An Ode to Banned Book Week

Next week is Banned Book Week! This always gets me so excited. I think there are two reasons:

1. It’s an excuse to read. Because I, you know, need another one of those.

2. I’m a rebel. I’m not planning to track down a copy of Mein Kampf or anything, but reading a book that someone, somewhere, has deemed inappropriate makes me proud to be an American. Freedom of speech rocks.

I think that’s one of the really great things my parents did for my brother, my sister, and myself. Though our movies (The Goonies, The Sandlot, and Ghostbusters) and television (Saved by the Bell, Boy Meets World, and Home Improvement) were highly regimented—as in, we were not allowed to watch any of the aforementioned works—our reading standards were surprisingly lax. I was allowed to go into the tiny library in our town and leave with armfuls of books with almost no restrictions. I wasn’t allowed to read things like The Babysitters Club and Sweet Valley Twins, but I like to think that was on the lack of artistic merits of the books instead of the moral ones. Isn’t that right, mom? I’m pretty sure I’ve read every Newberry Award winner from 1959-1999. (‘69, ’78, ’81, and ’90 are some of my favorite books of all time.)

I love how provocative this kind of literature is. Not in the it’s-all-erotica sense of provocative, but in the makes-you-think kind of way. I will never forget the feeling I had when I first read Orwell’s 1984. Other than a personal tie to the year (it was a good year for bright, brunette girls to be born, they say) I knew it was a classic and I picked it up for some light, summer reading. I read it when I was lifeguarding at a pool that didn’t get a lot of swimmers. For three days, any time I wasn’t forced to be on the stand actually, you know, guarding lives, my nose was stuck in that book. When I got to that epic final line, I actually shouted, appalled that was how Orwell chose to end his stunning work or dystopian genius?! Was there nothing sacred!?

Immediately, I read the line again. I don't know, maybe I expected it to change somehow. Alas, it hadn’t, so I threw the book on the floor and it narrowly missed a puddle of pool-water.

Weeks later, I was still stewing on the ending when it finally hit me: that’s exactly what the writer intended. He wanted me to be bothered by the ending. He wanted me to think about what was controlling me in my own life. He wanted to make me mad at Big Brother and rise up to do something to change it. It all clicked, and suddenly, all of literature made sense to me in a way it never had before. Good books make you feel. They move you, they disturb you, they make you grateful for the people around you, and help you see things from a different perspective.

You don’t hear of a lot of book-banning these days (other than the occasional group of parents at some small school.) But what I love about banned book week is celebrating the diversity in literature. Most of these books have been banned for sexual or political content and I think that’s exactly why people should read them. To see the world from a perspective that is completely different than your own. So go ahead, pick up a banned book. Here are my recommendations:

• 1984
• The Perks of Being a Wallflower--nice and short and teenage-angsty
• Of Mice and Men--also short
• A Handmaiden’s Tale--very feministy
• Harry Potter--I'm sure you've read him unless you've lived under a rock for the last decade and a half, but I put him on every list of books I create, so...there's that.
• Or you could go crazy and track down an untained version of Huckleberry Finn simply becuase it's not socially acceptable.

I’m either picking up A Brave New World or Fahrenheit 451 because I'm a rebel like that.

Happy rebelling—I mean reading.

An open letter to the cute guy from Biology class forever ago.

Hi, cute guy from Biology class from forever ago.

Eww--no, not him.


To the actual person who was in a real biology class and who never looked constipated or like a serial killer like that:


Hi.

*laughs nervously, rubs palms on thighs, and licks lips.* 

I'm sure you don't remember me. We shared am 8am class at community college a million years ago. Okay--it was only a few years ago. I'm not THAT old. The class was Biology 110 if memory serves. You don't remember? Of course not--because you never looked at me twice. If you had, I would have probably sculpted my number for you out of frog entrails or from the cellular cross-sections of onion skins or something. To this day I don't understand why you didn't notice me...

But hey, this isn't about me nursing some weird stalker-wound. This is about you. Besides, I'm married now to a pretty incredible guy, so I'm good. I promise.

Anyways, I got an "A" in Biology 110 and from a place of reflection here in my adult life I want to say "thank you".

See, I was never the most dedicated student. I preferred cutting class to hang out with my friends, or sleep in, or take random road trips with my best friend to stay in the trailer of a strange man after I'd called in sick to work. (The trailer is a story for another time.) More than anything, I was a 20 year old female. I don't know why society asks young people to know what they want to do for the rest of their lives and commit tens of  thousands of their parents' dollars and the best party years of their lives to it. I was tanning lifeguarding for a living then for Pete's sake. I wasn't exactly the heart and soul of professional dedication.

The two things I was dedicated to were 1) cute guys and 2) getting their attention. There was very little I wasn't willing to do to obtain these things. And truthfully, the most enticing thing guys could do was ignore me.


So, thank you for being adorable. Thank you for being way more committed to Biology 110 than I was. Because of you, I sat in the back row of the lecture hall every Tuesday and Thursday morning, shoulders thrown back and head held high, ready for you to and sure that you would notice me. But you didn't. So eventually I got bored and took notes to pass the time. Because of you I can still tell you the difference between DNA and RNA, I vaguely remember the scientific method, and for some reason, the words "endoplasmic reticulum" mean something to me.


