The Cartographers by Peng Shepherd
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I wanted to love this book. I really did. After all, I have a soft spot for not-so-ancient artifacts, fantastical journeys, and cleverly intertwined plotlines; plus, Shepherd utilizes the New York Public Library as a primary setting for the novel. What's not to like?

While The Cartographers promises all of these multifaceted attributes, Peng Shepherd doesn't quite deliver the goods. In the hands of a more talented writer, the novel could have been a minor masterpiece of modern science fiction. Alas, the book wastes a clever conceit on poorly developed characters and amateurish story arcs.

The basic plot is as follows: a brilliant young cartographer receives word that her estranged father (also a cartographer) has died under mysterious circumstances, leaving behind an inexplicably valuable map that opens up a portal to a town that shouldn't exist. So far, so good. As the story moves along (oftentimes at a surprisingly glacial pace), characters reveal hidden secrets and convoluted histories. However, the big plot twists are too predictable, with Shepherd telegraphing the identities and fates of characters without enough subtlety or artistry. Agatha Christie, she is not.

Despite her shortcomings, Peng Shepherd shines in the interior monologue of the book's protagonist, Nell. Whereas the secondary characters feel inartistically envisioned, Nell's conflicted emotions and aspirations are thoughtfully rendered with sensitivity and insight. Revealed through bursts of third-person narration, Nell's character feels authentic and earnest: Shepherd has crafted a heartfelt depiction of a young woman dealing with the complexities of overwhelming grief, frustrating family dynamics, and unfulfilled career aspirations. In this area, Shepherd shines.

In sharp contrast, the murder mystery "whodunnit" portion of the book falls flat. Without giving away any spoilers, I'll just say that the killer's motivation(s) feel unwarranted and contrived, with the murderer coming across as more of a Scooby-Doo villain than a three-dimensional character. Zoinks.

While Shepherd has cultivated an impressive résumé and provides tantalizing glimpses of potential, she has not yet delivered the masterpiece that she is capable of writing. At its core, The Cartographers wants to be a modern Chronicles of Narnia for elder millennials, invoking magical portals and enchanted artifacts; unfortunately, this novel fails to reach its promise and potential, stumbling through the "wardrobe" of its own creation. Much like early Grady Hendrix novels, The Cartographers takes a potentially brilliant premise and botches the book with mediocre execution. Sadly, Shepherd self-sabotages her novel with forced plot points and contrived character arcs.

In a rare moment of brilliance, the author writes that “Maps are love letters written to times and places their makers had explored.” Books are very much the same way, and I can only hope that Shepherd's future "love letters" are more Jane Austen than Danielle Steel. Clearly, Shepherd has begun her journey through the blue highways and rambling interstates of the literary world - with a magical destination of admirable artistry just over the horizon. Unfortunately, it will take more than a gas station map to get there.

View all my reviews

The Crossover by Kwame Alexander
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I don't know why it took me so long to read Kwame Alexander's The Crossover. As someone who loves poetry, respects hip-hop, enjoys YA literature, and geeks out over the clever artistry of non-traditional novels, I'm exactly the kind of reader who should have read The Crossover a decade ago. Perhaps it's just my skepticism of basketball (and all sports, really) that got in the way, but I'm disappointed in myself for not reading this earlier. Nevertheless, I'm grateful that I finally took the plunge and tackled Alexander's award-winning book: it clearly deserves all the accolades that it's received over the last ten years.

The novel-in-verse focuses on the relationship between twin brothers, Josh and Jordan Bell, as they dribble down the complex court of middle school relationships and family dynamics. When the new girl in school captures Jordan's attention, Josh must face the inevitable conflicts that arise with shifting family dynamics; to further complicate matters, the boys' father, Chuck "Da Man" Bell, faces health issues that drastically shift the perspectives of every member in the Bell family.

This isn't just a "basketball book," but a novel that touches upon many timeless themes under the broader scoreboard of growing up. Told entirely from the perspective of Josh (a.k.a. "Filthy McNasty"), the narrative's rapid-fire verse captures the emotional rollercoaster of adolescent life - on and off the courts. The first few chapters illustrate Alexander's mastery of language, rhythm, and rhyme - with sizzling lyrics worthy of Jay-Z and metrical flow as graceful as Michael Jordan. When I did a "first-chapter Friday" with a class of fourth-graders, I felt like a frenzied tourist in Hamilton territory. In fact, if Lin-Manuel Miranda ever writes a novel, he'll want to emulate the accessible - but simultaneously sophisticated - style of Alexander (Kwame, that is... not Hamilton).

Fortunately, though, Kwame Alexander's skillset is not exclusively limited to surface beauty: underneath the stellar language is fertile soil of thoughtful character development and unique story arcs. Because the book is brief, it's a great novel for struggling readers and students with short attention spans. More importantly, though, it's a modern masterpiece that will connect with many readers - regardless of age - who know what it's like to love and lose beneath the intimidating shadows of the backboard, classroom, and dining room table. As our protagonist, Josh Bell, discovers in the pages of Kwame Alexander's beautiful book, the real world isn't just a series of free-throws: it's a journey of layups, fouls, benching, three-point shots, and (occasionally) a slam dunk in the game of life.

View all my reviews