morning: the presence of light without any of the usual complications – like being able to see. Perfect ignorance was like this, I remember: a feeling of enlightenment without ever quite grasping what was going on. They call it the White Darkness.” (p. 305) Loved this!

Hunting Lila (by Sarah Alderson)

Hunting Lila is a novel that promises so much, yet fails to deliver on almost every intellectual front and finally only barely passes as a flimsy, made purely for instant entertainment value, paranormal thriller. Yet again, the cat feels cheated out of a great adventure thriller. The elements to make it such really were there, except, once again, you get the almost formulaic focus on the romance part of a story. Moreover, the romance bit of this story is so cliché (and honestly disturbing) that it ruined the half-assed attempt at thriller-action. At more than one point the cat wondered whether Alderson – for who this is a debut novel – hadn’t just been told that paranormal and romance are what sells today, and pretty please put in lots of a gratuitous romance and swooning and wanting to get groped.

Lila is 17 and has this special ability – which btw, aside from being mentioned on the first page only shows up again at around p. 100 of the novel  … talk about sloooow –  in that she can move things with her mind. For all intents and purposes this is a pretty damn cool power to have, yet so under-used by Lilah and Sarah Alderson in favor of cheap romance. Anyway, the first 100 pages basically focus on Lila page after page declaring how much she’s been in love with Alex, her brother’s best friend, her entire life, and how swoon-worthy that blue-eyed boy really is, and how much she really wants him to pick her up and do whatever with her. The whole damsel-in-distress pining for the blue-eyed boy is not only way too stereotypical, it’s downright offensive if you want to make a credible heroine who can do things on her own and with her own mind! Because seriously, all Lila seems to want is making sure she gets The Alex.

Anyway, got a bit of track here. So Lila displays her special abilities on page 1 of the novel after which she escapes to Los Angeles, where her brother and The Alex live – forget talking this through with your father, because at 17 of course you can just hop on a plane from London to LA on your own, right? After her mother’s death, Lila’s father uprooted Lila to London, where she never quite felt at home, because you know, The Alex wasn’t there. So where to escape to? Of course, where The Alex is. Once there, Lila discovers that her brother and The Alex work for a special black ops section, called The Unit, but it’s not quite clear what’s so special about it, except that they drive around with very expensive black SUVs and that everyone who works there is not allowed to have any special relationships (which is of course why Jack, Lila’s brother is in a relationship with his co-worker Sarah), and everyone’s house has to be protected by a special alarm, oh and they are not allowed to talk about what it is they’re doing. So yeah, of course, things were bound to take a turn for the worse when Lila *finally* learns who or what The Unit is, and that they’re actually hunting down people with special abilities, like Lila… there’s a whole lot of hoopla about who’s the good guy and who’s the bad guy, and there are twists and turns in the plot to make your head spin, but of course, like in all such sort of novels, this is – sadly – not a standalone novel, but a first in a series, so I’m sure the hunting Lila thing will pick up right where Alderson left it off at the end.

So here’s the cat’s vow: I will not get sucked in again with first novels in a series that promise the sky… ends up being a disappointing endeavor anyway. Also, I probably made this out to be worse than it actually is. It’s a bit thriller, a bit adventure, a bit of paranormalcy and a whole lot of romance. In all of this, this is a book that reminded me of Rachel Ward’s Numbers, and a lot of people also seemed to like that one. The cat, though, is through with these generic type of books. Why not focus on female characters that are not so stereotypical in their gender roles, especially when you give them freaking special brain powers!

Castle of Shadows (by Ellen Renner)

Mad kings, cruel housekeepers, political intrigue, defiant princess, courageous sidekick… Ellen Renner’s Castle of Shadows has it all to be a favorite with kids who will grow up to love reading Harry Potter. Renner’s book is marketed at children, but a book this fast-paced, entertaining and well-written should win over a lot of grown-up hearts too.

After the disappearance of her mother, 11-year-old Charlie leads a very un-princessy life at Quale Castle, while her father, the King, has no other joy in life than his playing cards. Instead of ruling his country, in a very ‘Madness of King George’ type of way he spends his days hanging upside down building castles with playing cards. The result is a country in decline, with hard times for castle and country inhabitants. The Kingdom of Quale is definitely a made-up country, complete with political intrigue, almost wars, (pseudo-)scientific discoveries, and an almost forgotten Queen, but there are definitely hints here and there that point towards Renner’s deep love for Victorian times and the good old-fashioned Victorian gothic novel. Castle of Shadows however, is not boring or dreary gothic. Instead, after Charlie finds a clue about her mother’s whereabouts, and enlists her friend Toby in the search for the long-lost Queen, we get an action-packed adventure that is nevertheless set in a gothic-type castle, with gothic type characters, but with such a positive vibe to it, that this will appeal to adventure-seekers, as well as historical novel buffs.

Also, it’s great to read a novel that is definitely marketed to a younger audience, but which never takes a childish or superior stance. Ellen Renner has a healthy ambition with this book: write a good adventure story, create believable characters that sometimes totally bug each other. This is not your typical romantic princess & the pauper stuff that all too many Disney movies are made of. Sparks definitely fly up in Castle of Shadows, and it’s only fitting that this book would get a sequel with City of Thieves.

Revolver (by Marcus Sedgwick)

The cat wanted more. This is more. “Even the dead tell stories,” is how Marcus Sedgwick’s award winning  11^th novel Revolver starts. Set in the Arctic, in 1910, this is the story of 14-year-old Sig Andersson and the Revolver. It’s also the story of a boy forced to grow up due to the extreme circumstances he finds himself in.

Imagine the coldest of cold places of the Arctic Circle. This is where the Andersson family, father Einar, step-mother Nadya, and teenagers Anna and Sig, live. One day, Sig finds his father Einar dead on the ice, frozen to death. Nadya, Anna and Sig drag Einar’s body back to the cabin, and after Nadya and Anna leave to get help, Sig is alone in this cold and desolate place. Then there’s a knock on the door that will bring back history, and will force Sig to make decisions. “A gun is not a weapon,’ Einar once said to Sig. ‘It’s an answer. It’s an answer to the questions life throws at you when there’s no one else to help.” (p.24)

Revolver is spread out over a mere 217 pages, and switches between Sig’s 1910 (Einar’s death and the menacing events in the cabin) and Einar’s 1899 (the Alaska gold rush and how Einar’s past will influence Sig’s decision). Yet, where other novels as short as this one fail in their characterization or in the development of the plot, Sedgwick manages to write a haunting, almost claustrophobic , tale of hardship, hope and making life-choices. This chilling story would put even many “grown up” thrillers to shame. Sedgwick’s prose is sparse, thrilling, tense. Revolver proves the power of language. It proves that a carefully constructed plot does not need to be dragged out. Even the most reluctant of readers will want to pick this one up: a fast, exciting and ‘easy’ read, yet with a philosophical everyman twist. Sometimes less is more.