Alive and Kicking

Tags

American Horror Story, NaNoWrimo, sick, teeth, writing, Zachary Quinto

Hey guys and gals. What month are we in? October? The END of October? I kind of dropped off for awhile there, huh? A long while, sweet jeebus. And somehow, my most favorite month has been slipping by me, too. I love October and all its scary bits and spooky goodness, and you know how many scary movies I’ve watched? One.

ONE.

Movies on television don’t count. Yeah, I watched the Tim Burton Show this past week – Nightmare Before Christmas, Beetlejuice, Edward Scissorhands, but they hardly count. Every year I manage to indulge myself and devote at least one evening to a horror movie fest – sometimes themed – but I haven’t been able to do so this year. I know I could do this any time of the year, but guys, it’s the Halloween month! I haven’t even been to a haunted house! I KNOW!!

I have been watching my favorite show ever, which is American Horror Story, and that counts towards the horror quota, methinks. This week’s episode was SO creepy and unsettling. Not even so much for the exorcism (which was extremely well done) but for that creepy doctor. Ugh, he makes my skin crawl, and I can’t even deal with this crazy town doctor’s connection to this guy:

That’s James Cromwell! Dr. Arden is Farmer Hoggett from Babe! What happened to you?! There is something not right about watching Farmer Hoggett terrorize a prostitute and perform experiments on mental patients. Something has gone awry. Did you lose the farm? At what point did you decide to forego sheepherding for medical school and total insanity with zero accountability? You make me very nervous, sir.

I must say, though, the beauty among the dismal hopelessness and despair of this season is Zachary Quinto wearing horn-rimmed glasses. He was made to wear glasses like these.

Bless you for being so handsome, Mr. Quinto. And possessing the smoothest and most soothing voice I’ve ever heard.

Back on track. If there ever was a track. This post derailed before it even started. I’ve been so out of it, y’all. Want to hear how this month (few months) got out of control? Well if you don’t, I don’t care, I’m telling you anyways. School started. I’m finishing up the last little bit of electives I need in order to transfer to a university in the spring, to start the upper level courses for my English degree (!). The biggest change out of that is, due to class work taking over my life, I had to step down from my duties as administrative assistant for the publishing company. I was really sad to have to do that, but I just couldn’t devote the time to helping the authors like I used to. I felt like I was doing them a disservice by trying when I really didn’t have the time, and I was afraid stretching myself so thin would mean I’d be giving two poor performances, so I had to let go of one. Finishing my degree is really important to me, so it’s taking precedence at the moment. So, sad thing, but necessary for the time being. I still, however, do a little manuscript critiquing for Weaving Dreams, which is a lot less demanding and still very fun.

Between my regular full time job and classes, I’ve also been finishing the last big edits for a completed novel, the project I have with coauthor. Those three things have taken over my life completely, and I don’t quite know how sane I am at this point. Let’s go with not at all. That feels accurate.

I’ve also been sick for about two weeks, and let me tell you how fun THAT’S been. I finally went to the doctor a few days ago, since my symptoms started pointing to a sinus infection. I had this one alarming development where my teeth started to hurt – like the nerves were fraying, and every time I would descend steps or even eat, this curious ache would grip my upper teeth, like they were loose and one bite of something hard would just knock my teeth right out of my skull. The only reason this freaked me out was because Huffington Post put up an article this month about these archeologists that found the skull of a young man from Egypt around two thousand years ago who DIED from a sinus infection. His teeth were jacked up, you guys – gnarly and rotted, littered with abscesses and cavities, and all the scientists could talk about was how much PAIN that poor guy had to have been in, and how finding him gave them insight into how dentists of the time may have tried to treat patients like him. Naturally, I read this article days before I got sick. So whenever I’d do something to make my teeth really hurt, and then my face would be hurting and I’d have a horrible sinus headache, my brain would immediately flash an image of that guy’s teeth to remind me that PEOPLE DIE OF SINUS INFECTIONS, IT’S BEEN TEN DAYS GO TO THE DOCTOR. YOU DON’T WANT TO BE THIS GUY.

I had terrible visions of waking up one morning with THOSE TEETH, all because I didn’t go to the doctor to treat the sinus infection. Yes, I’m this melodramatic every time I’m sick. I’m a total wimp. And that article was poorly timed.

SO. Now that I’m feeling better, I’m going to make a conscious effort to update periodically, get back to talking about writing. There’s also one eensy weensy little thing happening next month, starting next week, that’ll keep me on my toes which I’ll be posting about.

It’s almost NaNoWrimo time!!!

