The Mark Of Athena (Heroes of Olympus, #3)

   When I was reading The Mark of Athena, I was also battling a mild fever. My fever was accompanied by some very interesting (or deranged, as some muggles would like to call it) hallucinations. For three consecutive nights, I dreamt that I was standing at the helm of a bronze Trireme which had a flaming dragon for a masthead. And every single time, I had hooves. AND, I kept up a constant war cry of “DIE, GUACAMOLE BREATH, DIE!!!”

So yes, the latest instalment in The Heroes of Olympus series (and more importantly, Coach Hedge) has made a powerful…dare I say it…mark on me.

There were so, so many things to love about this book.
 Let me elaborate:
 a) LEO VALDEZ: As someone on Pinterest rightly put it, “If Leo were to be made a God, I hope he’s made the God of Sass”. He has the best quips and comebacks, the coolest technology and gadgets at his disposal (I love you, Buford) and a veneer of loneliness that makes him strong and vulnerable in equal parts. 

b)The PERCY JACKSON – JASON GRACE bromance: Endearing and believable. The two superamped demigods complement each other with their combination of foolhardy courage (on Percy’s part) and disciplined action (on Jason’s part). And just when you assume that things are going to go splendidly between the two heroes, they rock the trireme with their petty one upmanship.

c) FRANK ZHANG as a giant koi goldfish. Stellar chapter, that.

d) A beautiful tale behind Leo’s uncanny resemblance to Hazel Levesque’s old friend SAMMY. If it doesn’t make you hastily brush away an unexpected tear, shame on you. You, dear sir/ madam, have had your soul sucked out by a Dementor.

e) Please say hello to the latest, cheesiest entrants to the Villains Hall of Fame: Twin Giants, EPHIALTES and OTIS. Every single time that the terrible towsome made an appearance, I was thoroughly entertained.

f) HERCULES, popping up like a bad, egotistical egg and making life and quests harder for the young demigods.

g) COACH HEDGE as a chaperone. Coach Hedge as a viewer of bad martial arts movies. Coach Hedge as an adrenaline packed satyr out to chew the enemy to shreds. More power to COACH HEDGE!

h) PERCY and ANNABETH finally getting some quality couple- time together. They deserve it, what with Percy having metamorphosed into a lean, mean handsome demigod and Annabeth having finally accepted that there’s more to Percy than just being unjustly titled as Seaweed Brain. Okay, I tried to desist from adding gifs and artwork, but how adorable (and accurate) is this:



At the end of the day, The Mark of Athena belongs to Annabeth’s lonely quest. The one-time calm and level headed Goddess Athena has transformed into a bitter, forgetful Roman version of herself. And while she once loved her daughter, she now has no qualms about sending her off an epic and murderous quest…a quest moreover, that none of her previous children have ever returned from. I have nothing bad to say about the book (although Piper does hover around like a fractious boyfriend obsessed bee.) and as always, I feel completely happy after reading a Rick Riordan book. Mythological tales…word play and subtle slapstick……the efficient use of weapons…the magical charm of God Given powers and the ever present lesson to use your brains and stay loyal……all this and more, effectively covered by dear Mr.Riordan.


 As for the cliffhanger...

The Raven Boys (Raven Cycle, #1)

 

SYNOPSIS:
Despite her eccentric clothes and irregular-on-purpose tufty hairstyle, teenager Blue Sargent is touted as the sensible girl in her family. After all, in an estrogen laden household that comprises psychics, clairvoyants and mystical seers, Blue is almost an anomaly.
However, Blue has the essential essence that makes someone else’s psychic power stronger. Almost like a human battery charger. In a lifestyle rife with mystical happenings, Blue and her mother Maura have an yearly tradition. Every year, on April 24th,St.Mark’s Eve, the duo head off to the local ruined churchyard and keep watch on a path, eerily named The Corpse Path. Along it walk the soon-to-be-dead-in-twelve-months souls and they can only be seen by Maura. Blue, happily enough, has never sighted them.
But this time around, a spirit of a young man is suddenly visible to Blue and he speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey and he is a student of the privileged local private school, Aglionby. If that hasn’t freaked the beejesus out of Blue enough, she is blithely informed by her aunt that the only reason a non-seer like Blue could see Gansey was because either Gansey is Blue’s true love OR Blue will be the reason behind Gansey’s death.
Happy times.

