Paranormal investigator R.F. Jackaby sees what no one else can—banshees, leprechauns, even monsters. If they’re wreaking havoc in New Fiddleham, Jackaby is on the case. What he can’t manage to do is keep an assistant—until he meets the spunky Abigail Rook. Adventurous and keenly observant, Abigail has fled her wealthy British upbringing to make her own way in 19th-century New England.

During their first murder investigation, Abigail’s eye for detail provides Jackaby with clues he would have overlooked. Together they discover the victim is Arthur Bragg, a local reporter who had been investigating a serial killer—one who may or may not be human.

Like Sherlock Holmes, Jackaby is eccentric, arrogant and blunt—but he also has a zany quality. After all, he lives with a beautiful young ghost and a duck who does his bookkeeping. Narrator Abigail plays the role of Dr. Watson, helping Jackaby maneuver the societal norms he seems to disregard. Very few girls in 1892 would steal tuition money and cross an ocean for adventure, but perhaps that’s what makes her especially appealing to contemporary readers.

Jackaby is a slow build of clue gathering and a-ha moments, all leading to the hour of discovery.

Kimberly Giarratano is the author of Grunge Gods and Graveyards, a young adult paranormal mystery.

This article was originally published in the October 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Sara Farizan’s debut, If You Could Be Mine, told a wrenching tale of young love lost to the complications of growing up and growing apart. The stakes in Tell Me Again How a Crush Should Feel are slightly lower, making for pure rom-com pleasure.

Leila keeps a low profile at her private high school. She likes girls, but that’s not something she’s ready to make public. When new girl Saskia transfers in mid-semester, Leila quickly becomes smitten: “It’s like finding a magical unicorn in a high school full of cattle.” While trying to get to know Saskia, Leila tests the waters, coming out to friends and family, though not always as planned. Leila fears rejection by her family, who are Americans but hold Persian values. Nevertheless, her parents are wonderful, embarrassingly square and touching in their concern, despite not understanding what’s wrong.

Farizan’s second novel is sweet, tough, sexy and ultimately hopeful.

This article was originally published in the October 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Teen Top Pick, October 2014

Following the success of her best-selling adult novel The Interestings, Meg Wolitzer brings her considerable talents to her first young adult title, Belzhar. Wolitzer returns to a subject that occupied her as a senior in college, when she was completing her first novel: the poet Sylvia Plath.

“Big changes happen to young people when no adults are around,” notes Wolitzer, and that is certainly true for Jam Gallahue and the other students in Mrs. Quenell’s Special Topics in English class at The Wooden Barn, a boarding school for “emotionally fragile and highly intelligent teens.” It’s a last resort for Jam, who fiercely loved British exchange student Reeve Maxfield for 41 days, and has been unable to recover from his death.

Jam and the other students don’t know why they’ve been selected for Mrs. Quenell’s class. And they certainly don’t know what to make of the antique journals she hands out, along with the assignment to write in them twice a week. Even more puzzling is their teacher’s instruction to “look out for one another.” But soon after beginning her journal, Jam has no choice but to turn to her classmates for support, because what she experiences while writing is both frightening and exciting. The journals have the power to transport them into a world of the past—a world they call Belzhar, after Plath’s most famous work, The Bell Jar.

Enlivened by humor, memorable characters and a page-turning mystery only revealed in its final pages, Belzhar explores the role of trauma in young lives. Fans of E. Lockhart’s We Were Liars need wait no longer for another novel to capture their hearts and minds.

Deborah Hopkinson lives near Portland, Oregon. Her most recent book for young readers is The Great Trouble.

This article was originally published in the October 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Richard’s first sign that something is amiss in the turtle’s nest is the sound of wet, whistling breathing coming from within. As he pushes aside the protective straw, an old man wearing a shower cap bursts out, gagging and rolling his weird eyes in opposite directions. Richard, meet Skink, aka Clint Tyree, former governor of Florida. In the years since his presumed death, Skink lives way off the grid, waging ecological warfare against those who drain swamps to build theme parks, dump refuse in wildlife preserves, and steal turtle eggs from nests.