For those who don’t know, NaNoWrimo is National Novel Writing Month. For the entire month of November, authors are challenged to write 50,000 words and attempt to complete a novel, or at least get a good chunk of it written. The goal of Nano is to write continuously, without editing yourself, and to get in the habit of writing consistently for a stretch of time every day. Setting a writing goal for yourself and sticking to it is the name of the game, and if you reach 50,000 by November 30th, there’s some pretty sweet prizes and deals. Yes, I am attempting something that will probably boost my stress level up like whoa, but I am determined to make this a fun project for the month of November, in between homework and that pesky job. So throughout November, expect a lot of rambling, all over the place posts (kinda like this one) about writing, being sick of writing, occasional manic bursts of euphoria when I’m having a good spell, and all kinds of nonsense. Enjoy that.

All right, kids! I need to sign off to write a paper about Charlemagne, do some editing, and keep prepping the outline for Nano next week. It’s good to be back!

Teaser Tuesdays

Tags

meme, reading, teaser tuesdays

Hosted by Should Be Reading

Morning! Today’s teaser comes from a book I’ve been wanting to read for forever and a day. I finally got my hands on a copy a few weeks ago, on a visit to Myopic Books in Chicago. That was during the Printers Row Lit Fest, when I had my sister with me. I was prowling around the basement of the bookstore, and the noise of glee I made when I saw this lone copy convinced my sister I’m the weirdest person she knows. Pfft. She just doesn’t know that many readers, poor child. Anyway, I started reading it over this past weekend. It’s called War for the Oaks, by Emma Bull.

Teaser:

“The phouka was leaning against the shed, the picture of disreputable ease. The black-lensed glasses almost hid his expression. Only a one-sided quirk of his lips hinted at amusement, and relief. The owner of the motorcycle stood several paces away from him, rubbing his palms against his pantlegs. Eddi wondered what the phouka had done to torment him.” – 103

It’s a wee bit long, but I didn’t want to cut off the paragraph. Guys, this book is so cool so far! Eddi is a young woman who finds herself caught up in a war between the faerie folk, and the phouka is sent to guard her. I seriously adore him. I have no idea what’s going on in this teaser, but I guarantee the phouka has done something badass or mischievous. The banter between he and Eddi is a great source of amusement. I have a feeling this novel is going to be a new favorite. Plus, how awesome is that cover?

Happy reading, everyone!

I wouldn’t make a tasty s’more

Tags

better world books, blather, blogging, book reviews, ender's game, guest blogging, jenny lawson, marshmallows, YA

Hey there. Hey. It’s been a little while. How have you been? Has your underwear melted into your skin from this amazing heat wave we’re in the throes of? It’s been awesome, hasn’t it? Not really. But kind of, who doesn’t love a toasty summer? Other than penguins. I did a smart thing last week, on my day off – I went up to Six Flags with a friend. On the hottest day of the year, when it was supposed to be like 103 degrees. I told this plan to my parents last weekend, and they just kind of stared at me in stunned amazement, hoping that they’d raised a child smarter than this, and then reminded me that my skin is one shade away from being translucent and will probably just ignite like a marshmallow over a fire pit. Even as I said, “But there’s a water park, and I’ll reapply sunscreen all day” I had a nervous feeling, and I pictured that white marshmallow blackening around the edges and then sliding off the stick in a gooey mess of carnage, and I was afraid.

I did not want this to be me.

But! It was actually pretty fun. All the sane people stayed home, so the park wasn’t super crowded. My friend and I ran amuck riding all the roller coasters we wanted with pretty much zero waiting time. Every so often, I could feel the heat attempting to bake my skin into a pie crust, and when it made me paranoid, I went back to our locker and slapped on more sunscreen. Then we would soak in the wave pool and I swear I could hear my skin sizzling. I left totally burn free, so – Mel: 1. Sun: 0. And, AND! I bought a Batman cape. I know!! There were so many capes there, guys, I can’t wait to go back and get a Superman cape, and a Flash cape, so I can have a cape for all occasions, like napping and writing. My coworker dared me to wear it to work the next day, which is silly, because of COURSE I would do that. And I did, and it made me feel like a superhero.

How is this book related? It’s totally not. I just wanted to share my bad choices that somehow worked in my favor. But I have bookish sort of things going on!

