When 17-year-old Benson Fisher receives a scholarship to Maxfield Academy, he's thrilled. Nervous, but thrilled. After being bumped from foster home to foster home for most of his life, he hopes the private high school might provide the kind of haven he's never experienced before. Maybe he'll make friends for once. Maybe living with a bunch of other kids at a secluded boarding school will make them all super close. Like a family.

The knots in Benson's stomach pretzel even tighter when he sees the school. Housed in a sprawling mansion, Maxfield Academy looks like the kind of rich-kid prep school you see on t.v. Only it's stranded in the middle of the New Mexico desert, not in some quaint New England town. It's remote, exclusive and ... sinister. Benson can't quite put his finger on it, but he knows something's not quite right at his new school.

It doesn't take him long to discover there are no adults at Maxfield Academy. Divided into three gangs, the students run the school - as much as they can while taking orders from a nameless source that watches their every move and doles out punishments to make sure the rules are always followed. Constantly monitored by security cameras, the kids at Maxfield are forced to attend class, wear their uniforms, keep the school clean and orderly, play brutal war games, and get along. Small infractions result in demerits. Breaking the Big Four - No Sex, No Violent Fights, No refusing punishments, and No escaping - equals death.

Disturbed by his classmates' calm acceptance of the way Maxfield runs, Benson's determined to escape. He doesn't care if no one's ever done it before. Foster care has made him both tough and street smart; if anyone can get out of the place, he can. Only, the longer he stays, the more connected he feels to his new friends. He can't leave them all behind, but he can't get them to abandon Maxfield either. None of the kids at the school, including Benson, have anything to go home to - whoever runs Maxfield made sure of that - so maybe everyone else is right, maybe staying at the creepy institution is better than the alternative. Or not. When Benson stumbles on the terrifying secret behind Maxfield's elegant facade, he knows he has to get himself and every one of his classmates out. Now. But, how? Maxfield might as well be Alcatraz. And trying to get a whole pack of teenagers over an impenetrable wall feels a lot like suicide. Running out of time and options, Benson has to act - before it's too late for them all.

Variant, a new YA dystopian by Robison Wells (available October 4), feels so familiar it could have been subtitled The Maze Runner Goes to School. Although the story's got a twist toward the end that differentiates it from James Dashner's popular series, I still wanted more originality from this debut novel. Also subtlety and complexity and just more depth overall. That being said, I'm intrigued by the possibilities suggested by the ending of Variant. While I didn't love this first book in the series, I'll give the second one a chance, if only to see how Wells explains everything that's happened thus far. Despite my hang-ups with Variant, it's still got me asking that most ancient and compelling of questions: "What happens next?" In spite of myself, I need to know. So, yeah, I'm lukewarm about this one, but still willing to give the series a chance. I'm hoping Wells will surprise me. And good.

(Readalikes: Reminded me a lot of The Maze Runner and The Scorch Trials by James Dashner; also a little like the Hunger Games trilogy [The Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay] by Suzanne Collins)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for mild language (no F-bombs), violence, and mild sexual innuendo

To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Variant from the generous folks at Harper Teen. Thank you!

I usually write my own book summaries, but occasionally, I come across one that recounts a difficult-to-describe story so well, I just have to use it. Case in point:

Of especially naughty children, it is sometimes said: "They must have been raised by wolves." The Incorrigible children actually were.

Discovered in the forests of Ashton Place, the Incorrigibles are no ordinary children: Alexander keeps his siblings in line with gentle nips; Cassiopeia has a bark that is (usually) worse than her bite; and Beowulf is alarmingly adept at chasing squirrels.

Luckily, Miss Penelope Lumley is no ordinary governess. Only fifteen years old and a graduate of the Swanburne Academy for Poor Bright Females, Penelope embraces the challenge of her new position. Though she is eager to instruct the children in Latin verbs and the proper use of globes, first she must eliminate their canine tendencies.

