Pink by Lili Wilkinson

Ava secretly longs to ditch her all-black wardrobe and wear fluffy pink clothes. She loves her chic girlfriend, Chloe, but Ava wonders if maybe she should give boys a chance. What Ava wants most of all is to be normal. She convinces her radical left-wing parents to enroll her in one of Melbourne's exclusive private schools, where she plans to re-invent herself. Easier said than done, of course; Ava makes plenty of mistakes as she tries to be someone that she is not. Her journey to self-discovery is both funny and painful.

On Ava's first day at the Billy Hughes School for Academic Excellence, she has a meeting with Josie, who is the school's "integration architect" (guidance counsellor). Josie tells her that at Billy Hughes "We're committed to de-siloing the learning experience." She explains why students use their teacher's first names and write their own report cards (in consultation with teachers). Also, "At the beginning of each semester, you birthday a performance plan, with a list of key outcomes you want to achieve and a series of deliverables over the course of a semester that track your progress." Ava has second thoughts about attending a school where "birthday" is used as a verb, but she perseveres.

There aren't too many bisexual main characters in teen fiction and for that reason alone, Pink is a wonderful addition to the genre, but there are plenty of other reasons to love this Australian book. The prose is fresh and witty. Ava is endearingly flawed and she is backed by a whole pack of believable, funny supporting characters. The action centers around the staging of a school musical theatre - Bang! Bang! - and Ava sneaking around on her girlfriend, kissing boys, trying to fit in with both the popular crowd and the misfits in the stage crew, as well as hiding her new girly clothes from her parents. 

Ava's inevitable comeuppance is handled with compassion. The tone remains hopeful even in the face of disaster; there's the reassurance that owning up to mistakes is the first step towards forgiveness. Many teens will be able to identify with Ava's dilemma of fitting-in versus being herself.

Grade 8-12.

Swamplandia! by Karen Russell

Karen Russell's previous book is a short story collection called St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves. (Don't you love that title?) Her novel, Swamplandia!, could also have been called something like The Bigtree Fake Indians' Home for Children Raised by Alligators Named Seth. It's about an eccentric family who operate an outdated tourist attraction on an island in the Florida swamps. Daily alligator wrestling and cheap beer have been the main draws to Swamplandia!, but attendance is down and the place is on the brink of financial ruin.

A series of health-related tragedies results in the three Bigtree children mostly fending for themselves at the time the story takes place. The tale is recounted from the viewpoints of Ava Bigtree, the youngest at thirteen, and her brother Kiwi, who is seventeen. Ossie, sixteen, is going through a boy-crazy phase that troubles her siblings because her boyfriends are ghosts. Ava intends to be the next World Alligator Wrestling Champion. Kiwi dreams of attending a real school on the mainland, instead of teaching himself with ancient mouldy books from an abandoned library boat.

Dysfunctional family drama, creepy swamp scenes, a twisty plot, clever prose style and lots of humour - I loved it.

God Loves Hair by Vivek Shraya

In a charming collection of vignettes about his childhood in Edmonton, Vivek Shraya explores the concepts of identity and belonging. His brown, South Asian skin and his pretty appearance made Shraya a target at school: "I learned which hallways to avoid (faggot) and which faces to avoid (if you ever look at me again, I will pound the shit out of you, you fucking fag)."

Shraya found weekly comfort when his family attended a Hindu place of worship. "No matter what has happened during the week or what I've been called, I am only a few days away from Sunday." Other members of the congregation recognize that Shraya's gender nonconformity sets him apart, but on Sundays, he basks in their approval of his religious devotion.

Shraya survives it all and demonstrates a great compassion for his younger self. Each brief story is introduced with artwork by Juliana Neufeld, adding piquancy and fleshing out this little 90-page gem. The book was selected for this year's ALA Rainbow Project of GLBTQ Books for Children and Teens and has also been shortlisted for a Lambda award. It is available through Shraya's website.

Grade 6 - adult. Readalike: Close to Spider Man by Ivan E. Coyote.

Note added November 2014: God Loves Hair was republished this year by Arsenal Pulp Press.

How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less by Sarah Glidden

How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less is an introspective travelogue in full colour graphic novel format by a Jewish American artist in her 20s on a free trip sponsored by Birthright Israel. Before leaving for Israel, Sarah Glidden told her boyfriend Jamil, whose family is from Pakistan: "I'm ready to go there and discover the truth behind this whole mess once and for all. It'll all be crystal clear by the time I come back!" Not. Definitely not.

Sarah identifies as politically left-wing and progressive, which usually includes being anti-Israel and pro-Palestinian. She wonders if not supporting Israel makes her anti-Jewish (and therefore self-hating). Throughout her journey, Sarah's resistance to Zionist propaganda leaves her feeling out of step with the other young people on the trip, including her good friend, Melissa. Sarah hides her disdain when she finds her travel companions gushing and sharing their feelings of inspiration; Sarah's snarky comments are not appreciated. Even Melissa gets short with her sometimes.