Here’s a super cool bit o’ news: a few weeks ago, Tommy Stubblefield, who works at Better World Books, approached me to ask if I would be interested in doing a guest blog post for the Better World Books Blog. Umm, heck yeah I would! So I did, and it is here: Heroes With Tails. Check it out! I wrote about my favorite furry heroes and book series involving memorable critters from my childhood up until now, like the Redwall series, Watership Down, the Bunnicula series, Wind in the Willows, etc. I still plan on doing the Great Redwall Reread of the summer, which may be less summer and more early fall, but I want to read them all in order and revisit those swashbuckling mice, crafty squirrels, unintelligible moles, and fierce badgers (badgers, in general, seem to kick a lot of ass no matter who’s writing them).

Second bit o’ breaking news (why am I doing that? I don’t know. It looks cool. And that’s how I’m saying it in my head. Like a British chap): Also a wee bit ago (okay, maybe Scottish now?), a blog that reviews YA novels, appropriately called I Love YA Fiction, put out a request for a guest blogger for the summer, to do two reviews a month. I applied, naturally, because I love their blog and the ladies that run it are hilarious, and it would help me make a dent in my YA TBR pile and expose me to more YA I would have otherwise never heard of.

…and they picked me! So! I will be a guest blogger at I Love YA Fiction for a few months, posting two reviews a month. I’m so, so excited you guys, and so grateful to Judith and Ellen for giving me the chance to do this. My first review goes up this Thursday, about the novel Hourglass, by Myra McEntire. So hop on over to their blog and read it on Thursday, heck just read it period because their reviews are thorough and usually very funny, now go go go!!!

Wait, not yet, I’m not done. Hold your horses. I mean, I don’t have anything uber important to say at the moment – I feel a rant coming on for a proposal I read a few days ago that will need its own blog post, and I have a review of my own to get up at some point – I … I guess I could end it here and get back to actual work. I have some cover letters to do, a manuscript to take a look see at, and the edits of one of my own chapters to go over. That one is a bear. I can’t get it to exude the atmosphere coauthor and I are striving for, which normally is not a hard thing for me. Nothing’s coming out right, and it’s making me feel small and defective, and I don’t know what to do about it. Other than listen to Joshua Hyslop and remind myself that I don’t always suck at this. When an entire chapter is sticking in my craw, I get intimidated and throw my laptop dirty looks until I eventually put on my big girl pants and plow through it. I’m still searching for my big girl pants.

All right, kids. Keep an eye out for my guest reviews, and stop in and say hey, cause I get lonely. On a final note, what is everyone reading? I just finished Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card (awesome, awesome book. I can’t believe I’ve only just now read it), and I’m almost halfway through Let’s Pretend This Never Happened (A Mostly True Memoir) by Jenny Lawson. Which is give me the hiccups funny and I’m enjoying the hell out of it. Oh, and have a great 4th – not just those from the US, but everyone, just enjoy the day, even if you don’t have it off work. Like me. Heh.

Okay, now you can go.

Book Review: Before I Go To Sleep

Tags

amnesia, memory, s.j. watson, shady, white elephant

Christine wakes up every morning not knowing who she is. She couldn’t tell you where she’s living, what year it is, and doesn’t know the man claiming to be her husband. He tells her she suffered an accident that rendered her brain incapable of recalling past memories and retaining new ones. She can only remember what happens within one day, until she falls asleep. While she dreams, her memory resets itself, wiping the slate clean. She doesn’t know who to trust, when she can’t even trust her own mind to give her the truth, and piecing together the reality of Christine’s life feels insurmountable. Until she finds her journal.

I really love the way Before I Go To Sleep is written, the immediacy of the language. Never has first person present tense felt more appropriate. Christine lives in the moment; she has nothing of her past, nothing concrete at all, and her future will forever and always be a mystery because she’ll never be able to build any kind of path of experience to lead to it. I cringed in sympathy at Christine’s horror when, convinced she is in her twenties, she goes to the mirror to find a body heading for old age. Christine’s mind has robbed her of the prime of her life; there are some days she wakes up with only the faint memories of being a child. The dull dread of  reliving that same horror every day, with no way of actually recalling that these days even happened and will occur, is a giant, white elephant parking its rear in the center of her thoughts all the time.

Christine has no choice but to hope the people around her have the best intentions, because she doesn’t know any of them. And by any of them, I mean all of two people. Dr. Nash may be the only person Christine can trust, only because of the presence of the journal he told her to start, to help keep track of her days and trigger memories. His genuine effort to help Christine is sweet, and she clings to his presence like a buoy in an ocean, but even this is suspect: why is he going to these lengths? And Ben. She knows, unnervingly, that she cannot function away from her husband because of the reboot every morning. If Ben wasn’t there to clue her in, if Christine never kept a record of her days, she would be lost forever, completely at the mercy of her ravaged mind. What she begins to uncover, however, proves that some nasty shadows lurk about in her life – and Ben sidesteps the truth more often than not.