Coming to Gansey, he is no ordinary, what-on-earth-is-this-magical-mumbo-jumbo kind of obnoxious high school prat. Gansey is a boy on a mission. A mission to discover a ley-line (an invisible energy line that connects spiritual spots), a tomb that lies on this particular ley line and the tomb’s legendary and royal occupant, Owain Glyndŵr (Owen Glendower). So what happens when Blue and Gansey cross paths? All this and so much more in the first instalment of The Raven Boys.

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MY (gushing and completely non-Critical) THOUGHTS:

I LOVED THIS BOOK! I DID! SERIOUSLY, BEST.THING.EVER! I could leave it at that. And be content. But the book is so rich and delicious that I need to say a bit more.

#1: Blue. Dear Blue, how straight up are you? No emo drama. No angsty silences. No supposedly endearing but actually spoilt flashes of teen rebellion. No long drawn out monologues about love, life and Gansey’s fanning eyelashes. I loved her character from the moment she made an appearance on the church wall spotting invisible souls right up till the end when she had to deliver a message from “the beyond”. She holds her own in a gang of strong-willed boys and shows tremendous potential for the future books.

#2: The Raven Boys. The beauty of this tale is that it’s not about the Glansey-Blue love story. Infact, at the risk of pitching in a spoiler, I could almost say that it barely took off. The book infact is the mother of all Bromances. Adam Parrish, the seemingly perfect and dapper Aglionby boy whose elegant facade hides a savage home life.....quiet, soft-around-the-edges Noah who sees much but says little .....and the darkly decadent bad boy with the shimmering tattoos and *lock-your-daughters-up* demeanour, Ronan Lynch form a shining trio around their unofficial leader, Gansey. No sparkling vampires, no prancing about in skin-tight shorts werewolves...just everyday boys with everyday problems.The interaction between the lads, their quips and wry asides, the simmering resentments and the unwavering loyalties are all placed at perfect pitch. What proves to be an exceedingly long book is gently cushioned by the drama surrounding the four friends. They keep you hooked, well-lined and completely sinkered with their individual and collective story lines.

#3: The Mystery/ The Hunt/ The Backbone of the book: Even if I tried, I couldn’t do justice to the concept of ley lines. So do savour those bits for yourself. The hunt for Glendower was such a beautiful idea. While I always love a good romance, I am more often than not disappointed by the fact that a seemingly supernatural thriller fast derails from it's paranormal angle and ends up as kissy smoochy mopey whiney session between the protagonists. Not so, with The Raven Boys.
The book is packed with intricate details, delightful patches of history, legends, scientific facts and unexplainable phenomena. It's a regular reopening of the long buried and much loved X-Files. The author takes the mysterious concept of ley lines and unravels the story in a manner so eloquent, that mentally, you feel that you are sitting in the back of a battered up Camaro as you race against time and logic to plumb the deepest mysteries of the earth. Completely enchanting.

Many of the readers had complaints about the abrupt ending.I have no such qualms. If, as I believe, the series is supposed to span four instalments, I think the author has nicely laid the groundwork for future fireworks. I can’t wait to learn more about Ronan Lynch (who comes across as a younger,edgier Sirius Black) and the manner in which his angle progresses. So yes, I wholeheartedly recommend this book to all who love a good old-fashioned paranormal fantasy with a healthy splashing of boy bonding and a smidgen of gutsy heroine thrown in for good measure.

Jaal (The Kaal Trilogy, #1)

 

Legend has it that the Adi Shakti (Primal Energy) and the Adi Deva (Spirit of the Universe), in the Dance of Creation, bore the celestial quartet called The Chaturaanan. Each was entrusted with a divine task and they worked in relative harmony for many eons. But one day, at the beginning of the fourth Sandhyakaal of the current Manvantar ; the third sibling, the devious Maya (also going by the name, Aushij, the God of delusion, went rogue. In the true tradition of ego-maniacal deviants, he believed that Maya alone was needed for moulding the universe.

