You may not have seen me at Lemuria yet, since I’ve only been working here since mid September. When I was younger, I really hated to read; I knew I was bad at it, so I avoided it unless it was required for school. But around the time I was fourteen, I was introduced to young adult fantasy, and ever since I’ve been hooked on reading.

So, here we go with the main reason I’m writing this blog. About four years ago, I read The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin. It was one of those situations where you love a book, but get distracted and miss the release of the next book in the series. This past summer, I was trying to find something to read and I came across The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer again. I decided to reread it and ended up binging on all three books in a matter of about a week, completely captivated.

The book follows the story and life of Mara Dyer (or is that even her real name?). Right at the beginning of the novel, her normal high school life takes a tragic turn. She is the sole survivor of an accident that took the lives of her best friend, schoolmate, and boyfriend. Or did it really?

She convinces her family that she needs a different location to recover, so they move to Florida. Not only is she struggling with the loss of her friends and the pain of being the only survivor, but strange things start to happen to Mara. At first, she thinks she’s just hallucinating due to post-traumatic stress. But is it really? One of the things I love about this book is that you really can’t place it into a specific category. At times you truly believe that Mara is just a girl struggling with the loss of her friends. At other times, it seems like there is something magical and science fiction-y going on. Then you’ll switch back to thinking it’s just PTSD. Or is it some weird, dark, and creepy mix of the three? The plot twists, turns and keeps you guessing what’s going on.

Mara Dyer is a believable high school girl, struggling to act like everything is okay to keep her family happy while being terrified by all the weird things happening around her. Then there is Noah. And yes, he is that token attractive, sarcastic British boy (I don’t mind, what can I say? I love those) and yes, he plays the love interest. But aside from the type he plays, he is a fully developed character who truly adds to the story. I enjoyed getting to know Noah and seeing his progression.

Over all, this book has witty and sarcastic dialogue. It keeps you giggling and helps to lighten the creepy and dark side of the story. Michelle Hodkin is great at writing dark, ominous, and sometime violent scenes that will have you looking around your own room and questioning what’s real. I would put this book into the hands of anyone looking for a witty, twisted, dark tale that will keep you guessing all the way until the end of the series.

Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

for the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.

Above is the epigraph for K.E. Ormsbee’s middle grade novel, The Water and the Wild. It is an excerpt from a poem by William Butler Yeats entitled “The Stolen Child”, and it is the poem from which the novel borrows its name. It’s fitting, seeing as how the story carries such a magical, curiously literary tone. That’s the thing about good middle-grade: if it’s written well and written right, it’s not just a story to entertain young readers. It’s a story to be savored by all ages, a story that charms with its characters and magic and innocent inclinations. But I guess that’s any good children’s book really. I’ve been on a huge middle grade kick lately and am currently trying to bring anyone and everyone into the fold, mostly by putting this book into their hands.

The story follows Lottie Fisk, an imaginative orphan living with a less than pleasant guardian. She stores her treasures in a copper keepsake box underneath a green apple tree in her front yard, and curiously, whenever she writes a letter and places it in her box under the apple tree, she receives a reply. The novel takes off when Lottie’s only friend Eliot is diagnosed as “otherwise incurable” and slowly gets sicker. Lottie writes a pleading note to the letter-writer, asking for a cure. Several months letter, a mysterious girl appears at her window in the night, claiming that her father is not only the best healer on the island where she lives, but also Lottie’s letter-writer. And so Lottie is whisked away by apple tree to a mysterious land of magic and mysteries and fairies and kings, desperate to find a cure for her dear friend Eliot.

One of the strongest points of this novel is the unique world and magic system. The way Mr. Wilfer mixes his cures, the use of birds as messengers known as genga, the unique gifts each sprite in the magical world of New Albion is born with are all new explorations into the idea of magic. The history of New Albion is interesting as well. It is a country split into two courts, Southerly and Northerly, with very different traditions and a deal of animosity between the two. In sum, this isn’t a fantasy world where you can assume anything. All of the magic systems and fantasy history are new and unfamiliar, making it that much harder to guess what will happen.

The novel also charms with its use of poetry. There is Lottie’s circling back to Yeat’s “The Stolen Child”, but there is also the character of Oliver Wilfer, who has memorized poetry and often spouts stanzas when he believes they will be relevant or helpful.

The added bits of poetry and the dream-like narrative quality give The Water and the Wild an enchanting, literary quality. It’s a lovely romp of a middle-grade novel, with all the essential quirks and characters to please ten and twenty year-olds alike with a taste for the fantastical. So come away o human child, won’t you please?