I won’t have a lot to say in this post, but I am revealing the cover for Finding Frances:
I don’t have a release date yet, but should soon. The publisher is working on the galleys. So it’s all moving forward!
I won’t have a lot to say in this post, but I am revealing the cover for Finding Frances:
I don’t have a release date yet, but should soon. The publisher is working on the galleys. So it’s all moving forward!
This sci-fi book isn’t my normal genre (anymore—when I was young, all I read was speculative fiction). So I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about it now. In the end, I quite enjoyed it.
Qole is a 17-year-old prodigy captain/pilot of the spaceship Kaitan. She is carrying on her family’s tradition of fishing for Shadow, a mysterious substance found in space that can be used as fuel, among other things. The whole setup is very reminiscent of Firefly, but I don’t mean in a derivative way. I’ve also seen comparisons to Dune.
The downside of being a fisherman of Shadow is that it poisons people exposed to it, making them lose their minds. But Qole is special because she appears to have some sort of resistance to it. In fact, she’s already “poisoned” by it but it has given her enhanced abilities rather than driving her crazy.
Nev couldn’t be more opposite from Qole. Where Qole and her ragtag crew are barely scraping by, Nev is a privileged prince. He also happens to be a very competent hand-to-hand fighter due to a lifetime of training. He has a special, very expensive blade that works some sort of magic (I mean that metaphorically—it’s future-science-based). And for reasons that eventually become clearer later, Nev’s family need Qole and her Shadow-resistance to save his family. Nev works his way onto Qole’s ship with the intention of convincing her to come with him, but it doesn’t end up being as easy as he’d hoped.
As this is YA, it’s not surprising that there is a bit of romance involved, but the story is much more than that. The characters are interesting and varied, the world-building is excellent, and pacing is pretty good (though I think it gets a little rushed near the end). Qole is tough and believable without being overly angsty. And the choices Nev has to make near the end are difficult but they work in the novel.
If you like space operas, you’ll dig this one. I plan to pick up the sequel some time.
All the Bright Places sort of destroyed me for a day, it was so emotionally demanding. I mean, the story took me through the wringer and once I’d finished it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it and reliving the emotions I’d felt while reading it. I came to the book without being aware of the hype and the comparisons to Eleanor and Park and The Fault in Our Stars. Despite that, Eleanor and Park was exactly the book it made me think of, not because of the story, but because of the emotional depth and the journey it took me on.
Mental illness and suicide are at the forefront of everything in the book, but the story goes beyond the mental illness to tell a story about two teenagers who seem unbelievably real. Violet Markey was in a car accident that killed her sister several months before the book begins. Violet blames herself for what happened and has pretty much stopped living. She just floats from day to day and slips further into depression. The things she used to care about most don’t matter to her at all anymore. One day her feet carry her to the top of her school’s six-story-tall bell tower.
That’s where she encounters Theodore Finch, the school’s resident “freak,” as the bullies call him. But Finch isn’t a freak—he’s a kid with a serious and treatable mental illness that he doesn’t understand or want to acknowledge. We don’t initially have a name for what’s wrong with him, but he loses track of time, sometimes seems to wake up with no memory of how he got places, goes days without sleeping, and at times has so much energy that he has to run for miles to feel normal again. It’s not hard to figure it out if you know a little about mental illness, but it doesn’t get named until close to the end.
Finch is self-aware despite being afraid of labels, which he thinks will lead to being mistaken for a mental illness. Here he is thinking about a breakdown he had:
It’s my experience that people are a lot more sympathetic when they can see you hurting, and for the millionth time in my life I wish for measles or smallpox or some other recognizable just to make it simple for me and also for them.
He’s not wrong.
Despite Finch’s obsession with death, I was convinced throughout that he does want to live, but that he needs to learn how. And he’s trying. Although he resists the efforts of the school counselor he’s required to see, there are moments when he’s almost honest with him. And one time he tells Violet that he gets into these moods that he can’t shake:
“Kind of black, sinking moods. I imagine it’s what being in the eye of a tornado would be like. All calm and blinding at the same time. I hate them.”
It’s a huge moment because he’s actually being open and honest about how he feels. But Violet doesn’t have enough experience with him to recognize it. She chalks it up to being a teenager. Earlier in the book, he describes his father’s black moods:
“Like, the blackest black. Like, no moon, no stars, storm’s coming black.