His understandably ticked-off kin, at the behest of their mother, tried to bring their errant brother under control. What ensued was a battle that almost destroyed the universe. But truth prevailed (at least momentarily) and Aushij was vanquished. Mocking his core power, the good guys imprisoned him in a prison of dreams, amidst endless delusions, hallucinations and nightmares.

But the three vanquishers knew that their infinitely brilliant brother would not stay in his formless prison forever. One day, he would rise, in all his fulminating glory. And so they planted an antidote...a seed of an idea....a super-being who would come into existence for the singular purpose of battling Maya. Centuries of trial and error passed and finally The Devnaampriya (Beloved of the Gods) came into existence.

He took the form of a humble, austere-faced young man with grey eyes called Arihant. Jaal (The Kaal Trilogy #1) is the story of how a young lad comes to terms with his terrifying purpose in life. It is the tale of Arihant’s growth : mental, physical, spiritual and transcendental. It is the first peek into the life of a teenager who morphs into a potentially deadly weapon of destruction 
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Kudos to perseverance. My perseverance, that is. If, after the first twenty-odd pages, I would have thrown my hands up in the time-honoured gesture of exasperation (and believe me, you would be tempted too)....I would have missed out on an engaging story.
 Q: Why did I have the gnawing need to abandon this book as soon as I had started it?
 A: Adjectives. A whole Mothership of adjectives littering each and every page. If I had to wade through one more paragraph of limpid streams and soot-grey wings and sandal scented baths and obsidian like torsos and venomous green lights...I would have gnashed my teeth and relegated the book to the back of my ‘abandoned-halfway-in-sheer-frustration’ shelf.

But ah, perseverance....I salute thee. Thanks to your insistent nudge, I carried on. And shining in a mire of adjectives was an almost perfect tale.

Who doesn’t like a “Chosen One”?
Who doesn’t rub their hands with glee at the prospect of a tempestuous villain hovering malevolently in the background?
Who doesn’t root for a stellar cast, especially when it includes an exiled warrior queen, a crown prince plunged into an unexpected adventure, a quick witted posse of sidekicks, a bantering mentor, an ancient being with a bruised past and the quintessential good sibling gone bad?

I, for one, am a sucker for such stories. And yes, the Potter plotline shimmers along the edges.

Arihant, the Chosen One, the Devnaampriya is a beautifully etched character (sometimes painfully so). A slender youth who has had a domesticated upbringing, wonders how he can suddenly fight mystical creatures with all the goriness of a hell-fiend. He is terrified of the evil subconscious voice that eggs him on and scares him in equal measures.

And then, when his true ‘education’ begins, he is truly radiant. Arihant is humble, a tad cocky and blessed with infinitely bad-a**, matrix inspired fight moves. He’s a hero to watch out for. The sub-plots tend be a tad confusing but are rife with political drama and deceit. When you get your mental faculties around the smatterings of flowery language and the unfamiliar names and the Tolkeinesque inspired worlds, you are sufficiently enthralled.

The book has some shining moments in it’s originality. Case in Point, the tale of ‘The Vakrini’ and her mind-created, suspended-among- dimensions city : Surangini. That particular section of the book was a superior bit of story-telling by the author and wall-papers over the foible of unnecessary prose that had you climbing up the walls.

Alternative realities....finely shaded characters....beautiful melded weapons....prophecies and their purveyors.......danger at every crossroad....a more than healthy splashing of the spiritual...flutterings of future romances.....a nemesis who sounds deliciously scary....awe-inspiring fight sequences....and a worthy champion at it’s helm.


Jaal (The Kaal Trilogy #1) is a beautiful tale. As I started the book I was wary of it’s promise. As I ended the book, I am replete. And momentarily suspended in that other-worldly atmosphere which only a well-orchestrated book brings about. And also proud, that an Indian author has taken a well-researched leap into the world of relatable fantasy. By all accounts, a book worth picking up.