When Skink calmly announces that he is off to find Richard’s missing cousin, Malley, Richard hops in the car and heads off on the adventure of his life. Skink is as hilarious as he is impassioned, enthusiastically cooking up roadkill and wreaking havoc on litterbugs. As he and Richard catch up with feisty Malley and her low-life kidnapper, Richard begins to understand why Skink is the greatest hero that Florida will never know.

Skink—No Surrender is geared toward a slightly older audience than Hiaasen’s earlier YA books, while reintroducing characters that romp throughout his bawdier adult novels. Budding environmentalists and Hiaasen fans will find much to enjoy.

Diane Colson works at the Nashville Public Library. She has long been active in the American Library Association's Young Adult Library Association (YALSA), serving on selection committees such as the Morris Award, the Alex Award and the Excellence in Nonfiction for Young Adults Award.

With a contract for her first YA novel in hand, recent high school graduate Darcy Patel puts college on hold and moves to New York City. But living and writing in the city turn out to involve more than just hobnobbing with the publishing community. She also needs to find (and furnish) an apartment, stick to a budget . . . and navigate her first romantic relationship.

Chapters from Darcy’s point of view alternate with those from her book, Afterworlds, in which a near-death experience propels a girl named Lizzie into an alternate world where ghostlike powers—and a hot teenage death god from Indian mythology—await. As Darcy works through issues like the ethics of appropriating cultural icons, the acceptability of borrowing plot ideas from fellow writers and the choice between college and other paths, these ideas begin to appear in Lizzie’s internal story as well.

Afterworlds is a long book—it’s essentially two books in one—and its target audience is unclear. Darcy’s comments about high school being old news won’t ring true to teens who are still students themselves. Author Scott Westerfeld’s descriptions of life as a YA writer, from lonely hours hacking through edits to the excitement of conferences and school visits, are vivid yet somehow empty, as though these aspects of Darcy’s story function mostly as a vehicle for Westerfeld to tell his own. But it’s precisely this adult perspective that allows Westerfeld to pepper his story with writerly inside jokes, including a pet parrot named after a famous YA lit character and the difficulty of competing for attention with a former child star at a major publishing conference. Ultimately, this self-awareness forms the book’s main strength, as Afterworld inspires readers to rethink their assumptions about the distinctions between characters, readers and writers.

Jill Ratzan reviews for School Library Journal and works as a school librarian at a small independent school in New Jersey.

The last thing Emily Bird remembers is the party. It should have been just another networking event to connect prep-school students with internships and Ivy League acceptances, especially within the elite Washington, D.C., African-American community. But when Bird wakes up days later in a hospital room, she knows she’s forgotten something important about that night. That feeling is further reinforced when mysterious messages begin hinting that she knows a secret about a deadly terrorist-linked flu virus that’s recently reached pandemic proportions.

With her house quarantined and her high-profile parents vanished, Bird and her friend Marella try to uncover the truth within a network of lies. But a dangerous spy from a secret organization is also on the prowl, hoping to discover Bird’s missing memory before she can use it to unmask what may be a worldwide conspiracy.

Like the best young adult dystopias, a just-futuristic apocalyptic setting perfectly complements the protagonist’s personal identity struggles. Is she the meek and obedient Emily or the independent, powerful Bird? Which of her highly cultivated friendships are just alliances, and which are real? Does she have the courage to break up with Paul, the boy her parents expect her to date, in favor of Coffee, whose passion for organic chemistry extends to making his own designer drugs? How can she navigate a society where her race is constantly working against her? And what’s the point of planning for the future when the world might end at any moment? Love Is the Drug is a suspenseful, empowering and emotionally honest read.