She doesn’t make the connection right away—but it’s sad, because why would she? She’s not a psychiatrist. She’s just a kid with not much real-world experience.
If Finch isn’t going to get through to Violet, someone who deeply cares about him, what about his family? Violet and Finch’s families are radically different. Violet’s parents are engaged with her even though they don’t really know what to do for her. Admittedly, they don’t catch on to how badly Violet’s handling her sister’s death—they don’t see the depression for what it is. Probably they should have gotten her into counseling other than the school counselor. But it’s not unbelievable that they wouldn’t think of it.
Finch’s family, on the other hand, is horrible. He has a physically abusive father and a super-detached mother who is herself likely suffering from depression after being dumped by Finch’s father. She pays no attention to Finch or his sisters and it’s a deeply frustrating situation for the reader throughout the book. It’s so obvious that something is really, really wrong. But again, it’s entirely believable that a family like this could exist. It’s also clear that whatever afflicts Finch also afflicts his father and that his father would never, ever admit to having a mental illness.
I’ve talked mostly about Finch here, but Violet’s journey is just as significant. With his help, she learns to live again—she overcomes things that scare her and starts wanting to enjoy herself again. Rather than living a day at a time, she starts planning ahead. It’s a very realistic and believable recovery, given that her depression had a specific trigger.
Although this book is about mental illness and suicide, it’s not overly message-y. It’s a great story written really well. It is told in dual perspective, and Violet and Finch’s voices are totally different and true to their situations. Niven loads the book with little details that make the characters and settings authentic and relatable (this is one of the things that makes it like Eleanor and Park for me—because Rowell is a master of important details). Her descriptions throughout are excellent. Here’s Finch thinking about how he sometimes feels:
[T]he headaches are part of it. It’s like my brain is firing so fast that it can’t keep up with itself. Words. Colors. Sounds. Sometimes everything else fades into the background and all I’m left with is sound. I can hear everything, but not just hear it—I can feel it too. But then it can come on all at once—the sounds turn into light, and the light goes too bright, and it’s like it’s slicing me in two, and then comes the headache. But it’s not just a headache I feel, I can see it, like it’s made up of a million colors, all of them blinding.
I really cannot recommend this book enough. It’s important and well-executed and everyone should read it for insight into authentic depression and suicidal ideations, as well as for the good story.
Have you ever wished to be a fly on the wall somewhere totally inaccessible to you? Gretchen Yee does, and, strangely and without explanation, she gets her wish.
It sounds weird—and it is—though it starts off a simple story about a girl attending a competitive arts high school in Manhattan. Gretchen is a little obsessed with superheroes—reading them, drawing them, and wanting to be one (who doesn’t, at least a little). She’s a bit of an oddball. She’s awkward around and confused about boys, although there is one she particularly likes, Titus. She has a single friend, Katya, who has become a little distant recently. Then some unexpected turmoil starts at home, causing her to have to take a hard look at her mess of a bedroom and really her life. She’s a bit of a pack rat but can’t imagine getting rid of any of the stuff she has.
Gretchen’s an interesting and well-developed character full of contradictions. She seems a little shy, but she’s not. She’s not afraid to tell of the realtor who asks if she’s adopted when she’s with her white mom (her dad’s Chinese). She’s a little immature for 16 and needs to grow up. But boys… boys just frustrate her. She wants to understand Titus but can’t figure him out.
One day after class, she manages to initiate a chat with him about a weekend museum assignment, which provides a perfect opportunity to suggest they go together. She chickens out, but not before making an observation I loved:
Titus bends over to pick his pencil off the floor. There’s a strip of skin between his shirt and the top of his jeans in the back. I can see the top of his boxers. Plain light blue.
She can’t figure out boys as a whole, especially after an interaction she has with Titus, her ex-boyfriend Shane, and three other guys:
As they move past us, Shane bangs a locker hard, just to make noise, and I jump.
Why do boys do stuff like that?
Then Shane pinches her butt and she wants Katya to tell her what it means. Katya tells her it means nothing and not to worry about it.
In frustration, Gretchen says, “I wish I was a fly on the wall of the boys’ locker room.” That evening when she goes home to an empty house because both of her parents are out of town, she reads some Kafka and bam. Fly.