Sarah Glidden's watercolour artwork is very accomplished, with almost photographic details, such as ancient walls marked with graffiti (KNOW HOPE) and bullet holes (Sarah illustrates herself exploring one with her finger). In a cafe scene, the roof beams, book-laden bookshelves, pasted notices and framed art on the walls, a glimpse of staff in the kitchen under hanging cook pots, as well as customers at a nearby table all add to the richness of the setting. The Birthright tour covers a lot of ground and-drawn maps help to orient readers before each chapter.

In the end, Sarah is still muddled about the situation in Israel. Her honesty is both a strength and a weakness, depending on the reader's viewpoint. I wonder if Sarah could have gained some perspective if she had allowed more time to lapse between her trip and the writing. In any case, don't expect to understand the complexities of Israel and Palestine by the end of this book.

Readalikes: for a subtly critical view of Israeli society from within, check out Exit Wounds, a novel by Israeli comic book artist Rutu Modan.

A Very Easy Death by Simone de Beauvoir

Une mort tres douce was first published in 1964. Simone de Beauvoir's memoir of the time her mother spent in hospital with terminal cancer is considered to be her masterwork. Not having read any of de Beauvoir's belles-lettres previously, this translation (by Patrick O'Brian) in audiobook format (Recorded Books; 3 hours) was an excellent introduction for me.

Intellectual and emotional considerations inherent to the situation balance each other. Simone and her sister Poupette don't know if they should tell their mother the truth about the seriousness of her illness. They grapple with the question of prolonging her life (and her suffering). Most surprising to them is their mother's will to remain alive, even through extreme pain.

Narrator Hillary Huber is skillfully unobtrusive in the role of de Beauvoir speaking English. Brief piano interludes separating the chapters add a graceful touch to this thoughtful and compassionate work.

Synchronicity between the books I read continues to delight me. Pairing A Very Easy Death with The Weird Sisters (another book featuring a mother with cancer) was accidental. The epilogue to A Very Easy Death is the verse from Dylan Thomas which begins Do not go gentle into that good night. The epilogue to The Weird Sisters is also from Thomas, an excerpt from A Child's Christmas in Wales (the part with the firemen that ends with the question, "Would you like anything to read?") And, a book I read last week, Matched, features an illegally-acquired poem (not one of the sanctioned 100) - of course it is Do not go gentle into that good night. Cool.

The Weird Sisters by Eleanor Brown

First-person-plural is an unusual stylistic choice for storytelling. First-time novelist Eleanor Brown makes it work in a story narrated by three sisters who don't like each other very much. The sisters come home to their parent's house in the American midwest while their mother undergoes treatment for breast cancer.

Rose (Rosalind), the oldest sister at 33, is the intelligent, responsible one. Bean (Bianca) is the attention-seeking bad girl. Cordy (Cordelia) is the adorable drifter searching for meaning, the baby of the family that everyone loves. All three have encountered big hurdles in their lives and their return home is an opportunity to reassess their priorities.

Their father, a college professor, chooses to communicate in quotations from Shakespeare. It's a quirk that would take some getting used to, I would think, but his family takes this in stride. Even so, they aren't always sure of what he means. "One of the problems with communicating in the words of a man who is not around to explain himself: it's damn hard sometimes to tell what he was talking about." His daughters have picked up the habit to a lesser extent.

I loved that all three sisters carry books and read everywhere. "[Bean] had long ago given up being offended by men who compulsively showered after sex. It was an excellent time to get a little reading done without anyone trying to talk to her."

Other aspects of the novel annoyed me. For example, there is Rose's attitude towards health and fitness: "[Rose] hated herself for not pushing harder, not fighting against our genetics to become strong and taut, like Bean." (Oh those lucky people who are genetically strong, without being physically active.) Overall, it was a bit too preachy and life-lessons-learned-y for my taste.

The sisters' struggles didn't fully engage me, but it was their voice, the "we," that made me persevere. I would recommend this to chick lit fans who also love Shakespeare.

Case Histories by Kate Atkinson

Four unrelated unsolved crimes come together in a labyrinthine plot with Jackson Brodie, a private investigator in Cambridge, England, at the centre. Jackson is tortured by the recent dissolution of his marriage, but enjoys his visiting rights with his 8-year-old daughter. When he takes on a couple of decades-old murder cases, in addition to his usual investigations of marital infidelity and lost cats, the suspense builds. Now someone is trying to kill Jackson.

I listened to the Hachette audiobook edition (11 hours) read by Susan Jameson. Her subtle shifts in British accents and intonation help to keep track of the complex cast of characters. The creepiness of criminal insanity is effectively understated. Atkinson has been on my to-be-read list for years and this was a delightful introduction to her work. One of the benefits of taking a few years to get to this book is that more adventures of Jackson Brodie have since been published: One Good Turn (2006); When Will There Be Good News (2008); and Started Early, Took My Dog (2010). I look forward to reading them too.