The Last Storyteller, by Frank Delaney

         It is time for Ben MacCarthy to face his past and defeat his worst enemy: his own pusillanimity. Every single aspect and person he comes into contact with seems to be telling him so, yet he remains a coward. But how can he risk rejection again, when life seems to be uncontrollably happening to him, and not at all in a pleasant way? His mentor is gone, the Irish Republican Army is rising and he got involved somehow, his parents are selling his childhood home and Venetia is back to Ireland.
        It always comes down to Venetia, does it not?
        In this new chapter of Ben’s life, Delaney is, once again, a word master. His intense narrative takes the reader into a splendid atmosphere of opposites: history and myth, violence and poetry, love and hate, exhilaration and excruciating pain. Regardless of The Last Storyteller being a sequence, it works perfectly as a standalone. Any relevant information about Ben’s past is sprinkled about, always in perfect harmony with the passage it is part of, thus enabling a new reader to enjoy the book without missing some of the details that make it wonderful.
        The Last Storyteller takes place in 1957, about ten years after the events of “The Matchmaker of Kenmare”, in an Ireland divided between those grateful for the independence gained by the south counties and those angered that part of the island is still under the English power. Ben is dragged into the fray by Jimmy Bermingham, a sort of friend one has to be really, really trusting to make and even more understanding to keep. Ironically, it is also through Jimmy that Ben comes to know Marian Killeen, a single, rich woman who plays a vital role in Ben’s decision to take Venetia back from Gentleman Jack. It goes without saying that tales of Ireland’s past are part of each chapter, but this time such tales are more than a background to paint Ben’s job. They seem to illustrate what Ben is about to witness taking place, either in a secluded village in the countryside or with nation-wide repercussions. Such tales complement the narrative beautifully and reminded me of why I fell in love with Delaney’s Ireland so many years ago. I am still looking for a source of information for one of them, actually, and I wonder how many of the Irish legends are still waiting to be told to the world at large.
        The recurring characters show a natural development from the first two instalments, and it is no surprise how much this is more prominent in Ben and Venetia. He is more mature, more obstinate, and less wimpy. She is more reclusive, more fragile; attempting to deal with emotional scars accumulated during 25 years hoping Ben would come to her rescue. When he finally does, she struggles to overcome what has been ingrained in her soul: lack of confidence and trust. A highly delightful addition is the introduction of Ben and Venetia’s twins. Ben and Louise bring a gentle shift in the characters’ dynamics and in the narrative tone, not to mention it provided Ben with a new and definite quality of self-assurance. On the other hand, Marian Killeen has an important part to play and she comes out as independent and ahead of her time in some ways. However, I could not make myself like her. Her motives were seemingly less than altruist and her attitude somewhat vain.
        All in all, it is an enchanting – there is no more accurate word to describe it, really – book. Not only it is recommended to readers who appreciate a bardic storytelling but also to those who can relish the writer’s choice of words and their impact on the whole. The title fits Delaney himself and more than once I found myself wondering what aspects of his own life can be found between the lines. I make Delaney’s words mine by describing my experience reading The Last Storyteller: “I ceased to exist in my body, because as he rose to the high and wild climax of his story, my spirit ascended with him”.

13 Hangmen, by Art Corriveau

 '13 Hangmen’ tells the story of a thirteen-year-old boy who is left a house, #13 at Hangman Court to be precise, on his thirteenth birthday. Tony, a mystery-obsessed kid, slowly discovers that generations of Hagmanns have tried to come into possession of #13 at one time or another, and the current Hagmann living next door is no different. So Tony is finally given a real-life mystery to solve – not that he wanted one in which he has to prove his father innocence after Michael is accused of murdering Angelo Di Marco, the previous owner of #13 Hangman Court. Even more surprisingly, for Tony, he is aided in his quest by Angelo di Marco himself, that is, the thirteen-year-old Angelo di Marco. 

Tony is just a regular, overweight kid, with a regular family, thrown into a not-so-regular situation and he is more than charismatic enough to take the reader with him in his encounters with his ancestor and other former residents of #13 Hangman Court. Each and every one of the kids Tony meets brings his own story with a Hagmann and, together, they unveil the mystery of the house. Combining fantasy and North American history to a bit of adventure, Art Corriveau has composed a compelling book for young adult readers aiming for an escape from paranormal romances and is a breath of fresh air within the category: no orphan boy/girl trying to save the world this time. The insight into American History is particularly appealing, even though Corriveau makes use of this artistic freedom to add a bit of shine here and there.

The only drawback was found in the continuity of the plot. The events of the concluding chapters bring some passages that subtly contradict the mechanics of interaction among the kids which was established in the first meetings between Tony and Angelo. 

