I promise I'll stop writing the summaries soon. Things might become a little more sensical that way.
Gretchen and her brother, after having their sister stolen away by a vicious, hungry witch that they unwisely sought out in a dark forest several years previously, are not in the best of mental health. But since this book does not particularly target the issue of mental health, they are packed off onto a road trip with the vague destination of the ocean. However, not mental trauma but car troubles take them only as far as tiny, old-fashioned town, stuck behind the times by the barricade of trees which in turn hide many dangerous creatures, like racoons and rabbits and werewolves, or so I’m told. Stranded though they might be, they don’t seem to have any intention of leaving, drawn in not only by the delicious whiff but the kind and welcoming personality of Sophia Kelly, a lonely girl who runs a chocolatier. There might be a reason why she has so few friends, or it might be unfounded but I can assure that something is not entirely as it seems in this quant, back-water town. In retrospect, this town really needs a therapist.
The following statement may crumble with the weather of the coming years, but for now, I am fairly confident when I say that Jackson Pearce can make even the most mundane, the most despicable thing into something readable. Sweetly is a prime example of this; within it squirm a rather large amount of things that I would normally despise. Werewolves, angsty love interests, contrived expositions of a spiritual nature, small dead end towns full of whiny bigots, coconut flavoured sweets, and other things of that nature. In Sweetly, werewolves threw their fake-tan out of the window and reverted to their ‘eat all the pretty ladies’ scheme (as opposed to the plan where they romance the pretty ladies), the angsty love interest actually had a reason so angst, and never uttered the dreaded phrase “because I don’t want to hurt you” in relation to any supernatural/psychological issues, the small town, oh, who am I kidding, I adore small towns full of whiny bigots and while coconut flavoured sweets still curdle on my tongue in real life, any sweets in the novel smell like words and words, I can tell you with a straight face, are delicious. Anyhow, Pearce manages to twist my perceptions of these components, by bending these concepts into something refreshing. Even the romance, which decided to travel along a route that many of its ancestor novels had previously trod, managed to feel much less fatigue-inducing or predictable than many of those aforementioned novels. In addition to that, it managed to squeeze an awww out of my dusty, frozen vocal chords, as opposed to the much more frequent threats of death by chainsaw that I offer to its less successful brethren.
A very significant part of the story is the setting. Oh, the setting – some books use it as nothing more than feet support or something to throw their rubbish at. That is not only very rude, but it is quite lazy; not only on the authors part, but on the characters part as well. It wouldn’t kill them to go find a rubbish bin. But Sweetly does not indulge in any of these horrors. It establishes it’s setting, and then proceeds to flaunt it to every advantage until the end, where the powers that be decided that the beach would be a far more fashionable accessory, and packed off our characters into a car to search out the ocean. I suppose you might say that the treatment of the setting is a bit like the treatment of a baby born to rich parents. Ahem. Other than doing a wonderful job of supporting the book, I think it was interesting how the archetypal small town in the middle of nowhere setting was utilised. The majority of the time, the characters are trying to escape, to distance themselves from these apparently soul-sucking locations (although I do hope I’m not the first to realise they spend more time moaning about this than taking the initiative to stow away on some boat to the nearest port city.). Sweetly is an exception to this tradition, which resulted in mentors and companions booting the poor book off of their pathway and into the dark and presumably terrifying forest, infested with such scary creatures as racoons, and small rodents. I mean, the characters in Sweetly feel drawn to this small town full of whiny bigots, and want to stay there. What I appreciated about this the most, I am rather ashamed to admit, was not the change of pace, but the lack of whining.
Of course, if I do not mention the narrative, then the racoons, small rodents and other small creatures that strike fear into people’s hearts will be sent after me. The narrative was fantastic. It read like something that would come out of a teenager’s mouth, but without the profanity or innuendos. While I was disappointingly starved of the latter, I was compensated with the emotional content and the way the action was conveyed. Speaking of action, which my insane troll logic links with the plot, which in turn decided to build up its mysteries slowly, and then landed the relevant twist on us with the fury of a thousand suns. There really were some pretty impressive twists buried in this book – but that is not quite as impressive as the amount of things that the author manages to tangle into the plot. If you haven’t grasped already, a massive range of concepts and techniques are drafted into the story. What’s more is that the majority of it all fitted in – with the exception of the exposition regarding souls, which might as well have been lifted directly from a CLAMP manga, because it was genuinely convoluted and weird. But in an entertaining, all part of the charm, type way.
