This book, "The Thing About Jellyfish" By, Ali Benjamin, is quite honestly one of the best books I have ever read. It is about a young girl, losing her best friend and thinking that maybe if she finds out how she died, which she though the initial way was false, would solve her feelings and take away the grief and sorrow, sadly it did not as you would expect. This book was amazing and it helped me with the grief I soon had to overcome. What I had enjoyed about the book was how it didn't sugarcoat mental health and thoughts of those, because sugarcoating and beating around the bush about serious things about mental health is an impossibly selfish thing to do. I also enjoyed how it was written, the format plus it being in first person really helped. I chose to read this book, because I thought it was about jellyfish and I do love jellyfish, but I also read it because I knew it had death in it and I had to do a book report, I couldn't have picked a better book to do so. I think the only thing I didn't like about the book was probably that it didn't include real problems. There was a part of the story where I thought she would've gotten disciplinary or even just a little bit of consequences, but no, none were involved. One thing the reader must know is that it does include a small part of homosexuality, but that is NOT what the book is about. I think anyone who is going through grief will be able to relate to this book. And I highly recommend to the age of 13+ of any gender.

Avery Grambs is used to barely scraping by: with her mom dead, her dad nowhere to be found, and her half-sister's abusive boyfriend moving into their small apartment, Avery spends her days living inside her car and can only dream of a stable and financially secure future. That is - until she gets summoned to the will-reading of the late businessman Tobias Hawthorne (who also happens to be filthy rich)...and finds out that he left her almost all of his assets under a certain condition: she must live in the enormous Hawthorne estate for at least a year to inherit.

For her, it should be a perfect turn of luck: she'll never have to be worried about money ever again, right? But Avery is just as confused as the family. She's never met Tobias Hawthorne and has no familial connections with him that she knows of. Furthermore, the Hawthorne family are obviously not very pleased with a complete stranger inheriting what should have been rightfully theirs: Tobias' daughters firmly believe Avery is a con woman, and their hypercompetitive sons - Grayson, Jameson, Xander, and Nash - see her as an obstacle, a puzzle to solve. But as cryptic messages behind Tobias' will reveal themselves, Avery finds out that her inheritance is indeed part of a game, engineered by the puzzle-obsessed businessman, and she becomes entangled into the Hawthornes' complex family drama as she discovers secret passageways and compartments, as well as the secrets kept by the Hawthorne boys, unraveling truths of stories better left untold that could destroy the family - and Avery herself.

I will be honest, this novel felt extremely messy, and I had a very hard time describing the plot to other people asking about the book who haven't read it already. However, The Inheritance Games does have its merits. Barnes does a good job at giving her book emotional output: there were moments in the story where I genuinely felt pity for what some of the characters have gone through, and I feel especially sorry for the two prospective love interests, Jameson and Grayson. The intricate family drama was a bit excessive and made the novel feel like an on-paper-rendition of a soap opera, but it was intriguing, and I felt engrossed in it (although I really hope they find a way to resolve it somehow). The storyline itself, although it had its golden moments, moved along way too slowly for me and never seemed to get anywhere: the book spans 91 chapters, and by chapter 60, I was wondering when it would end - or if it would ever end, for that matter. The ending as well was incredibly unsatisfying: most of the questions posed about Avery's inheritance at the beginning of the book were either not answered at all or very vaguely addressed, and the cliffhanger only infuriated me more. I do understand that this book is the first in a series, which would explain the cliffhanger, but I felt so tired out from the plot that I considered not reading the rest of the books. There were also not as many puzzles as the plot promised, which disappointed me, and the story was mainly focused on the family drama as well as Avery's strange relationship with Grayson and Jameson (which isn't a completely bad thing, but I started this book thinking there would be more puzzles, and the few that were in the plot were only okay, not brilliant).

As for the characters, I honestly found Avery to be a slightly dislikeable main character: she was as much of a mess as the Hawthorne brothers were, and at times she was honestly kind of stupid. I did enjoy Xander and Nash. Xander was such a funny, lively character, and his obsession with robots and mechanics made him even more endearing. And Nash, unlike most of his family, was actually level-headed and calm, and I respected him for his demeanor, even though his role was also supposed to be controversial, as well as Xander's. Overall, the book was an entertaining read, and there were parts of it that I did love, but it did feel melodramatic and stretched out. I don't think I'll read the rest of the series, but this book was by no means a completely unpleasant experience.

