Author: Zoe Nolan

“Sometimes all a girl really needed was a very bad idea.”

The Hawthorne Legacy is the second of four in Jennifer Lynne Barnes’ series: The Inheritance Games. It picks up after Avery, a seemingly normal teenage girl from New England, inherits the fortune of a Texas billionaire with no explanation as to why. By the end of the first book, Avery has moved into the Hawthorne’s mansion, now technically hers, found herself at the center of a love triangle with the grandsons of her bequeather, and made it to the end of an elaborate puzzle left for herself and the Hawthornes. 

In The Hawthorne Legacy, Avery has to face the complicated relationship she has with her father, who has made every attempt to steal her fortune, including murder. She grapples with the possibility that he may not even be her father. This set Avery and the Hawthorne grandsons–Grayson, Jameson, Xander, and Nash–on a wild goose chase for answers. Barely dodging attempts at her life and remaining in the public eye as a spectacle; Avery does her best to solve the next puzzle. Who is her real father? Which Hawthorne will she choose? How will she survive?

The Hawthorne Legacy is a plot driven, dramatic, and fast-paced work, and Barnes is an expert in twisting stories around in the mind of the reader; she lets us believe we’ve almost solved the puzzle before turning it on its head. This worked well in The Inheritance Games, where Barnes got the timing just right, but it didn’t flow in the same way with The Hawthorne Legacy. The former was easy enough to follow, and plot twists were often shocking but rarely confusing. The latter did have great plot twists throughout, but the biggest one was poorly timed. It came in the last few pages of the book, and made the characters’ established motives, and efforts to solve the puzzle, largely irrelevant. 

As a sequel to The Inheritance Games, it was somewhat disappointing, but as an independent work, The Hawthorne Legacy was thrilling and left me wanting more. If you’ve already finished the first book and are considering finishing the series, I definitely encourage it. Despite its banal young adult tropes and belated twists, The Hawthorne Legacy is worth the read for its bracing plot and twisting mystery.

“Everything’s a game, Avery Grambs. The only thing we get to decide in this life is if we play to win.”

Avery Kylie Grambs was unremarkable; She lived in Connecticut with her older half-sister, Libby, her next of kin after the death of her mother. She juggled a job and challenging high school classes, scraping together as much as she could to pay for college and her dream of traveling the world. Avery was almost there when her world–and Libby’s–stopped. She discovered that she had been named in the will of a wealthy Texan, Tobias Hawthorne, and was needed for the reading. When she arrived at Hawthorne house, Avery met his four young grandsons and their intimidating parentage. At the end of the reading, Avery discovered that she alone–not the Hawthorne family–had inherited the entire estate worth billions. But why her? With cameras in her face and targets on her back, Avery set out to solve the puzzle of the century alongside the Hawthorne brothers who had tricky intentions and even trickier wit. 

The Inheritance Games elevates some staple YA tropes such as enemies to lovers, rags to riches, and your standard love triangle to masterful levels. While this story at times felt far fetched and messy, it rarely felt predictable. The endless plot twists and elaborate puzzles crafted by Barnes leave readers feeling outwitted, but not outpaced. The love triangle slowed down the story, not always for the better, but I have hope it can be salvaged in the following books in Barnes’ series.

While at times the quality of the writing didn’t match up with that of the plot, and the set up felt a bit messy, The Inheritance Games was a deserving winner of the 2021-22 North Star YA award. This award is given to books that encourage young adults to read for fun, and I think that The Inheritance Games is an incredibly deserving recipient. Barnes created a story that I was sad to put down and excited to dive back into, which I find especially rare. This book is great for anyone who enjoys a story rich in escapism, mystery, and tantalizing drama.

“Under the smooth, familiar face of things is another that waits to tear the world in two.”

The Goddess Circe, daughter of Helios and Perse, is unlike any of her siblings or cousins. She doesn’t wield the same charm or beauty of the other gods and goddesses, and is forced to live among her kind as an unsightly, clumsy embarrassment. Amidst the disapproval of her family and community, Circe finds love with a mortal fisherman. With her passionate desire to pursue him and give him a place in her world, she is led down a path of sorcery and transformation that leads, by her formidable actions upon another nymph who stood in her way, to her exile. During her exile on the island of Aiaia, Circe experiments with herbs, potions, witchcraft, and ravenous power, all the while discovering her place in the mortal world. 

Circe is delivered by Miller with raw conviction, a clear modern standout in the literary realm of Greek mythology adaptations. She successfully turns the story of a cold villain on its head, revealing a misunderstood survivor. Already impressing readers with The Song of Achilles, a story thatched with that of Circe, Miller certainly knows how to pen a tremendous reimagining of some of our oldest tales. 

Even the most seasoned mythology patron will find fresh thrills and visceral, newfound connections with characters we thought we knew inside-and-out. Miller’s use of simple dialogue and description made the story seamless and effortless to read, capable of pulling anyone in from the first word to the last. I would confidently recommend Circe to readers who have outgrown Percy Jackson, to lovers of history and mythology, and to anyone who savors a classic adventure.

“Fear is a powerful ally, but feed it too often, make it too strong, and it will turn on you.”

