Blythewood

Blythewood by Carol Goodman, 489 pages

In a story about a Harry Potter-like school where girls learn archery and magic in an effort to drive back the creatures of evil that spawn from the nearby woods, you would think that the main character - a factory worker in an era where women were mostly relegated to housewife roles - would fall into the "strong female protagonist" category, right? Which is why it feels so... backward... to have her be so pathetic. She spends most of the book wallowing in self-pity (for almost no reason) and dreaming about how great it would be to be rescued by a hunky guy. Seriously. While not even in any present danger, our main character fantasizes about being rescued.

What.

The story here's incredibly predictable. The author saves the "big reveal" for the final chapter, when it's been blatantly obvious for 3/4 or more of the book. Honestly, if you changed the character names around (in fact, please do... "Raven" is up there among the cheesiest names I've facepalmed at) and some of the details, this could pass for a well-written Harry Potter fanfiction, complete with message about the power of love and how it conquers the darkness.

To be fair, the Harry Potter books are a lot of fun, so there's certainly worse things to mimic. And some of the imagery here - bells forged in iron and blood, crows made of shadow that dissipate into ash, dark figures with roiling smoke escaping their mouth - is actually really cool. But the rest is so familiar, predictable, and (sometimes) embarrassing, that I really can't recommend it, unless you really need your hunky winged guy fix.

Untold

Untold by Sarah Rees Brennan, 370 pages

Untold survives almost exclusively on its charm and its humor.

In theory, Untold is half gothic action-adventure-mystery, and half paranormal romance, but by this point (ie. the second book in the Lynburn Legacy series), it's shed most of its pretense of mystery or adventure. There's still action peppered in, and the gothic setting is still present, but much of the mystery has been relegated to "... and then Kami researched the thing; by the way did you know about cute boys?" Which is fine, that was certainly a big part of the first book, but it makes the second entry feel less complex - like it's missing something. In fact, it feels a lot like a romance anime: Any time it's possible for there to be a lovers' quarrel or a romantic misunderstanding, you can bet that quarrel/misunderstanding is going to take place.

Example: oh I just happened to walk in at the one time when you two look like you're kissing (even though you're not), I hope you two have fun *walk away and pout*

However! The single strongest point from the first book (Unspoken) - the thing that most notably set it apart from other books in the genre - is still present here: the humor. Despite their predilection for sulking and annoyingly fawning over each other, the characters here are exceptionally charming. The dialogue is practically guaranteed to make you smile. It keeps the story from feeling overly-dour, and it makes the main cast of characters stand out. Without its humor, this series would feel by-the-numbers and lifeless. With its humor, it's notable and endearing.

Also, it's refreshing to have a female character that cleanly falls on the spectrum between the emotionally-detached ass-kicker and the flip-switch emotional blubbering mess. Case in point:

"Here she was, lonely and miserable, and she was still going to go into the gym and do what needed to be done. She had wondered who she was ... stripped of all her supports and forced to stand on her own. She had worried that she would break if her heart broke, but she wasn't broken. She had lost everything, but she was not lost. It seemed a worthwhile thing to know."
-Untold, pg. 118

Yes, it's possible to have a strong female character that still cares about things. Yes, it's possible to have a character that is vulnerable enough to cry but is able to set that pain aside to get things done. Who knew?