But mysteries abound at Ashton Place: Who are these three wild creatures? Why does Old Timothy, the coachman, lurk around every corner? Will Penelope be able to civilize the Incorrigibles in time for Lady Constance's holiday ball? And what on earth is a schottische?

Penelope is no stranger to mystery, as her own origins are also cloaked in secrecy. But as Agatha Swanburne herself once said, "Things may happen for a reason, but that doesn't mean we know what the reason is - at least not yet."

The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place: The Mysterious Howling, the first book in a series by Maryrose Wood, is just as quirky as the summary makes it sound. Penelope's adventures with her infectious charges, her fussy mistress, and the inscrutable Mr. Ashton, make for a funny, warmhearted romp that's as charming as it is engaging. I enjoyed it so much I would have read the next book anyway, but the plot twist at the end of this one clinched the deal. Now, I have to see where the story goes. I'm pretty sure I've already got the mystery of the children's origin solved - now I just have to find out if I'm right. See you soon, Incorrigibles!

(Readalikes: The book's tone reminded me a little of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events books, although the story's much different.)

Grade: B

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of The Incorrigible Children of Ashton Place: The Mysterious Howling from the generous folks at Harper Collins. Thank you!

I don't review tons of picture books, but I do read a lot of them to my younger kids. My 2-year-old generally prefers stories involving at least one Disney princess and my 6-year-old usually gravitates toward non-fiction books on boy topics (cars, boats, construction vehicles, etc.). However, when I asked my little critics who wanted to listen to a story, three of them piled onto the couch with me (my 12-year-old has the flu, otherwise I'm *sure* he would have joined us :]). Surrounded by a trio of warm bodies, I opened up Cows Can't Jump by Dave Reisman. Giggles ensued. When we got to the end of the story, all three agreed it was a keeper. I didn't love it quite as much as the kids did, but I truly believe that when it comes to picture books, children know best.

The story follows a simple pattern - it shows something an animal can't do (i.e. jump), then something it can (i.e. swim). Not all of the verbs used in the book are that self-explanatory, however. Some of the animals scurry or glide or wallow, which leads to questions and, thus, vocabulary development. By focusing on things the animals can do, the book also helps kids practice positive thinking about others and themselves. The bright, colorful illustrations (by Jason A. Mass) keep children interested, prompting smiles when an unexpected animal shows up. All in all, it's a fun, informative book that doesn't feel educational. My 2-year-old summed it up pretty well when she proclaimed, "I wike dat stowy."

My favorite picture books usually have a memorable rhythm (The Cat in the Hat by Dr. Seuss; Chicka Chicka Boom Boom by Bill Martin, Jr. and John Archambault; Brown Bear, Brown Bear by Bill Martin, Jr.), stunning pictures (On The Night You Were Born by Nancy Tillman) or a theme that's surprising/touching/funny/unique (Love You Forever by Robert Munsch; Julius, the Baby of the World by Kevin Henkes; The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle). This one didn't have any of these elements or anything that really made it stick out for me. Still, it's a fun, warmhearted story that's short enough to keep kids' attention, even after many readings. I appreciate its message, its subtle teaching, and the fact that my kids enjoyed it. Really, I'm not sure there is a better endorsement out there than this, so I'll repeat my toddler's enthusiastic, "I wike dat story" and weave it at dat.

(Readalikes: Um, I can't think of anything, can you?)

Grade: B

If this were a movie, it would be rated: G

To the FTC, with love: I received two signed, finished copies of Cows Can't Jump from the generous folks at Jumping Cow Press. Thank you!

To survive, Stephen and his father work as salvagers, combing through wrecked cities in search of anything they can trade for food, clothing and other supplies. As long as they dodge all the bandits and slavers on the loose, it's a successful enough enterprise. But when a run-in with the wrong sort leaves Stephen's father near death, Stephen knows he can't proceed alone. He has to find help. Even if it means doing the one thing he vowed never to do - trust a stranger.