I was suspicious of everything for Christine’s sake. Oh, the wedding photos were burned in a house fire, Ben? There are no pictures for Chris to look at? Her parents are dead? Where are her friends? Does this doctor have totally good intentions? Why is Ben lying to her? Why, on the first page of her journal, does she put this reminder: Don’t Trust Ben?

Every weird clue or lie I jumped on and analyzed, piled it on the growing mountain of That Seems Shady, Ben. I wanted Christine to find answers, I wanted her memory to return – I cheered whenever she remembered anything at all from her past. As her true past slowly started to reveal itself, it just grew more awful, like pulling back layers of old kitchen floor and tile and finding more rot on the other side.

The fact that a huge chunk of the novel is just her reading the diary of the days leading up to the present day doesn’t hinder the story at all. I forgot that the entire novel basically occurs over the course of one day, because I was so absorbed. Each day she learns something new, either from Dr. Nash, Ben, or her own fickle mind. She is so isolated that when she finally connects with her only friend, I got a little choked up. How often we take our friends’ presence for granted. What a huge part of our lives they are, in the memories they help make, their laughter and advice and companionship. The absence of such a confidante is keenly felt, and I ached for Christine. Chris is like a prisoner in her home, with a warden that is never really truthful, for Her Own Sake, and she feels indebted to him for his patience, his love, his willingness to rehearse the same play every single morning to tell Christine who she is and why she’s there. I was afraid for her, anxious, and the suspense over what she would discover about herself and her life just oozed over every page.

S.J. Watson managed to make a woman reading her diary nerve-wracking, y’all.

At the climax of the novel, there is a scene involving her journal that wrecked me almost as bad as it did Christine. I experience moments of sheer panic whenever something weird happens to my laptop, and I have that flash of losing everything I’ve written and the thought of it is devastating. How would it feel to lose writing that told me who I am, that acted as my lifeline creating a life that existed beyond one day at a time with no other connection to each new day?

The only qualms I had with the story concerned the ending and the big reveal. It’s almost too farfetched, almost a little too hard to swallow. At the very least, it hadn’t gone on very long – a month or two, if I recall correctly. I was simultaneously satisfied and dissatisfied with the ending. I liked the note it finished off with, but the finale was so rushed, and I craved to read more about Christine interacting with two particular people.

Beyond that, I flat out adored this novel. I give Before I Go To Sleep four out of five memory banks.

Favorite quotes:

“These are the details I should remember, I suppose. The little things. Perhaps it is these trivialities I have been writing down in my book, these small hooks on which a whole life is hung.” – 30

“The nineties. It was odd to hear summed up in two words a decade that I could not remember living through. I must have missed so much. So much music, so many films and books, so much news. Disasters, tragedies, wars. Whole countries might have fallen to pieces as I wandered, oblivious, from one day to the next.” – 49

“When I tried to organize my memories, they fluttered and vanished, like a feather caught on the wind that changes direction whenever a hand snatches at it.” – 109

“With a shudder, I realize that he has done all this before. His grief is not new. It has had the time to bed down within him, to become part of his foundations, rather than something that rocks them.” – 119

All I want is a picnic basket.

Tags

birthday cake, books, bookstores, chicago, indie publishing, jenny lawson, let's pretend this never happened, picnic baskets, printers row, printers row lit fest, used books

What an exciting weekend I had! Four days ago. But, you  know. I feel the need to share, since it involved books, and me taking home more books, thus making my new Kindle feel small and jealous. I stopped by Printers Row on Sunday, saw a concert, and ate birthday cake! With pink glitter toothpaste frosting. This is what my father exclaimed with dismay when he saw it. “Why is the frosting glitter toothpaste?!”

No, really. It *sparkles*

Cake was on Saturday. The original plan was to spend the entire weekend in Chicago with my little sister – I bought her ticket to the concert as an early birthday gift, and I basically treated myself to a weekend of awesome for my own birthday – but it was so freakin’ hot and gross that I just knew we wouldn’t have the energy to be outside wandering around both days. So Saturday we stayed home, and spent the afternoon trying to hunt down a picnic basket.

Why, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you! We were going to see Iron & Wine Sunday at the Ravinia, this really neat outdoor venue north of Chicago in Highland Park. I’d never been, and I was kind of excited about our lawn seats; on the lawn, they let you bring in your own food, blankets, chairs, coolers, whatever. So we wanted to make it a legit picnic and have an actual, honest to God picnic basket to put our goodies in.

