Review: ‘The Raven Boys’ by Maggie Stiefvater

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” Neeve said. “Either you’re his true love . . . or you killed him.”

It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive.

Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her.

His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble.

But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all — family money, good looks, devoted friends — but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little.

For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

I can’t remember when I first heard about The Raven Boys. I know it was from a recommendation on line, from someone who also recommended Anna Dressed in Blood by Kendare Blake, which I reviewed over at Goodreads more than six months ago. Maybe it was a blog post about ghost novels?

Either way, I owe that person a lot. Anna was good, but The Raven Boys was great. And it’s all about the characters. There were a lot of characters — there’s the four raven boys themselves, plus Blue, her mother, and all the crazy female aunts and her mother’s aunt-like friends, who all live in the same house as Blue (there are four of those too, if I’m counting right). It takes some skill to be able to describe that many characters of a “type” (teenage boy at a rich school; middle-aged psychic woman) and make them all distinct and alive. I’ve never read a Maggie Stiefvater novel before, but I’ve clearly been missing out, you guys. She’s got game.

Plus I decided early on that the Blue in the novel looked like my friend Blue, which really worked for me — except when Noah patted the “tufts” of her her and I was, like, what?

Blue is great. I was trying to think of the perfect way to describe her, and I realised what it is: she’s just so grounded. I love the way she approaches everything with logic while at the same time completely accepting the magic all around her. She’s grown up in a world with different rules than most people, and because those rules are fact to her, her logic doesn’t turn her into a “deny the obvious” Scully-type character.

She’s the perfect foil for the raven boys, and at the same time grounds them in a way that they all desperately need — because even though she has that pesky “curse” to angst about, she’s quite pragmatic about it for the most part. Of the boys, Gansey is driven, obsessed with making his life mean something more than his rich-boy upbringing; Adam is trying to educate himself and get into a good university so he can escape his trailer park life; Rohan is bitter and struggling after the death of his father; and Noah…well, Noah’s just Noah. Of the four of them, Rohan was definitely the least likeable, but then he spends a lot of time trying to drive people away, so that’s hardly surprising. Adam was probably my favourite, although I found him just as infuriating as Gansey did at times. So maybe my favourite is Gansey, because of the way he looks out for his friends as though he’s their mother.

Oh, I can’t decide!

The writing is beautiful — so atmospheric — and I love the way each of the main characters has a “thing” that sums them up and gives us a glimpse into who they are. Blue’s is her eccentric clothes, handmade from scraps and recycled material. In Gansey’s case it’s his well-loved journal, overstuffed with newspaper clippings and full of fevered scribblings. Adam’s is the fray on his school jumper, which he hopes no one will notice. Rohan’s is his relationship with the baby raven he rescues — which he names Chainsaw — giving us a glimpse of his gentler side despite how cruel he can be. And Noel’s is how “smudgy” and quiet he is while noticing absolutely everything.

Despite all that, the best line of dialogue in the book goes to Calla, one of the “aunts” that lives at Blue’s house:

“Maura,” Calla said, “that was very rude.” Then she added, “I liked it.”

That made me laugh.

Review: ‘The Fault in Our Stars’ by John Green

Despite the tumor-shrinking medical miracle that has bought her a few years, Hazel has never been anything but terminal, her final chapter inscribed upon diagnosis. But when a gorgeous plot twist named Augustus Waters suddenly appears at Cancer Kid Support Group, Hazel’s story is about to be completely rewritten.

Insightful, bold, irreverent, and raw, The Fault in Our Stars is award-winning author John Green’s most ambitious and heartbreaking work yet, brilliantly exploring the funny, thrilling, and tragic business of being alive and in love.

A little while back, one of my Aussie Owned co-bloggers, Emily, reacted with total horror when I told her I hadn’t read The Fault in Our Stars. I told her it was because a) I don’t usually read contemporary, and b) I don’t want to read a book that’s going to break my heart and make me all depressed and mopey.

She promised me this book is just as funny and poignant as it is sad, and bossed me into buying a copy. She has powers like that, you guys. In the meantime, I read The Problem With Crazy by Lauren McKellar, which is both very sad (but also poignant) and also contemporary.

And since I’d already broken my rule and survived Crazy, although it BROKE MY HEART INTO A THOUSAND MILLION PIECES, I figured I would be able to handle Stars.

I was right. Sort of.

Emily was right too. Some of the moments in Stars are hysterically funny. I love the banter between Hazel, Augustus and Isaac. It’s often classic gallows humour, and although some people may find it shocking, if anyone is entitled to it, it’s those three teens, all with cancer that has cost them big time. When it’s not gallows humour, it’s still clever and wry. The scene where the two boys egg the car was sheer, hilarious genius.

The romance between Hazel and Augustus is very full on very early, and although I usually hate love at first sight, this had just enough kinks in it that it felt real, more like the sort of mad crush a teenager is likely to get. At one point Hazel even acknowledges that if they’d had more time maybe they would’ve grown out of that mad love stage.

I didn’t go totally fangirl over the book though. For example, I didn’t love everything about the characters. Augustus’s thing with the cigarette was totally pretentious, but it was clear how much it meant to him, especially by the end. So I can forgive him that. And the sad bits… well, they made me cry, no doubt about that. But Crazy was sadder. I howled like a baby, reading that. (And loved every minute. I think I want to have Lauren’s babies.)

But here’s what made The Fault in Our Stars special to me. I saw some negative reviews of it that criticised Hazel and Augustus for not talking like normal teengers, as though cancer made them somehow special, “more than”. But I think it goes deeper than that. These two kids would be special even if they were 100% healthy; I mean, Hazel is 16 and already doing university courses. Augustus is also extremely bright, although there’s no doubt his illness made him really look at the world. The fact they both read and analysed a literary novel that (from the description) I’d throw against the wall in the first five minutes is a flashing neon sign that these aren’t normal teenagers. They are precocious.

And that’s a good thing. I’m not saying we shouldn’t read about normal teenagers, but, as anyone who’s argued for diversity in fiction would attest, there are already so many books about the normal out there. The white character, the straight character, the gender normal, average, preppy, pretty, whatever character. The character that holds a mirror to a huge proportion of the reading public.

Hazel and Augustus are super-bright nerds. He and Isaac are gamers. It’s not that John Green failed to write teenagers, it’s that he wrote different teenagers, struggling with awful problems and (for the most part — because they are also realistically portrayed) managing to handle them better than some adults would. They aren’t mirrors that reflect me, because I think literary fiction sucks. But they reflect someone, and that someone no doubt appreciates it.

And that is why I’m giving this book five stars.