24 Hour Library

A Library Blog by Abby Hargreaves

Tag: romance

Abby Reads: Wild Swans by Jessica Spotswood

Wild Swans by Jessica Spotswood
Sourcebooks Fire, 2016, 304 pages
YA Fiction


Full disclosure: I work with Jessica Spotswood. I wasn’t coerced into reading her work; it was something that would have interested me anyway. My thoughts here are my own and have no bearing on Jessica as a person, who is lovely. Onward!

After seventeen years without her mother, Ivy is beginning really to feel the pressure of her foremothers’ legacies. For generations, the Milbourn women have left behind amazing works of art in one form or another only to die young in Jessica Spotswood’s Wild Swans. On the coast of Virginia, Ivy struggles Wild Swans by Jessica Spotswoodwith her grandfather’s encouragement to build her writing portfolio while finding new companionship in his favorite student (Connor) and fighting against the assumed romantic entitlement of the boy with whom she grew up (Alex). Meanwhile, her mother returns with her two half-sisters, only her sisters don’t know exactly who she is.

Wild Swans is quietly and realistically feminist, with plenty to consider in terms of fate, self-determination, and taking charge. Though Ivy is not a strictly active character, her power appears in other ways and her thoughtfulness adds to her as a person and to her narrative. Much of Ivy’s development comes through her introspection. She’s incredibly mature and self-aware, which leads directly from her upbringing and grandfather’s role in her life. Spotswood’s characterization of each person is touched with a heavy dose of realism: many characters are paradoxical in their actions and speech, all characters are nuanced, and their interactions with and influences on each other clearly have an impact as relationships do in real life.

Connor is, in some ways, slightly cliched. He occasionally falls into the poet-boy trope, with tattoos and a coolness that many of the other characters find slightly off-putting. But in many other ways, he’s refreshing and real: Spotswood carefully handles Connor as a complete foil to Alex, which helps to reinforce the feminist message of not oweing a sexual or romantic relationship to anyone, regardless of how long a couple of people have been friends.

Spotswood’s story is wrapped up in excellent prose, too. Despite having a rather quiet plot, the book moves quickly with language that isn’t overly long but still exact. Ivy, as a narrator, is able to communicate quite a bit of context without going overboard. She’s concise and uses fairly simple language, but the quality and clarity of the plot, setting, situation, and beyond are not sacrificed for it. The quiet plot, however, also ends quietly. By the end of Ivy’s story, little seems to have truly changed. A few more beats might have tied things up in a more satisfying way, but this might have cost the novel its deep sense of realism, which in some ways feels more valuable.

If you’re looking for something that’s steady and fleshy but not overwhelmingly heavy or dark (though there’s darkness in Wild Swans, to be sure), Wild Swans could be a great next pick for you. It’s a quick read that delivers on balanced emotion and subtlety, well worth the couple of days you’ll spend with it. Whether you’re in on a rainy evening or enjoying the sun’s rays on the beach, give Wild Swans a shot — you just might find something in yourself that will surprise you.

❤❤❤💔 out of ❤❤❤❤❤

Abby Reads: When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon

When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon
Simon Pulse, 2017, 384 pages
YA Fiction

In When Dimple Met Rishi by Sandhya Menon, readers are introduced to gutsy Dimple and amorous Rishi. The summer before she’s to go to college, Dimple packs her bags for a computer coding camp where she expects to work hard to earn the prize of working with her idol and developing an app28458598 which will help her father and thousands of others. What she doesn’t expect is to meet her future husband, Rishi. Enamored by Dimple and her drive, Rishi is hardly deterred by her naturally horrified response to the rude realization that her and Rishi’s parents have conspired to put the two teens together. When Dimple and Rishi are paired together for their coding project, Dimple is hesitant at best. But perhaps Rishi has more to offer than what Dimple wants to believe.