This book is a good resource historically. Hosseini's writing provides a good perspective of what it's like to have lived in Afghanistan. The story itself is interesting. There is plenty of text to analyze about the struggles of an impending war, which I think is good to gain understanding from other cultures. However, I found that there were some scenes throughout the book that were unnecessary. They were a part of the story but went into extreme detail that made me uncomfortable and covered very mature topics. Overall, I give this a three. It's not bad, just not my cup of tea, so I wouldn't be recommending it to someone myself.

This book was definitely interesting to read. I didn't exactly dislike it but it wasn't my favorite book ever. The book is about a dystopian world with a special act that lets people "unwind" their teenagers. This process involves repurposing their organs and body parts, donating them to people in need and justified this as the life doesn't really end. It's the premise of the book and brings up some heartbreaking scenes to read. In my opinion the plot isn't bad. It's about three teens that come together to try and escape being unwound. What I like about it is that it's a powerful adventure and there's a lot of unique characters. Even though it wasn't my favorite book I've read, I don't think it a waste of time and would recommend it to those who enjoy science fiction and action.

After reading Gary Paulsen’s other Hatchet books, I knew I had to read The River. The story is simple: Brian has been rescued from the horrors of the wilderness, with scars to prove them; but a group of men who want to educate people on nature survival are asking him to travel back to the desolate Canadian Forests! Read as a simple, and seemingly safe, plan falters and leaves Brian back in the wild, alone. His only hope: to raft down a river and hope for somebody to rescue him.
Although this novel gives off a less tense survival vibe, it is certainly still entertaining. I would certainly recommend this entire series to anyone who loves a good nature book with a twist. The River: A Hatchet Adventure, is worthwhile. Read and submerse yourself in a survival book of hardships and adventure!

When I finished reading Gary Paulsen’s initial book to the series, Brian’s Winter was on my list. The novel twists the first book, Hatchet, with an alternate ending! Brian now remains stranded in the Canadian Wilderness, but here’s the catch: in order for Brian to survive, he must endure Canada’s brutal winters. Can Brian get lucky enough to survive yet another season in the wild, or will he succumb to the sheer power of Mother Nature? Find out by reading Gary Paulsen’s Brian’s Winter.

I don’t know about other readers, but generally, as soon as a jacket blurb mentions something like “intergenerational saga” or “centuries-long family lore,” I roll my eyes and drop the book like the proverbial hot potato, sure it’s going to tax me with keeping track of 27 characters and five time periods. For whatever reason, this time, I kept reading past that ominous descriptor, and I’m so glad I did as Margaret Wilkerson Sexton’s moving and engrossing novel, The Revisioners, is one of the best I have read in recent years.

Chapters rotate across three time periods and center on two main characters, Josephine, who was born into slavery but who claims freedom at an early age and lives a long life in Louisiana, and Ava, her great, great-granddaughter, who lives in contemporary New Orleans with her pre-teen son and—in an unexpected twist that becomes increasingly unsettling—her wealthy, white paternal grandmother with dementia. In addition, both Josephine’s and Ava’s own mothers feature vividly in their respective chapters, deepening the layers of national and personal history that Sexton so realistically and poignantly depicts. The maternal line in this family is also characterized by certain gifts of understanding and sight, both earthly and other-earthly, which create a shadowy but certain bond that steadily solidifies among the women as the plot progresses.

Conflicts between our protagonists and somewhat minor but all too powerful white characters in all time periods make for suspenseful, unsettling scenes and, as you might expect, lead to heartbreak and trauma for both Josephine and Ava. Believe me, I cried (well, even sobbed) more than once at the outcome of certain events, but Sexton isn’t after “easy tears”; they would be pointless if not accompanied by genuine acknowledgment of and determination not to hide from our nation’s painful and shameful past, especially on the part of white readers. Even so, the novel’s conclusion (in Ava’s time/place) points towards healing and hope for this family that has endured so much.

I won’t spoil the surprise of the title’s origin and its place in this book (or in which of the three generations of Black American women it is featured), but I found this plot-dependent entity and the way it informs and almost foretells key characters’ lives one of the most poignant and satisfying conceits Sexton employs. I couldn’t recommend this book more emphatically for anyone looking for a serious and unforgettable, not to mention timely, contribution to American literature.