Gretchen proves herself to be a much different character than the one we assume she is during our initial inspection of her. (Actually, this is a phenomenon that applies to the majority of the characters; the ones we classify as benevolent take these expectations and smash them with cricket bats.) Unlike the rest of her bookworm-y stereotype-y kin, Gretchen was motivated. She wanted to become stronger, so she went and sought out the best looking guns expert within the 200 mile radius. She was strong, albeit in a much different way to some of the more mainstream YA heroines. She isn’t cold, nor distant, like Katniss – she genuinely has a fun, relatable personality. She feels real, and thus believes she is licensed to mope around for a mind blowing amount of time. Samuel, on the other hand, was the type of specimen that somehow manages to squirm under the microscope even after they’ve been repeatedly threatened and then zapped with a large amount of electricity. With that incredibly messy metaphors meant that he had a personality that I would normally abhor, especially in the position that he was in. Yet somehow, he managed to grow on me. He didn’t have quite as much depth as Gretchen, but the words that came out of his mouth amused me nonetheless. I found his backstory, soppy and clichéd though it was, was still interesting to read about. On a note that bodes perhaps even more strangely, I actually enjoyed his romance with Gretchen. You know, in the same way that people enjoy the plots of most Disney films. Obtusely. But in the best way possible.
Ansel carried just as much of a chip on his shoulder as his sister did, was fed just as much chocolate and developed equally. He had a clearly defined personality, and unfortunately, it was that personality that left a sour taste in my mouth. It wasn’t that he was malicious or smelt odd or anything – quite the opposite, in fact. He was much too kind and clean-cut. He wasn’t ridiculously pure and kind hearted, yet neither was he violent nor suave. He just seemed bland, shaky to me. Sophia, on the other hand, possessed no particularly flamboyant character traits, yet somehow managed to stick out like a sore thumb. She appeared to be fairly normal, chirpy and cheerful, perhaps a hidden mental disorder or two, and then she starts feeding people to werewolves. Not spontaneously, I’ll have you understand, she had her reasons – deranged though the might be, they still managed to have some form of emotional impact. And while I’m probably contradicting myself, my inner hopeless romantic will testify that my heart isn’t entirely cold. Anyhow, while Sophia reeked off ulterior motives, I never expected her to go as far as she did. Yet, it didn’t feel ridiculous, nor overly extreme when she did, as the novel built it up so well, and it fit with her personality. It was understandable, if, you know, shrill, demented, and really stupid.
Yet, something that wasn’t quite as well built up. That, for those of you who might be curious, was the relationship between Ansel and Sophia. For something so small and mostly trivial, it’s ironic that it’s the thing that irritated me the most about this book. Why it annoyed me so, I have no other reason than “damn you people who love without entertaining angst neither independently nor direct at each other to read about”. Needless to say, I’m quite confused too. But apparently my curse had some effect because the people who seemed the most upbeat suffered the most in the long run. I suppose this must be a signal from my latent psychic abilities. I should probably correspond with those soon. Anyhow, on the front that devotes it’s time to pursuing genuine issues seems to have become obsessed with the rather bizarre concept of souls in the story, which seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and while it did hold some relevance to the plot (it flaunted it, in fact. It was a bit like the setting, although in a more “look at this expensive new gadget” type way.), it didn’t really fit in with the rest of the story. Other than that, there weren’t any glaring flaws, other than the actual story takes a while to realise the direction it’s going, instead of just pouring in copious amounts of foreshadowing into the story. This is did occur, but it is not advised – plots often become rather giddy when exposed to large amounts of foreshadowing.
Now, you are probably thinking is where I declare a conclusion and tell you to read this book unless you wish to become Darkling food. No, here is where you will find a spontaneous musical number. That musical number endorses this book greatly, and recommends it to an elevated degree. It’s thoroughly enjoyable, and different from most of the paranormal romances being injected into society at the moment. Plus, the cover is gorgeous, and features both shiny things and a scary face, so it can also be used to ward off pigeons and small rodents from your crop. The content might as well – after reading a particularly memorable werewolf chase scene, I won’t be going near any woods if I can help it.
