What kid wouldn’t love to whack some zombies? Slaughter some bumbling, disintegrating bodies with gnashing teeth? Kill them before they kill you?

Benny Imura has absolutely no interest. But in his post-apocalyptic Californian community, Benny will lose half his rations if he does not find a job by the time he turns 15, so he has no choice but to become an apprentice to his lame zom-slaughtering brother Tom and to follow him into the Rot & Ruin—the world outside the fences. The zombie-covered fields of America reveal to Benny a world without morality and without humanity, even among the living.

Jonathan Maberry’s Rot & Ruin melds the entertainment of a zombie thriller with an examination of the roots of anger and the value of human life. When the dead rise, it is easy to find sport in whacking a former mailman or two. But Benny quickly discovers that the living dead were once simply living, and there are things far more evil in the world than a shuffling mob of zoms.

Along the way, Rot & Ruin ordains the younger generations with a sense of purpose and power, and a new understanding of what a hero really is: “Often it was the most unlikely of people who found within themselves a spark of something greater. It was probably always there, but most people are never tested, and they go through their whole lives without ever knowing that when things are at their worst, they are at their best.”

When Griffin slips into the Cadillac Escalade, its keys left in the ignition at the mall parking lot, he only means to steal it as a gift for his father. Within seconds he realizes that he’s stolen a girl too. In April Henry’s suspenseful and well-researched Girl, Stolen, 16-year-old Cheyenne Wilder, resting in the backseat while her stepmother runs into the pharmacy to pick up her prescription, is not only suffering from pneumonia, but has been blind for the last three years. Is escape even possible for her?

The spine-tingling chapters alternate between the teens’ perspectives as Griffin delivers both the vehicle and the girl to his cruel father, Roy. While Cheyenne plots to outwit her captors, flee Roy’s home in a remote wooded area and gather as much information as possible to turn over to police when (or if) she’s rescued, readers learn more about the accident that took Cheyenne’s mother and sight. And as Griffin, a high-school dropout with a troubled background and grief of his own, begins to see his surroundings in a whole new light, he wonders if he’s as much a bad guy as Roy and his accomplices, who are busy plotting how to use and dispose of Cheyenne. Perhaps Cheyenne is not the only victim in this escalating dilemma.

Reminiscent of Gail Giles’ thrillers and tension-filled to the last sentence, Girl, Stolen will resonate with readers long after the cover is closed. With a thoughtful and eye-opening look at disabilities, it highlights Cheyenne and Griffin’s resourcefulness and resiliency as they save themselves—and possibly each other.

Andi Alpers is desperately sad—or perhaps just desperate. Ever since the death of her little brother, she’s been adrift. Her mother has come unhinged, her dad has left his damaged old family for a new life, and Andi is barely holding it together. Only when she’s playing her guitar does she feel sane. When she’s warned that without a stellar senior thesis, she’ll be expelled from her exclusive Brooklyn prep school, her father whisks her away to Paris, where he’s investigating a 200-year-old genetic mystery.

Andi’s ostensibly there to do her own research on a remarkably prescient 18th-century composer and his musical heirs. But almost as soon as she arrives in Paris, she becomes far more invested in the city’s history than she could have imagined. In an antique guitar case, she discovers an ancient diary written by a young woman very much like herself. Alexandrine Paradis was a performer, too, one who got swept up in revolution—and love—despite herself. As Andi reads Alexandrine’s diary, she becomes more and more immersed in the drama of a dead girl and the little boy for whom she sacrificed everything.

As in her previous novel for young adults, the award-winning A Northern Light, Jennifer Donnelly combines impeccable historical research with lively, fully fashioned characters to create an indelible narrative. Revolution is a complex story, moving back and forth in time and including allusions not only to historical events but also to literature (especially Dante’s Divine Comedy) and to music from Handel to Wagner to Radiohead. Yet this undeniably cerebral book is also simultaneously wise and achingly poignant. Alexandrine writes in her diary, “After all the blood and death, we woke as if from a nightmare only to find that the ugly still are not beautiful and the dull still do not sparkle.” Just as Alexandrine comes to terms with her country’s dashed hopes, Andi must find a place where hope—and love—can flourish despite disillusion and despair.

