WINGS

In the current crop of supernatural romances, this one stands out for pleasant, non-angsty prose but also for a blunt, archaic equation of physical beauty with moral goodness. Tropes fulfilled—new school: check; hidden ancestry: check; mysterious hottie knowing more about the heroine than she does: check—never encumber the silky narration as 15-year-old Laurel finds a blossom growing from her back. Scientific experiments with cute mortal David and explanations from steamy faerie Tamani reveal that Laurel’s a faerie—and faeries are plants. She was placed with unknowing human parents to inherit the land that holds the faerie gates to Avalon. Overly idealized physical descriptions smack of wish-fulfillment (flawless, zit-less Laurel needs no shampoo to keep her blond hair perfect) and over-ripen into absurdity when the text insists that (light-skinned) beauty embodies goodness. Glimpses of Avalon are painfully clichéd but short (“an emerald-green tree, a sliver of cerulean sky, rays of sunshine that sparkled like diamonds”). Woe unto readers with facial or bodily asymmetry, but the overwritten passages pass quickly and the rest is delicious escapism. (Fantasy. YA)