Jill Ratzan reviews for School Library Journal and works as a school librarian at a small independent school in New Jersey.

Zac knows all the statistics about his leukemia—the survival rate, the chance the cancer will return even if his new bone marrow gives him a temporary clean bill of health. But he’s still hopeful he can get back to his old life after months in solitary with only his mother for company—his mother, and the faceless girl fighting her own battle next door.

Mia is angry—angry she has cancer, angry the treatment makes her so sick, angry her doctors and mother don’t seem to understand she just wants the treatment to be done so she can get back to her friends. The only one who seems to understand, even a little bit, is the boy in the other room. He knows nothing about her except that a sore ankle led to her cancer diagnosis. He calls her lucky—she has good odds.

Then Zac goes home to try to regain his pre-cancer life, and Mia goes home with so much less than she ever dreamed. Inevitably they end up together again—Zac desperate to help, and Mia desperate to run from everything.

It’s almost impossible for a book about two teens fighting cancer to escape a comparison to The Fault in Our Stars, and on a very surface level the two books share DNA: sick teens falling in love, sometimes angry, sometimes hopeful, sometimes resigned. What Zac and Mia does best, however, is capture the feelings of loneliness and isolation. Mia’s need to pretend her cancer doesn’t exist separates her from her friends even as she interacts with them online, and when the reality of her illness catches up with her she finds it impossible to connect with her former friends, who have nothing heavier than a zit weighing on their minds.

Zac and Mia is much more than a book about illness; it's a book about learning to trust a person, and trusting they can care about you when you feel completely unlovable.

Molly Horan has her MFA in writing for children and young adults from The New School.

Lily Proctor has had enough of the real world. Sure, her hometown of Salem, Massachusetts, might have an interesting history, but she’s tired of her best friend Tristan’s romantic wanderings, her mother’s public outbursts and, most of all, the perpetual fevers and allergic reactions that keep her from having a life. So when an otherworldy voice offers to transport her to a place where she can be powerful and strong, Lily readily agrees.

Soon she finds herself in an alternate Salem, where a ruling coven of witches led by an alternate version of herself is terrorizing an indigenous population, especially those who dare to practice science. In this world Lily’s unexplained fevers are actually a sign of her unparalleled abilities as a Crucible, a witch who can convert raw materials into heat and energy. With the help of an alternate version of Tristan and his two companions, Lily needs to learn to wield her abilities quickly—before warring factions destroy both this world and her own.

Teens who love magic-fueled romances set against a backdrop of courtly politics, with hints of historical fiction and scientific ethics, will finish Trial by Fire eagerly awaiting the remaining books in the Worldwalker trilogy. But slow pacing, poor world-building and heavy borrowing from Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials books (in the form of daemon-like “willstones”) interfere with the full potential of the intriguing premise. Still, readers looking for an escape from their own real world will find it in this genre-blending YA tale.

Jill Ratzan reviews for School Library Journal and works as a school librarian at a small independent school in New Jersey. She learned most of what she knows about YA literature from her terrific graduate students.

Thirteen-year-old twins Noah and Jude are so close, they “smush,” pushing themselves together, shoulder to shoulder, exactly as they did in utero. Noah is dreamy and artistic, while his sister Jude is fearless and popular. When their mother announces that both twins should attend CSA, a nearby fine arts high school, Noah is elated, but Jude is less than enthusiastic, as she fears that Noah’s talent far outweighs her own. Three years later, Jude is now attending CSA, but Noah was not accepted. The once-fierce love between the twins has morphed into fierce hatred.

The narration alternates between the perspectives of 13-year-old Noah and 16-year-old Jude, and the twins unwittingly move in tandem despite their estrangement. They both do something unforgivable. They both fall in love. Nelson provides just enough pieces of past and future but withholds some delightful twists for the end. This is a beautifully written story.

