Heather Seggel

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When a group of orphans in Calcutta form a secret society, they vow to protect one another as a family would. Little do they know how much that pledge will demand of them later. As the children prepare to “graduate” from the orphanage to the real world, Ben learns he has a twin sister, Sheere, whose grandmother separated the two at birth to protect them from a force of evil that travels under the name Jawahal. Ben entreats his fellow society members to help secure Sheere’s safety and find out what Jawahal wants. Welcome to The Midnight Palace.

Author Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Shadow of the Wind) has created a dark and unforgiving world for these children to navigate. The stench of raw sewage seems to leap off the page, and Jawahal is a truly frightening and violent character. But this bleak backdrop is warmed by the love Ben feels for his friends and newfound family, and by several small mysteries that they must solve along the way. Even the perilous final showdown with Jawahal takes the form of a game: Ben must reach into boxes, hoping to withdraw the names of his friends to win their release . . . but one box contains a poisonous snake.

The story’s conclusion is explosive, literally and emotionally, and deeply moving. Fans of Zafón will love this book for its rich storytelling and co-mingling of fantasy and reality, and new readers will quickly become fans after visiting The Midnight Palace.

When a group of orphans in Calcutta form a secret society, they vow to protect one another as a family would. Little do they know how much that pledge will demand of them later. As the children prepare to “graduate” from the orphanage to the…

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Call it the “Antiques Roadshow” effect: You pull over at a yard sale, just to stretch your legs, when an ugly painting of a woman holding a rolling pin catches your eye. Five dollars? Jeez, I wouldn’t want it for free . . . but wait. Could that be an undiscovered classic? Whistler’s mother-in-law, maybe! Visions of six-figure auction payouts dance through your head, and you start rehearsing your “shocked” face for the appraiser.

Well, keep dreaming. In Killer Stuff and Tons of Money, author Maureen Stanton spends time on the road with antiques dealer Curt Avery while he wheels and deals at auctions, shows, flea markets and yard sales. It’s his full-time job, and no picnic. Avery is on the road for much of the year, missing time with his wife and young kids so he can pitch a tent in 100-degree heat and haggle over the price of things so old many people misinterpret their intended uses. He buys things to resell (sometimes capitalizing on the ignorance of the seller), fueled by the same dream the rest of us have: one big score that means a little time off from the hustle.

Telling the story through Avery’s experience is a smart move. We feel as exhausted after a weekend show as he does, considering we’ve been there from setup to breakdown. Along the way Stanton pops in interesting facts about the business and the antiques themselves, like the briefly in-demand one-quart butter churn, quickly abandoned by consumers for bigger churns that, for the same physical effort, could yield much more butter. There’s a fascinating chapter on forgeries in the art and antique world; the creators of these undetectable fakes take defensive pride in their creations as being good enough to pass for real, while their presence on the market devalues the items they replicate. And there’s a “green” slant to antiquing as well. Unlike furniture from IKEA, which may be stylish but poorly made, antiques promote re-use of items with a proven history of endurance.

Killer Stuff is a killer read. Enjoy it, then hop in the station wagon and see if you strike gold.

Call it the “Antiques Roadshow” effect: You pull over at a yard sale, just to stretch your legs, when an ugly painting of a woman holding a rolling pin catches your eye. Five dollars? Jeez, I wouldn’t want it for free . . . but…

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Joy has just moved from California to Utah; for a devout Mormon teenager, her social potential has multiplied exponentially, but the conformity is crushing. As she says, “Even now that I live in a town where it’s hard to tell where belief ends and culture begins—I don’t like the culture, but I do like the belief.” This may explain why she finds Zan so compelling. Staunchly individual, gorgeous and quirky, Zan seemed to care for Joy too, but their brief romance blew up when he quickly got his GED and transferred to a California college a year early. Now Joy is deflated, devastated and irritated by Zan’s ex-friend Noah, who keeps trying to help her. Needing closure, and lacking a ride, she persuades Noah to take her on a road trip to Zan’s school, a situation she saw in a prophetic dream, so it has to be a good idea, right?

Back When You Were Easier to Love tells this story in jump-cuts and flashbacks, letting events unfold like a mystery. Were Joy’s friends right to dismiss Zan, or was he really all that? Might there be someone better for her in her midst, who shares her beliefs and eschews mocha java for the virtues of Sprite? Author Emily Wing Smith may indulge Joy’s pining for her lost love a bit too long, and while she represents Mormon culture thoughtfully, other groups sometimes read as stereotypical, like the “cardboard cutouts” Zan gripes about. But this novel has far too much charm to be undone by these minor quibbles. After all, how many books in recent memory have featured personal revelations taking place while in the presence of a Barry Manilow impersonator? Get yourself a decaf caramel steamer and settle in for a good time.

