Wither by Lauren DeStefano

Review

On a surface level I enjoyed Wither but there were parts of me that remained stubbornly incredulous and even a little bit derisive at times. This is a dystopian YA novel so I’m willing to suspend disbelief but I do feel a little bit of extra work on the world could have made Wither a more fulfilling read. Both the dystopian elements of Rhine’s world and also some of the character intentions felt lazy and frustrating. I also felt a bit iffy about it at times because the concept – one young man sharing three teenage ‘wives’, emotionally and sexually – well, I find that a little wrong, especially for a teenage book.

There are moments of beauty in Wither, which was mainly why I kept reading. I also really wanted to find out if Rhine managed to leave, and take Gabriel with her. There are a few passages where the author really captures that desperate, funked out atmosphere and sense of hopelessness – this I enjoyed. But then nobody ever did anything about it.

I enjoyed the three main characters in Wither – the sister-wives Rhine, Jenna and Cecily. The relationship that develops between them is the heart of the book (not the kind-of-forced twin-brother angle). I probably cared for Rhine the least, and found her the most un-multi-faceted, but I still did want her to successfully escape. Actually all the female characters in the book – from Rhine’s hand-maiden to the head cook to first-wife Rose – all exude some kind of personality. They are all likeable. The male characters don’t fare so well. Hopefully Gabriel will come out of his shell a bit more in future books.

I have heard this book referred to as a young ‘Handmaid’s Tale’ and I can see resemblances. The Handmaid’s Tale is one of my favourite books and I think the dystopian elements of it are near perfect. The dystopian elements of Wither are not.  I think it is catering more towards the romance element, and therefore YA fans of that will really enjoy it. Wither is quite moody and atmospheric, and actually quite different from a lot of YA dystopian action-based on-the-run books. I guess its uniqueness is a strong selling point. I enjoyed it, but only just.

Burn Bright by Marianne de Pierres

First published by Random House, 2011

I read Burn Bright because I’ve read some great reviews and a while back it was a really hot book – I saw it everywhere, the concept was being talked up, blogs were raving about it. This is mostly what makes we want to read a book, and inevitably how I make most of my reading choices – word of mouth, other reviews. Blogging has been so awesome for discovering great books – what a great platform for authors and publishers. And while for the most part I can see what made everyone rave about Burn Bright, I was left with the lingering sense that I just don’t think it’s suitable for a YA audience.

As a work of adult fiction, I think MdP could have made a really fantastic, controversial read. And although the writing in Burn Bright is not too ‘in your face’ or erotic, the ideas behind it, what it suggests, is not something I would market to a YA audience. I’m not a prudish person by nature, but the idea of an island devoted to ‘pleasure’, and most of it sexual, plus some of the acts that occur, just didn’t sit comfortably with me. If I came across this book in my high school library and started reading it I would have felt like I had something to hide.

I would certainly not classify Burn Bright as ‘bad’ – putting aside my main concerns, the writing is okay, although sometimes the dialogue is a bit stiff. Apart from the sexy stuff, there are a lot of other good plot points going on (sometimes almost too much, to the point where I couldn’t keep track of all the different groups). The setting is used well, it is really the stuff dream stories are made from – all those caverns and temples and hidden paths and shadowy places – awesome. I also really liked the idea that when people get too old they get taken away, and the later reveal of what happens to them is shocking in the best kind of way. Like I said, some really clever, wonderful stuff to be found. With a slightly different slant on it, I would have loved this book.

Also, points to MdP for writing a book driven by a brother/sister relationship.  A lot of the YA I read, the main relationship is driven by romantic love. Sibling love, I think, always goes a little deeper. I really wanted Retra to find her brother, and could have done with just this rather than the little romantic sub-plot that was thrown in.

A decent read, interesting, although not one I would reccommend for parents or teacher-librarians.

Black Juice, by Margo Lanagan

First published in 2004, by Allen & Unwin

Recently I picked up my old copy of Margo Lanagan’s Black Juice, which I vaguely remember once having to study either for school or uni. Black Juice is a collection of ten short stories, each one strangely compelling and sprinkled with her usual mix of mystery and beautiful despair. My favourites are ‘House of the Many’, ‘Yowlinin’ and ‘Singing my Sister Down’, but really, each of these ten stories is as intense and disturbing as the other. They are saved from being uncomfortably confronting by such tiny, sad reflections on human nature and the world, which sink their teeth into all the vulnerable parts of your mind and body you’ve been foolish enough to expose.

What I love about these stories is that they all pack a punch and are in your face; they drop you right into the centre of the action and leave you to flounder your way out along with the characters. The worlds the characters inhabit are alien and troubled and feel like a sort of faraway mimicry of the world we know. They are utterly fascinating, because Lanagan only ever hints at the details of how they came to be, dropping a few well placed objects and hints and allowing us brief flashes into what the characters think about these worlds. Everything seems off-kilter, slightly amiss, an impression of reality. Her stories are scary with what we don’t know about them, but because they all have the slightest trace of the familiar, they are still, in all their strangeness, a little too close to home.

What is real and recognizable about these stories is the human emotion, and more specifically the human despair, that is woven through them. The insights Lanagan gives us about who her characters are as human provides the perfect amount of tenderness and compassion to balance the fierce unforgiving landscapes. This is what we understand, and what strikes so close to home. That she can do this over and over, for each story, yet in completely original ways, is what makes Black Juice such a brilliantly realised piece of work.

The imagination and originality put into these stories is remarkable. Lanagan’s writing is beautiful, as I’m sure is countlessly mentioned – her prose is poetic and expressive without being heavy-handed. I think the word is effortless - her writing doesn’t try too hard but still knows exactly what it is doing. But the real magic is in how Lanagan builds up time and place and landscape and then, delicately, shows us the cracks. Black Juice is quite extraordinary, and a wonderful reading experience.

"Irini performed the final part for all of us: stepped forward, knelt on the pavement, and, holding her skirt decent in the wind, bent and kissed Grandma's forehead. It seemed only right - she was the one who knew Grandma best, these last days. It's the role of daughters to move ever away from their mothers ... and it's likely, isn't it, that someone will step in, and appreciate everything the daughters can't, being so busy pushing themselves out into the world, saying, No, no, I'm not you."