Anyone who has ever loved a series feels equal parts anticipation and worry when cracking the cover of the latest installment. Can the adventures of the characters you’ve been dreaming about for the past year live up to the ones you’ve imagined for them yourself? I don’t think it gives too much away to say that Mockingjay meets readers’ expectations, and then some. This is a fearless finale that brings the big question of the Hunger Games Trilogy—the ethics of using force, be it political, physical or psychological—to the forefront as Katniss and her allies attempt to overthrow President Snow and create a new Panem.

Mockingjay opens in the ruins of District 12, where heroine Katniss Everdeen stands on the ashes of most of her neighbors. Torn with guilt over the destruction of her home and worry over the fate of Peeta, who is still in the hands of President Snow, Katniss knows only a burning desire for revenge. Her family and the rest of the District 12 survivors are safe, if a bit bored, in the well-regulated underground world of District 13, where President Coin has a plan to present Katniss as the face of rebellion: the Mockingjay.

It’s a bleak beginning, but then, a revolution isn’t pretty business, and anyone who has followed Katniss’ adventures so far knows that Suzanne Collins doesn’t spare her characters. This is a series where, just like real life, anything can happen. While readers can trust Collins for an honest resolution to the story, they can’t be sure that their favorite characters will be there to see it. That sense of suspense, along with the innovative plot twists that Collins throws in just when you thought you knew where things were going, keeps the pages turning.

Well, that, and the Gale/Peeta conflict. Who does Katniss choose? No spoilers here, but rest assured that Collins makes the outcome seem both inevitable and right, because it is based on Katniss’ own discoveries about herself.

Those discoveries, like the other victories in Mockingjay, come at a high price. Collins, like Katniss, is a realist above all: The effects of war on civilians and conspirators alike are unflinchingly documented, and the grim tone established in the opening pages dominates. But the book is not without its moments of grace, and the powerful conclusion should leave readers with a better taste in their mouths than the much-maligned endings of other popular series. Haunting and meditative, Mockingjay is a wrenching finale to a trilogy that will be read and discussed for years to come.

In 1878, 16-year-old orphan Tessa Gray sails for England to reunite with her older brother. Before she even sees him, she is kidnapped by the Dark Sisters, members of the dangerous underworld society called the Pandemonium Club. The sisters, who brutally tap into Tessa’s ability to transform into other people, are grooming her for an even greater evil. As Tessa attempts a daring escape, she is rescued by a group of Shadowhunters, descendants of angels who combat demons. They welcome Tessa into their home and offer her protection; in turn, she must her use shape-shifting talents to help them destroy an android army and save her brother. As Tessa desperately comes to grips with her otherworldly identity, she must also unravel her very earthly feelings for William Herondale, a brooding Shadowhunter with demons of his own.

Cassandra Clare, beloved author of the Mortal Instruments series, has scored another hit with this much-anticipated prequel set in a sexy, steampunk Victorian England. The characters’ clothing, language and mannerisms and the era-appropriate poetry that precedes each chapter all draw the reader into this fascinating historical era. But what would the Age of Innocence be without the passion of first love? Everything from the late-19th-century clothing with its long hemlines and drab colors to the strict societal norms dictating courtship intensify Will and Tessa’s feelings. Will’s quick wit and bad-boy behavior make him Clare’s hottest hero yet.

Clockwork Angel certainly stands alone, but be forewarned: Once readers dive into this first book in the Infernal Devices series, they won’t be able to wait for the sequel.

In Erin Bow’s first novel, Plain Kate, an enthralling fantasy set in a time and place much like medieval Europe, it’s the skara rok, or hungry time, and the folk of Samilae are eager to blame anyone a little odd for the town’s diminishing supplies and growing illnesses. With “one eye the color of river mud and one eye the color of the river” and a gift for carving popular talismans that surpasses her teenage years, orphan Plain Kate Carver knows she’ll be accused of witchcraft soon.

