In a jewelry booth, I found something I could not identify. It was a tiny jar, the length of my finger, and hardly twice as wide.

I forgot everything as I held this amazing jar.
I could see through it. The merchant dropped a shiny red bead into the jar and I could still see the bead. It broke all the rules of a container. It contained, but did not hide.

Anaxandra is a six-year-old girl on a tiny, nameless island in the Aegean Sea when she's kidnapped for the first but not the last time, taking nothing with her but a little stone statue of Medusa carved with octopus tentacles instead of snakes. She ends up on a bigger island as the companion to a princess, and discovers amazing new things like glass, horses, and stairs.

I won't give away much more of the plot, other than that she does eventually get entangled in the Trojan War, because it has a whole lot of twists and turns. It's fantastically readable and does a great job of defamiliarizing all sorts of familiar things, from a glass bottle to the story of Troy to the name "Helen of Troy," making them seem fresh and startling and immediate.

Anaxandra is a great character, wily out of necessity but afraid of offending the gods, prone to talking when she'd be better off keeping her mouth shut but also often able to maneuver into a better spot by fast talking. All the many characters are well-drawn and memorable, particularly the female ones. Andromache and Cassandra are heartbreaking and lovable, and Helen of Troy is terrifying-- part self-satisfied beauty queen, part half-divine eldritch horror in human form.

The atmosphere and historic details are excellent and vivid. Cooney includes an afterword which discusses her sources and the places where she departed from the historic/mythic record and why, and provides a concise update on what became of the characters she didn't invent.

Absolutely fantastic. I can't recommend this too highly.

If you've already read the book, look closely at the cover. It's clever as well as striking.

The fire had miles of uninhabited acres to play with, where it could leap across bare spots and jump feet first into the fuel. It didn't need roads. It could make its own highway.

A disaster novel with a large cast in a smallish space over a very short span of time - 3:15 to 4:55 - as a brush fire engulfs a Los Angeles neighborhood on a weekday, when most of the adults are away.

Flash Fire functions as a mini-epic - Arthur Hailey in 169 pages. Most of the characters are children or teenagers plus a firefighter in his early 20s who used to live in the area, plus brief appearances by their parents, miscellaneous fire victims and firefighters, a disgruntled gate guard, and a family of tourists turned opportunistic looters.

The tight time-frame emphasizes how terrifyingly fast a fire spreads, and sections showing its progress make it feel like a character in its own right. So does the neighborhood: Pinch Canyon, a small and wealthy area in a firetrap canyon with houses clinging precariously to the sides. The main focus is on three houses that share a driveway and the people in them.

The Press House contains a teenage brother and sister plus seven rescue kittens. Danna, the younger sister, longs for excitement and makes fire contingency plans to rescue the kittens and a neighbor's two horses. This isn't random, as fires are currently engulfing other parts of LA.

Hall, the older brother, secretly wants to work with children with disabilities; this is a secret because his wealthy entertainment industry parents want their kids to be financially successful. Hall is one of exactly two people in the neighborhood who actually cares about Geoffrey, the adopted child next door.

Geoffrey lives in the Aszling House. He's a Romanian orphan with an attachment disorder whom his asshole parents adopted, regretted adopting when he wasn't sufficiently rewarding, and has dumped on poorly-paid babysitters ever since. He rarely speaks. The other current inhabitants of the house are Chiffon (not her real name), the teenage nanny who couldn't care less about Geoffrey, and Elony, the cleaner, a 17-year-old refugee who escaped horrors and is desperately trying to learn to speak and read English with no help or resources whatsoever.

The Severyn House contains Beau, a practically perfect teenage boy; Elisabeth, his eight-year-old sister who can't do anything right as far as her parents are concerned; and a box of ashes on the mantelpiece. The ashes are all that's left of their much-older half-brother Michael, who was disowned by their father for being gay and died of AIDS. They never met him, but their father ended up with his ashes, which he put in the living room and then never discussed. Beau has gotten a little obsessed with Michael, the brother he never knew. Would his father abandon him too if he stepped out of line? Does anyone but Beau care about Michael now?

This juicy cast of characters gets run through the wringer when the fire leaps to the canyon. Relationships are forged and broken, people rise to the occasion or very much don't, and not all of them survive. The looters are weird caricatures but the main cast is sharply sketched and believable. Hall loves Geoffrey when no one else does, but he barely registers that Elony exists; Beau cares about Elisabeth when no one else does, but he expresses it by trying to fix her so their parents will like it more, so she perceives him as yet another person constantly trying to mold her into someone she's not. I particularly liked Elony, who's coming from an entirely different world than the rest of them and is no stranger to death, danger, and having her life turned upside down in an instant.