All in all, a very fun, quick read, particularly recommended for boys – since girls take such a small part of the narrative.

The Kissing Tree, by Prudence Bice

Even a couple of days after having finished The Kissing Tree, I do not know what to say about it that has not been said before.

It's a love story, one of those whose characters are meant to be since childhood and need only to look beyond their stuborness to find happiness.

The plotline is simple, but it raises a sense of doom in the reader - an anxiety concerning what bad thing is going to come up between the lovers now. This feeling keeps you wanting to read on until the moment has come and gone and you are now expecing something else. (I had to stop if reading for a few days due to work commitments, otherwise I'd have finished in a day!).

The conclusion is a bit unsatisfactory, mainly because the writer gives the reader to little information and leaves lots to their imaginagion, but the characters are lovely and funny and stupidly stubborn - and you can't help falling in love with them.

Recommended as a light read, especially to the last romantics out there...

The Dead Kid Detective Agency, by Evan Munday

The Dead Kid Detective Agency tells the story of a 13-year old lonely girl who accidentally raise the ghosts of five kids who had died mysteriously. After the death of her beloved French teacher, October (yes, that's the girl's name) recruits the ghosts' help to find out what really happened.

The plotline is OK for young readers, but rather predictable to more experienced fans of the paranormal genre. The narrator talks to the reader, adding quite a bit of witty and sarcastic comments. There are lots of of references to past and present celebrities and factoids, some of which is rather obscure to anytone living outside Canada.

There two points which spoiled the book for me. One is the number of similarities it shares with Gaiman's The Graveyard Book: The setting, the premise of solving a murder, the protagonist's iability to see and talk to ghosts. The other is the constant change of narrator: mostly it's an omnipresent witness of events, supposedly the author, but then we are told the story by October herself. It would be understandable if these voices differed in their viewpoints, but that does not happen.

All in all, it is an enjoyable book, perfect for a rainy afternoon when our lazy brains refuse to understand complicated plots.

Before Ever After, by Samantha Sotto

Max used to be a tour guide, but not an ordinary tour guide. He led his ‘campers’ to unusual spots around Europe not to appreciate the sights or the food, but the history and the lives of those who once inhabited the land, walked on those fields, swam in those waters. And that’s when Shelley fell in love with him, while he led her through time and attempted to teach her, and the other campers, the value of a chicken and some eggs.

Years later, Shelley is Max’s widow, but one can’t say she’s actually alive. She survives in a daily struggle to breathe and keep a parody of the life she shared with him. Everything, however, is about to change.

There’s someone at the door. She opens it.

And there is Max.

For the split of a moment, she believes herself insane. She’s a prisoner of her own hallucinating mind.

But, no, that cannot be. That’s not Max. That’s Paolo Rossi. Max’s grandson.

How can that be possible? Max wasn’t more than a couple years older than herself.

Paolo brings photographs showing a greying Max, whose face never seemed to gain those unavoidable lines time gifts everyone with. That’s just a detail, though. More importantly, Max may be alive. There is another photograph and there is Max, standing by his famous eggs and cheese, the blank piece of Scrabble she had given him hanging from a chain around his neck.

But why would he lie to her? Why would he make her believe he’s gone?

It’s time for Shelley to face reality, and a journey towards truth has never taken so long. Literally.

It’s a journey which is also hard to describe, it provokes feelings words cannot express. More than a timeless romantic tale, Samantha Sotto created many lives within two, many stories within one. The settings are very vividly depicted, both with awe and appeal, not leaving room for tediousness born out of long and meaningless sentences.

The plot has a quality of rare originality – so I’ll stop talking about it right now, or I’ll spoil it. It suffices to say that it starts unpretentiously, but then it gets the reader back and forth in time. One minute you are travelling with Max, Shelley and the campers throughout Europe, but when you least expect it, you are immersed in the Fall of the Bastille or in a monastery somewhere. For every story Max shares, there is a different storyteller’s voice in the reader’s mind, and a distinguished set of characters who shine on their own and for different reasons.

Pavel and his wish to never cause pain to his mother.

Gestrin and his fear of loneliness.

Uri and his grief.

And so many others. There is a connection between these many historical figures and Shelley, a connection which, eventually, changes her life in such a way that there is no turning back.

And how does Max fit into this?

Forgive the cliché, but that is for me to know and for you to find out!

Max is a wonderfully developed character, though. He’s got a very philosophical attitude towards life and how to make the best of it, a sense of humour to give the Weasley twins a run for their galleons and something else, something uniquely his, that makes him special, lovable, sensitive.

The story is beautifully brought to a close. It is simultaneously predictable and unimaginable, happy and sad, bitter and sweet.

An authentic story and a talented debut writer can only make a highly recommended book.