This book was weird.
It felt like a windstorm of ideas blowing in my face; a mad prophet's ravings before catastrophe, and a tangled mess of actions and consequences - but somehow they all connected together? It was a bit of an experience.
Grasshopper Jungle is a story about the end of the world, but like many teen novels, it is simply a backdrop to Austin's personal dramas. One of its tags on Libby is "humor" but I think it's more of a tragedy if anything. The main character and his best friend inadvertently bring about an apocalypse by way of 6-foot tall, ravenous grasshoppers after accidentally breaking a jar they really shouldn't have broken.
The book weaves together the stories of Austin, his childhood experiences, as well as those of his brother, Polish ancestor, the mutant grasshoppers, and random strangers around town (such as his principal, his friend's mom's boyfriend, and a vulgar policeman being memorable ones). It's a lot.
I found this story's distinctive style very difficult to tear myself away from. It was authentic to the protagonist's personality, and it reminded me of the narration of classic epics. It stands out in its themes of memory, religious trauma, sexuality, and identity (and somehow being an apocalyptic story as well). The symbolism was uncanny, and the way the outside world and past timelines mirrored Austin's mental state was very artistic and unique.
Onto my criticisms and confusions: #1 has to be the male characters. I think that every single male character in this story thinks constantly about every other character in a grossly objectifying way. Honestly though, this applies to most of the female characters as well, who are just as lustfully self-interested. Very interesting, but it was a... strange experience to read the nuanced and morally grey portrayal of Austin's ancestor, a gay man who had not-consensual relations with a woman to see if he could "love" anyone other than his dead Communist lover.
Austin himself relates to this ancestor because he, too, is "confused". His gay best friend Robby continually makes advances on Austin, and Austin reciprocates because he is completely in love with Robby. He is also in love with his girlfriend, who doesn't take too kindly to the fact that Austin has kissed Robby during their relationship. Austin even documents the POV of the murderous, bi-curious, mutant grasshoppers.
The ending was extremely abrupt. I'll admit, I was glued to this book for the last quarter, and the ending made me stand up and think "what in the world did I just read". However, in all honesty, it very much suited the style of the book. It never deviates from being a chronicle of the end of the world, and the world around Austin certainly comes crashing down.
Grasshopper Jungle is a weird book that made me think, and I don't regret reading it. It is quite graphic, but if you're interested in this swarm of a book, I highly recommend reading it and forming your own opinion. I might read the sequel, but I'm a bit afraid of what it might hold.

Now that I'm older, I really should be reading at a level closer to that of my peers. However, there's just something about some children's books that draws me to them, and The Popularity Papers definitely has that spark.
Lydia and her best friend Julie are in their last year of elementary school. Lydia's older sister underwent a dramatic change between elementary and middle school, in which she embraced goth fashion, secluded herself from others, and generally became a stranger to them. To avoid becoming like her, Julie and Lydia decide to observe and emulate the "popular" kids in order to get more friends before going into sixth grade.

First off, this book has no clear antagonist. Instead of "the popular kids" and the "nerds" being a black-and-white distinction, its easy to see how all the children in the story are just that - children. For example, popular girl Gretchen has no qualms over calling out another girl's odd and homophobic questioning of Julie's two dads.
I also love the diary-style dialogue in which Julie and Lydia communicate through scribbled notes in the margins, and the art in this story is very unique.
The book embodies a child's curious, scatter-brained nature while still being entertaining and maintaining themes of kindness, authenticity, and finding friends in unexpected places. It's a favorite of mine to re-read, and I highly recommend this book to read with young siblings, to clear the mind between heavier books, or just as a fun, rainy-day read.

When I had initially read this book I had given it five stars, but now that I look back, it definitely got knocked down to a four.
Feyre, a human, ends up killing a wolf and is taken away by a fae for retribution. This book was supposedly a Beauty and the Beast retelling, but it did not seem like it, at all. I did like the concept of the book, but some of the characters are so unlikeable I was confused with the motives behind their actions. That kind of made it hard to enjoy some of the plotlines. This book was a lot of world building, which I enjoyed, but it does not pick up until closer to the end. I did overall like this book and I think it is worth picking up.