The Penderwicks on Gardam Street (The Penderwicks, #2)

The Penderwick Sisters are back...back on their home turf of Gardam Street and up to their usual blend of sage wisdom and misguided shenanigans. This time around, the adventure isn’t all delicious mad thrills. Their much adored, widowed father is being pushed back into the dating scene by his sister. And no, the sister isn’t a vile conniving sibling. She is lovely Aunt Claire who has always had the best intentions of the Penderwick family at heart. However, lovely Aunt Claire’s new plan doesn’t sit well with the sisters. The possibility of a running-true-to-horrifying-clichés stepmother looms large on the horizon. And the girls want to avoid that at all costs. And so commences the twisted “Save-Daddy” plan.

What follows are a series of comical incidents that could make or break Mr.Penderwick’s solitary stand of singledom.

In a YA literary world littered with mean-girl cliques, the unabashed wholesomeness of the Penderwick sisters is refreshing. Their worries are immediate and their solutions are borderline ‘killing-with-kindness’. Each sister brings her own unique personality to the story, be it Rosalind who wears the cloak of maturity with an air of insecurity......stubborn Skye who would prefer to watch the stars and dream of becoming an astrophysicist rather than feature as a love-struck dolt in a school play.....Jane, lost in her hazy writer world....and the innocent Batty with her red wagon and incorrigible dog. Woven into their fanciful plots are their own individual battles. The presence of new, likeable characters makes the book an engaging read. Romance wafts through the story like a breath of pine-scented air.

As always, Jeanne Birdsall effortlessly walks the tightrope between writing a perfect childhood tale and dealing with pertinent, realistic issues. A winner all the way. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

See also : The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy

The Penderwicks : A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy (The Penderwicks, #1)

Amidst the pages of this ‘tailor-made-for-supine-summers’ read is the delectable mention of a memorable treat. Sizeable chunks of homemade gingerbread are served up with whipped cream and strawberries. This concoction is enjoyed in the cozy nook of a sprawling, impersonal mansion atop a table covered with a checkered tablecloth.
The soul of the book is a reflection of this idyllic setting. Simple, wholesome and interspersed with a dash of tartness. 

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It is the laidback retelling of one particular summer in the lives of four little girls. The girls in question: Rosalind (the eldest, pretty motherly one), Skye (the headstrong, scruffy maths genius), Jane (the dreamy, prone to flights-of-fancy budding writer) and Batty (the painfully shy, youngest sister who runs around with a pair of whimsical wings fastened to her back) have strong shadings of the March sisters.
Their summer vacation in Arundel with the lonely little rich boy, Jeffrey makes for an old-fashioned read. The narrative isn’t high on drama, mystery or unexpected plot twists. But it is rife with playful moments, sibling rivalry/loyalty and the occasional itchy moment that leaves you with the sweat trickling down your back.
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Jeanne Birdsall creates a world that would appeal to young girls still finding their feet and emotions.
While life is an endless trip of discovering hidden passages, creating imaginary worlds and snarfing down unexpected treats.....the author makes it a point to NOT gloss over the uncomfortable moments.

A blend of Utopia and Reality, that’s what The Penderwicks: A Summer Tale of Four Sisters, Two Rabbits, and a Very Interesting Boy is all about.

Kiss, Date, Love, Hate

LEX<-->GEORGE<-->JESS<-->DREW<-->GEMMA<-->MATT

Lex used to carry on with Matt. Due to a certain incident, Lex broke up with Matt. Matt is now getting hot ‘n’ heavy with Gemma. Jess and George are Lex’s two best friends. George is madly in love with Jess but Jess does not reciprocate his feelings. Jess has a step-cousin, Drew. Drew gets along splendidly with Lex as buddies-in-perpetual-trouble. Lex, however, may also be attracted to Drew. But how is that possible when Lex knows that she is still pining over Matt?

Bizarre permutations and combinations in the game of Love?

Juvenile rants galore?

The onset of a migraine in the horizon?

Is that what this book seems like to you?