In a fantastical world resembling tsarist Russia, people are separated by ability. They are born either ordinary or grisha, people with the ability to manipulate matter. Eryk and his mother, Lena, are outcasts of both groups. They are grisha, and two of the most rare, powerful, and deadly of their kind. This places a target upon their backs aimed for by both sides. Their unique abilities force them into a life of secret identity and moving from town to town. When Eryk and his mother come to a hidden grisha camp for the winter, their routine of living sheathed is interrupted. When Eryk befriends a pair of sisters in the camp, one his own age, he tragically learns the consequences of letting his guard down and revealing his true self.

Demon in the Wood is Bardugo’s first graphic novel, and it has proven impressive in its elevation of her past material. It pulls stories from her hit series Shadow and Bone, indulging its readers with the origins of its villain, the Darkling. Demon in the Wood has been effective in humanizing the character readers had come to know as cruel and unfeeling, all while providing great visuals of Bardugo’s world. 

I finished this graphic novel quickly, not because it is a graphic novel, but because I became so invested in Eryk’s story. I may be biased as I have already read Bardugo’s other works prior to the release of this most recent one, and I feel as though it could fall flat for anyone left regrettably out of the loop. Regardless, I recommend this book to anyone looking for a quick read full of fantasy, fear, and freedom stifled.

Melanie Koss briefly explores the context in which we see disabilities in young adult literature, criticizing some and uplifting others. She argues that characters with disabilities are often stuck as the victim, villain, or hero, all because of the disability. It is much rarer to find a character whose disability is one aspect of a more complex individual. 

Koss lists a few YA stories that fit the latter description, reminding me of the books I’ve read with disabled representation. Leigh Bardugo authored Six of Crows, including a main character with a disability. She did a great job bringing the character’s struggles to light, drawing from her own experiences with osteonecrosis, without taking away from the complexity of the character. While this is one good example of mindful representation, there are too many careless and dehumanizing examples of disability representation in YA literature, but it is getting better as people become more educated on the subject.

Koss, Melanie, and Donna Wakefield. “Core collection: YA characters with special needs.” Booklist, vol. 104, no. 12, 15 Feb. 2008, p. 79. Gale General OneFile, link.gale.com/apps/doc/A175442728/ITOF?u=maine&sid=bookmark-ITOF&xid=a4ef8a5f. Accessed 10 Jan. 2023.

“No matter what difficulties people face, they will always have the strength to overcome them. It just takes heart.”

• 

If a reader is looking for deep character study, unforgiving portrayal of loss, and complete emotional destruction, Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi fits the bill.  Set in Tokyo, this book follows the many faces who pass through Funiculi Funicula, a café at the center of a Japanese urban legend. The café is known for one seat, which is said to transport its occupant through time. Anyone who attempts to travel back in time is met with a strict, and often deterring, set of rules: 

The only people you can visit in the past are those who have visited the café, and you can only meet them when they are in the café. You cannot leave the seat while in the past, otherwise you will be brought back to the present. Nothing you do in the past will change the present. Drink your coffee before it gets cold, or you will be stuck in the past. 

Split into four sections, Before the Coffee Gets Cold details the lives of four people who find themselves needing to go back to the past. Along the way, the café staff receive meaningful exploration from Kawaguchi. Kazu, the waitress responsible for pouring the time travelers coffee, is a consistent character who is shown to have more meaning to the narrative as new people pass through.  

Each story features themes of grief, heartbreak, maladies, regret, and love. I’ve never finished a book of its length faster. Before the Coffee Gets Cold is a tear jerker that makes you fall in love with its characters before ruining their lives, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read. I recommend this book to anyone and everyone, especially those who dwell on the past. By reading Before the Coffee Gets Cold, I have thought more than ever before about what other people mean to me, and that is the mark of a great book. 

“I wanted to know what it would be like to be myself, fully, right from the jump. No secrets, no hiding.”

A captivating and fast-paced story, This Poison Heart is sure to grab the attention of any reader who enjoys moderate action and fantasy. While this book perfectly appeals to a younger audience, specifically 12-15 year olds, it may come off as a bit too juvenile to a more mature audience. The story begins with a seemingly ordinary teenage girl who, to the surprise of absolutely no one, is hiding a mysterious magical ability from the world. Briseis has just completed her junior year of high school, and is bombarded with the stress of her approaching graduation and college programs. Getting in the way of her normal future is her ability to manipulate plants and make them grow; a skill useful to her adoptive parents’ botanical shop in Brooklyn, but disastrous to her social life and normalcy in school. When money gets tight at home and her power grows out of control, she receives the convenient news that she has inherited an upstate mansion from her biological aunt and is thrown into an adventure of mystery, self-discovery, danger, and isolation.

Painfully predictable, this retelling of Greek mythology, The Secret Garden, and Little Shop of Horrors might leave mature readers bored. To give credit where credit is due, This Poison Heart has incredible and diverse representation, and shares the story of found family in a beautiful way despite its formulaic and juvenile nature. Two of the main characters, Briseis’ moms, make for refreshing queer representation, as well as black representation.

Bayron confronts the experiences of birth family versus chosen family, and highlights the differences between the two. I would recommend This Poison Heart to young readers interested in action and fantasy, but I personally wish I hadn’t taken the time to read it myself. The writing style aligned poorly with the age of the protagonist, a detail hardly above detection to a seasoned reader. I applaud Bayron for her incredible ideas and concepts presented in this book, but I wish the execution had done the story more justice.