★★★★.5
Gretchen and her brother, after having their sister stolen away by a vicious, hungry witch that they unwisely sought out in a dark forest several years previously, are not in the best of mental health. But since this book does not particularly target the issue of mental health, they are packed off onto a road trip with the vague destination of the ocean. However, not mental trauma but car troubles take them only as far as tiny, old-fashioned town, stuck behind the times by the barricade of trees which in turn hide many dangerous creatures, like racoons and rabbits and werewolves, or so I’m told. Stranded though they might be, they don’t seem to have any intention of leaving, drawn in not only by the delicious whiff but the kind and welcoming personality of Sophia Kelly, a lonely girl who runs a chocolatier. There might be a reason why she has so few friends, or it might be unfounded but I can assure that something is not entirely as it seems in this quant, back-water town. In retrospect, this town really needs a therapist.
The following statement may crumble with the weather of the coming years, but for now, I am fairly confident when I say that Jackson Pearce can make even the most mundane, the most despicable thing into something readable. Sweetly is a prime example of this; within it squirm a rather large amount of things that I would normally despise. Werewolves, angsty love interests, contrived expositions of a spiritual nature, small dead end towns full of whiny bigots, coconut flavoured sweets, and other things of that nature. In Sweetly, werewolves threw their fake-tan out of the window and reverted to their ‘eat all the pretty ladies’ scheme (as opposed to the plan where they romance the pretty ladies), the angsty love interest actually had a reason so angst, and never uttered the dreaded phrase “because I don’t want to hurt you” in relation to any supernatural/psychological issues, the small town, oh, who am I kidding, I adore small towns full of whiny bigots and while coconut flavoured sweets still curdle on my tongue in real life, any sweets in the novel smell like words and words, I can tell you with a straight face, are delicious. Anyhow, Pearce manages to twist my perceptions of these components, by bending these concepts into something refreshing. Even the romance, which decided to travel along a route that many of its ancestor novels had previously trod, managed to feel much less fatigue-inducing or predictable than many of those aforementioned novels. In addition to that, it managed to squeeze an awww out of my dusty, frozen vocal chords, as opposed to the much more frequent threats of death by chainsaw that I offer to its less successful brethren.
A very significant part of the story is the setting. Oh, the setting – some books use it as nothing more than feet support or something to throw their rubbish at. That is not only very rude, but it is quite lazy; not only on the authors part, but on the characters part as well. It wouldn’t kill them to go find a rubbish bin. But Sweetly does not indulge in any of these horrors. It establishes it’s setting, and then proceeds to flaunt it to every advantage until the end, where the powers that be decided that the beach would be a far more fashionable accessory, and packed off our characters into a car to search out the ocean. I suppose you might say that the treatment of the setting is a bit like the treatment of a baby born to rich parents. Ahem. Other than doing a wonderful job of supporting the book, I think it was interesting how the archetypal small town in the middle of nowhere setting was utilised. The majority of the time, the characters are trying to escape, to distance themselves from these apparently soul-sucking locations (although I do hope I’m not the first to realise they spend more time moaning about this than taking the initiative to stow away on some boat to the nearest port city.). Sweetly is an exception to this tradition, which resulted in mentors and companions booting the poor book off of their pathway and into the dark and presumably terrifying forest, infested with such scary creatures as racoons, and small rodents. I mean, the characters in Sweetly feel drawn to this small town full of whiny bigots, and want to stay there. What I appreciated about this the most, I am rather ashamed to admit, was not the change of pace, but the lack of whining.
Of course, if I do not mention the narrative, then the racoons, small rodents and other small creatures that strike fear into people’s hearts will be sent after me. The narrative was fantastic. It read like something that would come out of a teenager’s mouth, but without the profanity or innuendos. While I was disappointingly starved of the latter, I was compensated with the emotional content and the way the action was conveyed. Speaking of action, which my insane troll logic links with the plot, which in turn decided to build up its mysteries slowly, and then landed the relevant twist on us with the fury of a thousand suns. There really were some pretty impressive twists buried in this book – but that is not quite as impressive as the amount of things that the author manages to tangle into the plot. If you haven’t grasped already, a massive range of concepts and techniques are drafted into the story. What’s more is that the majority of it all fitted in – with the exception of the exposition regarding souls, which might as well have been lifted directly from a CLAMP manga, because it was genuinely convoluted and weird. But in an entertaining, all part of the charm, type way.