Young Adult fiction publishers seem to finally be getting the message that we need more diverse books. This is only the very beginning, but with a publication date that quickly followed the final installment of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han, When Dimple Met Rishi came at the perfect time. The buzz around the novel is well-deserved. Because the novel is written by a woman who can racially and ethnically identify with her characters, stereotypes are nonexistent or, in the cases where they do appear, are explained to inform the reader and flesh out the stereotype that is actually a cultural feature or, an unconnected individual quirk.

Not to continue comparing Menon to Han, but another fantastic similarity between the two is the novels’ abilities to take a fairly slow, everyday plot without outrageous dips, dives, and heights and maintain a high level of interest in readers. Characters in the novel experience everyday problems with loved ones and friends, many of which readers might recognize from their own lives. However, these conflicts are rarely yawn-inducing. Instead, Menon props up the novel with characters who are well-developed and emotive. With such a high level of development, managing chemistry between characters might seem like a stiff challenge, but Menon proves her skill again in helping readers become invested in Dimple and Rishi’s end with the considerable gravitation between the two characters.

Menon’s setting of a pre-college camp for computer programmers is also highly interesting, and a bold thing to actually show a young woman entering. For all the talk we have around girls in computer sciences, it seems rare to see such a person reflected in fiction and even rarer to see it done well and realistically. Dimple meets plenty of detractors when it comes to her love of coding, but perhaps what really sets this environment apart from similar locations is that Dimple’s coding camp is full of all kinds. While some of Menon’s secondary and tertiary characters become caricaturistic, the presence of those characters at all (such as the stereotypical Mean Girls) assist in creating realism.

Some reviewers had problems with examples of Dimple’s physical abuse of Rishi. I’m not one to believe that characters must be nice or likable to be interesting or worth reading about, but the abuse, particularly as something that was never resolved as a character trait, felt out of place in When Dimple Met Rishi. These instances might have informed readers of Dimple’s character, but given that she never seems to outgrow the behavior, its existence in the novel is troubling.

Finally, When Dimple Met Rishi did run a little long for my tastes. A particular beat of the romance plot toward the end might have been left off for a read that felt a little snappier, which likely would have suited the experience better. However, When Dimple Met Rishi is, overall, almost as good as the hype and certainly worth the time to read. Even aside from being an important novel due to its status as a “diverse” novel (scare quotes because we shouldn’t need novels featuring non-white characters as direly as we do, and yet here we are), When Dimple Met Rishi is worth it simply for the pleasure.

❤❤❤💔 out of ❤❤❤❤❤

Abby Reads: First & Then by Emma Mills

First & Then  by Emma Mills
Henry Holt and Co., 2015, 272 pages
YA Fiction

Obsessed with Jane Austen and dealing with the new presence of her cousin in her home, Devon of Emma Mills’s First & Then doesn’t want a whole lot to do with anyone. With her cousin Foster comes local superstar football player Ezra, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be out of her life anytime soon, no matter 23310751how much she may want him out. But Ezra perhaps does not have the perfect life everyone believes he does.

With a plot and structure that mimics Austen to some degree, First & Then follows Devon and her mild obsession around the famous author. Mills struggles to define Devon, however — for all of Devon saying she loves Austen, it’s rarely demonstrated in action and the origins of her interest are never explained. It feels, instead, like a symbolic character trait: Devon loves Austen, so her story — at least in this novel — will be one about love and commentary on societal contentions. You know, like an Austen novel.

Despite Devon being somewhat bare bones in the personality department, her love interest is rather interesting. Genuinely mature (as opposed to the fake mature that you often see in YA literature — Edward in Twilight comes to mind first: seemingly mature and experienced, but really just brooding and quite emotionally immature when it comes down to it), the character provides a refreshing example. Though a revealing detail (see more on that at the end of the review, if you don’t mind major spoilers)* ends up being half-baked and underdeveloped, the character overall is fascinating as an individual.

