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A peculiar teen tale about monsters and madness in a small Texas town.

Hanna just wants to be loved. With her father dead and her Aunt Ulla seriously crimping her style (and by that, I mean sending the bi-polar Hanna to a mental institution) she has no other choice but to run to her estranged mother, Rosalee, who lives in tiny little Portero, Texas. But when Hanna arrives, things aren’t remotely as she expected: her mother is cold and wants nothing to do with her, and Portero is just downright… Weird.

Hanna and Rosalee strike a deal; if Hanna can fit in within two weeks, she can stay. Hanna thinks she can easily win. Sure, she hallucinates her dead father speaking to her and her favorite toy swan coming to life. And, okay, maybe she only wears the color purple in a town where everyone dresses in black. And then there’s the thing where no one wants to get close to her because they all think the random monsters in town will eat her or drive her crazy or scare her off or…. Wait. What?

Portero is like no other town. It’s a window to supernatural, magic, weird science, whatever you want to call it. From suicide doors that lead to dead bodies to people-eating creatures that live in glass and the people with black bones who are really keys, this little town has its share of crazy secrets - so crazy, in fact, that it may have been tailor made for someone as nutty as Hanna. In her desire to fit in, she befriends (and beds) a boy named Wyatt, who is a member of the mysterious Mortmaine, those who fight monsters and protect the people of Portero. Wyatt is intrigued by Hanna - she seems fearless and like a natural inhabitant of his town. But every bit of closeness with Hanna comes with a price: her strong will, her need to be loved by her seemingly unlovable mother, and then there’s the part where he doesn’t know it, but her mother is the enemy of the Mortmaine and the mysterious and terror-inspiring Mayor of town. In the end, it comes down to loyalty, family, and standing up for what you know is right, and in an upside down, crazy town like this one, making the right choice means blood and bones and insanity.

Bleeding Violet is a book as crazily fettered together as the main character’s mind is. Though it is a teen novel, the monster element of the book seems more in line with a slightly younger crowd (Like Daniel X, from Patterson). That said, there is a very grown up element of sex and death in the book; both are treated as a casual, consequence-less thing that would make me think twice about letting a parent buy it for their child. Though books like P.C. and Kristin Cast’s House of Night series have sex and death, they are presented in a respectful, thought-provoking way, as opposed to the random slinging about of serious topics. For an adult, this would be fine. For a teenager still learning concepts like contraception and responsibility? Absolutely not. Not to mention the utterly casual way in which suicide is regarded - for a teen audience, where suicide is a hot button topic, it’s irresponsible to deal with such an important issue so lightly. This is all very strange, though, considering Reeves is a librarian - one would think she’d have better sense. It’s hard, therefore, to peg Bleeding Violet as being for teens (the monster element is more suitable, but the sex and death are not) or the adult crossover contingent of Teen Lit fans (the monster element comes off as silly and a little childish).

And what of the book’s merits as a whole? One thing that bothered me about this book was the myriad of loose strings left in the plot. There are certain questions unanswered, certain plot elements unresolved that could drive a person a little bonkers. If this book turns out to be the first in a series, then it would be fine; that said, the book wrapped up nicely, so sequels? Maybe. In any event, if there were more books in this storyline, I would have no interest in reading them.

The characters were hit and miss; while Hanna was wonderful and compelling, her mother was downright dull. Wyatt was convincing and believable, but not his family (save his little brother’s pet doll, who moved and talked. I liked Ragsy). And even the crafting of the town of Portero took a little more suspension of belief than I had to give - and that is saying a lot.

In the end, Bleeding Violet was a bit of a disappointment, and one I wouldn’t recommend.

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