Think we could find one on short notice? Yeah. Yeah, no. I mean, if I was feeling particularly adventurous and wanted to search all of Plainfield and Joliet for a picnic basket, I might have found one, but we stuck kind of close to home, since it was two hundred degrees outside with no wind and my car doesn’t have working A/C. I feel like I should get that fixed. We found something comparable at a crafty type store, but the real kick in the pants was at Target. No picnic baskets to be found, except…

Target, you asshole.

Oh that’s nice. Taunt me with a picture of a picnic basket, but don’t carry one I can actually buy. I see how it is.

So Sunday we woke up bright and early and headed north. I try to avoid driving into Chicago since it still gives me anxiety, so we went to Rosemont, which is halfway to Highland Park anyways, and took the CTA train into the city. I didn’t think it was miserably hot since there was a nice breeze, but my sister was already a sack of complaints before we even ate lunch. I kind of expected that, since Sam is fifteen and she has mastered whining down to a fine art. I can tell when she’s honestly unhappy or just whining because she can. So I ignored her pithy comments about walking, the sun, the heat, how much she hates me. I dragged her into Myopic Books, a bookstore in the Wicker Park neighborhood with floors so creaky you’re almost convinced you’ll go crashing down to the next level after a few jumping jacks. The aisles are super narrow, the basement is kind of creepy, but I can’t visit that area without going in, because I never leave there empty-handed.

We hopped back on the L for downtown, did a little shopping, and walked over to the Printers Row Lit Fest. I know all kinds of cool things had been going on all weekend, and I missed like all of it, so I promised myself to be more prepared and spend more time there next year. For those unfamiliar with Printers Row, it’s basically a literary fest put on by the Printers Row membership society, who do weekly journals about all things bookish via the Chicago Tribune. It blocks off a handful of city blocks in the Printers Row neighborhood of downtown Chicago, and tents and booths are set up for local bookstores, indie publishers, literacy organizations, the like. There are stages set up for children’s story time, author readings and signings, all kinds of fun stuff. And it’s totally free – there are some events that require tickets and such, but there’s no admission fee to the fest itself. I’ve never been to anything like it.

Only in the past seven months or so have I begun to really explore the literary world, since I started to work within it. I feel like I’m still dipping my toes in the water, trying to get acclimated, afraid to plunge right in because there’s just so much. I’m only just starting to realize the huge literary community in the Chicago area and suburbs, and I feel like this whole new world is opening up. Just looking over the lists of authors, publishers, and organizations at the fest was overwhelming. A handful were familiar, but beyond that, I didn’t know any of them. Bookstores I didn’t know existed, a plethora of small presses, tons of authors. I am totally going to spend a few weeks just tracking down all those bookstores and visiting them. I can’t wait to grow more familiar with the literary community around me, but until then, I just decided to enjoy the book celebration, wander around, and buy books.

I didn’t stay as long as I wanted, on account of an overheated and irritated teenager and our schedule, since we had the concert. I discovered the discounted book tents, and happily dug through the bins and scanned the shelves for cheap reads, much to my sisters’ horror. She is well aware of my habit of spending hours perusing books, so she attempted to cut my browsing short:

“It’s really hot out here. Like really hot. And bright. How many books do you need? How long is this going to take? Because I feel like I’m dying. Melissa. I’m dying. I’m really thirsty, too. I need some water. Missy. Missy. I am dying out here. Can we go inside somewhere? Are you done? Oh my God, you’re going to make me carry some of those books in my bag? Are you kidding me? Why are you doing this to me?! I hate you.”

And so on. She’s actually a funny kid, so it was less annoying and more amusing. Don’t worry, I let her enjoy some air conditioning and get water. I ended up with seven books.

It was a good day.

I brought Let’s Pretend This Never Happened with me to the concert, since I’ve been dying to read Jenny Lawson’s memoir, and there was enough daylight to enjoy it through the opening act. Seriously, the perfect way to end a Sunday is to chill on a blanket with a pillow, at a concert venue, listening to music, eating, and enjoying a hilarious read. I highly recommend it. I was giggling to myself from the very start of the book, and after a few pages my sister gave me a scathing look and said, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself over there. Without me.” So we had story time, and I read the first thirteen pages out loud. We laughed so hard that I think we made the couple lounging in their chairs nearby nervous.

So that ended my adventurous weekend. I concluded I must find a way to live in Highland Park, because it’s absolutely gorgeous. And next year, I will strive to double the amount of books I walk away with from Printers Row. Also, Iron & Wine was stupendous.