Other folks in Devon’s life make the novel a touch crowded. Too many characters come in and out, which is a mark of real life, but ultimately makes First & Then harder to follow, canceling out any of the realism this aspect provides. Meanwhile, Mills’s plot is a bit slow and subtle, which adds to the vague lack of readability. Furthermore, if you’re not a fan of football and know nothing about it, several football-heavy scenes will again make this book a bit more of a chore than you might expect.

Finally, Devon’s tendency to call other girls at her school “prostitots,” or “PTs” for short, is a frustrating one. She never grows out of this, which I found disconcerting for a number of reasons. While main characters need not be perfect by any stretch, there seemed no real reason for this inclusion, except perhaps some dislike of girls typically deemed as pretty, popular, and perhaps promiscuous (alliteration unintended) by the author in her high school years.

First & Then is not something I’d go out of my way to read. It needed a bit more polishing and a stronger structure to hold my attention. While the prose style was sufficient, the overall concept was in places too subtle or otherwise underdeveloped to be gripping.


Ultimately, the love interest holds a secret to avoid attention he doesn’t want. This “secret” is that his younger brother died in a car crash. This felt terribly gimmicky and, from someone who lost a brother to fatal injuries in a car crash, I was mildly insulted. The love interest never even gives his brother a name, suggesting that the crash only matters in so much as it is connected to the love interest and his life, as opposed to just being an important event on its own. Though everyone grieves differently, I found this portrayal strange, off-putting, and generally tone deaf to what it’s actually like.

❤❤❤ out of ❤❤❤❤❤

Abby Reads: Signs Point to Yes by Sandy Hall

Signs Point to Yes by Sandy Hall
Swoon Reads, 2015, 288 pages
Young Adult Fiction

The cover of Signs Point to Yes is fit for a queen of bookstagram. With a gorgeous pastel design (and a beautiful matching look for Hall’s other young adult romance, A Little Something Different), of course I had to pick this one up. While the cover art may be a dream, Hall’s novel doesn’t quite meet the standard set by the Easter egg-esque binding.

For Jane, life in general is pressure. Pressure to pick and get into a college, pressure to make money, pressure to come out of the shadow cast by her older sister, pressure to be more. After much nagging from her mother, Jane takes on a nannying job, caring for three young girls who happen to be old friend, Teo’s sisters. As the trope goes, Jane develops feelings for Teo as they interact throughout the summer and Teo finds a confidante in Jane with his best friend, Ravi, out of the country for a while. When Jane discovers Teo is seeking his biological father, she decides to put her strong Internet research skills (thanks, fanfiction) to the test. Teo, meanwhile, has no idea what’s coming.

Signs Point to Yes comes down to a case of seemingly-rushed editing. While the concept is solid, interesting, realistic, and relevant to many modern young readers, the prose simply doesn’t meet the challenge. Hall writes with a simplistic and unpolished style, which, while making a leisurely read, can also make the story boring at times. The simplicity of the prose and the overall plot suggests a novel that might be better suited as a movie. With scenes taking place during sunny summer days at the pool and cool summer nights atop rooftops, the book is certainly picturesque enough to warrant a film version.

Though the parameters of time for the book — summer — are clear, the pacing overall is stilted. Too many words are spent on some unimportant chunk of time and too few on the more significant moments. Despite Teo’s despair at his friend being away for the majority of summer, Ravi appears (or is otherwise indicated to be present in the characters’ lives) more than he is not, making Teo’s complaints seem unfounded. Fourth of July seems to take place farther in the summer than it actually does and the narrative passes onto uncomfortably unexpected plot points that might’ve flown better had the timeline moved at a more natural pace. At the same time, Teo, especially, reacts unreasonably in many situations without any clear logic. Though emotions certainly are not logical by nature, his outbursts do not suit the character that is otherwise drawn for the reader.