Well, prepare to be surprised....pleasantly.
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Our heroine, Lex Murphy, is a tad ticked off with life. She has broken up with the universally loved and much adulated Matt. Now, she has to watch her ex-best friend and presentday Master back-stabber, Gemma cling like the proverbial limpet onto Matt’s arm. Sadly, Lex isn’t even your average intellectual bada** at all things educational. Her attention wanders in class and she is frustrated with her inability to grasp subjects quickly. She has herself convinced that she is an utter dunce and has resigned herself to spending most of her school years burning a Lex shaped imprint in the the chair outside the principal’s office.

Not that’s she’s complaining about that. The *Lex shaped imprint in the chair outside the principal’s office* that. And WHY is she not complaining? Because, more often than not, giving her company in the truant’s corner is Drew. The utterly delicious bad boy Drew who is blessed with a Scottish accent. Drew has a wicked sense of humour, a devil-may-care attitude and some seriously sweltering good looks. Yep, the fantasy male brought to life. Not that Lex is attracted to Drew. Lex wouldn’t dream of ...well, dreaming of Drew. Drew happens to be Lex’s best friend Jess’s much abhorred step-cousin and Lex definitely doesn’t want to upset Jess.

Jess’s other best friend is the delightfully Victorian (in attire and mannerisms) supergeek, George. Dear dutiful George is despondently in love with Jess. Dear, even more dutiful Jess, though doesn’t believe in the distracting influences of school romances. Studies (and shudder-inducingly enough, the principal) are her mental pin-up icons and she intends to keep her pretty l'il nose well within her books.

Which leaves Lex without the joys of a girly best friend and dependent on the reluctant company of a besotted boyo best friend. George, the quintessential Harry Potter/ Lord of The Rings/ blanket Gaming fan and Lex spend a lot of time testing out computer games and moping over their respectively dismal love lives. During one such quest, they discover a weird Sims-inspired game wherein creating profiles and personalities (based on themselves and their friends) causes actual concrete changes in the lives of their friends. Changes that are mental, physical and all together too delicious despotic to control.
Suddenly Lex is curvier, George has deep blue eyes and Matt seems to be intent on ditching Gemma and falling for Lex.
Gloryski!
Or is it?
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Kiss Date Love Hate with it’s pink cover stamped with pixelated characters is worthy of a *Lordy, Lordy, what a lovely book* hallelujah. I was expecting a run-of-the-mill rant on teen life and it’s never ending bag of fretful surprises. It was only the mystical tweak in the plot that pushed me to read the book.

But here’s a tale that straddles light hearted teen drama and deeper, heart-wrenching issues, both with equal élan. What started off as a chatty, *curl-up-with-a-Cinnabon* kind of YA read soon matured into a *Cinnabon-long-forgotten* emotional story. The narrative had humour, sarcastic quips, mini-stingers and scorching tasers, the ability to make you give a half-smile or sometimes a long-suffering shake of your head AND ultimately, a little but important twist at the tail that makes you simply want to bawl your eyes out.

I want my friends to read this book..... not because it will go down as the next great classic. But because, it’s a frank, funny and dignified tale of a girl who is loud, at times irritating, not shy by any means and not, NEVER EVER a victim. It’s a story about being sassy and honest and NOT hiding behind pages of simmering tension. It’s about facing your friends, because as the mighty Dumbledore rightly said,

“It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends."

It’s about bringing all your cards to the table and telling the world that,
'Hey! Yep..that’s me. Take me and even if you do leave me...well, I’m still going to be me.'

If this book were human, it would lace up it’s combat boots, wink jauntily and sway it’s hips as it walked off into the world.

RATING : 5/5

The Family from One End Street (Eve Garnett)

Imagine if you will,
~ bird-chirping weather.
~ the fragrance of warm, sun dried cotton clothes.
~ lying on a beach with your talkative family and wriggling your toes in the sand as you snarfed down sandwiches and slabs of fruit cake.
~ the nervous excitement of visiting your first ever unsupervised birthday party and then returning home with that pleasant tiredness.
~ your utter awe of the darkened movie theatre and the smell of popcorn tantalising your senses.
~ the small thrill of curling up in bed with an old, dog-eared book.
~ facing mum’s wrath when you came home with scabby knees, unravelling pigtails and a huge grin on your face.