Musing Mondays

Tags

bleak house, books, dickens, meme, Monday's, reading, Stephen king, the stand

Hosted by Should Be Reading

This week’s musing asks:

What is the longest book you have ever read? How long did it take you to read it?

It’s funny that my mind immediately jumped to Bleak House, by Charles Dickens. It’s not the longest book I’ve read, but at the time I read it, that novel felt like it was two thousand pages long. It was a huge project for my British lit class my last year of high school, one of those in depth semester long mothers where we had to know all eighty some characters inside and out, complete with weekly quizzes to ensure we were, in fact, reading that sucker instead of using Sparknotes. My friend paid respects to the project by christening her dissected cat from our Anatomy and Physiology class Hortense.

The longest book I’ve actually read was The Stand, by Stephen King. It took me a little over a month, if I recall. My entire sophomore year, I was on a huge Stephen King kick, and that was the grand finale in the late spring. I think I’m due for a reread on that monster, since I know I’ll get more out of it now then I did when I was 15. I remember being absolutely grossed out by the superflu virus’ ravages on the world. Randall Flagg disturbed me on so many levels. I adored Nick, and I was devastated at what happened to him.

Nowadays, I haven’t found very many thousand plus page novels I’m willing to invest that kind of energy in. I have Under the Dome, by Stephen King, and I’ll eventually read that one – it’ll be the first novel of that length I’ve read in over ten years. Goodness.

Happy reading, everyone!

Kindle. KINDLE. Kiiiindle!

Tags

books, ereader, genre fiction, Kindle, nook, reading, thundercats

Thundercats, hooo!

I couldn’t resist. Has anyone watched the revamped cartoon? It’s actually pretty good. I kind of love it. Anyway.

Guys. You guys. I got a KINDLE. Oh man! I finally (gleefully) jumped on the eReader bandwagon, after months of deliberation which ended up being kind of a no brainer, because eReader = moar books. It’s not like having one bars me from buying actual books, it just means I will never ever in my life ever run out of things to read and I won’t run the risk of turning my living quarters into an episode of Hoarders: Book Edition.

I also had a birthday coming up, so I conveniently did not have to pay for it. So I waited months and months for June to get here, tried to make a dent in my TBR pile, which I knew would get laughably huge as soon as that Kindle Touch was in my possession. And then my birthday came last week, and it was THERE, in my lil gift bag!

I spent three days just filling it and filling it, mainly with the freebies and cheapies, since – let’s be honest, I’m friggin broke a lot of the time because I’m trying to be good and not spend all the monies I should be saving. I quickly found out it is WAY to easy to hit that buy button and not think about it depleting my bank account. So I have a lot of classics I’ve never read on there (Sherlock Holmes, The Jungle, H.G. Wells, Vonnegut, and so many more I’m embarrassed to admit I haven’t read yet) some YA that is clearly self published, hoo boy.

I have a number of books in my to-read list I looked up at the kindle store, and my word, they were still pretty pricey. It kind of amazes me how expensive some of the eBooks are, and it’s like forget it – I’ll buy it used. I don’t want to break the bank with my Kindle, no matter how convenient it is. So I have it now, and I enjoy it, but you better believe I’m still buying physical books. I just bought a bunch from Better World Books which I highly recommend, especially if you’re buying used. For every book you buy, they donate a book through various organizations for kids and such. It’s really affordable, and they don’t even charge shipping. So while I love how handy the Kindle is, I think it’s cool that it coexists nicely with my heap o’ books.

I’ve never given much thought to the idea of eBooks trampling all over physical books and taking their place like a wicked stepmother steamrolling over the beloved, lost forever mom. There are way too many book lovers who prefer having a book in their hands for that. I love flipping the pages, writing notes in the margin as I read, marking my favorite quotes. I love the book smell, the gorgeous cover art sitting on my bookshelf instead of on a little screen. I’ll never stop buying actual books, I’ll just get choosier about what I’m willing to store on the Kindle and what I have to have on my shelves.

My question, you Kindle, Nook, and eReader owners, is: what books do you find you prefer having physical copies of, and what do you load on your eReaders? I find that yeah, some of my guilty pleasure reads go on the Kindle, and books I would’ve passed on had they not been so cheap. I’m noticing that I download a lot of genre fiction on there. I think I’ll always buy physical copies from small, independent presses, because I feel like I’m better supporting the authors that way. I’m going to Printers Row Lit Fest in Chicago this weekend – my first time ever, I am so excited – and I am going to buy so many books, dear Lord help me show some some restraint.