While the kids are generally sympathetic, the view of the adults is bleak. Two out of three of the sets of parents are privileged, blinkered, and uncaring; one of them gets shaken out of their narcissistic pattern but there's no telling how long that will last. The one set of loving parents is so engrossed in work that they rather hilariously don't even realize their kids are in danger until it's all over.

Read more... )

Cooney's brief was probably to be educational about wildfires, how they're fought, and how to survive them, which she absolutely is, and to tell an exciting story, which she absolutely does. I could not put this book down. It's not as good as Flight #116 is Down! but it's much better than Emergency Room. Once again: much better than it needed to be.

Content notes: Outdated information on autism/attachment disorders. Depictions of ableism and racism. Death by fire. Animals and children in danger. (The kittens survive and the horses are implied to survive.)

Only $1.99 on Kindle, and well worth it.

Emlyn had a bad streak.

She was well aware of it and kept it contained. Others might yearn to be the hero and save the world or save the baby. Emlyn yearned to be a brilliant thief.


Another excellent example of Cooney's trademark "take a cliche or uninspired or easy-to-do-badly premise and make it much better than it needs to be." In this case, the actual premise is "high school students steal a mummy from a museum as a prank," but I strongly suspect that her publisher just asked for a thriller called Mummy and a cover with a mummy.

I will note up-front, since I forlornly held out hope for quite some time that the mummy would rise at some point, that the mummy does not rise. There are some very borderline maybe-fantasy elements in which Emlyn may get some glimpses of life in ancient Egypt, but she might just have a vivid imagination.

Mummy is a heist novel with a noir sensibility. About one-third of it is the theft of the mummy, a beautifully worked out sequence of nailbiting suspense, and there's several other, shorter, heist-style action sequences that are also very well-done. But Cooney doesn't settle for just writing a heist novel where the characters are modern teenagers who don't do anything real teenagers couldn't do - which is an unusual and impressive feat by itself.

There's also Emlyn, the protagonist. She's a fascinating, unusual protagonist, very competent and smart in some ways but with some very big blind spots. She loves the idea of stealing and lying and elaborate plots, but for all her criminal ambitions, she's one of the few characters in the book with an actual moral compass. Because she wants to have illegal adventures, she's thought a lot about morality and takes the idea of good and bad seriously; she thinks she's the clever villain, but she has a tragically naive idea of what badness is. She's been so focused on her own potential for wrongdoing that she's completely forgotten that other people might want to do bad things too, and, unlike her, might not care at all that they're wrong...

The book melds a heist novel with the sort of coming of age story that's largely about disillusionment with a character study. It also takes the idea of mummies and goes in possibly the most unexpected direction with it, focusing largely on issues of respect and disrespect for the dead. When it turns out that society really hasn't moved on from tomb-robbing and destroying priceless artifacts for money and cheap thrills, the focus is less on the value of history than on respect for the actual person that artifact once was.

The book takes place over three hours in an ER in the ominously named The City, with chapters broken up among many points of view and labeled with their exact time. It's going for an Arthur Hailey/James Michener-esque epic in a very short space, and it does succeed in capturing that type of feel.

The characters we follow include a college student who's hit by a stray bullet in a gang shootout, a gangster who shows up at the ER to finish off the guy he shot on purpose, and a high school student who crashes a motorcycle. The characters I cared the most about are interestingly both there not for medical reasons but to escape their homes: a teenage mother of twins at the end of her rope, and an eight-year-old neglected child there who brought her younger siblings with her because there's air conditioning and crayons.

The main characters are a pair of aspiring medical students volunteering at the ER, Seth and Diana. Seth is humorless and arrogant. Diana is insecure and sharp-tongued. The book had other problems but they were one of the biggest. I neither liked nor cared about either of them.

The book was written in 1997 and you can tell, in good, bad, and historically interesting ways. An HIV positive baby is going to die, period. The City is a complete urban hellscape where it's dangerous to go outside because you WILL get shot... which is actually true of America to some degree, but it's described in a very 1997 way.

Cooney goes well out of her way to not be racist about what is essentially a racist trope, and succeeds to some extent (she has a multiracial cast of all sorts of people) but accidentally shines light on exactly how racist that trope is. I kept being brought up short by her gangsters being white (or at least some of them are, I forget), because they're described in a way that is pretty much always reserved for teenage Black gangsters. Calling it the City was a mistake, IMO; just inventing a city with a name would have worked better. The allegorical name clashes with the realistic details and also adds to the sense of "cities are terrifying hellscapes filled with scary people of color" except Cooney clearly doesn't agree with that part so she kept everything but that, highlighting how completely nonsensical the trope is - it has literally no basis beyond racism.

I was hoping this would be along the lines of Flight #116 is Down! and it kind of is, but it's nowhere near as good. It's not a failure by any means - it wants to tell an exciting and informative story about what a big-city ER is like - but that's all it is. It's a perfectly fine example of what it is, but Flight #116 is Down! is above and beyond what it is.

