I wrote nothing today.

There. I feel so much better.

WORD COUNT: 0

I did a bit of revising, but unless you count rewriting a single sentence over and over as progress, then sure I wrote some new material. Sure.

But have faith, I did get something done. A book, actually. The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin. Why not post a review? This may be a writing blog, but I am writing YA and I'm sure some famous author mentioned that reading the genre you want to write is just as important as writing.

Why not add book reviews to A Writer's Knot?

EDIT 8/27

This book review can also be found on Bookhemian Rhapsody--a new book blog my friend and I are running. FYI.

If only the book were as gorgeous as the cover.

Mara Dyer doesn’t think life can get any stranger than waking up in a hospital with no memory of how she got there.
It can.
She believes there must be more to the accident she can’t remember that killed her friends and left her mysteriously unharmed.
There is.
She doesn’t believe that after everything she’s been through, she can fall in love.
She’s wrong.

If there was a checklist, a formula for your generic, hit YA novel, then The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer would have nine out of ten--hell, possibly ten out of ten checked. It's that cliched--that predictable. In fact, at moments I fell over laughing at how easily it fell into the tropes. Misunderstood girl. Girl bullies. Hot, smokin' bad love interest who ends up being the most perfect person that could walk the earth. The I love you, but this is wrong, romance. That sudden "spark." Yea. It's all here to the max. You'd think it would at least hold a plot worth pursuing, right? Well that too is a disappointment, but let's not get into that just yet.

Let's be honest. This should be a single star in my book. Not because it's bad. In fact, it had some aspects I quite enjoyed (yet then it's a doubled edged blade). It deserves a low rating for the tag along gestures. The plot is a complete tease. The entire time I found myself wondering, wanting more. Come on Mara! What happened! I want more! More memories! And when we finally get over that hill, finally seeing something worth seeing, it falls flat.

That's it?

And just when I was about to let out a disheartened sigh, Hodkin literally throws a wrench on the last page, opening doors that you wished could have been rammed in sooner. Really, Hodkin? Are you really going to play dirty?

Well, damn you then. I'll play.

The characters felt the exact same. Here we have is Noah who is immediately labeled as the Hot Guy Who Uses Girls like Condemns. I'm not kidding. That line, or something similar is used to describe him and his "womanizing ways." Here's the thing. I liked Noah. What I didn't like was how he was executed. We're lead to believe him as something and suddenly the facade is thrown away, one right after another. He's more of a Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist but without the super hero status. Seriously, he ends up being perfect in every way. Yea, I enjoyed his flirtatious ways, and oh so charming words, but God.

I mean really, Hodkin? He punched two guys for mouthing off to Mara, and threatened another man. A middle aged priest, by the way. Are you getting my struggles here? Noah is good guy, but a unrealistic guy. He's more fiction then real and hard to ignore. And it sucks.

The romance and the continuous tropes has no redeeming qualities--okay maybe the romance did. Hodkin knows how to write heavy with the steam, but besides that meh. The insta-love, the bullies that continued to make Mara a victim, the extra unique best friend (the fact that we meet him with a shirt that says "I am cliche" on the front says everything)--everything fell into into typical YA genre jazz. If you can't predict this shit, then you have not read enough YA.

But here's the thing, if the prose had been ugly, choppy and just plain bad, then yes, I would have bored myself to tears reading this shit, but the prose in fact was the opposite: smooth, flowing and ninety nine percent of the time, delicious. Mara's voice (not character) is strong, fresh and witty. I found myself laughing at her inner comments. Her snark brought color to the pages and I appreciated it. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to get through the pages without the prose.

Occasionally, I did grow tired of the "I could just die" exaggerations. When it comes to Noah, Mara could just die over. And over. And over. Someone hand me a gag bag, thanks.

In the end, it's a possibility I'll be back for book two. The mystery behind Mara is just dangling in my face, and like a damn cat I can't take my eyes off it. Pouncing at it is simply too embarrassing, but I just might.