When a “witch-white” stranger offers to grant Plain Kate her heart’s secret wish in exchange for her shadow, the lonely girl begrudgingly accepts the bargain as a way to flee the town. Feeling as if she’s lost a part of her soul, she secretly departs the only home she’s ever known with Taggle, a talking cat, as her companion. Plain Kate is soon taken in by the Roamers, a traveling, Romani-like clan, and befriended by Drina, whose mother, a healer and a witch, was sentenced to death for her practices.

This elaborate story takes on more twists and turns as Drina begins to teach her the rules of magic and the friends conspire to reclaim Plain Kate’s shadow. But things don’t always go according to plan when Plain Kate discovers the witch-white stranger’s true identity and his diabolical plot.

Plain Kate’s natural talents and bravery will endear her to teen readers. Her cat Taggle, who’s willing to claw any man or beast to save his beloved owner, also adds light humor to this tale of dark magic. As the pair travels together, finding friendship and saving their small world in the process, the novel’s fantastical elements come together to create a spellbinding ending.

“Another line crossed. And you didn’t even notice.” It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Maybe it’s Zack’s fault, or Kyle’s own fault, but that doesn’t matter now. He wonders, “When did it all go wrong?” The story opens with blood, and it ends with blood.

Choices made or not made have determined who 15-year-old Kyle Chase is and where he’s heading. He’s a slacker, a hoodie, at Midlands High. He could have studied harder in eighth grade and made it into a good school, but he chose to be “morphed” to his Xbox instead. He chooses to set a low bar for himself—missing assignments, failing tests, getting low grades. Friends go for math help; Kyle goes to detention. The theme of his school existence is “don’t get caught,” though he knows he’d be better off if he were caught sometimes; not getting caught leads to riskier choices.

His choices carry him into the orbit of bad boy Zack McDade. He didn’t have to go to that party, but walking up to Zack’s house and ringing the bell “changes things, crosses another line,” and it’s the relationship with Zack—who has been kicked out of Crestwood, a private school—that brings Kyle down.

Not many writers employ the second-person point of view, but in You, his first novel for teens, Charles Benoit uses it to great effect in allowing Kyle to explain his life; he doesn’t just narrate his story, he comments on it as he goes along his downward-spiraling path to his shattering fate. Often he sees his bad choices too late, and often readers will see more than Kyle sees, limited as he is in his own point of view. The voice is fresh and original, the prose simple, accessible and poetic. Think Cormier and Crutcher, think an edgier A Separate Peace or Catcher in the Rye, and you’ll get the significance of Benoit’s debut.

Seventeen-year-old Russell grew up in the Hothouse. He wasn’t literally raised in the local firehouse—more like metaphorically. His father was a firefighter and so was his best friend DJ’s dad, and the two are practically like family. For as long as he can remember, Russell has considered himself a firefighter too, training with the Young Firefighters and eating, sleeping and breathing the brotherhood-culture of it all.

But when Chris Lynch’s Hothouse opens, Russell’s and DJ’s dads have been killed while fighting a house fire. The men are revered as heroes, and the entire community rallies around their families. In fact, the whole first half of the novel is a cavalcade of hero stuff: speeches, memorials, rituals, bonfires on the beach and a concert where the boys are lifted up over the heads of the audience. It’s hard for Russell to keep his composure, but he’s fairly swelling with pride for his dad.

It’s a real surprise, then, when the story takes a dark turn. An inquiry into the accident is made, and Russell must come to terms with the fact that his dad had some un-heroic tendencies. Unfortunately, the community that had at first embraced them is much less forgiving.

In many ways this is a difficult story: These kids live with the specter of death around them all the time, and they have a wisdom and world-weariness beyond their years. Yet Lynch’s writing has a lyrical, almost musical quality. With intelligence and sophistication, he explores what it means to be built up and then torn down, how painfully capricious other people’s opinions of us can be. But underneath this, buoying the story all along, is a fighting spirit, a humor, hopefulness and passion for life.

