Review | When We Were Good, Suzanne Sutherland

17076485Remember being a teenager? Remember that all too dismissive word “angst” and the feeling that all these things you’re going through are much bigger and much more significant than adults give you credit for? Suzanne Sutherland’s debut YA novel When We Were Good plunges the reader right into that angst. I don’t know how I would have reacted to the book as a teenager, but as an adult, it did bring back memories of how it is to view the world as a teen. And in a literary landscape where teenage characters are either Joss Whedon sophisticated wits (think of John Green’s teens) or forced by dystopian societies to grow up too soon (Katniss Everdeen and her many succeeding iterations), there’s something refreshing about an author who decides to show teenage angst straight up. Protagonist Katherine Boatman is flawed, horribly confused, and desperate to “be good” without fully understanding what that means.

It takes a lot of skill to pull such a character off without letting her mess of emotions turn the story itself into an emotional mess, and unfortunately first time novelist Suzanne Sutherland hasn’t mastered it quite yet. There’s a lot going on in the novel, and a lot more that the author tries to do, and the result isn’t as tight as it could have been. That being said, Sutherland’s sense of characterization is strong — Katherine comes off troubled and sympathetic rather than melodramatic, and straight edge loud mouth Marie, who admittedly does get annoying at times, actually does sound real rather than a caricature.

This strength is sometimes overshadowed by an overabundance of detail and attempt at verisimilitude. In a scene for example where Katherine cries while grocery shopping, one can almost hear the creative writing professor advise to “show, not tell.” Yet after a couple pages of the physical symptoms leading up to the actual act of crying, I would have preferred the single line: The avocados reminded Katherine of her grandmother and made her cry.

Similarly, many conversations between characters consist of information unnecessary to the plot, and awkward in a way that feels real, but adds nothing to character development. Again, there is the basic creative writing tenet to capture “real” conversation — to be fair, the dialogue does mimic conversations we hear on between teenagers on the bus. However, for conversations on a page, I would have preferred more polish.

Toronto is very much a character in this story. Katherine’s exploration of the indie music scene takes her around the city, and Sutherland takes the reader with her, naming real Toronto streets and landmarks. The Bloor Viaduct, in particular the “Luminous Veil” suicide barrier becomes a potent metaphor for Katherine’s grief. The author hammers home the point a bit too much for the image to keep its resonance, but again, one remembers the overpowering emotion of teenage life, and certainly my teenage self probably would have latched on to that symbol as much as Katherine did.

LGBTQ stories in YA are becoming more mainstream, though still fairly rare. Even rarer, at least from my own personal reading experience, is having a straight edge character — one who stays away from alcohol and drugs and genuinely believes that’s the cool way to live. (or as kids today are more likely to say: that’s the sick way to live) In Marie, Sutherland creates an unapologetically lesbian straight edge love interest. I wish Marie had been given more nuance, and that the development of her relationship with the (sexually confused for most of the novel) Katherine was less abrupt. Still, Sutherland does make a statement by glamourizing the straight edge lifestyle, and one that invites discussion.

When We Were Good is Sutherland’s first novel, and while this does show in her writing, the novel also touches on some really important issues. What does it mean to “be good”? How can a fifty dollar bill be enough to honour a beloved grandmother’s life? How can a teenage girl deal with so many things going on, without allowing herself to be pulled under? Sutherland’s novel explores the overwhelmingly emotional nature of the teen years, as well as its amazing potential to discover new interests and new ways of viewing the world.

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Thank you to the author for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | The Banks of Certain Rivers, Jon Harrison

17665375High school teacher Neil Kazenzakis is having a rough time. His wife has been severely disabled in an accident, and now lies in a coma, his girlfriend Lauren is pushing him to commit, his son Christopher doesn’t know about Lauren yet, and to top it all off, he’s just been implicated in an act of violence against a student. There’s a mystery to be solved in Jon Harrison’s debut novel The Banks of Certain Rivers — who on earth would take the trouble to frame a teacher for assault? — but it’s above all a family drama, and a rather touching one.

Harrison does a good job pulling his readers in. The two major plot points — how can Neil tell Christopher about Lauren and how can Neil prove his innocence in the altercation — are compelling, and Harrison’s characters are so well-developed they feel real, and so we as readers feel invested in what happens to them. The novel deals a lot with grief as well, and in such a lovely, subtle way. I really liked Neil’s emails to his wife, as he tells her how his life is going, and the realization that these emails may never be read is heartbreaking.

There are a couple weaknesses with the novel. First, even though the wife’s accident was depicted in the first chapter, the story immediately picks up in the present day without explaining exactly what had happened to the wife. If not for the book blurb stating she was alive and “profoundly disabled,” I would have thought that she’d died. As it was, for the longest time, I thought she was in the bedroom the entire time, unable to leave because of a disability. As well, the resolution of the mystery regarding the video evidence of Neil’s assault on a student was far too abrupt. I wish Harrison had integrated it better into the story; as it was, the solution just seemed random, and while the characters explained why it made sense, it still seemed unrealistic to me. A solution placed for the sake of having one.