Joy has just moved from California to Utah; for a devout Mormon teenager, her social potential has multiplied exponentially, but the conformity is crushing. As she says, “Even now that I live in a town where it’s hard to tell where belief ends and culture…

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Alice Ozma grew up with a single father who was a dedicated elementary school librarian. Even her two middle names, under which she writes, testify to a love of children’s literature. So it wasn’t out of character when the two decided to formalize their nightly reading sessions into an attempt at reading aloud for 100 consecutive nights. When that was handily completed, “The Streak” grew . . . and grew . . . and eventually continued for eight years, until Ozma started college. The Reading Promise is a memoir woven from the stories they shared.

Some of the book’s funniest moments stem from the pair’s commitment to get their reading session in by midnight: Ozma’s father might have to pull her from a late theater rehearsal and recite from Harry Potter by streetlight, or barely whisper when he had laryngitis. It’s both funny and touching when he tries to protect her from a book’s frank discussion of puberty by reducing it down to “all the stuff,” having one character add, “Yes, I already know about that so we don’t need to talk about it.” Generally obedient, Ozma nevertheless sneaks into her father’s room later to read the chapter, laughing at his censorship of a completely age-appropriate and informative passage.

After Ozma leaves for college, her father suffers a setback when his school decides to eliminate its reading program and replace the library’s books with computers. He tries to keep the program in place, since it serves poor children who may struggle to attain basic literacy without it, but is overruled and ends up leaving the school—and finding a new audience as a reader in retirement homes.

The Reading Promise is a sweet tribute to a devoted single parent and a powerful reminder of the bond that shared stories can create.

Alice Ozma grew up with a single father who was a dedicated elementary school librarian. Even her two middle names, under which she writes, testify to a love of children’s literature. So it wasn’t out of character when the two decided to formalize their nightly…

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Escaping an abusive stepfather has left Brent Conboy a homeless street kid. When he tries to swipe some breakfast leftovers off a hotel’s room service tray, he stumbles onto the scene of a crime in progress . . . only the truth is nothing like what’s being reported on the news.

Kitty Pettigrew ran from a terrible mistake made in her childhood and has been running, and making more dangerous mistakes, ever since. Stealing her violent drug-dealer boyfriend’s money and hitting the road is only the most recent.

When these two cross paths, sparks fly. Welcome to the nonstop action of Blink & Caution.

Author Tim Wynne-Jones has created two winning stories here, and combined them into an artful whole. When Kitty—aka Caution, as in “Contents under pressure”—first spots Brent, she easily robs him of a recent ill-gotten windfall. But a lingering sense of responsibility draws her back to him. And Blink (who has a nervous facial tic) tempers his resentment, since having someone so quick on her feet in his corner can only help him. If you smell a love story brewing, you’re not wrong, but it’s an unconventional one to say the least.

Blink & Caution begins in downtown Toronto, portrayed as unsparingly harsh; when the twosome follow up on the crime Blink saw, they’re led into the wilderness. Though they are in grave danger, the trees, water and air are a saving grace that seems to clear Blink’s head, enabling him to strategize instead of merely reacting to whatever happens around him. And Caution’s role as his “guardian angel” is a chance to put right the terrible thing she did years ago.

A fast-paced mystery with intelligence and heart, Blink & Caution snags readers and doesn’t let go. 

Escaping an abusive stepfather has left Brent Conboy a homeless street kid. When he tries to swipe some breakfast leftovers off a hotel’s room service tray, he stumbles onto the scene of a crime in progress . . . only the truth is nothing like…

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Quick: Can you list all the American presidents in order from first to most recent? How about most recent to first? If I say “pi,” is your first thought “I can recite that to 200 places” or “I’ll take mine with whipped cream”?

There are people for whom these questions are taken very seriously, and their sport is competitive memory. Journalist Joshua Foer set out to cover the U.S. Memory Championship, and ended up so obsessed with the culture and rituals of memorizing that he competed in the 2006 Championship himself. Moonwalking with Einstein chronicles his training, explains many of the techniques that memorizers use—the title refers to one of Foer’s visual cues—and looks at some of the people for whom these aren’t skills but a lifestyle.