When he's brought to the small village of Settler's Landing, Stephen's amazed by the tidy, civilized society. Isolated and safe, it's like a tiny oasis in the middle of the wide, treacherous Sahara. Stephen can hardly believe the place is real. The longer he stays there, though, the more he realizes that Settler's Landing isn't exactly what it appears to be. When he and his new friend, the mischevious Jenny , play a prank that goes horribly awry, Stephen remembers just how dangerous this changed new world really is.

The Eleventh Plague, a debut novel by Jeff Hirsch, offers a bleak, but relatively tame, look at the end of the world. The book's got enough grit to be suspenseful, while remaining clean enough for a young young adult audience (I debated whether to rate it PG or PG-13, finally settling on the latter just to be on the safe side). While there's not a lot of originality to the book, it kept my attention with lots of action, something that will also appeal to teen boys, I'm sure. Still, I longed for better character development, stronger imagery and more dynamic dialogue. Without all that, The Eleventh Plague remains just okay for me. That book cover, though? Perfection.

(Readalikes: Reminded me of The Road by Cormac McCarthy and Prized by Caragh M. O'Brien)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for mild language, violence, and intense situations

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of The Eleventh Plague from the generous folks at Scholastic. Thank you!

The minute Leena Thomas spies Frost House crouching at the edge of Barcroft Academy's campus, she knows she has to live there. Nestled in a grove of trees, the cozy old Victorian - so much more inviting than the rest of the boarding school's dormitories - just feels like the perfect place for Leena and her friends to spend their senior year. It's a boy's dorm, but Leena's pretty sure she can use her connections to get that changed. Her plan comes together so perfectly, it's like the whole thing was meant to be.

Except for Celeste Lazar. She was never part of Leena's plan. And yet, the freaky, art-obsessed senior is now rooming with Leena thanks to the bulky cast on Celeste's broken leg and Frost House's easier access to campus. Leena's friends can't stop complaining about an outsider intruding on their perfect senior year. She's not thrilled about it either, but Leena's willing to put forth an effort. It's only for a semester. She can handle anything for a semester.

Or so she thinks until things in their shared bedroom start to get ... strange. Celeste's artwork seems to jump off the wall despite being securely fastened, Celeste's senior project gets ruined in some mysterious way, and Celeste keeps waking up with bruises all over her body. She blames the other girls, even a malevolent "presence" she insists lurks in the house. Leena's reluctant to believe her frantic new roomie, especially considering mental illness runs in Celeste's family. Besides, Leena feels completely welcome in the house and in their room. In fact, she feels more than welcome, she feels connected, almost needed by the place. But as Leena grows closer to Celeste's gorgeous older brother David, she's drawn deeper into Celeste's problems and further away from the other girls in Frost House. As Leena fights to keep her friends, help Celeste, and hold onto David, she feels her world come crashing down. Frost House becomes her sanctuary - a sanctuary that wants to keep her safe. Forever.

Frost, a debut novel by Marianna Baer, looks like a creepy little ghost tale (I mean, just look at that cover!). And it is. Kinda. Although, really, it's more psychological thriller than horror story. The former, though, never really got intense enough for me and the latter seemed too cliche. That, along with flat characters and Baer's tendency toward wordiness irritated me - not enough to keep me from finishomg the book, but enough that I'm not gushing over Frost. For a first novel, it's not bad, it's just not as good as I hoped it would be. Too bad because that creepy-coll cover still gives me chills.

(Readalikes: Hm, I can't think of anything. Can you?)

Grade: C

If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for strong languge, mild sexual content, intense situations and depictions of underrage drinking and prescription drug abuse.

To the FTC, with love: I received an ARC of Frost from the generous folks at Harper Teen. Thank you!

Watching the swans has always been a father/daughter thing, something wondrous and beautiful just for 13-year-old Isla to share with her dad. They're both obsessed with the magnificent creatures, who flock to their English town to winter on its lakes. It's during one of the pair's early morning bird watching expeditions that Isla's father collapses. He's rushed to the hospital with a terrified Isla in tow. Although the doctors manage to stabilize him, her father's too sick to leave, his heart too weak to function as it should. When - and if - the physicians can fix him remains to be seen.