Everything changes for 14-year-old Amanda just as she’s about to begin her freshman year of high school. She and her best friend Lena have always been inseparable, and they’ve always been a dynamic duo on the soccer field. Both girls are hopeful that they’ll make the varsity team in high school, but Amanda is stalled by Sever’s disease, a temporary disorder that causes immense pain in her heels and slows her down on the soccer field. It’s a huge blow to Amanda’s ego—and to her friendship with Lena—when Lena makes the varsity team, while Amanda is left behind to play goalie for the junior varsity.

The girls begin high school together, and Lena quickly becomes the center of attention, while Amanda fades into the background. Lena’s desire for popularity overrides her desire to maintain her friendship with Amanda, and the girls soon have a major falling out. Their separation gives Amanda time to think about what kind of person she really wants to be; she discovers that she has interests beyond soccer, and she realizes that she isn’t at all interested in going to parties and engaging in some of the risky behavior Lena seems so inclined toward.

Shutout is a fast-paced, exciting read. While it will appeal to sports and soccer fans, it is as much about growing up, making choices and being true to oneself as it is about the world of high school athletics. The end is exhilarating and satisfying, but it’s also realistic. As Amanda finds her place in the world, author Brendan Halpin manages to give young readers plenty to contemplate without seeming to offer heavy-handed advice. Shutout is a refreshing addition to the genre of realistic fiction for teens.

Inspired by two of Shakespeare’s plays, The Merchant of Venice and Romeo and Juliet, Sophie Masson’s The Madman of Venice is a tale full of mystery, sinister plot twists and romance. The story begins when Emilia Lanier, an exotically beautiful musician, arrives at the London home of Matthew Ashby, representative to a group of merchants. Emilia beseeches Ashby to go to Venice to search for Sarah Tedeschi, the daughter of a Jewish doctor that saved her life.

Ashby, his daughter Celia and his clerk Ned agree to travel to Venice, largely because Ashby needs to travel there anyway to investigate the pirates plundering his goods. What they find in Italy’s most unique city, in the year 1602, leads to a story driven by the ravings of a lunatic (the Madman of Venice himself), duels, alchemy and so many more intriguing elements that it is difficult even to begin to summarize Masson’s intricate novel.

Information provided about the time period and the fascinating city of Venice drives the story, rather than detracting from it. The fact that the missing Sarah is the resident of a Jewish ghetto in Venice adds to the historical significance of the novel. It takes some time to sort out the many characters and their motivations, but once the plot takes off, it is definitely a great ride.

The Madman of Venice is a romantic mystery in the best sense; Ned is clearly infatuated with Celia, and the empathy readers will feel for his aching heart is tangible. Young and old alike will appreciate the great care Masson has taken to craft a story that gradually, but determinedly, leads to a very satisfying end. The French-Australian Masson is prolific and popular, and The Madman of Venice serves to add to her growing and impressive list of creative successes.

Bee should feel like the luckiest girl in the world: She’s a first-year student at Columbia University, pre-med; she lives in New York City; and she’s got a handsome, older, politically active boyfriend who seems really into her. Until . . . he’s not. Suddenly, Bee’s book smarts don’t mean a thing, and in traditional broken-hearted fashion, she’s stuffing her face when she’s not crying her eyes out.

Turns out, though, that gaining the Freshman Fifteen (plus some) is exactly what Bee needs to break into a whole new career. She’s always been a pretty girl, but the newly curvalicious young woman is getting a lot more attention—even from a modeling scout. Virtually overnight, Bee not only has a modeling contract; she’s also being featured as one of the faces (and voluptuous bodies) of an ad campaign for a new clothing line, with her own billboard in Times Square.

But will fame turn Bee’s head? In her new jet-setting lifestyle, will she forget about her best friend, not to mention the very cute and talented guy she tutors, with whom she has a seriously confusing relationship? And what about the cutthroat world of modeling? Does Bee have what it takes to make a name for herself?