But perhaps one of the most irritating things — especially considering its actual impact on the overall book is minimum — is Jane’s obsession with fandom and fanfiction. The obsession itself is not problematic, but rather how this interest is presented in such a way that excludes readers who are unfamiliar with fandom and fandom culture. Hall references fairly common pairings or ships (romantic combinations between fictional characters often expanded upon with fan art or fanfiction, either canon or otherwise), but uses fandom vocabulary and concepts without explaining them. Perhaps readers in fandom will enjoy this inside joke of sorts, but as someone who spent a lot of time in fandom, I found the exclusion to be, well, exclusive. There’s a condescension taking place without being blatant about it, and, though I don’t suppose Hall intended it, it’s another thing that a few more rounds of editing ought to have caught.

Signs Point to Yes is a few hairs below mediocre. It’s not awful and may be worth grabbing at a used bookstore if you’re looking for something quick and maybe a bit bland (palate cleansers are important in reading, too!), but I wouldn’t go out of my way to recommend this one.

❤❤ out of ❤❤❤❤❤

Abby Reads: By Your Side by Kasie West

By Your Side by Kasie West
HarperTeen, 2017, 352 pages
Young Adult Fiction/Romance

In Kasie West’s By Your Side, Autumn has plans to head out to a cabin with her friends for the weekend and is about to hop in her crush’s car when she realizes she has to use the restroom. She runs back into the library — only to be locked inside. And what’s worse, it’s Martin Luther King, Jr. weekend, so she’ll be in there until Tuesday morning. It’s bad enough to be trapped in a library, but things take another dive when Autumn discovers she’s not alone. Dax, the local troubled kid, is there, too. With three days stuck together, Autumn and Dax have plenty to learn about each other and plenty more to sort through once they’re free.

Look, I’m a librarian. Books about books and/or libraries is for me what catnip is to my cat. (Probably one of my favorite episodes of Arthur is “Locked in the Library!”) So when I saw my local library had a copy of this book on order, I immediately placed a hold on it and waited with anticipatory glee until it arrived, was processed, and placed neatly on the holdshelf for yours, truly. I have some disappointing news for my fellow books-about-books lovers: By Your Side is not a book about books or even a book, really, about being trapped in a library. While a good deal of the plot takes place in the public library, most of it does not — and the parts of it that do are pretty devoid of all things libraries.

I could forgive that. We all know (at least those of us in public libraries know) that getting teens into the library and, y’know, reading, is hard. So it’s not totally unreasonable that fictional teenagers trapped in a library for a three-day weekend might be more concerned with food and warmth than they are with books. I guess. (I kid.) But the primary issue I had with the plot was that it was totally implausible. West runs her two teens through a whole series of attempts to escape — they consider pulling the fire alarm to get fire trucks, and therefore adults, at the scene; they pull at the bells in a tower to alert nearby individuals that there are people inside; they yearn for their cell phones, which are conveniently unavailable or out of minutes; they look for a panic button under the circulation desk. But it never occurs to them to either put a sign in the window or use a landline. I realize landlines are a bit archaic (again, I kid), but if Autumn went behind the circulation desk to look for a panic button, I’m just not willing to believe she didn’t see a phone. Yeah, okay, maybe she would have had to dial the 9 to make an outgoing call (though she might’ve just called 911 and the whole thing would have been wrapped up), but there’s really no way around this. I try to suspend my disbelief for fiction, I really do — but this was just too absurd to me.

But moving on. Autumn and Dax, despite having three full days to get to know each other and expose their personalities, are kind of flat and boring individuals. Autumn’s defining feature is her apparently-clinical anxiety and Dax’s, his troubled-and-mysterious past. And, really, that’s about it. Autumn does not seem to have any significant interest in anything beyond her relationship with her crush, Jeff, and Dax’s interest extends only to escaping his foster home when he turns eighteen. Either of these might be interesting in depth, but the superficiality with which West explores these characteristics leaves Autumn and Dax two-dimensional and any potential chemistry between them is all the more diminished for it. (I also have to note that West apparently named Autumn after one of her daughters, which I just couldn’t get out of my head as I read, thanks to the dedication of the book. So uncomfortable.) The simplicity of the characters ultimately made for some pretty predictable content, too.