So what tends to stay on your shelves, and what books better serve your literary needs in e-format? Do any of you double up on a particular novel? Are y’all as stoked as I am that Thundercats is coming back for a second season?

Yeah, you totally are. I can tell.

Teaser Tuesdays

Tags

meme, reading, Tabitha Suzuma, teaser tuesdays

Hosted by Should Be Reading

It’s Tuesday! It’s gorgeous out, I’m stuck at work, but it sure looks pretty outside those windows! I’m dreadfully behind on…well, everything, including this blog. It’s been awhile since I’ve done a proper post, even though those ideas are a-cookin’. I have a few reviews to sit down and write, too. But no worries – I love the beautiful weather we’ve been having so much it’s hard to get worked up over anything.

Now. Teaser! This one comes from A Note of Madness, by Tabitha Suzuma.

‘A silence. The brass clock ticked loudly. Why had they covered the piano with a sodding green cloth? They might just as well have sold it for firewood if they hated it so much.’ – 113

Hmm. I know Flynn, the main character, is something of a piano prodigy, and struggling with depression. Having only just started it, I’m looking forward to this one.

Happy reading, everyone!

Teaser Tuesdays

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before I go to sleep, flu, meme, reading, sj watson, teaser tuesdays

Hosted by: Should Be Reading

Today’s teaser comes from a book I started over the weekend, during my bout of hands down the worst flu bug I’ve ever had. Just walking over to the computer today and typing out words has me a little lightheaded, but I can’t tell if that’s from the flu or excitement that I’m actually doing something and my body can’t even handle it. The book is titled Before I Go to Sleep, by S.J. Watson.

“I looked at the man in the car. He, or someone like him, did this to me. Robbed me of everything. Robbed me even of myself. Yet there he was, still living.” – 129

I’m really enjoying this book so far. I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m just as lost and on edge as the main character, so it’s a fun one. I’ve been told I will never see the end coming, so I’m kind of excited.

Book Review: A Certain Slant of Light

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A Certain Slant of Light, emily dickinson, ghosts, gorgeous cover art, haunting, hypocrisy, Laura Whitcomb, love, oppressive environment, paranormal, religion, spirits, strict parents, young adult

Helen is Light; a spirit forced to haunt hosts, with no memory of her former life, or how to end her punishment to never participate, or touch, speak, or experience anything, but to watch. Her solace is books, hosts whose love of literature matches her own. While haunting her current host, a high school English teacher, she discovers a boy who can see her. Drawn to him, amazed that they can speak, she finds he is like her, of the Quick; only he found a way to inhabit an empty body. In their struggle to be together as well as recall the secrets of their former lives, Helen seeks out a host, and the consequences are more than they anticipated.

A Certain Slant of Light by Laura Whitcomb made my heart ache long after I finished the last page. I adored it to my core, even as I found myself queasy and frustrated with some of the choices the characters made. The language was beautiful, carefully chosen, filled with perfectly woven metaphors and analogies that were fresh and vivid. The writing wasn’t overly complicated, but it didn’t need to be; it told me the story in bursts of imagery and emotion that my mind immediately latched onto.

Helen is a wonderful narrator. The first third of the book, her loneliness as she hovered in the background of the lives of those she haunted was so sad and compelling. I appreciated the way she categorized her hosts, just as I appreciated her deep love of literature and how it shaped the path she took herself on through each host she cleaved to. At the introduction of Helen’s Saint, I immediately thought of Emily Dickinson, before I made the connection that the title of the book is the title of a Dickinson poem. Even if it turns out she’s not meant to be Emily Dickinson, I don’t even care; my head canon tells me otherwise. Helen’s thirst for books and her longing for real relationships, as well as her inability to understand why she was forced to drift unnoticed or how she got there, made her easy to empathize with. I badly wanted her to find answers, and achieve peace. I liked how she tried to inspire and comfort her hosts, trying to work off an unknown debt, hoping one day she’ll be allowed into Heaven. I was able to piece together her age through choice words she used, quaint antiquated phrases like ‘marriage bed,’ ‘this chimney sweep of a boy,’ and her lamenting over silent movies and courting rituals.

James’ and Helens’ relationship unfurled sweetly while she was still a ghost, and I enjoyed the ghost within the boy reaching out to Helen, trying to think of a way for her to join him. They’re so clearly not of this time, and it’s highlighted beautifully in the way they speak to one another. James tells her, ‘I would be a friend to you,’ ‘I long to speak with you again,’ and ‘I would court you with a passion, if things were different. You’d never get me off your porch swing.’ Helen is so distraught for James when she finds out he didn’t haunt hosts, like she did, but rather a place; at least Helen had her books, her poets and playwrights.

