Holly Black, White Cat
22/8/10 23:42![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
owlectomyI am still in that heady just-finished-a-book place where I'm inclined to say overdramatic things and take them back later.
But: If it weren't for award committees disliking urban fantasy and plot-heavy suspensey books, I'd be inclined to think that Holly Black's White Cat is a serious contender for the Printz. Frankly, I'm inclined to think that despite my prejudices about award committees, because it's just that good, and it doesn't just work as an exciting story, it works as serious literature.
...Like, when I figured out why it was written in present tense? CACKLING OUT LOUD. Holly Black, you're a mad genius.
Cassel remembers the blood in his best friend's hair. He remembers the blood-slick knife in his hands. He remembers that awful grin on his face, the terrible-wonderful feeling that he got away with it. But he can't remember the murder, and he can't remember why.
His family -- curse workers, criminals, con artists -- deal with the consequences. He tries to hide from them. Leaves his family for boarding school. Tries to forget.
And then suddenly he's up on the roof of his dorm room. There was a cat, in his dreams. It bit out his tongue. He followed it up onto the roof -- and now, somnambulism or suicide attempt, he's out of school on medical leave. He's back home with his curse-worker brothers and grandfather, waiting for news about his jailed mother's appeal. And in the detritus of his family's home, he goes looking for answers. About the murder he committed. About people he's no longer sure he can trust.
It's a meditation on identity, memory, betrayal, trust, and -- for my money -- a better criminal-intrigue story than Inception.
There's still a ton of books I have to read, but I would not be surprised to find myself standing up for this one at Mock Printz in January.
But: If it weren't for award committees disliking urban fantasy and plot-heavy suspensey books, I'd be inclined to think that Holly Black's White Cat is a serious contender for the Printz. Frankly, I'm inclined to think that despite my prejudices about award committees, because it's just that good, and it doesn't just work as an exciting story, it works as serious literature.
...Like, when I figured out why it was written in present tense? CACKLING OUT LOUD. Holly Black, you're a mad genius.
Cassel remembers the blood in his best friend's hair. He remembers the blood-slick knife in his hands. He remembers that awful grin on his face, the terrible-wonderful feeling that he got away with it. But he can't remember the murder, and he can't remember why.
His family -- curse workers, criminals, con artists -- deal with the consequences. He tries to hide from them. Leaves his family for boarding school. Tries to forget.
And then suddenly he's up on the roof of his dorm room. There was a cat, in his dreams. It bit out his tongue. He followed it up onto the roof -- and now, somnambulism or suicide attempt, he's out of school on medical leave. He's back home with his curse-worker brothers and grandfather, waiting for news about his jailed mother's appeal. And in the detritus of his family's home, he goes looking for answers. About the murder he committed. About people he's no longer sure he can trust.
It's a meditation on identity, memory, betrayal, trust, and -- for my money -- a better criminal-intrigue story than Inception.
There's still a ton of books I have to read, but I would not be surprised to find myself standing up for this one at Mock Printz in January.
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23/8/10 13:17 (UTC)