But more than anything, you ignored me even though I showed up every class, hoping that would be the day you noticed me. But you never did.


And weirdly, for that all these years later:

Thank you for the "A."

All best to you,
R

A Plea for Percy Jackson

Listen, I know the movie came out more than a year ago--which, if we're honest, is like two decades in pop-culture these days--but I have something to say about Percy Jackson.

Read the books. DON'T watch the movie.Hollywood representations of books are bad as a rule. But this one was actually abysmal. I did both and felt like the movie was unrecognizable as a representation of the book. Like, more than Hollywood usually messes books up. Which is saying something.

Anyways...as for the books:

The pacing is relentless, the characters are dynamic, and the mythology is everywhere. Really, I think I learned more about Greek mythology while reading these books than in my "History of Ancient Greece" class that I took in college. (Dad, not really, thanks for picking up the tab on that class, by the way. I learned a ton!)

Here are some useful interesting things I learned while reading the Percy Jackson series:

• Artemis, though completely kick-ass is a little full of herself--as she should be.
• Conversely, I think her brother got a bad rap and is the one god I would befriend without hesitation. And not just for his awesome sports car. Okay, partly for the car. But he's also snarky and funny.
• Hellhounds are actually rather cuddly and endearing.
• There is an entrance to Daedalaus' labyrinth so freakishly near my house that I'm tempted to go poke around on private property to find it.
• I'm even less into Titans than I was before. Especially Kronos.
• I want a Pegasus and not in the 6-year-old girl kind of way--they're WAY more convenient than driving like normal mortals do.
• I'm pretty sure I know an Empusa. She's my husband's ex-girlfriend.

See! There are all sorts of useful interesting things to be learned by this series. I read each of them in no more than three sittings, so you can't tell me that they're too much of a time commitment.

Besides, if you have any Empusa in your life, you should at least be able to recognize them for what they are...

And if that's not enough for you, Percy is one of the most adorable heros...well, ever. See? Maybe the movie wasn't a complete waste...at least we have Logan Lerman in all his resplendent cuteness.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children

This cover is SICK. I don't mean that in the I'm-trying-to-be-cool-so-any-outdated-saying-will-do kind of way. I mean that in the most honest no-really-I-want-to-high-five-the-cover-designer kind of way.

Granted, I'm always a fan of creepy. Not blood-and-guts-horror-movie kind of creepy, but slight-shivers-down-your-spine kind of creepy is my favorite.

(For the less observant kids in the class, she's hovering above the ground.


Okay, now that we're all on the same page...)

I purchased this book...In hardcover...Before the release date--not a typical tendency for me.

That's how confident I was in this book. Really, I had decided to purchase it before I even read the synopsis, but having an "elevator pitch" to justify the expense to my husband was helpful. So, when it arrived, I tore into the packaging and cracked the cover with high hopes.

There were monsters, time travel, and an island in Wales, what could go wrong?

Apparently more than I expected.

It started strong. Don't get the wrong impression about this. The first third of the book was absolute magic. The combination of vintage photography and narrative was completely compelling and fresh. It's been a while since I read a book with pictures in it, so it really brought me back to my childhood. I found myself flipping forward to the photographs as a way to shape my imagination as I read the scene; a bad habit from childhood that, apparently, I have never grown out of since I hate imagining things "incorrectly".

It wasn't until the main character's second or third visit to Miss Peregrine's school that I actually started to worry. The pacing wasn't picking up. The romance was, in turns, forced and a bit disturbing. The mythology seemed a little thin. There was a richness of storytelling that I kept searching for, that seemed to get lost in the sensationalism of the story. All Great-and-Powerful-Oz with nothing compelling to say.

The characterization of the secondary characters bothered me too. I felt as though they were nothing more than photos with captions that the author waved in my face to distract from the thin plot-line. Hear me: Jacob, the main character, was sympathetic. He was a great blend of heroic, frightened, and brash. I truly do think he was well developed. I'm just typically a sucker for secondary characters, and there wasn't one that appealed to me.

Also, I was disappointed in the obvious plot. I like this book--you guys know my rule about only spoiling books that aren't worth your time--so I won't give anything away, but a major plot twist was easily discernible at least a hundred pages before it happened. In fact, I would use the words painfully obvious.

But here's the truth: the strong points of this book were incredibly strong. The setting was fabulous. The monsters were sufficiently scary. The main character was very relatable.

I think I would have made the main character a little bit younger if I were the powers-that-be. I felt like his struggles weren't the coming-of-age tensions that come with being 16. When I think of that age-range their issues are things like sexuality, morality, and his self-worth in relationship to his friends (think Perks of Being A Wallflower). Jacob's struggles were a bit more middle-grade fantasy. Who am I in relationship with my family? who are these scary monsters chasing me? and holy crap, I didn't realize that the world is bigger than my little town! were things that he struggled with. The narrative would have been smoother for me if Jacob had just celebrated his 13th birthday instead of his 16th.

Also, I don't think it's ever appropriate to kiss a girl that's been hung up on your grandfather for decades.

Maybe that's just me and I'm weirdly prudish about things like that.