The first hiccup in the story for me was their method of going about finding an ‘empty vessel’ for Helen. I didn’t think such a thing would be so easy; how many soulless people wander about? Are they truly soulless? What animates them? I wish there had been more of an explanation for why souls fled their bodies other than deep emotional or physical trauma, especially in regards to where those souls would go and how the body keeps functioning. Autopilot? James taking Helen to the mall and finding the girl seemed far too easy. Because clearly, all one has to do to find a soulless vacuum of a person is to stop by your local mall.

…Well. I suppose you could build an argument for that.

I also found it uncomfortable when Helen and James were together as Billy and Jenny. It felt like a violation of sorts, since Billy and Jenny clearly could not consent to having their bodies used that way. I can understand how the two Light, so far removed from the experience of living, were overcome with the desire to consummate the first true connection either had made in over half a century, but it still felt a little wrong. All I could think of was the potential consequences when Helen and James were done with those bodies and the teenagers returned. I waited for Helen to feel weird about it, and she finally did feel sorry once faced with tangible items from Jenny’s past; that this girl was not always an empty vessel. Although Helen’s wonder at little things, like holding a cup, eating a pear, walking and dressing herself, was very cute.

The girl Helen inhabits has a drastically different home life than James’, as Billy, living situation. Curiously, I was not as bothered by Billy’s home situation despite how terribly wrong it went as I was by Jenny’s. Mitch, while rough and abrasive, clearly does his best to support himself and Billy, and loves his brother. That same love is present in Jenny’s household, but everything is…stifled. Oppressive. It struck an even deeper chord in me, and I read with dread how Helen’s new life was micromanaged, examined under a microscope, judged constantly and found wanting for even speaking out of turn, and religiously oppressed by ridiculously strict parents. I read and waited for an axe to fall, for Helen to slip up, just as surely as Helen waited for that moment, when her good fortune at finally being with James would get soiled somehow. And it surely did.

I loved the fact that Helen did not forget her connection with Mr. Brown, her novelist, when she became Quick. I hurt for her when she lost him, and then when she tried again and again to connect with him as Jenny, because she missed the father like figure she had and craved any kind of comfort while living in the sterile environment of Jenny’s home. Of course, I didn’t anticipate at all how that would end up looking, and I was horrified and upset for both of them. I couldn’t believe the story went there; it was a bold choice. I’m slightly bitter knowing Mr. Brown’s reputation might not ever be the same, no matter what Helen tried to do to take that off of him.

The entire last third of the book, my heart was thundering. I couldn’t see how Helen and James could fix the awful situations they found themselves in. It was nice to see Helen’s veneer crack with Jenny’s parents, to see her finally confront the hypocrisy, yet try to reach out to her pseudo mother with kindness, recognizing another broken, stifled spirit. There’s a lot to be said about the act of forgiveness in this novel and how powerful it really is. Also – I totally called Dan out the minute Helen smelled gardenias. I was so proud when she showed some backbone at that ladies party and again at the counselor’s office.

On a final note (because I could seriously go on and on about this book), I absolutely picked it up for its cover. That cover art is gorgeous, eerie, and really set the tone for the novel. I looked up the artist, and I highly recommend checking out Kamil Vojnars’ other work here. The atmosphere in that artwork gives me chills.

I give A Certain Slant of Light four out of five apples.

Favorite quotes:

“On my Saint’s final day, I hoped so passionately that she would take me with her into heaven that I lay in bed beside her, listening to her breathe.” – 7

“When his mind would dry before a poem was complete, I would take great pleasure in speaking ideas into his sleeping ear. Like Coleridge with his vision of paradise restored, he would wake the next morning and turn my straw ideas into golden lines.” – 10

“Like a desert wanderer afraid of mirages, I gazed at my oasis, but he was real.” – 21

“Mitch got up, battle weary, aching with the weight of his armor.” – 101

“I began to cry, sobbing into my hands and, to my surprise, making tears, the salt of a forgotten sea.” – 118

“The whole kitchen had a peculiar cleanliness about it. Except for the pears, every morsel of food was sealed away from the world…Cathy’s kitchen seemed to treat food with suspicion. I preferred even Billy’s untidy kitchen to this strange room. At least at Billy’s house, a mouse could survive for a night or two.” – 126

“I wondered whether this was how Jenny left her body behind – one day she had to escape so she threw a blanket over her flesh and gently climbed out.” – 233