Review: Teen Spirit

Francesca Lia Block, critically acclaimed author of Weetzie Bat, brings this eerie and redemptive ghost story to life with her signature, poetic prose. It's perfect for fans of supernatural stories with a touch of romance like the Beautiful Creatures series by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl.

After Julie's grandmother passes away, she is forced to move across town to the not-so-fancy end of Beverly Hills and start over at a new school. The only silver lining to the perpetual dark cloud that seems to be following her? Clark—a die-hard fan of Buffy and all things Joss Whedon, who is just as awkward and damaged as she is. Her kindred spirit.

When the two try to contact Julie's grandmother with a Ouija board, they make contact with a different spirit altogether. The real kind. And this ghost will do whatever it takes to come back to the world of the living.

Francesca Lia Block's latest young adult novel is a haunting work about family, loss, love, and redemption.

Congratulations, Goat Girls and Beautiful Boys. The magic is back!

For those who don't know, that was a reference to the two anthology titles containing, respectively, volumes 2-3 and 4-5 of Francesca Lia Block's Weetzie Bat series, all five of which are now sold under the title Dangerous Angels. They are her best work, wildly creative and utterly unique, and while none of her later works could possibly compare, Teen Spirit comes closer than any of them since Necklace of Kisses in 2005. And I'm not just talking about her style, which was certainly in abeyance while she was working on Pink Smog or The Elementals (A history teacher named Mr. Adolf waxing enthusiastic about WWII? The sulky, Mary-Sue-ish tone in which she describes author-avatars Weetzie and Ariel being criticized for "overwriting"?) but - for lack of a better term - the "wholesomeness" of the story. The author of Pretty Dead and The Waters and the Wild - two of the most infuriating, defeatist, morally corrupt endings I've ever read - seems to have finally remembered what she knew by instinct in 1989, namely that death is not, in fact, romantic, and guess what? Life is a thing worth celebrating after all.

Of course, it takes Julie and Clark a while to learn this lesson. Which is perfectly understandable, since they are both in mourning for a beloved family member, with all the personal demons that entails. I really admired Ms. Block's way of handling the complexity and individuality of grief, and the way even people who love each other very much have trouble understanding each other's feelings. Losing a charming, witty, inspiring grandmother at sixteen is, after all, not quite the same as losing your mother, best friend and only child-care supporter in your mid-forties. Julie and her mother, Rachel, have to struggle to hold their broken family together, especially when Rachel looks for solace from the unsavory Luke. (Nasty as he was, though, the image of a middle-aged man shirtless and wearing fishnet tights is almost hilarious.) The clash between "Why can't you be the strong mother I remember?" vs. "Why can't I depend on someone for once?", while not logical, was very understandable. Clark's rather different kind of grief, a half-resentful loneliness for a twin brother who outshone him in talent, strength and charm, adds yet another layer of interest and sympathy to the story.

Also, Clark is adorable. He wears a different silly hat every day, loves Joss Whedon, and he cooks. Seriously, I wish I had one of my own.

Speaking of him leads me to the love triangle, which isn't much of one, but which I enjoyed anyway. Picture Stephenie Meyer's The Host, only in reverse and with ghosts instead of aliens, as Clark's twin brother Grant begins to possess his body in a desperate bid for the love he was denied during his lifetime. Grant is, it must be admitted, much sexier than Clark (on the surface, at least), given his passionate intensity and the power Julie has over him by (inadvertently) calling him back to life. Clark, like many other "good boys"in YA literature, has an unfortunate tendency to blandness (at least in the beginning - trust me, he improves). For a moment there, I was honestly terrified I'd end up with another Pretty Dead on my hands, but thankfully, Ms. Block did not justify that fear.

Just for the record, ladies and gentlemen: dead people are not sexy. Even if they don't happen to drink blood. (Or sparkle.) And a man who shows you kindness and respect (by swallowing his skepticism to participate in one mystic ritual after another; by telling you how beautiful you look; even by not kicking you to the curb for being attracted to his ghostly twin) is not boring or weak; in fact it's the very opposite.

And yes, I realize I just effectively spoiled the ending for anyone paying attention. However, if I hadn't, how was I supposed to say exactly what I liked about this book?

Other things I liked were the supernatural aspect, the cultural diversity, and the setting. Ms. Block's trademark urban fantasy style comes through very nicely when the presence of ghosts is signaled by an ambulance siren as well as inexplicable smells and colors. As for Daiyu, Tatiana Gonzalez, and Ed Rainwater - Chinese, Mexican and Cherokee healers whom Julie and Clark consult about the ghost - I may not be the best judge as a white person, but I found nothing offensive about any of their portrayals. In fact, little details such as the milagros, the ground pearl cosmetics, Ed's wry comment about "native enlightenment", and the implied underlying unity of compassion and common sense in their various methods ("It must come from you") are very much in this story's favor. And of course, L. A. is still L. A., as always in Ms. Block's novels: polluted yet still beautiful, artificial and natural, illusory and real, so vivid as to become a character in its own right.

In the words of Julie's boss, "Why do girls have to grow up to appreciate the really special ones?" Ms. Block certainly has grown up since Weetzie, and though it's taken her a long time, she has certainly produced something special I can appreciate.