I won't go into detail, but the romance wasn't...romantic. I felt like it was a plot device instead of an exploration of two characters who didn't belong together. It was odd; the love interest was into him almost immediately, and her affection didn't waver throughout the book. I wanted her to hate him, kiss someone else, smack him, something, but she never did.

And her "peculiarity" could have been really cool but it wasn't used enough. I think she only used her power as a weapon, like, once. I'd be all over that power if it was mine. ***SPOILER she can create a fireball in between her palms. Imagine the villagers that could be terrorized! END SPOILER***

Final judgement: It's a good book just wait to purchase it until it comes out in paperback. Notice, I do think it is worth buying. I really did love like it. It really is worth the read. I just wish I could have tweaked a few things.

The Tiger's Wife

I had really high hopes for this book. 1: The cover art. Sure, you're not supposed to judge a book by one, but really, how are you supposed to be attracted to it in the first place? Let's be honest, I didn't go on a first date with my husband because he's a great guy. I mean that's why I made a lifelong commitment to him and took his last name but that wasn't the first thing on my mind when we started dating. He's hot. And so is the cover of The Tiger's Wife. In a completely different way, of course. Maybe it's more pretty than hot.

Whatever. I liked the cover.

2: I was impressed that this young author (she's like 25 or something) wrote something that is so critically acclaimed. That's the kind of young that makes me look at my life and say with tones of disdain: "What have I contributed to society?" But my own self-loathing is an entirely different issue.

3. One of the characters in the story is called "The Deathless Man". I'm always intrigued by immortality. Especially in the context of an otherwise non-fantastical story.

The writing was undeniably beautiful. I came into the house after reading in the backyard for about thirty minutes, and reported to my husband that the glow on my face wasn't just from the late-afternoon sunshine, but also because I thought I might be in love with the book. The idea of a granddaughter searching for the mysterious circumstances surrounding her grandfather's death was something I found incredibly alluring.

I'm glad the book and I didn't run off to Vegas, though. After about 70 pages, I felt myself a little disillusioned and kind of like I was on a date with someone who didn't have a lot of depth, but sure had a lot to say.

I went out on a date like that once. It was three hours at a Starbucks. And he talked about everything from his time in the military to his aunt's rice pilaf. I, on the other hand, spent most of the date nodding and trying to look politely interested. I don't think he asked me more than two questions about myself in three hours.

I'm sure you will be surprised to hear that there was no second date.

Politely interested is how I felt by page 100 but I kept turning pages, reasoning that all the hype had to be about something, right?

The pacing quickly felt something like running in place because there was more back story than forward motion. I liked the main character's grandfather and I was still intrigued by the Deathless Man (who would run into the grandfather at the most interesting times), so I found myself actually intrigued by the history.

Unfortunately, however, the ending left me more than a little flat. In fact, I felt cheated.

***Spoiler Alert***
It seems as though her grandfather died without purpose, and the Deathless Man had no apparent contact with her grandfather in his final hours as the buildup of the story would allow you to believe. I kept reading thinking that she would find out that the Deathless Man had been grooming her grandfather to be his successor or something. That when she finally chased down the Deathless Man, she would find her grandfather in his place. Not so much.

Instead, once she finally chases after "the deathless man", she finds Babra Ivan who is keeping up the charade for the sake of their small town. This is fine, except for the fact that there is absolutely no connection to the grandfather's death. No resolution. So the entire book was simply a young woman's rambling memories as she tries to come to terms with the death of her grandfather? For as rambling as it was...that idea wasn't strong enough for me.

Also the whole thing with the Tiger's Wife was incredibly disappointing because there was no resolution. And creepy. And weird. And unfulfilling. And pointless.
***End Spoiler***

Really, the narrative ended poorly. Maybe I invested in the wrong characters. Maybe it was the wrong storyline that I cared about. Or, what I think is more likely, is that the acclaim is deserved if you are not looking for compelling storytelling but words that are strung together beautifully.

Jane Eyre

I'm usually not a huge book-to-movie fan. Not saying I won't go to the movie, but I always walk out muttering something like, "the book was better" under my breath and secretly judging the undereducated plebeians leaving the theater with smiles of shallow satisfaction smeared across their faces. Mr. Awesome gets so mad at me for this. He's not a reader and the poor man just wants to watch a movie in peace once in a while. I tell him he married the wrong person.

I've been known to compare the Harry Potter movies to Totino's pizza rolls to anyone that says "Oh, yeah I know Harry Potter, I saw the fourth movie once because my sister dragged me. It's cool, whatever." "But Totino's have no comparison to deep dish Chicago style pizza!" I try not to scream as I respond to them, "And that's what the books are like! Similar elements, same name, but they can't actually be compared."

Yeah, people love it when I do that. It's especially appreciated if they haven't read the book.

Seriously, after writing that all out for you, I don't know why I have friends any at all.

But this time, I can't say that I hated this interpretation of the book. In fact, really loved the new version of Jane Eyre. Certainly, there were parts of the narrative that didn't quite translate to film, and it was a bit melodramatic in places, but I actually liked that. I can't believe I'm saying this, but it really captured the "essence" of the book.

Now, let me be clear, I'm no Jane Eyre connoisseur. Let's be honest, I'm normally not as invested in romances as epic fantasies, so I can't be considered an authority. But I have read the book twice and enjoyed it very much--both times--so I can appreciate the movie. Okay? Okay.