Now tie all that up and what you have is a childhood that didn’t have much technology but what it did have was a tremendous capacity to create happy memories.


The Family from One End Street is one such tale.

Meet The Ruggles family that lives at No.1 One End Street in the fictional town of Otwell. Jo Ruggles is the local dustman and his wife Rosie is the local washerwoman. Jo and Rosie’s singular source of pride is their large brood of seven children. Yep, you read it right. Seven children. And each of these seven children has a distinctive personality and the promising ability to get into all kinds of mischief and mayhem. The Ruggles family is always low on funds but never on dignity. The Senior Ruggles rule their little clan with a blend of old-fashioned discipline, gentle cajolement and a gruff optimism.

The book is in episodic form with the total absence of an continuing plotline. Each chapter is devoted to the dreams, dramas and escapades of each the Ruggle children. And sometimes, even their long-suffering parents. The beauty of their mini-stories lies in the joy that they manage to eke out of their meagre means. Luckily, the author’s narration never has a patronizing accent. You don’t have weeping sagas about the travails of tight purses. What you have is an honest portrayal of playtime in ‘hand-me-down-clothes’.

We have all loved us some Famous Five. Whether it were boat-trips to family islands or bicycle trips to farmhouses run by rosy-cheeked farmwives or the endless summer trips that were remembered for the glorious picnic baskets; we loved them all.

But what about the (slightly) shabbily shod children who leaned over the fence and watched the FIVE ride along in their quaint caravans? What did those kids do to enjoy summer in all it’s sweltering glory?
Eve Garnett gives us a glimpse into the possible lives of such kids, albeit in an urban setting.

The book is a winner and was regarded as a groundbreaker back in the days when most children’s books were rooted in middle class sensibilities. If you need further urging....the book was nominated along with The Hobbit for the Carnegie Medal for Best Children’s Book and WON. Yep, it left our beloved Bilbo Baggins behind. So do read the book. You won't be disappointed.

It is sweet, honest and redolent with the whiff of a childhood that was devoid of apps.
RATING : 5/5

Iron Kissed (The Mercedes Thompson Series, #3)

Iron Kissed starts out as a more than competent Fantasy read. You would expect nothing less from the talented Patricia Briggs. Here’s an author who stays true to her genre. If unadulterated, supernatural fare is what you crave, Briggs does a stand-up job of delivering just that.

Events travel at a well-planned out pace. Gruesome murders occur. The wrong people get blamed. Magical objects disappear and true-to-their-nature, magically reappear. Powerful paranormal creatures make dire threats/ play subtle mind-games/ lay out not-so-subtle bone crunching fight sequences. And at the helm of it all, you have the Buffyesque heroine, Mercedes (Mercy) Thompson. Top it off with a believable love triangle that cushions, but never overpowers the main plot and you have another fine offering from the Mercedes Thompson Series.

It’s a steady read. You are reading, sometimes skipping a paragraph or two. It’s okay. Your eyes aren’t out on stalks but you are trudging along...

And then...

*WHAM*

With a handful of pages, Patricia Briggs elevates the book to a whole.new.level.

In a flash, it’s no longer just a slick, smart paranormal read.
It’s a sucker-punching of emotions. It’s a phase when you watch your favourite heroine go through so much physical pain, mental anguish, self-loathing and a debilitating sense of defeat, that you want to tear up whole walls with your bare hands. It’s a spot where a misunderstood, seemingly creepy character puts forth her pain with so much cathartic clarity that your throat closes up. The honesty of the words drives home the fact that reality with all it’s flesh and blood villains can be infinitely more scary than all the fantastical evil that lurks in the myths. It is concise...it is uncomfortable...and it leaves you heavy-hearted with the truth.

And so, the author (who has found an everlasting fan in me), rises from being just an honest writer of Fictional Fantasy to a weaver of poignant words and heartfelt emotions. Not many can do it without sinking in a puddle of purple prose. Briggs, though....pretty much RULES.