Unsurprisingly, the people who gravitate to memorization are an eccentric lot. Foer befriends some competitors from the World Championship, and they’re a wild bunch. There are also many hucksters out to resell widely known information about memorization in the form of books, videos and live seminars. What is surprising is how easy the basic techniques are to learn. Virtually anyone can create a “memory palace,” visualizing a place they know intimately, then stocking it with vivid images to help recall information. It’s just a matter of consistent practice and making the images as striking as possible—which often means sexually explicit (some of Foer’s cues are both filthy and hilarious). Yet these techniques aren’t the cure-all that some might hope: After studying like a madman and competing in the U.S. Championships with impressive results, Foer goes to dinner with his parents and takes the subway home . . . where he realizes he had driven his car to the restaurant and forgotten all about it.

So why would anyone want to recite pi to 10,000 places anyway? We have so much technology storing our memories for us; what’s the point of using antiquated skills? Foer finds one answer in the case of an 84-year-old man who, due to illness, has no short-term memory at all. He occasionally eats breakfast three times in the same day, and is touched to the point of tearing up each time someone mentions that he has grandchildren, since he’s just learning of their existence for the first time. Foer describes him as attaining “a kind of pathological enlightenment, a perverted vision of the Buddhist ideal of living entirely in the present.” Our memories hold the content of our relationships and give us a context in which to view it—all the more reason to fine-tune this important and easily honed skill.

Quick: Can you list all the American presidents in order from first to most recent? How about most recent to first? If I say “pi,” is your first thought “I can recite that to 200 places” or “I’ll take mine with whipped cream”?

There are people…

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Just when you thought it was safe to take off that turtleneck, along comes another teen vampire novel. Throat brings a new twist to the popular genre with the introduction of 17-year-old Emma Cooper, who would like to be recognized for her achievements on the soccer field, but is better known for the “curse” she suffers: not vampirism but epilepsy.

When she’s attacked by Wirtz, a menacing vampire, his meal is cut short when Emma suffers a grand mal seizure. This isn’t such a bad thing; she ends up with heightened senses and powers, but no taste for blood. Even better, she has no problem with sunlight that a pair of shades won’t fix. But Wirtz plans to come back and finish the job, and eat Emma’s kid sister for dessert.

Out of concern for her family’s safety, Emma makes base camp at a NASA space center. With the help of an intern at the center, three vampire “friends” and a Home Depot theft of amazing proportions, she prepares a fortress and waits for Wirtz to find her. The showdown that follows is a doozy.

R.A. Nelson brings work and home together in Throat. The author lives in north Alabama and works at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center, and both locales are central to the plot. The mix of modern science and vampire lore gives the genre a new twist, and Emma’s hot temper adds a layer of suspense. Will she exercise good judgment or make a fatal mistake by blowing her top? A fast-paced blend of myth and science, Throat grabs readers from the first page and won’t let go.

Just when you thought it was safe to take off that turtleneck, along comes another teen vampire novel. Throat brings a new twist to the popular genre with the introduction of 17-year-old Emma Cooper, who would like to be recognized for her achievements on the…

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Eddie Reeves’ father took his own life, and she found his body. Her mother is catatonic with grief, and family friend Beth has moved into the house to restore order, largely by yelling at Eddie, who only wants some answers. In the quest to understand her dad’s death, Eddie is taking bigger and more dangerous chances with her safety. When she finds out her dad had a photography student, Culler Evans, who also wants to understand what happened, it seems like perfect timing. Maybe too perfect.

Fall For Anything flirts with being a mystery—when Eddie and Culler find messages that Eddie’s dad may have left behind as clues about his suicide, coded in a series of photos he took, they feel compelled to follow the trail. The darkness in the pictures is amplified when Eddie and Culler visit their locations; looking at these abandoned buildings and collapsed churches with a photographer’s eye for the quality of the light gives everything an extra coating of film noir grime. (A fleabag motel they crash in is not just grungy—there’s even a used condom behind the bed.) There’s also a bit of a love triangle, or love trapezoid: Though Eddie’s best friend Milo might be going out with another girl for the summer, he still feels threatened by Culler’s presence in Eddie’s life. Jealousy skews in all directions, which complicates relationships and leaves Eddie more isolated when she’s most in need of a friend.

Author Courtney Summers is not afraid to tackle dark subject matter, and balance it with equally dark humor. Things get much harder for Eddie before there’s any hope on the horizon, and even then there are no pat solutions to the problems she’s facing. Fall For Anything is full of hard truths and short on happy endings, but it is a relentless and captivating novel for older teens.