Casting, costuming, writing--it was all good. Mia Wasikowska was incredibly transparent as Jane. Very noteworthy. But the highlight for me was the overall artistic integrity of the movie: the dark halls of Thornfield were sufficiently creepy, the stark moors of the countryside were deliciously blustery, and the distant Rochester of my adolescent dreams was satisfactorily tempestuous.

Overall, the film was wonderfully gothic. Maybe this is why I used to have fantasies of loosing myself to the moors whenever I felt bereft as a young adult. There is something incredibly romantic about that era, and this film really captured that. It is highly recommended.

A little brilliant something

Ask anyone that's tried writing a story, it's intimidating. Thank you, interwebs for this brilliant Periodic Table of a Story. Some of my personal favorites are: Dlp, Aod, Chi, and Lah (Literary Agent Hypothesis--I don't know what that means, but I like it.)

*chuckles*

Original link: http://computersherpa.deviantart.com/art/Periodic-Table-of-Storytelling-203548951

I particularly like the equation for Star Wars in the lower lefthand corner of the post. Genius.

Meltdown Mayhem

Recently there was a bit of controversy over a self-published author going ballistic after a poor review of her kindle edition book.
 
Kids, here's what NOT to do if you want to be a professional writer. The first 50 or so comments is where the drama really goes down. Much past that it just kind of turns into a witch hunt and made me feel kinda bad for the woman. Don't get me wrong, she flew off the handle, but I can understand getting emotional about it. She just got emotional in an incredibly unsafe place--you know, the internet.
 

I think what I appreciate most is the level of respect that Al brings to the craziness. He is so respectful of her, even when he was not receiving the same in return and he was respectful of her work even though I would designate it to the crap-heap of self-publishing.

I wish Ms. Howlett all of the success in the world, I'm just not sure that it will be in literary circles. At least, not after this.

http://booksandpals.blogspot.com/2011/03/greek-seaman-jacqueline-howett.html?showComment=1301329758444#c5465159709172929981

Of Romance, Peaches, and The Chicago Cubs

When it comes to Sarah Addison Allen, I'm a bit of a homer. You know, someone who's so blinded by their love and devotion that they don't necessarily see the draw-backs. Apparently "homer" is a sports term almost entirely created for Chicago Cubs fans. Okay, not actually, but it is really a sports term.

When people ask me what my favorite book of hers is, I can never give a straight answer. I like them all for similar reasons. Great characters, charming setting, believable romance, and sublimely understated word-smithing.

Truth be told, I don't think I've ever taken longer than 48 hours to read any of her books. I devour them. And The Peach Keeper was no exception. I actually think I did it in about 20.

My only complaints with her books is that sometimes (ONLY SOMETIMES) I wish a darker theme would sneak in the story. I think Garden Spells and the abusive ex-boyfriend was as good as it got. I never asked for creepy. I think that would betray who she is as an author. But something slightly sinister. I have said this for a while now. And it paid off because SARAH LISTENED! There is finally the element of mystery. Real, honest, police-are-involved mystery.

One of her strengths as an author is weaving the fates of broken people together and The Peach Keeper is no exception. I really liked Paxton. Her southern socialite gig could have gotten old really quick, but early in the story the author dove right under the surface of that character, making her immediately identifiable. I spent most of the book really rooting for her. Even more than the other main character, Willa.

I think the thing I appreciate most about Sarah Addison Allen though, is her subtlety. I mean, that woman can craft similes that stick with you like the fondness for a kindergarten crush. But she never rubs your nose in it. There are some authors in the women's fiction genre *coughJodiPicoultcough* that pound their "art" into their manuscript with the dedication of a mean-faced nun at a Catholic boarding school.

Unlike her other books, which all had very appropriate titles, this title only makes sense if you hold it far away from the story and squint at it. And if you replace the word Peach with Promise...maybe. And as far as I can say, I think that is my only qualm with the book. It was a truly beautiful read.

When Angels Fall, Sometimes They Go: SPLAT

 I am so super-duper way ahead on my reading for 2011. Yay me. Part of the reason that I’m ahead is because I’m not tackling books like The Decline and Fall of the Roman empire or anything like that. Dairy Queen by Catherine Gilbert Murdock was quite fluffy and sweet. Don’t get me wrong, it’s everything that a YA coming of age in Wisconsin should be, but it was a very quick read. Hush, Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick was also a quick read. However, unlike Dairy Queen, I did not feel like this novel lived up to its potential.

***BLOGGER’S NOTE***

I think this blog is going to be a bit spoilery. I tend to do that with books I don’t like because I don’t want anyone wasting their time on it. No, I mean it—once, a girl updated her facebook to "omg, so excited to start reading Breaking Dawn!" So I posted the entire plot in the comments section. I ended my message with something like “There, now you don’t have to waste your time. You'reWelcomeVeryMuch”

Yeah, I was in cyber-purgatory working that one off for a while. But in this blog I will try to warn you if spoilers are headed your way. You'reWelcomeVeryMuch.

