Review: Wanderlove by Kirsten Hubbard

Posted on August 26, 2011 by Phoebe 7406 Commentshttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.phoebenorth.com%2F2011%2F08%2F26%2Freview-wanderlove-by-kirsten-hubbard%2FReview%3A+Wanderlove+by+Kirsten+Hubbard2011-08-26+14%3A23%3A31Phoebehttp%3A%2F%2Fwww.phoebenorth.com%2F%3Fp%3D740

Wanderlove by Kirsten Hubbard
Recommended.

I hate Kirsten Hubbard’s books.

I hate them because they’re so good it humbles me. I hate them because of their complexity and realistic depth. I hate them because they never, ever fail to make me stay up late. Every single book has seen me awake at 4 a.m., desperately telling myself I can squeeze in just one more chapter before I turn out the light.

I’ll admit that, during my reading of the first chapters of Wanderlove, Hubbard’s upcoming (illustrated!) novel from Random House, I suspected my review would be a slightly different beast. Oh, I was enjoying the tale of Bria Sandoval, recent high school grad who has given up her art and decided to impulsively travel Central America instead. Hubbard’s prose was efficient and descriptive, the emotional premise clearly drawn, the voice clear. But it’s such a different book than her first, 2010′s Like Mandarin. Like Mandarin was immediately deeply resonant through both its beautiful prose and high emotional intensity. Wanderlove, on the other hand, fooled me into thinking it was another creature: more commercial, simpler, with a snappier plot but, perhaps, lower emotional stakes.

I was so wrong.

It’s true that Hubbard (and Bria) keeps the reader at arms’ length through the first several chapters. We’re not told a lot about her, or the past that’s led her to join a travel group catering to middle aged “global vagabonds.” It’s not until Bria joins up with Rowan and Starling, a pair of charismatic and mysterious backpackers, that her layers begin to peel away.

Bria is an exceptionally well-drawn character. Like many YA protagonists, she begins the novel a bit sheepish about herself and her own abilities. But as she travels with Rowan and Starling, and later Rowan alone, we begin to understand the reasons behind her reticence. More, we’re witness to a fascinating transformation as Bria is emboldened by her travels and her friendship with Rowan, a nineteen-year-old traveler with his own complicated past.

Hubbard doesn’t spell a lot out for you. She weaves her plot in a complex way, withholding just enough information to pique your interest, revealing powerful emotional twists at precisely the right moment. As you read further into the novel, the pages coming alive with Bria’s art (drawn by Hubbard herself), much of the driving tension becomes sexual. Like Like Mandarin, Wanderlove is fundamentally a love story. Like Like Mandarin, it’s not an easy one, but rather one where the very real personalities of the involved characters often stand in the way of easy resolution. Unlike Like Mandarin, this love story is undeniably sexual. And sexy. Rowan has all the thorns of a real teenage boy and twice the appeal—an undeniable sweetheart, he’s a rare YA example of a healthy (but still thrilling, exciting, and mildly bad ass) love interest.

And the art . . . oh, the art. I don’t mean the illustrations alone, though those are lovely (if scarce in the novel’s first half—I can understand Hubbard’s reasoning, but I just wanted more). No, I mean the role art plays in the narrative.

Like Bria (and, I know from conversation, Kirsten Hubbard as well), I fancied myself a bit of an artist during high school—I even went through the rigmarole of applying to art schools. But at the last minute, I chickened out and went to a state college for writing instead. Since then, art’s played a tenuous role in my life. I paint on occasion, draw on occasion, and I even illustrated a children’s book, but it’s not omnipresent like it once was. I no longer go around with a sketchbook tucked under my arm, ready to doodle at a moment’s notice.

It feels sad to say all of that—sadder, still, when I try to draw and realize how rusty I am. But at least I’m content in the fact that I made my own choice for myself. Bria’s story is far sadder. It’s not the story of any sort of unusual abuse or hardship. It’s more typical than that—a bad boyfriend who made her feel worthless and stole her art from her.

And so Bria’s reclamation of both her art, and of love itself, is all-the-more poignant.

In the end, Wanderlove exceeded my initial expectations. It might not be the heavily impressionistic tale that you’ll find in the pages of Like Mandarin, but it’s still complex, realistic, and heart-wrenching. Hubbard covers a lot here, from issues of identity to the class conflicts of foreign travel to the ways that we let romance shape us, for better or for worse. And it’s all done deftly, with a confident hand. It’s an unusual story, the type we don’t often see in YA, but the people and conflicts at its heart rang exceptionally true for me.

Disclosure: A volume of this novel was generously donated by the publisher for review purposes. I am also personally acquainted with the author (hi Kirsten!).

View all my reviews