 

Eddie Reeves’ father took his own life, and she found his body. Her mother is catatonic with grief, and family friend Beth has moved into the house to restore order, largely by yelling at Eddie, who only wants some answers. In the quest to understand…

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In The Curse of the Wendigo, orphan Will Henry continues his work as the indispensable assistant to the “monstrumologist” of Rick Yancey’s series. When Dr. Pellinore Warthrop’s old mentor tries to prove the existence of the mythical Wendigo, Warthrop is determined to stop him, fearing his life’s work will be devalued. Then a woman from Warthrop’s past appears at his door with the news that her husband is lost in the woods, a trip he made in search of both the Wendigo and the doctor’s respect. Now young Will and Warthrop must journey deep into the Canadian forest, the tenements of New York City and a posh hotel or two to look for answers. What they find is anything but pretty.

Yancey’s latest follows the playbook established in The Monstrumologist (gothic atmosphere, plenty of gore, real history mixed with mythology, a highly unstable parental figure to an orphaned boy, and let me emphasize again: it’s gory!), but adds some twists, including a degree of depth for Dr. Warthrop. Introducing the other two thirds of a love triangle from his past show a whole man with a broken heart, which make his quick temper and contrarianism feel more realistic. He even manages a few moments of observable tenderness toward Will . . . but don’t worry, they don’t last long. There’s plenty of time for eviscerations, face-peeling (not the cosmetic kind), a mind-bendingly scatological crime scene, beating hearts snacked on like apples—and really, what book would be complete without a pocket full of eyeballs?

That Yancey can work real science and history into this mix shows his deft hand as an author; that he worked a plausible love story into a book so filled with nightmarish imagery may indicate the need for professional help. Whatever the case, The Curse of the Wendigo will thrill existing fans and draw newcomers to a truly terrifying series.

Read our interview with Rick Yancey for The Curse of the Wendigo.

In The Curse of the Wendigo, orphan Will Henry continues his work as the indispensable assistant to the “monstrumologist” of Rick Yancey’s series. When Dr. Pellinore Warthrop’s old mentor tries to prove the existence of the mythical Wendigo, Warthrop is determined to stop him, fearing…

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The 10 P.M. Question is a wonderful study in opposites. At just 12 years old, Frankie Parsons has an idyllic kid’s life: great best friend, amazing pet cat and more cake than one boy can reasonably eat alone. He’s also saddled with responsibilities to his eccentric family that most grownups would juggle with difficulty, and a whopping anxiety disorder weighting his shoulders. Has the cat given the whole family worms? Did everyone get their flu shot? Every bug bite holds the potential to blossom into full-blown cancer in his overactive imagination. At 10 p.m. each night he visits with his mother in bed, and she helps to dispel his anxieties . . . but she may be at the root of them, too.

When a new girl comes to Frankie’s school, she immediately adds to his list of things to worry about. Sydney asks questions that blow the lid off Frankie’s highly ordered universe and force him to begin taking care of himself, but she’s not without her own issues and complications.

Kate De Goldi has created a lush, loving world in The 10 P.M. Question. From the fat aunties to the even fatter cat, a father called “Uncle” and best friend Gigs, it’s just a pleasure to spend time in the family home with its attendant, and obviously affectionate, chaos. For a kid with too much on his mind, Frankie is at least in good and supportive hands when things come to a head.

An additional treat for this reader was the book’s New Zealand setting. The unfamiliar landmarks and subtle cultural differences just add another layer of lushness to the backdrop, a fourth auntie in the family, as it were. After Frankie has what his sister calls a “nut-out,” we see that a happy ending isn’t possible for everyone in the story, and that to settle for contentment sometimes must suffice. But the family pulls together in the wake of the crisis, and there’s great hope in this story of one boy slowly conquering his fears.

The 10 P.M. Question is a wonderful study in opposites. At just 12 years old, Frankie Parsons has an idyllic kid’s life: great best friend, amazing pet cat and more cake than one boy can reasonably eat alone. He’s also saddled with responsibilities to his…

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Dash is perusing the 18 miles of books at New York City’s legendary Strand bookstore when a flash of red catches his eye. It’s a Moleskine notebook with “DO YOU DARE?” scrawled on the cover, and a series of clues encoded inside. Will he take the bait, even if it means approaching the counter to ask for a novel called Fat Hoochie Prom Queen?

Lucky for us, the answer is “Yes.” Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares is the third collaboration between Rachel Cohn and David Levithan, and the magic they create together is not just holding but getting stronger. Dash and Lily are each spending the winter holidays without their parents, and they begin sending each other on more ridiculous and risky missions, abetted by friends, family, a custom-designed Muppet and the iconic red notebook. Along the way a department-store Santa is inappropriately groped, a baby is catapulted through the air in Washington Square Park, and information is extorted under the threat of a spontaneous recitation from the works of James Patterson. Did I mention the 2 a.m. Christmas/Hanukkah mosh pit?