***END BLOGGER’S NOTE***

Nora Grey (I really just sat here staring at my screen trying to come up with the main character’s name for about 45 seconds. I’m sure that speaks to how memorable she was since I finished the book 2 days ago and it should still be fresh in my mind.) Nora Grey is as normal as any other Mary Sue at the beginning of a paranormal YA romance girl in her high school. She is uninterested in boys, gets dragged around by her cartoonish best friend, and is about as dynamic as a paper clip.

Nora's pesky Biology teacher (who is also a basketball? Coach, thereby “Coach” to the kids in the class) suddenly forces the students to rearrange their seating to sit with someone completely random. The purpose of this exercise? To use the powers of investigation (which is “all science is”) to get to know someone new. The chapter that they are studying that would predicate this activity? Sex-Ed. Someone please explain to me what teacher would encourage students to cozy up to a stranger better as a method of teaching them about sex. Anyone who has spent time with teenagers wouldn’t touch that one with a 39 ½ foot pole.

The author does try to explain this one away several hundred pages later by throwing a line of “yeah, I put that idea in Coach’s head, because I wanted to sit next to you” from Patch, the luv interest. It just didn’t feel like enough to justify the amount of time that was spent in that stupid class.

So of course, Nora is paired up with the sexy, brooding, and all-too interested Patch. His eyes are black, his skin is olive and his manner is genuinely terrifying at times. He starts to tell Nora lots of things about herself that a stranger shouldn’t know. What kind of music she likes (classical—oh, sorry Baroque), what school she wants to go to (anything snotty: Harvard, Yale etc), and what her greatest fear is (heights). She is, by turns angry about this and sexually drawn to him.

I mean, really, this whole cycle of lust/hate that went on for about 200 pages was riveting. And groundbreaking. And totally unlike anything that already exists in the genre. Like, totally.

Gag.

When I read Nora’s narration, I felt like there were three different versions of her. And those versions never overlapped.

1) There was the Nora who tragically lost her daddy to a random act of violence the year before. I liked this Nora. In fact, it was the only iteration of the character that I connected with. She really missed her dad and had to deal with panic attacks and gripping fear that something similar might happen to her. I wish the author had spent a little bit more time exploring how this affected Nora and her relationships. If it had been done right, I think it would have actually made her a sympathetic character.

The way it read to me was like the author threw her father’s murder into the character’s background and proceeded to forget about it while actually writing the story. Yet somehow, at the same time it was painfully obvious that the death of her father is not because of a random act of violence. I hope that’s a plot point in book number two and becomes something that actually affects Nora. Truthfully, that's probably why the author was avoiding the issue in the first book. Maybe I should go on Amazon and see if that's actually the case with Crescendo...

2) There was the Nora who felt threatened and violated by Patch. I identified with this Nora. If some kid in school had black eyes and knew lots of creepy details about me, I would tell him to take a hike also. Animal magnetism and sex ed class aside.

3) Then there was the Nora who was so super-duper intrigued by this smoldering hunk of man-flesh. I think most of my issues with this character lay here. I guess if you’re prone to panic attacks and you feel threatened and violated by a guy, there’s no reason for you to want to jump his bones. Seriously, if Timothy Olyphant was running around doing half the things Patch was, I would have no problem going to the cops and getting a retraining order against him. His uber-hotness would be completely eclipsed by the fact that HE’S A CREEPER.

And Patch didn’t stop being a creeper when she started hanging out with him alone. She would just trot off to wherever he was and get all giggly and tingly and hot—she got warm and flushed a LOT and I just found that a little weird.

Truly, I’m okay with all of these elements being a part of the character. I like complex depictions of people in the stories that I read, the problem is that none of these pieces seemed to interact. When a new scene started, I never knew which Nora to expect. She was very rarely (if ever) at war with herself or wrestled with the decisions she made.

I’m almost done, I promise:
*deep breath*

I wasn’t crazy about her best friend either. Things start to feel a little too contrived for me if the main character who has no interest in boys whatsoever, mind you, is constantly hounded by their boy-crazy yet slightly less attractive best friend. I don’t buy that Nora and Vee (Yep, just Vee. Not short for anything that I could gather.) would ever hang out. Maybe if there had been a line about explaining some history between the girls, it would have been an easier pill to swallow. They were just incredibly different and seemed to have different outlooks on boys, school, fashion, you name it. Vee was, as I mentioned earlier, cartoonish. She was the type of character that simply ran her mouth for the sake of it. It was a contrived and tired feeling plot-device.

Now that I feel like I have sufficiently blasted what I didn’t like about the book, let’s talk about what I did like:

The sexual tension. Character consistency issues aside, there were some scenes with great chemistry between Patch and Nora. This didn't really feel like romance to me, though, so his giant sweeping gesture of love at the end of the book felt a bit contrived. But this is the section about what I DID like: so the sexy level was good.

The mythology. Patch fell from heaven way-back-when because he was in love with a girl.  Aww. How very Manny Sue of him. I won’t give away too much incase you want to read the book after all of the wonderful things I had to say about it, but the mythology was interesting. Unfortunately, there just wasn’t enough of it to float the wishy-washy narrator and the contrived scenes.

I was underwhlemed ("can you ever just be welmed?")  and I think if Nora had been more consistent and the story had been a bit more mythological, I would have been welmed at least. I might thumb through the next book, Crescendo, to see if it picks up at all.

Then again, probably not...