The sun was going down like a circle of construction paper falling off a bulletin board. No longer the yellow bulb of daytime, it was a sinking orange half circle. Meghan yearned to run toward the sun and catch it before it vanished.

An unusual YA dark fantasy/understated horror novel, best read without knowing anything about it beyond the premise, which is that a creepy neglected girl in the neighborhood, Lannie, has a strange power.

Following Cooney's usual MO, this book is much better than it needs to be. Some of the writing is very beautiful, some is quite funny, and it's unexpectedly observant in unexpected ways. It shifts between various tight-third person POVs and an omniscient POV which points out truths about teenagers that only an adult would know. The worlds of the teenagers can be extremely petty and small, but they're simultaneously dealing with very big emotional issues and also life-or-death situations.

There's a remarkably well-done and delicate balance between very mundane daily life, unsettling horror, real moral dilemmas, and fantasy metaphors for real-life concerns. This book looks like throwaway horror, but it's much much more than that.

I went in knowing nothing but the premise, and that was a very good way to read it. I recommend it.

Spoilers for the entire book. )

Content notes: There's nothing explicit or graphic, but the book is centrally about consent and violating consent, abuse in various forms (control, neglect, lack of love), and other emotionally difficult/complex topics. A dog probably dies.

I now feel like reading more Cooney. Any suggestions?

Driver’s Ed: The only life and death course in school.

With that tagline, I was expecting the kids to crash and accidentally kill someone. Had I looked at the cover, I would have realized how they actually actually kill someone, which is by stealing street signs as a lark… including a stop sign on a dark road. Oops.

Like Flight 116 is Down! this book leans into its premise and is better than it needed to be. Much of it reads like a high school-set noir, in which a careless action causes horrifically spiraling consequences, while the guilty party writhes and sweats inwardly as the investigation heats up around them.

It’s also more emotionally affecting than I expected, with vivid supporting characters who all have their own motivations and agendas--the bored driver's ed teacher who doesn't bother to learn his students' names, the politician father, the anguished husband of the woman who was killed, the student who is terrified of driving and so misses out on the whole thing. In particular, the heroine’s relationship with her younger brother is unusual and rewarding.

Driver's Ed

It amazed Patrick that there were so many people in this small town he did not know. Ambulance call after ambulance call was for a family he had never heard of; a house he had somehow never noticed. Houses lurked behind thick stands of maple trees; driveways sneaked out from behind granite outcroppings; new people moved to town without notifying Patrick. In fact, if he went by the last names of ambulance calls this year, the entire town consisted of sick strangers.

Patrick is an eager 17-year-old EMT. Heidi is a directionless rich girl who feels like a disappointment to her parents, who are currently traveling for their glamorous jobs. When a plane crashes behind Heidi’s house and Patrick is the first rescuer on scene, the two teenagers experience six hours that change their lives.

This book both fulfilled everything you want from this premise—the snapshots of the passengers and their families pre-crash, the ensemble of people from completely different lives suddenly forced to interact, the intensity and suspense of the rescue, the fascinating details and difficulties of how the rescue works, people pulling together (or not) under intense pressure—and also had something I wasn’t expecting, which was a really charming narrative voice.

The details of how a rescue like this would work under these circumstances and the psychology of rescuers were absolutely dead-on. I've worked on first responder teams. The way they all leap to show up at a potentially exciting call and delight in it even while feeling slightly guilty that their crowning moment is someone else's worst day ever was absolutely accurate, and not something often shown in fiction.

All the characters were vivid, even in brief sketches, and there were moments of humor, dark or otherwise, whenever possible. Despite the large amount of death, the depiction of the many people working together was uplifting without being saccharine.

I loved Heidi's time-compressed transformation from an under appreciated girl drifting through life to a girl who rises to the occasion and finds her purpose. I especially liked how her many crowning moments of awesome all involved logistics rather than life-risking traditional heroics. She knows her parents' property inside and out, and comes up with clever solutions to problems like "how multiple large rescue vehicles get to a crash site whose access is blocked by a bunch of stone walls, a steep icy slope, and a very narrow driveway?"

If the premise appeals at all, I promise you will enjoy this. It was so much better than I expected, with so many fun little touches and human moments that lifted it above just being what it needed to be—and many books don’t even reach the latter bar! I now want to read more of her books. Her style was just so enjoyable.

Engagement with premise: A+. Delivers everything it promises, and does it better than it really has to.

Contains non-graphic dog and child death.

Caroline Cooney wrote a ton of books in multiple genres, all of which I missed as a kid except the Girl on the Milk Carton. I'd like to read more by her. What do you recommend or dis-recommend?

Flight 116 Is Down (Point)

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