Somehow all these antics (and more!) combine to create a surprisingly chaste and tender love story. Lily’s sweet optimism might soften the “snarly” side of Dash that everyone sees, and he lures her out of a comfort zone that’s concealing a fear of life. So here’s my list for the next several Christmases: more intelligent, heartfelt hilarity from these two talented authors.

 

 

 

 

 

Dash is perusing the 18 miles of books at New York City’s legendary Strand bookstore when a flash of red catches his eye. It’s a Moleskine notebook with “DO YOU DARE?” scrawled on the cover, and a series of clues encoded inside. Will he take…

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Vera Dietz would rather be ignored by her classmates than have them know the truth about her mother. Vera’s father would rather she ignored everything but school and her full-time pizza delivery job, including the abuse taking place in her best friend Charlie’s house. But ignoring things doesn’t make them go away. When Charlie dies in dark circumstances and Vera knows more about it than anyone, she has the opportunity to come forward and clear his name . . . or the option to pretend that nothing happened.

Please Ignore Vera Dietz is a gritty account of one young woman’s reckoning with grief. Vera is not the only narrator, though. Her dad gets to share a few stories and flowcharts, which bring needed humor to the subplot about Vera’s burgeoning alcoholism: “I wish she’d look beyond herself once in a while. But that’s a side effect of alcohol, isn’t it? Stopping to think about other people is not on the bar menu.” Charlie Kahn also weighs in with a few notes from “The Dead Kid,” when he’s not haunting Vera with messages in steamy mirrors or appearing in droves to help her find the clues to his death, and there are very funny comments from the town’s defunct landmark, the Pagoda, which read as entirely normal in this surreal universe.

The story moves back and forth in time, tracing Charlie and Vera’s friendship and its dissolution, then his death and the crime that happened the same night, weaving shared history together with the clues Vera uncovers. When all is revealed at the end, the book ends abruptly, with not much attention given to the criminal case that would inevitably follow, and little in the way of comeuppance for the truly nasty villain, Jenny Flick. But that’s a minor quibble for a book that balances intense subject matter with humor and a touch of the supernatural, and makes it all flow naturally. Ignore this book at your peril; it’s a keeper.

Vera Dietz would rather be ignored by her classmates than have them know the truth about her mother. Vera’s father would rather she ignored everything but school and her full-time pizza delivery job, including the abuse taking place in her best friend Charlie’s house. But…

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If you’ve ever lived in a house made of wood and found one termite, you likely recall finding thousands more attempting to make brunch out of your walls. They are a threat and a nuisance, not to mention totally gross. While they freely gnaw on your home, however, the method termites use to design their own living space—with intake and outflow holes for air, to create a virtual set of lungs inside the mound—is currently influencing architectural design for climate control in human dwellings. Similarly, the apparent chaos of a teeming ant colony reveals patterns that have influenced computer programs for streamlining factory work, telephone networks and truck routes. The lesson in all of this? Look to the swarm.

The Smart Swarm, that is. Author Peter Miller takes us inside African termite mounds, schools of fish, beehives and the balletic flight of starlings to illustrate how these “swarms” and their patterns of movement can be usefully harnessed by humans in a variety of circumstances. When ants are scouting for food, for example, their trips to and from the food source each leave a pheromone trail that the other ants can follow by smell. As each ant makes the run, the scent will become strongest along the easiest—shortest and predator-free—path, and the majority will travel that way based on the accumulation of data. Rather than debate the matter, information is accrued through action, not subjective thinking; for this reason, it translates perfectly to the world of computer algorithms, where data can be plugged in and the shortest distance between two package deliveries or telephone networks can be assessed and targeted.

Peter Miller has worked at National Geographic for over 25 years, and his descriptions of the insect and animal world reflect his background; the visual details pop, and the stories about the scientists collecting the data are a nice tribute to the labor involved in this sort of project (one rogue Cooper’s hawk undid several months of work with homing pigeons in an instant). His discussion of the human-world applications of these ideas is engaging, too, but the writing occasionally bogs down in scientific particulars and neglects the connection between the two concepts. Thankfully, there’s a neatly composed conclusion that ties them together, making The Smart Swarm a smart and fascinating read.

If you’ve ever lived in a house made of wood and found one termite, you likely recall finding thousands more attempting to make brunch out of your walls. They are a threat and a nuisance, not to mention totally gross. While they freely gnaw on…

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