Laughed so hard I cried

http://www.losteyeball.com/index.php/2007/06/19/56-worstbest-analogies-of-high-school-students/

Poor America. This is why crap like Twilight is popular.

June is a good month for books. A really good month.

I don't want to ever come across as "I work at a publisher and get books before you do, nanny nanny boo boo." But in the same breath, I will admit to you that I'm the kind of person that isn't good at keeping secrets. My own, at least. Okay, and other people's sometimes too. I grew up with siblings and we were always forced encouraged to share toys, clothes, and information. So it's the sister in me that is going to tell you about this wonderful book that you can't buy until June (nanny nanny boo boo).

Speaking of sisters:

Rosamund Lupton has written a stunning book exploring that exact subject. And murder. And genetic testing. And suicide. And the intricacies of human relationship. And the strength of love between siblings.

If there is genetic testing, compelling interpersonal relationships, cute doctors and a crime scene it usually takes a lot to talk me out of liking a story. But that aside, Sister is breathtaking.

Like, actually. I got to a certain part of the story and gasped. Have I ever shared with you how difficult it is to get me to be stunned by a plot twist?

Case in point: Pretty Little Liars There is a popular YA series that has been made into a TV show. I watched the pilot of the show, decided it wasn't worth my time and promptly ordered the first in an eight book series from the library, just to see if the strong premise was played out any better in the books. Books are always better than the TV interpretations anyways. Halfway through the book, I decided that there was a crazy twin running around making people's lives miserable. Wikipedia to the resuce and EIGHT BOOKS LATER it was revealed that there was, indeed, a crazy twin sister.

Sigh. At least I didn't waste my time on more than 100 pages of it.

Maybe I read too many mysteries as a kid. Maybe I just read too much as a kid in general, but there was absolutely nothing about that series that warrants how popular it is...other than the lack of imagination from pop culture these days, and how they would rather see pretty people running around on screen instead of being told a compelling story.

*Glances backwards and takes a cautious step off soap box. Grins.* I digress...

This book was rich. Texture, grief, weather, relationships, everything described in this book will evoke emotion from you. I walked around for three days feeling like my guts had been ripped out. I wanted to call my little sister every 2.5 minutes just so she was sure that I love her. I highly recommend this book to anyone that has a close relationship with their sister.

I think one of my favorite things about this book was the gradual way that Bee (the older sister) found herself sliding into Tess' life. To the point that their mother even comments on how similar she looks to the little sister. It makes you realize that no matter the seeming distance between you, the bond between siblings is something profound that doesn't exist anywhere else.

Sister from Rosamund Lupton was originally released in the UK and makes it's US debut in June 2011. It's the kind of book that I will purchase simply so I can loan it to people.

The Sweetness of a Very Good Read

This week, I finished The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie. This was yet another free Random House ebook. (Yay, Uncle Random House!) But unlike a few other books I have tried to read lately, this one was a home run.

From the flap copy, I was charmed on several levels:

1) It's set in England in the wake of WWII

2) The main character is 11

3) She is a brilliant little chemist

4) She has a giant vocabulary

5) She has a flare for the dramatic. Who doesn't love that in their narrator?

This was one of the very small number of books our there that hooked me from the first sentence: "It was  as black in the closet as old blood." As the chapter progresses, you learn that it is her sisters that are behind this inhumane torture of hog-tying.

I really enjoyed the writing in this book. The characters were relatable. The setting was warm. But the truth is, Flavia de Luce is what makes this book worth reading. She ended up being one of my favorite narrators in a long time time. She was precocious, snarky, transparent, real, and a brilliant little chemist.

What I have heard/read from Flavia's critics is that they couldn't connect with her. That she was cold, selfish, mean, and larger than life. Somehow, they think this makes her unreliable. But I have to disagree. What I really liked were the moments that you remembered that she was a kid. For most of the book, you don't think of her as a 11 year old girl. She's just your narrator. What keeps her from tipping into "unreliable narrator" territory are the moments that her youth shines through. Times that she fights with her sisters, or has the desire to throw herself into her daddy's arms, or for about 40 pages at the end, she really is simply a brilliant 11 year old girl who hasn't fully figured out who she is. (Forgive the cryptic nature of parts of that sentence, but I don't want to give away too much.)

I really liked her relationship with her sisters. It was strained at the best of times, as with most sibling relationships thought adolescence, but even more than Flavia knows, her sisters are a part of her. Not in an overt way, but they flit in and out of her narration in the most charming fashion. Feely (Ophelia) the oldest and the boy crazy one is the brunt of Flavia's calculated wrath through a good chunk of the book. What struck me about this sister was: isn't it so easy for a brilliant mind that has not yet gone through puberty to pigeonhole emotion as "crazy"? Feely's passion for life makes Flavia incredibly uncomfortable.

And then there's Daffy. Quiet and bookish Daphne. She is a direct foil to the chemist in Flavia. Where Flavia is more comfortable in her lab cooking up the perfect poison, Daffy would rather have her nose in a book; in a reality that doesn't truly exist. Through her frustration with her sister's bookishness, Flavia's own hermit-like tendencies are thrown into full relief.

I think what I liked so much is that Flavia is trying to find who she is in relation to them, in spite of herself.

Gorgeous.