The Adventures Of Sherlock Holmes

To have a slight measure of the pleasant chills that race up and down your spine when you delve into a meaty Holmes mystery, do read the introduction passage by Mark Gatiss (co-creator of BBC Entertainment’s Sherlock). Amidst a host of admirable emotions, Gatiss’ one nostalgic paragraph captured my fancy. It goes thusly,

“I’d never read any of the original stories until one fateful Saturday when, recovering from German measles, I was given a treat : a trip to WH Smith, and the purchase of any book I wanted. There, nestling amongst all the possible contenders for my shiny fifty-pence piece was a gorgeous, plump, purple Pan paperback, with a colour-tinted Sidney Paget illustration on the cover: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Everything about it promised the thrill of mystery and the faintly queasy allure of Victoriana with which I was already and headily in love. But first came the introduction. I can’t remember much about it now, except that it ended with the moving sentiment: I wish I were reading these stories for the first time.“

*I wish I were reading these stories for the first time*

Never has a statement so effectively captured the sheer bliss of nose-diving into an old and much cherished spot of literature. What prompted me to revisit the series was BBC Entertainment’s hugely popular and marvellously brilliant show : *SHERLOCK*. A fellow fan, sharp reviewer and possessor of the prodigious talent to pick the perfect book (Yes, Mith....I am talking about you) and yours truly were jamming up our Tumblr dashboards with the magnificence of a certain Mr. Benedict Cumberbatch. Said Cumberbatch has done a splendid job of yanking Mr.Holmes into modern day London and playing him with aplomb....... It doesn’t hurt that he’s very easy on the eyes too.

Ergo, when Cumberbatch (he of the cupid curls, vertiginous cheekbones and manic eye-glint) with his trusty bro-mate, Watson (Martin Freeman) graced the cover of yet another Sherlock edition, I had to lay my hands on it. All the foaming-at-the-mouth fans (and I mean that in the nicest way possible since I unashamedly head the pack) can be forgiven for labouring under the misconception that this book here, is a TV Series adaptation. It’s not.

Sadly...well, not really (because, *KNOCK KNOCK*, it’s Sherlock Holmes, the O.R.I.G.I.N.A.L.)...the book is a reprint of the twelve original mysteries as written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

So when Holmes is not marvelling over the cleverness of Irene Adler, he’s scratching his head over the sudden collapse of the Red-Haired League. Whether it’s the trivial case of the Blue Carbuncle or the horrifying finale of the Speckled Band, Holmes is striding about with a befuddled Watson in tow. Dignities are being restored....genteel ladies are being chivalrously rescued.....and pages are being fraught with drama, deceit and old-fashioned danger. In short, everything that you would expect from the most famous detective of all fictional times.

What could I write in my review that would add anything new to the reams that have been dedicated to the snarkiest sleuth of them all? How do I delve into a character that’s a delightful blend of humility and egotism? How do I gush and fawn over a mind that could dissect an individual down to the tiniest speck of dust on the tip of his frock-coat?

From the moment a knock falls at the door of 221B Baker Street, you know that you are in for a treat. From the pithy to the sensational, no case escaped the interest of Holmes and his partner in crime-solving, Dr.Watson. Holmes would settle down before the roaring fireplace, light his pipe, give the despairing individual a clinical onceover, draw his (almost always correct)conclusions and then just as quickly, proceed to unravel mysteries on the strength of observation, infallible logic and that essential spark of genius cloaked in eccentricities.

In the times of darkly dreaming Dexter and stiletto wearing Detective Kate Beckett, Holmes may pale in comparison. And then again....maybe he won’t. In the cold of Victorian London, amidst the ladies who sniffed into their lacy kerchiefs and the gentleman who blustered around in their breeches, Holmes cut a dashing figure. With his dry wit and baffling disguises, he plundered the murky underbelly (ah, how I love my clichés) of crime, and almost always got his man/woman/murderous cult.

Yes, we love our modern day detective-dramas and high-octane police chases. We love the forensics lab with it’s meticulously laid out tools. We love the fact that a well-worded Google search might just catch that horrendous serial killer by the end of the one hour episode.