West’s prose in By Your Side is basic and unremarkable. Though easy to read and straightforward (perhaps an option for reluctant readers who seek something that is really very basic), for the bookworms this novel might pretend to appeal to in its marketing, the writing disappoints. There are no significant faux pas in the style, it’s just bland and uninspiring.

West has several other YA romances (you’ll notice the covers are all variations of the same image) and, while I haven’t read them, I get the sense from By Your Side that they’re probably pretty generic and formulaic. It’s hard to do that kind of thing well, but West’s work here really suffered. Though a few moments (particularly a late scene with Jeff) stood out as well-done, By Your Side is overall not as pretty inside as its cover. This one gets one-and-a-half hearts.

❤💔 out of ❤❤❤❤❤

Abby Reads: Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell

Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell
St. Martin’s Griffin, 2013, 336 pages
YA Fiction

Banned Books Week is coming up, September 25 – October 1. In past years, I’ve found a banned or challenged book that I hadn’t yet read and read it that week. This year, I’ve already got a few books going (here’s looking at you, Alexander Hamilton — I’ll finish you one day!) and have too much going on to start something new. So, I asked myself, what other ways can I celebrate? Looking at my log of book-reviews-to-post, I remembered Rainbow Rowell’s Eleanor and Park had, at the very least, been challenged.  While I admit I find bits of the novel problematic myself (though the bits I find problematic are not the bits the parents found problematic), I proudly uphold the ethics of my profession and engage with the material, anyway, careful to read and think about it critically as we should with any material, not just those around which controversy swirls. This isn’t to say you can’t read a book for fun — certainly, you can, just as you can enjoy Miley Cyrus’s latest song while criticizing her for cultural appropriation. But regardless of the intent you hold when reading, remember to read responsibly, my friends. Without further ado, I therefore offer my review of a problematic fave, Eleanor and Park. (Okay, a bit of ado — read banned books! Happy Banned Books Week!)

If you know anything about young adult fiction, you’ve probably at least heard of Rainbow Rowell’s Eleanor and Park. I finally got around to this one several months ago and, like Fangirl, Eleanor and Park is hyper-realistic and features a rich teen romance between its two title characters. It’s unlike many of the more superficial teen romances I’ve read and that much, I enjoyed.

I’ll be up front, though, and tell you there’s a fair bit of racism in the book, something on which I’ll leave to those in the Asian community to discuss. I’ll only say the fetishization of Park as an (half-)Asian came up again and again, among other issues of the stereotyping and internalized racism variety. I get the sense that this racism came out of a place of ignorance rather than malicious intent, but it’s still an aspect of the novel that must be considered by its readers and discussed in a broader context. That’s all I have to say about that and I highly encourage you to seek out comments from individuals affected by this racism rather than relying on my very brief and inherently ignorant and white-influenced thoughts on the matter, whether you read the book or not.

Onward to things I do have some authority on. To take a step back, Eleanor and Park is about two high school students in Nebraska. When Eleanor returns to her home after some time away, she also returns to school and is quickly singled out as someone to be avoided. However, seats on the school bus are limited and Eleanor ends up sitting with Park, who loves comic books. As Eleanor and Park slowly share their love of music and comic books in 1980s Omaha, they discover their feelings for each other. But Eleanor’s home life proves to be a huge stumbling block that neither are quite ready to take on.

Rowell takes a good, hard look at difficult home situations involving abuse and poverty. As a result of taking these issues seriously and recognizing there are real teens with these real experiences, Rowell avoids “writing down” to her audience. It is this, in part, that makes Eleanor and Park an excellent read for not only teens, but adults, too, who may not expect to enjoy young adult fiction (but are missing out!). Additionally interesting, Eleanor is very clearly affected by her environment. Eleanor is not a good or nice person most of the time. She makes bad decisions and is often unlikable, but the reader is reminded that Eleanor is doing what she must to survive emotionally and mentally. This added layer of realism is striking and not one I see done well in most young adult fiction.