So, all of that to say: READ THIS BOOK. It is wonderful.

Update on project "52 Books in 2011"

I'm on track so far! The list as it stands:

Torment by Lauren Kate

City of Bones by Cassandra Claire

Beautiful Creatures by Kami Garcia and some other lady--I think her last name is Stohl.

Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Peterson

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hossini

Foundling by D. M. Cornish

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones (Loved this book! It was a gift from my friend Jessica. I will probably review it sooner rather than later.)

What a waste of time...

Truly, I don't think that time spent reading is wasted. Reading, even if what you are reading is little better than drivel, uses significantly more of your brain than a passive activity like watching TV. So I guess if I look at the following books this way, I have not wasted my time. But I can't escape the fact that there are three books now sitting on my shelves that I have picked up and put down. *drum roll please* In the order that they were read, then abandoned:

Eat, Pray, Love (Always happy for opinions in the comments section, but keep in mind this is only my opinion--translation: sorry if you l-u-v this book.)

I know that this is probably the most controversial of my recent book-abandoning. It's a worldwide-super-mega bestseller. Most women foam at the mouth at the mention of this book. It was turned into a movie starring Julia Roberts, and the main song was done by Florence + The Machine for pete's sake. I really thought this would be a safe foray into the terrifying world of nonfiction (being that I rarely read nonfiction voluntarily.)

Unfortunately the reason I put the book down was because it is nonfiction. Now I wasn't just biased against the genre, it way deeper than that. Let me explain. No, too much. Let me sum up:

During the first few chapters, the author writes about her horribly long and drawn out divorce from her husband of 7 years. The reason? Not infidelity. Not abuse. Not even something understandable like mental illness or general instability of personhood. She just didn't feel like being married anymore. She didn't want to have kids and felt that since they were both sliding into their mid-thirties, that there was this giant expectation to reproduce. Someone please explain to me why that is anything other than selfish? And is selfishness a reason to call it quits on a marriage?

She did say that they "both had their part" and that her book wasn't the place to slam him or his character, which I found very commendable. But unfortunately for her, it also as a reader made me think she was kind of a bitch. She basically said he had done nothing directly to cause the marriage to fall apart except maybe not be aware enough of the fact she was headed toward an emotional cliff.

I understand that I am a little sensitive because I'm married. Without trying to do so intentionally, I put myself on the floor of the bathroom with her in the pivotal scene in the beginning of the book. I tried to identify with her decision.

Crushing despair? In this economy, I've been there.

Fear of the future? Heck yeah.

A desire to keep her life in tact without soiling it with children? Ugh--don't you wish that you could just transfer fertility from people like her to other women who deserve it? Wonderful, sweet, committed women who were born to be mothers that for whatever horrible twist of fate, can't? (Not sure if she did end up having a kid like that old dude in Indonesia predicted--frankly, I don't care.)

But even through the divorce, I was willing to give Ms. Gilbert my time. I understand that true beauty comes out of the dark times in our lives, so I was willing to hang in there with her. Until she started talking about David. The guy she began a passionate, addicting, and codependent relationship with before her divorce was final.

Book closed.

Here's where the nonfiction piece came into play. If she had been a fictional character, I probably could have swallowed the big pill of relational issues at the beginning. I would have consoled myself with the hope of a strong character arc. But the fact that she is a real person and really made those decisions made me distrust her. She became an unreliable narrator to me. Someone that is that willing to destroy the lives of those around them isn't someone I care to learn from, thankyoumuch.

Truth is, I'm sure she has some wonderful things to say and she comes to some really brilliant conclusions. Why else would the book be so popular? There has to be some serious redemption in the end. And maybe that redemption was all the sweeter for the rocky start that she got off too, but truthfully, there are a lot of other, truly great books out there that will accomplish the same thing. And it's possible that I will actually like those authors. Unlike this one.

Book the second: Super Sad True Love Story

This was my attempt of reading something a little edgier than I normally do. James Franco was in this book trailer, so I thought that was a pretty cool bit of marketing. Also, it was free. Can't say that's a bad price to go out on a literary limb.

Immediately, I was a bit confused, though intrigued, by the setting. It's in a future where people are glued to their information streaming "apparats" and speaking to someone is a rare and surprising instance called "verbal"ing someone. Cool idea, right? The US is in political shambles, and New York feels more like something from a shaky middle eastern country than the Big Apple.

The story centers on two characters that meet in Rome who come from remarkably different social classes and age groups. Lenny is a paunchy, middle-aged man with a fear of growing old, and a plan to monetize the emerging science of immortality. Eunice is a 20-something girl who would rather be partying in Rome than living in New Jersey near her mother, sister, and her physically and emotionally abusive father.

There you are: The first 1/3 of the book summed up in a paragraph. That's really all that happens. You find out that the culture is sex-crazed and things like orgy parties and bras that have openings in the middle to show off women's nipples are the latest craze. I promise, I'm not so easily offended that I put down a book because of a few raunchy scenes. But in that sex crazed culture, even Lenny's "selfless" love and commitment to Eunice (who wants nothing to do with him other than the occasional romp) makes him seem like a dirty old man. I really hate dirty old men.

The political overtones had the potential to be fascinating. I really appreciated the "reentrance exam" that Lenny had to take when he came home to the US because that's kind of how I feel every time I have to go through customs.