But, as Steven Moffat (co-creator of BBC Entertainment’s Sherlock) puts it:

"Conan Doyle's stories were never about frock coats and gas light; they're about brilliant detection, dreadful villains and blood-curdling crimes – and frankly, to hell with the crinoline. Other detectives have cases, Sherlock Holmes has adventures, and that's what matters."

Flipped

I want to hire and float a conspicuous Blimp that declares in giant letters:

*WENDELIN VAN DRAANEN IS MY NEW FAVOURITE AUTHOR*

I don’t need a body of her work to make this declaration. One book is enough. One sweet, solitary book called Flipped is enough.
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Just before Second Grade was about to start, little Juli Baker fell instantly in love with her new next-door neighbour, Bryce Loski. She fell hard for his beautiful blue eyes and followed him around like an eager l’il pup. Sadly, little Bryce Loski didn’t return the sentiment. Juli Baker terrified him, with her heart-on-her-sleeve approach, her forthrightness, her intelligence and her niggling habit of sniffing his hair in class. Young life is a rigmarole of Juli being oblivious to Bryce’s dislike and Bryce making every possible polite/panicky attempt to ward off the little ball of spirited fire.

But perceptions change when Juli’s beloved Sycamore tree is cut down. Juli had loved the ancient tree with it’s moulting bark, sprawling branches and vertiginous height. Atop it’s highest arms, she had viewed the world in a whole new light. Even the breeze up there smelled different. As she imaginatively put it

“It smelled like ....sunshine. Like sunshine and wild grass and pomegranates and rain!”.

When the owner decides to get the tree lopped off, Juli puts up an isolated, valiant fight...but to no avail. As her little slice of heaven vanishes, Juli’s understanding of the world around her and Bryce in particular start shifting.

Dear ol’Bryce has been undergoing a mental growth too. Bludgeoned by some quick lessons in maturity, he slowly but steadily is experiencing a change in his *run-here-comes-madmonkey-Juli* viewpoint. Suddenly he wants to be caught by Juli...but Juli no longer wants to do the running.
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So yes, there’s nothing new in the plotline. Unrequited love which slowly changes seats is a plot that has been tried and tested in the annals of Ya-Lit for a lo-oong time.

But Flipped takes it to a whole new level.

First up, Juli Baker. How can anyone NOT love this brave, intelligent, massive-soul girl? Bryce’s astute grandfather wisely sums it up as

"Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss. But every once in a while you find someone who’s iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare."

Juli Baker is a brightly shining star and all her emotions annihilate you with their honesty.

Secondly, Bryce Loski. How could a girl like Juli fall for a seemingly shallow lad like Bryce? But that’s the beauty of it. The beauty of love that has been rammed down our collective sensibilities through that trite little phrase “Love is Blind”. Yes, Juli falls for the dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. It’s only when she sees him, as her dad would say, “In the proper light” that her long-standing infatuation falters. The sweet bit is that Bryce isn’t all that bad. But that’s for you to find out.

Thirdly, the author’s voice. With the *He Said-She Said* format, Wendelin Van Draanen strikes a massive gong in your heart. You remember your first crush, the clammy hands, the hammering heart, the need to have a tongue that spills something deeper than ‘erm...er...aah’. You recall the pain of unrequited love and cringe at embarrassing follies. You reminisce over that inner glow that came from having your affection returned. Flipped makes you proud that in the first flush of youth, you were a *Juli Baker*. If you got your emotions sullied by a cluck-faced Bryce Polski who didn’t know better, you lived and learned and stuck your nose up and got on with life.

And ultimately, Flipped makes you want to be a person like Bryce’s grandmother. I want, with all my heart and soul to be the kind of woman, that if a brave little girl is sitting up on a favourite tree to save it from being timbered off....I would sit right up there with her, by her side....all night.

If you haven’t read this book yet, PLEASE DO! It won't change your life. It won't make you suddenly see the light at the end of the tunnel. Hell, it would probably make a few of you scratch your heads and wonder what all the fuss is about. But...if you want to come away utterly enchanted with a fledgling love story that is innocent, carefully layered within sheets of startling maturity and soft sentimentalism, then Flipped is the book for you.