Finlay, an 18-year-old lad, has spent his entire existence on society’s fringe. Fresh from the foster care system and just started his nursing degree, he now finally has his own room after many years. The journey to university wasn’t a simple one, and coping there is even more challenging, especially with his academic demands coupled with a part-time job. Though not overly emphasized, small cues, such as Finlay’s scribbling in the din of keystrokes, highlight his uniqueness.
Banjo, a year younger, continues to live under foster care, residing with a couple whom he finds unnervingly kind- it makes him yearn for gentleness yet fears it’s a luxury he cannot afford for survival. This dread of being too soft carries with him a crushing burden of vivid regret. Their adjustment to new circumstances intertwines with recollections from three years ago when they were together in the same care home. The narrative’s run-up to their reunion is beautifully paced.
Scottish author Margaret McDonald’s debut novel “Glasgow Boys,” priced at £8.99, has been lauded by critics as ‘assured’, a term indicating that it surpasses the common expectations from a first publication. Other than making critics envious with her remarkable writing capabilities, what stood out the most in this compelling narrative is its sensitive handling of various societal issues such as ethnicity, sexuality, health, social class, and addiction. The story maintained its warmth without slipping into overt sentimentality.
In their respective worlds, both Banjo and Finlay discover relationships and folks who truly care for them, their hard-fought resolution, though optimistic, carries an authentic tone. Every emotional nuance seemed duly earned and every hint of brighter prospects resonates with a note of truth. A profoundly moving and beautiful narrative indeed.
The second book in Amy Clarkin’s PSI (Paranormal Surveyance Ireland) series, titled ‘Who Watches This Place’ (O’Brien Press, €12.99), showcases some light-hearted banter among the young team of ghost hunters, some still dealing with the aftermath of incidents from the first novel. The supernaturally gifted Raven, who prefers to deny her new found psychic abilities, joins the ever-driven Davis, who is relentlessly collecting indisputable evidence of the paranormal.
The plot thickens when a new case is presented and further complicated by an aspiring young reporter with aims to discredit PSI as fraudsters. Drama heightens when a dark entity captures one of their team members, forcing the group to unite for a rescue mission.
Although filled with eerie moments such as a haunted painting, the central theme of the tale is friendship and the bond of a surrogate family formed by relationships of different types. Fionn is a key player in this narrative, as his journey of coming out as an asexual is portrayed touchingly and subtly. Fionn does not seek romantic love, a choice that goes against societal expectations, and the narrative explores the struggles he experiences as he attempts to maintain friendships amidst the emergence of romantic relationships. The assurances from his friends that he will eventually find ‘someone’ leave him wishing for their acceptance of his asexuality, and for their affirmation to him that he is not flawed. Despite these personal struggles, Fionn, like others in his group, understands the power of friendship; a force strong enough to overcome even the direst of situations. Clarkin’s novel is bound to resonate with many readers, providing a sense of comfort, acceptance, and hope.
In her last year at high school, Noor Khan moves to the small town of Bayberry, a community famous for challenging certain book titles. Noted American author, Samira Ahmed, widely recognised for her discerning writing about the US’s approach to Muslims, tackles the issue of censorship in her latest work, “This Book Won’t Burn” (priced at £9.99 by Atom). Noor, the new girl in school is perceived as a troublemaker, not intentionally but simply because she’s an enthusiastic reader and someone who strategically confronts conflicts to divert her mind from the pain of her father’s desertion. She is incensed by the unreasonable opposition towards certain books at her school.
Her new friend subtly points out that the existing regulations mirror the reality of current educational policies in the US;any offensive element encountered by a parent in a book results in the book’s removal from the library. However, when Noor begins to counter these absurd objections, her actions provoke the school, leading to her becoming a potential threat to the community. The principal insists that they must shield their students, during such crucial years, from detrimental and obscene influences in certain youth novels claiming they merely lead to delinquent behaviour.
While the book may not be flawless, with some critics arguing that it crosses the line into polemic at the expense of subtlety and nuance, it does bring attention to a very real issue. Some more recent children’s book titles, such as “Answers In The Pages” by David Levithan and “Attack of the Black Rectangles” by Amy Sarig King, have taken on the subject of book banning with a defter touch. The book’s villains, in particular, are portrayed in an exaggeratedly evil way that detracts from the realism. The narrative lacks any unexpected twists and the characterisation is predictable, with the “heroes” being easily identifiable right from the onset.
This narrative looks at how “a book has the potential to be a gateway to varied dimensions, a temporal apparatus, a spacecraft, a comforting companion”. It contains the remarkable character of a dedicated librarian and a pupil-powered project leading to a heated dispute at a school board assembly. It contains a fervour that may not always be pleasant, but is undeniably justified, and integrates recommendations of other novels targeted at young adults. It was inevitable that the book would captivate me, and I am genuinely pleased it exists.
In Rebecca Westcott’s Like A Girl (Scholastic, £8.99), the protagonist, Eden is subjected to online torment at her school. In response to this, Eden’s mother advises her to simply ignore the abuse. This well-meaning yet dismissive comment induces a powerful inwardly directed speech from the protagonist. The protagonist feels that her mother is oblivious to the irrationality of her statement, and that she unknowingly made her feel more isolated and adrift than ever.
This novel effectively dissects adolescent bullying, negates oversimplified solutions, and specifically refutes the idea that the ‘internet’ and ‘real life’ are separate realities in today’s digital era. This book would be a valuable addition to any school library.
In Sam Blake’s Something’s About To Blow Up (Gill Books, £11.99), the second of her mystery series, the influence of social media is also investigated. Three young girls try to uncover who planted a bomb in the science lab. Despite at times choppy character development, the internet jargon used resonates with authenticity.