Also, some of the brand names were epic. I don't have the ereader in front of me but it was things like "CitiGerberHersheyGM Bank". You got the feel of centuries of Wall Street scuffles and mergers. I just wish those moments of brilliance weren't wasted on shallow and unsympathetic characters.

Another book bites the dust.

And finally: Pillars of the Earth

This book is THICK. The version I have is like 900-something pages. Here's the truth, I like reading a book like that every once in a while. Some people feel accomplished when they climb a 14er (I just wanted to die the one time I did that). I feel accomplished when I read a book over 500 pages.

A sweet woman in my office lent me this book because, as I do, she reads a lot of high fantasy. She said that I would like it, even though it was sans-magic.

Like any good historical novel, it started out slow. That didn't scare me. What I couldn't get over was how remarkably masculine the writing was. I don't have to read books by women, but after a woman who had met the main character (who's wife had passed away hours before) hopped on top of his starving and hypothermic body and had sex with him, I had a hard time connecting with them. They also had sex underneath a cloak when their respective kids were sleeping in the same room. Creepy. And gross. And creepy.

Also, one of the narrating characters kept thinking about how much he liked raping women. That was horrifying a little bit disconcerting. I really hope he turned into a bad guy. Though I didn't have the fortitude to wade through the rest of the book to find out.

There were sections about the monasteries that were really cool. And it's always nice to get a slice of what life was like in the days of yore. It really is the kind of story that immerses you in the feeling of the time even more than the narrative.

I don't care if I love the setting and the feel of the story, if you can't make me care about your characters, I'm not sticking around. And the truth is, I didn't like any of the characters. Maybe the ginger kid (his mom was the one with the cloak and the inappropriate sexing of strangers). I threw in the towel after 300 pages. I feel like that's a valiant attempt. I should get some sort of cash prize medal or something.

*deep breath*

Well, that was cleansing.

I should go read some Sarah Addison Allen or something to purge my soul from flat characters.

You never write, you never call...but gosh darn it, that gives me time to read.

Every time I come back from a blogging "hiatus" I say something disingenuous like, "OMG, I'm totally going to be better about blogging," yet I never am, so this time I'm going with, "yay me for blogging. What you see is what you get."

The holidays came and went. We survived. That's all I have to say about that.

With the chucking of another calendar and the replacement of a new one, came my perpetual renewal of my four resolutions. You can read about them here. Today, I am avoiding resolution number four. The novel. I really like my story. I like my progress (about 1/3 of the way through) and I like my characters, but I don't have have half a spark of creativity right now. Not even a static electricity kind of spark.

I'm pretty sure the lack of motivation has something to do with the lingering head-cold that bested me last week. Ugh, I haven't been that sick in a long time. For six days straight all I wanted was high sodium canned soup and my mommy. There were a few days in there that I was too sick to even read. Me! Too sick to read! But don't worry, I read straight through three novels as soon as I could hold my head up. My reading list this past week:

Jacob Have I Loved by Katherine Peterson

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

Foundling by D. M. Cornish

Jacob Have I Loved was a re-read. It's a coming-of-age story set on a small island off the Maryland coast during WWII. Louise is the older, darker, less talented twin and has to come to terms with her sister, her hometown, and most importantly, herself. This book is my personal version of Catcher in the Rye. I think I was 14 when I first read it, and I think it spoke to me more now as an adult more than it did when I was a kid. That's what I love about good writing, it transcends decades and grows more precious with time.

I picked up The Kite Runner mumbling something like "well I guess I oughta see what all the fuss is about". I know, I know, "welcome to 2003, Renee" but I was busy in 2003. I was in places like China and college in 2003. I had a lot of other things to read that year.

There are times where reading that book is almost physically painful--not in the same sense as Twilight--but there are some scenes that were difficult to get through. I've never really found it easy to read about rape or extreme cruelty, but the stark picture of Afghanistan is part of why the book is popular, right? So I carried on, clinging to the heart of the book. For me, that heart was Baba. He was gruff and kind all at the same time. He felt human, tangible.

As I closed the book I couldn't help but feel emotionally manipulated. That I wasn't just supposed to take a "well rounded" picture of Afghanistan with me, but that I was supposed to weep and gnash my teeth for the loss of these characters. That I was supposed to gasp at the revelation that Hassan was Amir's half brother, and that Asef joined the Taliban and still terrorized little boys. But I wasn't surprised, and I felt like the ends were tied up too neatly. It felt too engineered. I think I felt that way because the main character was rather unsympathetic. It's kind of hard to connect with a story if you don't trust or empathize with the main character.

So I guess my final opinion on the book was, "I don't get it...I mean, I get it, but I don't get it."

Foundling was cute. I felt like the story took about half the book to catch its stride, but once it did, it was a great middle grade fantasy novel. Sort of Oliver Twist meets Pirates of the Caribbean meets monsters. With a 125 page glossary in the back.

Oh, and I started Eat, Pray, Love and was so appalled by the reason that Elizabeth Gilbert left her husband, that I put the book down. I don't care to spend an entire book with someone that is THAT selfish. So...all that to say, I have a free copy of Eat, Pray, Love if anyone wants it. It's currently taking up precious space on my bookshelf.