Another thing done well that is usually a disaster was the switch in point of view. I have this written in my notes as an aspect to discuss, but frankly, it was done so well that I had forgotten that it was even a thing. Switching points of view, even when the entire book is in third person, is one of my book pet peeves. Given that it didn’t bother me in Eleanor and Park, I’m inclined to take that as a hint that it was done well.

One other small thing – the book begins with a sort of whispy prologue in the form of an epilogue that I felt wasn’t truly necessary. While it offered a good deal of foreshadowing and set readers up to prepare themselves for a potentially sad ending, I don’t feel that it really added anything to the book or the experience of it. I see it as a way for Rowell to get two shots at the ending – while the official ending is beautiful, it does leave a little something to be desired, which ends up being found in the prologue. Had the prologue been somehow referred to in a grander way in the official end, pulling the book to a full circle, I might have appreciated it more. As it is, I could have done without it.

If you’re prepared to critically consider the racism in Eleanor and Park, the remaining elements of the novel are really pretty good. I did dock my rating below because of that racism, but I also don’t think it’s fair to discount the quality of prose and other elements because of what appears to be genuine ignorance and a lack of research and consultation. With the many criticisms out there on Eleanor and Park, I hope Rowell will take that feedback to make future work better while maintaining her otherwise well-done material.


❤❤❤💔 out of ❤❤❤❤❤

Abby Reads: Going Too Far by Jennifer Echols

Going Too Far by Jennifer Echols
Pocket Books, 2009, 245 pages
YA Romance

After a traumatic beginning to her adolescent years, Meg takes on a new style. Now, it’s getting her into trouble with IMG_2612the law and she’s taking her friends down with her. When the cops find Meg, her boyfriend Eric, Meg’s friend Tiffany, and Tiffany’s date Brian on a dangerous bridge, they arrest the four teens. Meg, Tiffany, and Brain are assigned to ride around with one of three options for their spring break: police, fire department, or ambulance. But they don’t get to choose — the law does. Meg is paired up with Officer After, who is attractive but has problems of his own. Meanwhile, Meg struggles with her relationships with Tiffany, Eric, and her parents.

I went into Going Too Far expecting the title to be a reflection of Meg pushing the limits with Officer John After in terms of the appropriateness of their relationship. Although this was a shade of a theme in the book, this was not what the title was referring to. Instead, it is more about how the pair pushes each other to hazardous points in the name of fixing each other. Like many other YA novelists, Echols deals with growth and maturity in Meg’s journey. However, in one of Meg’s final acts of “maturity” she completely abandons herself, leaving the readers with a sense of betrayal. This change is a clichéd one, too, joining many other clichés in the novel such as the “tortured artist” trope and “got to get out of this small town” theme.

Echols’ writing is similarly repetitive. There is never a moment when the reader even has the chance to forget that John has “dark eyes” or Meg has “blue hair.” Though not unreadable, the rest of the prose is unremarkable. It’s clear at best, but dull and unimaginative.

With some clichéd characters, other characters show more promise, like Purcell. Unfortunately, Echols never fully delivers on Purcell or Meg’s parents, who are another pair of intriguing but underdeveloped characters. The remainder of the cast is full of stereotypes — the virgin valedictorian, the softy best guy, and the fatherly law enforcement officer. Echols does make an interesting move with Eric, who is irredeemably misbehaved but constantly bailed out by his rich parents one way or another. However, he’s incredibly unlikable.

I will also take a moment to note that there’s a good deal of slut-shaming in this novel. I had hoped Meg would turn out to be a character who shows her readers that it is acceptable for women to be sexual beings, but she and others regularly make comments that suggest her opinion (and the author’s) is otherwise. I will also emphasize that authors are not their characters — however, in this instance, I found no trace of anti-slut-shaming philosophies from the author in the novel.

❤❤ out of ❤❤❤❤❤

© 2018 24 Hour Library

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