This article was originally published in the September 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

After her father buys a cemetery and relocates their family inland from their idyllic California seaside home, 15-year-old Leigh finds not only that she’s a good fit for the after-death industry, but also that it gives her some comfort. Her older sister’s cancer just went into remission, her artistic mother would rather be back by the ocean, and Leigh’s still grieving for the best friend she recently lost. When Leigh discovers a secret in the cemetery, her grief turns to guilt. She refuses to take on any new friends, not even the cool home-schooled girl whose family provides flowers for the cemetery.

Author Jennifer Longo, who, like Leigh, sold burial plots after her father bought a cemetery, infuses her quirky debut with dark humor and a touch of magical thinking. While Leigh’s family members spin in their own set of problems, there is one person who understands her: Dario, the gravedigger who recently crossed the Mexican border. Through their tender, realistic friendship, Leigh learns the different ways Mexicans honor their departed. With help, she may find a way to let death go and life in.

This article was originally published in the September 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

BookPage Teen Top Pick, September 2014

Set near the San Francisquito Canyon in Los Angeles County, 100 Sideways Miles is the coming-of-age tale of one teen who learns to live with the tragedies and oddities of his life using his own unique type of mathematical coping.

Finn Easton is 16 years old, suffers from sporadic epileptic seizures, and is the inspiration for the main character in his father’s best-selling novel The Lazarus Door—though his father vehemently denies it. Finn lost his mother in a freak accident that involved a truck, which was carrying a dead horse destined for the knackery, overturning on a bridge and spilling its cargo onto Finn and his mother, who were idly climbing in the creek below.

Ever since that tragic day, Finn has been calculating time by way of space. Believing that the distance between things is far more important than the time between them, Finn figures time in miles rather than minutes, as they are easier for him to mentally grasp whenever he comes back from “blanking out” during one of his seizures. And when Julia Bishop, the intriguing new girl in town and Finn’s first crush, finds him passed out on his den floor in a puddle of his own urine, he wants nothing more than to distance himself from her. But Julia has enjoyed sharing Finn’s time and space, and she is determined to invade both so that he can understand true closeness.

100 Sideways Miles is Andrew Smith’s ninth young adult novel, and it’s filled with the type of offbeat hilarity and superbly memorable characters found in his previous books, such as Winger and Grasshopper Jungle. Finn’s honest, natural voice reveals a young man learning to handle health issues, death and unwanted attention during a time when every action and reaction is measured by its social significance.

Justin Barisich is a freelancer, satirist, poet and performer living in Atlanta. More of his writing can be found at littlewritingman.com.

This article was originally published in the September 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Art and life are both equally intense for high school junior Addison Stone. When her art teachers arrange for her to leave her small town and spend the summer immersed in the New York City art world, no one expects that the whirlwind of city life will eclipse her senior year . . . or that the following summer, her body will be found in the East River under mysterious circumstances.

Author Adele Griffin, under the guise of Addison’s biographer, tells this story through a pastiche of newspaper articles, “interviews” with important figures in Addison’s life and dozens of images, including both photographs of and artwork (supposedly) by the teenage art superstar. This discontinuous format is the perfect match for Addison’s intense but disjointed personality and work style. Through the voices of friends, boyfriends, parents, teachers and others—and occasionally Addison’s own words via emails and other documents—Griffin presents readers with overlapping perspectives on Addison’s frenetic life of gallery openings, parties and performance art . . . and the doubt and self-destructive tendencies lurking beneath her fierce creativity. References to Snapchat and e-cigarettes ground the story firmly in contemporary times, while issues like living with roommates versus moving in with significant others place it on the border between YA lit and the emerging category of “new adult” fiction.

Multifaceted and thoroughly postmodern, The Unfinished Life of Addison Stone will appeal to teens and 20-somethings who love art, celebrity and forming their own conclusions.

Jill Ratzan reviews for School Library Journal and works as a school librarian at a small independent school in New Jersey. She learned most of what she knows about YA literature from her terrific graduate students.