One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Travis Roberts may not be able to read a Dr. Seuss story, but he knows what a blue fish is. It's someone like him, a dummy who can't make any sense of words, an idiot who can't even sound his way through a picture book. It wouldn't be so bad if he was in kindergarten, but Travis isn't 5, he's 13, and if the other junior high kids learn his dirty little secret, he'll never hear the end of it. At least his recent move to tiny Russett, Wisconsin, means no one at his new school knows about his illiteracy. All Travis has to do is keep it that way.

Travis is faking his way through classes and homework assignments well enough to satisfy his grandpa (who only cares enough to make sure Travis isn't skipping) when he meets the flamboyant Vida Wojciehowski, a.k.a Velveeta. The chatty 13-year-old doesn't do subtle - she knows Travis is hiding something and she's determined to find out what. Not that she's going to be giving up any of her own secrets in the process. Still, as nervous as Velveeta makes him, Travis likes her, almost enough to trust her with his problem. Almost.

When an English teacher discovers Travis' difficulty, he offers Travis something he hasn't felt in a long time: hope. But trusting Mr. McQueen means offering up his most vulnerable self. It means caring. It means trying. It means maybe, just maybe, climbing out of the hole he's made for himself out of misery and grief. The only question left is: How long will it take Velveeta to find out Mr. McQueen's teaching Travis to read? And what will happen when her big mouth broadcasts his secret to the whole school?

Bluefish by Pat Schmatz may be the first YA "issue" book I've read about illiteracy and I'm starting to wonder why. The issue's certainly pertinent. Still, it's not one I see addressed much. Schmatz, thankfully, covers the topic in a way that's honest, sensitive and hopeful. Her characters come alive on the page, inspiring an empathy that makes their plights even more heartbreaking. I appreciated the importance and originality of this book (Velveeta's character, especially, spoke to me) while at the same time feeling a little bit of disconnect with the story. I'm not sure why except that maybe the story got a wee bit too predictable for me. Still, it definitely made an impression. Just not a huge, shout-it-from-the-rooftops one.

(Readalikes: The Book Thief by Markus Zusak is mentioned several times in Bluefish and I do see a few similarities there.)

Grade: B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), sexual innuendo and some mature subject matter

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Bluefish from the generous folks at Candlewick Press. Thank you!

(Note: While this review will not contain spoilers for Good Graces, it may inadvertently reveal plot surprises from its predecessor, Whistling in the Dark. As always, I recommend reading books in a series in order.)

Seeing as they're all about bad things happening to innocent children, it seems wrong to use words like "love" and "adore" when talking about Lesley Kagen's books. But there you have it. I love them. And I adore the author more and more with each novel she writes. Her stories have dark edges, that's for sure; at the same time, though, they're populated with warmth, humor and a charming nostalgia that keeps me coming back for more. Her newest is no exception.

Good Graces takes place in the summer of 1960, a year after the traumatic events that unfold in Whistling in the Dark. It's scorching hot in Milwaukie and 11-year-old Sally O'Malley wants nothing more than to spend her school-free days sitting at the soda counter in Fitzpatrick's Drugstore. And not just because of the ice cream cones. She's taken a shine to the owner's delicate son, Henry. But as much as Sally longs to flirt away her summer, with a little sister like Troo, she knows it ain't gonna happen. Especially considering the death-bed promise she made to her beloved stepfather in which she vowed to watch Troo like a hawk. Two hawks. As many hawks as it takes to be sure the 10-year-old firecracker behaves herself. Sally's already exhausted from the responsibility and the summer's barely even started.