Finally, a certain theme central to the relationship between father and son, and a large part of the major rift later on in the book, may have been hinted at but never really explored. Neil’s grief at his wife’s accident was certainly covered, but the specifics of how he handled it were left vague, until a climactic moment later on. Given the enormity of this revelation, as well as its implications on other parts of the story, I wish Harrison had, again, integrated it better into the novel throughout.

That being said, The Banks of Certain Rivers is a strong novel, definitely worth more than the $2.99 Kindle price on Amazon.ca. I was drawn in to Neil’s story, and ended up reading it in a single afternoon. Harrison has a gift for making characters feel real, and as we get to know Neil, we can’t help feeling invested in his story.

UPDATED: The Banks of Certain Rivers has recently been picked up by another publisher, and is now available in paperback format. Click on the book cover below to see it on Amazon.

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I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Review | Revenge Wears Prada, Lauren Weisberger

DevilWearsPradaMerylStreep2I have a confession to make. When I say I love The Devil Wears Prada, I’m really talking about the movie. I did read the book, and I do remember liking it. But when I squee in delight at the idea of a sequel, and beg the publisher for a review copy, well, it’s the elegant, formidable Meryl Streep that’s in my mind. Seriously: an icon. And while I can barely remember the book apart from the movie, this sequel makes me think the author has a lot to thank the filmmakers for.

I had high expectations for Revenge Wears Prada, and the book was a disappointment. Biggest problem: too much Andy, not enough Miranda. My mom originally bought me the first book because she thought that as an aspiring writer myself, I would relate to Andy. I did see myself in Andy, the wide-eyed fashion don’t who dreamed of a byline in the New York Times, but it was Miranda who made the story such a cultural icon. When I heard of the sequel, set ten years after the events of Devil Wears Prada, and the book blurb hinted that Miranda may be plotting something diabolical for Andy, my first thought was disbelief that someone like Miranda would waste her time on someone so insignificant. (To the Miranda in my mind, no one really was worth wasting her time on.) Still, I figured if anyone can come up with an epic revenge plot, it would be Miranda Priestly. Unfortunately, and this may be more the marketing department’s fault than the author’s, there was no epic revenge plot and Miranda was barely even in the book. The few scenes she was in, she dominated, and each time I kept wanting to delve more into her story. Each time, however, the story shifts away back to Andy’s life now, and I keep wondering where Miranda went.

cvr9781439136638_9781439136638_lgAgain, part of that might be because I have Meryl Streep’s Miranda Priestly in mind rather than the character Lauren Weisberger originally wrote. As one of the interviewees in the Devil Wears Prada DVD extras points out, Meryl Streep has a natural seductiveness to her — even when being the boss from hell, she still manages to draw people in. So, when in Revenge Wears Prada, Andy suffers from PTSD-type symptoms from her experience, I felt like telling her to get over it. At one point, Emily tells her Miranda was a horrible boss, but hardly “the devil incarnate” and Andy scoffs at that, as presumably should the reader, but this reader at least agrees with Emily. Sure, Miranda’s demands were unreasonable (the unpublished Harry Potter manuscript!), but really, after a decade, to still be having nightmares and to still go into panic attacks at the thought of encountering Miranda again? Andy: seek help.

In Revenge Wears Prada, Andy and Emily have teamed up to create The Plunge, a high end, aspirational wedding magazine. It is so successful that Miranda Priestly wants to acquire it for her own publishing company. Emily is thrilled at the opportunity and the sales price, but Andy can’t deal with the thought of working for Miranda again. It’s a fairly straightforward business proposal, where Andy and Emily deal more with Miranda’s lawyers than with her directly, and calling it “revenge” just raises expectations for something juicier. Instead, the story focuses more on the character of Andy, who is married now and expecting a child. She is also dealing with a (mostly absent from the story) mother in law who doesn’t like her, a fear that her husband may have been unfaithful, and a strong attraction to an ex-boyfriend. All this is an okay story, but Andy just isn’t a compelling enough character to propel it to greatness.

There are also some niggling plot holes and inconsistencies. I can accept Andy being unable to break into the field of investigative journalism, but a high end wedding magazine requires a completely different skill set (more visual, highly tuned to designers and all the artistic touches), and it’s quite a stretch to imagine Andy having developed that skill.

Revenge also includes a cameo by Rafael Nadal, a thinly veiled reference to Anna Wintour’s friendship with Roger Federer. The problem is, anyone who’s heard even a single Nadal interview knows he would never be that smarmy. He sounded more like a sleazy salesperson than anything, and I doubt Weisberger was able to capture even the more polished Federer’s cadence.

Still, Revenge Wears Prada is an enjoyable enough book. It’s a quick read, a fun way to spend a lazy afternoon. It just really, really needed more Miranda Priestly. That’s all.

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Thank you to Simon and Schuster Canada for a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.