Gretchen proves herself to be a much different character than the one we assume she is during our initial inspection of her. (Actually, this is a phenomenon that applies to the majority of the characters; the ones we classify as benevolent take these expectations and smash them with cricket bats.) Unlike the rest of her bookworm-y stereotype-y kin, Gretchen was motivated. She wanted to become stronger, so she went and sought out the best looking guns expert within the 200 mile radius. She was strong, albeit in a much different way to some of the more mainstream YA heroines. She isn’t cold, nor distant, like Katniss – she genuinely has a fun, relatable personality. She feels real, and thus believes she is licensed to mope around for a mind blowing amount of time. Samuel, on the other hand, was the type of specimen that somehow manages to squirm under the microscope even after they’ve been repeatedly threatened and then zapped with a large amount of electricity. With that incredibly messy metaphors meant that he had a personality that I would normally abhor, especially in the position that he was in. Yet somehow, he managed to grow on me. He didn’t have quite as much depth as Gretchen, but the words that came out of his mouth amused me nonetheless. I found his backstory, soppy and clichéd though it was, was still interesting to read about. On a note that bodes perhaps even more strangely, I actually enjoyed his romance with Gretchen. You know, in the same way that people enjoy the plots of most Disney films. Obtusely. But in the best way possible.
Ansel carried just as much of a chip on his shoulder as his sister did, was fed just as much chocolate and developed equally. He had a clearly defined personality, and unfortunately, it was that personality that left a sour taste in my mouth. It wasn’t that he was malicious or smelt odd or anything – quite the opposite, in fact. He was much too kind and clean-cut. He wasn’t ridiculously pure and kind hearted, yet neither was he violent nor suave. He just seemed bland, shaky to me. Sophia, on the other hand, possessed no particularly flamboyant character traits, yet somehow managed to stick out like a sore thumb. She appeared to be fairly normal, chirpy and cheerful, perhaps a hidden mental disorder or two, and then she starts feeding people to werewolves. Not spontaneously, I’ll have you understand, she had her reasons – deranged though the might be, they still managed to have some form of emotional impact. And while I’m probably contradicting myself, my inner hopeless romantic will testify that my heart isn’t entirely cold. Anyhow, while Sophia reeked off ulterior motives, I never expected her to go as far as she did. Yet, it didn’t feel ridiculous, nor overly extreme when she did, as the novel built it up so well, and it fit with her personality. It was understandable, if, you know, shrill, demented, and really stupid.
Yet, something that wasn’t quite as well built up. That, for those of you who might be curious, was the relationship between Ansel and Sophia. For something so small and mostly trivial, it’s ironic that it’s the thing that irritated me the most about this book. Why it annoyed me so, I have no other reason than “damn you people who love without entertaining angst neither independently nor direct at each other to read about”. Needless to say, I’m quite confused too. But apparently my curse had some effect because the people who seemed the most upbeat suffered the most in the long run. I suppose this must be a signal from my latent psychic abilities. I should probably correspond with those soon. Anyhow, on the front that devotes it’s time to pursuing genuine issues seems to have become obsessed with the rather bizarre concept of souls in the story, which seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and while it did hold some relevance to the plot (it flaunted it, in fact. It was a bit like the setting, although in a more “look at this expensive new gadget” type way.), it didn’t really fit in with the rest of the story. Other than that, there weren’t any glaring flaws, other than the actual story takes a while to realise the direction it’s going, instead of just pouring in copious amounts of foreshadowing into the story. This is did occur, but it is not advised – plots often become rather giddy when exposed to large amounts of foreshadowing.
Now, you are probably thinking is where I declare a conclusion and tell you to read this book unless you wish to become Darkling food. No, here is where you will find a spontaneous musical number. That musical number endorses this book greatly, and recommends it to an elevated degree. It’s thoroughly enjoyable, and different from most of the paranormal romances being injected into society at the moment. Plus, the cover is gorgeous, and features both shiny things and a scary face, so it can also be used to ward off pigeons and small rodents from your crop. The content might as well – after reading a particularly memorable werewolf chase scene, I won’t be going near any woods if I can help it.
★★★★.5
I write a blog for tween girls in the US http://www.hellokiki.me and do a page called BTCFS (Books too cool for School). I would love to know what is the favorite book-pick for middle schoolers in UK?
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