It doesn't help at all when Troo's nemesis escapes from reform school. Since Troo's the reason he was sent there in the first place, Sally knows "Greasy" Al Molinari will be stomping back to the West Side at any moment, just waiting for an opportunity to pound her little sister. Sally promised her Daddy she'd protect Troo and she will. No matter what it takes. And it's taking a lot. A whole, whole lot. Especially when a string of robberies unsettles the O'Malley's close-knit neighborhood. Everyone knows about Troo's fast fingers and no matter how many times Troo denies stealing from her neighbors, Sally's not sure she can believe her own sister. The cockamamie story Troo constructs to explain the burglaries makes it even more clear - it may be too late for anyone to save Troo O'Malley.

As if worrying about her wayward sister isn't enough to keep Sally up at night, she's still struggling with paralyzing flashbacks from last summer, grief over her stepfather's death, her mother's eternal disappointment, and, of course, finding time to romance a certain young soda jerk. Once again, the carefree days of summer are turning out to be anything but for a determined little girl named Sally O'Malley.

The thing I loved most about Whistling in the Dark is the same thing that endeared me to Good Graces: the entirely authentic, completely engaging voice of Sally O'Malley. Troo, too, of course - her irascible charm makes me laugh every time. The sisters prove what you already know if you've read Kagen's other books: the author's got a gift for bringing the voices of young girls to vivid life. Through their naivete, their unblemished take on life, Kagen looks back at the innocent days of yore, days that maybe weren't so innocent after all. This M.O. has the curious effect of making her stories both chilling and charming, a dichotomy I find difficult to resist. That's why I guarantee that as long as Kagen continues to write, I'll continue to read her. Especially if she keeps going back to those irresistible O'Malley sisters.

(Readalikes: Whistling in the Dark by Lesley Kagen)

Grade: B

If this were a movie, it would be rated: R for language, depictions of underrage smoking, violence, intense situations and mild sexual content

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Good Graces from the very generous Lesley Kagen. Thank you!

Grade: C-

(Note: Although this review will not contain spoilers for Curse of the Blue Tattoo, it may inadvertently reveal plot surprises from its predecessor. As always, I recommend reading books in a series in order.)

Remember this review, in which I gushed incessantly about Bloody Jack, the first book in L.A. Meyer's swashbuckling series starring plucky orphan girl "Jacky" Faber? Well, I hope you're ready for another cascade of ooey-gooey book love, because here it comes ...

Jacky's no ninny. She's got battle scars, a blue anchor tattoo, even a Naval commision (revoked though it may now be) to prove her bravery. But none of that matters here in the plush world of high society, where Jacky's coarse manners quickly turn her into an outrageous spectacle, a laughingstock. Never before has such a lowborn heathen darkened the gleaming doorways of the school and the snooty Peabody girls aren't about to let Jacky forget it. Not one to duck a challenge, Jacky vows to learn how to "fight like a lady." But no matter how many curtsies she performs, no matter how many French verbs she conjugates, no matter how many pillows she embrodiers, some of the salty sailor maid remains. There's nothing for it then; the redoubtable Jacky Faber will have to fight her battles the same way she always has - her way.

Few sequels manage to surpass or even equal their predecessors the way Curse of the Blue Tattoo does. The book's success is mostly due to the return of the irrepresible Jacky Faber, whose voice rings so true it's impossible not to respond to its siren call, but it's also because Meyer keeps the action going, finding ever new and original scrapes into which young Jacky might fall. Our heroine keeps herself busy getting into said scrapes, ensuring that, above all, her adventures always provide a rollicking good read. It's not just the action, either, that makes these books so memorable. It's everything: vivid prose, colorful characters, playful dialogue and, above all, pitch-perfect tone/voice. Need I say more? I thought not.

(Readalikes: Bloody Jack by L.A. Meyer and other books in the series)

Grade: A

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG-13 for language (no F-bombs), sexual innuendo/content, and violence

To the FTC, with love: Another library fine find

(Readalikes: Dark Life by Kat Falls; also a teensy bit like Ship Builder by Paolo Bacigalupi)

Grade: B-

If this were a movie, it would be rated: PG for violence and intense action

To the FTC, with love: I received a finished copy of Rip Tide from the generous folks at Scholastic. Thank you!