Thanks to popular television shows like America’s Next Top Model and Project Runway, the glamorous but grueling world of modeling has never been so in the spotlight. Author Veronica Chambers cleverly capitalizes on the Cinderella-story potential of an overnight discovery while also using Bee’s plus-sized physique to comment on industry and societal standards of beauty.

At times Plus goes over the top in its depictions of Bee’s glamorous new life, especially her ongoing feud with a crazily jealous model and her klutzy on-set mishaps. It’s also hard to believe that Bee could remain on the dean’s list at an Ivy League school while jetting to international photo shoots several days a week. But Bee’s story is, after all, a fantasy, and readers looking for a frothy beach read about wish-fulfillment, self-discovery and really fierce shoes will be more than happy to suspend disbelief.

Lesley Hauge’s debut dystopian novel Nomansland is made for a sequel—no, more like a series. There’s got to be more of Keller, the brave heroine of Nomansland.

Barely 15, Keller lives only among women in Foundland, a rocky and barren island nation. Her people have been here for hundreds of years, ever since the Tribulation, a cataclysmic event brought about by the “sins” of the Old People (that’d be us, readers). The earth was wrecked and its people decimated, an entire civilization’s technology, televisions and even indoor plumbing lost. When Keller comes across one artifact from that time she’s mystified by what it is: a bicycle.

In the agrarian society in which Keller lives, everyone has a job—seamstress, blacksmith, wheelwright. She is a Tracker, trained to be an archer and an equestrian, able to survive on her own in the wild. “There are no men in our territory,” says Keller, and it is she who will protect Foundland from the “mutants” and “deviants” living outside their borders. They are the men who survived the Tribulation, and though they can try, they will never be allowed in.

Foundland is a totalitarian society where hair must be cut to regulation length and to be “useful” is deemed the highest of virtues. Reflection, Decoration, Vivacity—these are three of the “Seven Pitfalls.” Even friendships are outlawed. But for Keller, cracks in the social order begin to show. First, there’s Laing, a fellow Tracker with a dangerous streak of independence and free will, who offers small glimpses into the Time Before: beauty queens, fashion magazines, fathers? Then Keller discovers one sister’s long-held secret; what she learns—and how the all-knowing, all-seeing Committee Members react—drives the plot and keeps the reader avidly turning the pages.

Hauge has written a winning debut. Let’s hope she’s turning in that sequel real soon.

Hank and Liana meet cute when he bursts in on her in a hospital ladies room, the crotch of his pants soaked with . . . energy drink. From the first page, The Half-Life of Planets doesn’t augur well for their romantic future. Things are further complicated by Liana’s vow not to kiss anyone all summer; instead, trying to reclaim her reputation, she has thrown herself into her planetary science studies. And Hank is more than a little awkward; Asperger’s syndrome has given him a music obsession Nick Hornby would envy, and no “off” switch once he starts talking about it. The perfect couple? Hardly.

But this odd pair connect and develop a friendship that lets each of them see past the labels they’ve been branded with to the real people inside. Authors Emily Franklin and Brendan Halpin alternate between each character’s perspective from chapter to chapter, and when something new happens, or information is hinted at, we are eager to follow the clues and find out how each side perceives things. Both Hank and Liana have complicated home lives (they did meet in a hospital, after all, and neither was a patient), and Liana’s reluctance to emotionally expose herself runs headlong into Hank’s difficulty processing the emotional content of any message. Again, oil and water. Can this romance be saved?

The answer shouldn’t come as a surprise, but I’m no spoiler. The Half-Life of Planets is frequently funny, and occasionally poignant. Hank is the more vividly drawn character, and it’s interesting to see the world from inside his head; he knows and understands his differences, but can’t control them as well as he’d like. In a wry moment, he comments on the oft-cited “wonderful difference” common to those with autism spectrum disorders: “My reaction upon reading this in the past has always been that anyone who thinks this, or for that matter any, difference is wonderful has obviously never attended an American middle school.” Half-Life is the whole package, a love story with a wonderful difference all its own.