She witnesses exchanges she never expected and finally comes to understand some things about Titus and boy politics. It’s not at all like she expected.
The book is a little unusual in style, alternating fonts when going between inner monologue and real-time story. I wasn’t really sure what the point of that was, to be honest, and I found it a little distracting. But then again, it sort of suited the general strangeness of the book. I mean, the girl becomes a fly for a week and we never come to learn how. But it’s fine—we just accept it and enjoy the book for what it is. An interesting story about a girl coming to terms with sexuality, really (without any sex involved, though there were a fair number of “gherkins” in sight).
This is definitely a fast read, coming in at under 200 pages. Even though there are fantasy elements, I still think of it as contemporary more than fantasy. Anyone who’s enjoyed other Lockhart books will like this one, and so will anyone looking for a complex 16-year-old girl trying to figure things out.
I don’t remember how I found out about this graphic novel, but I’m glad I did, because it was highly entertaining. Although art is generally a matter of personal preference, I liked it. The book features Nimona, a shapeshifter whose base form is that of a teenage girl, and Ballister Blackheart, the kingdom’s purported notorious villain. Blackheart has a vendetta against Ambrosius Goldenloin, who destroyed Blackheart’s right arm. These are the folks you see on the cover. The comic is set in a vaguely medieval world with advanced science. It’s clever and even subversive at times, all while managing to be hilarious.
Oh, and there are dragons.
Blackheart is in a bit of a rut as the kingdom’s supervillain, though his scientific experiments are continuing. He has an issue with killing people, so mostly he’s a nuisance. Enter Nimona, who shakes things up as his self-appointed sidekick.
She’s precocious and annoys him at first, but she’s relentless enough in her commitment to him and her interest in furthering his supervillain career that they take on the Institution of Law Enforcement, who Goldenloin works for.
Back in the day, Goldenloin and Blackheart were heroes in training, but now Goldenloin is the sole hero of the kingdom. The Institution isn’t as squeaky clean as they would have everyone believe. No, they’re carrying out dangerous experiments that are risking the health of the entire population. Things escalate and Blackheart and Nimona have several violent encounters with Goldenloin and/or the Institution, culminating in one big battle.
I loved the fact that Nimona doesn’t have a perfect model body—she’s got these big thighs that made me adore her. And I appreciate it all the more because she’s a shapeshifter, after all—she could take any form she wanted. I also loved that the kingdom’s legendary hero was a woman who slayed a giant scaled creature rumored to be a shapeshifter. The clever “mad scientist” that Blackheart turns to in an attempt to save Nimona is also a woman.
The major characters are all complex, but Nimona and Blackheart are both especially good. Nimona is damaged (as an abandoned child), impulsive and gung-ho about everything. Blackheart is always subdued and deadpan. And their father-daughter-like relationship is cute to watch.
Their dialogue is always funny and full of subtext giving sneaking glimpses into their insecurities. And there’s more than meets the eye with Blackheart and Goldenloin, reminiscent of Rainbow Rowell’s Carry On.
I’ll leave you with my favorite scene:
I listened to the audiobook version of A.S. King’s Ask the Passengers and a friend recommended another of her books, so when I was at Powell’s* when I was in Portland (Oregon) last weekend and spotted this book, I picked it up.
Like Ask the Passengers, this book has a little bit of magic in it, but it’s still solidly contemporary in my mind. It features Vera Dietz, an 18-year-old high school senior who also delivers pizza full-time because her dad thinks it’s good for her. First, I have to mention that the details about pizza delivery are spot-on. I “drove pizzas” for about 6 years, so I’d know if the author hadn’t done it herself or at least done her research.
The book is a little interesting in structure and in the way the story unfolds. Although the story is clearly Vera’s, we also get short chapters in other POV’s (Vera’s dad, her dead friend Charlie, even the town’s landmark pagoda) and the current story chapters are interspersed with the history of Vera and Charlie’s friendship. Then, King takes the idea that you should reveal to your reader only what they really need to know to an extreme (but not too far). Charlie is dead before the book starts, and we know very little about it other than something is up with his death. We also know that although they had been best friends for almost their whole lives, they’d had a falling-out not long before he died. We find out about a third of the way in that Charlie supposedly did something terrible before he died, but we don’t even find out what that is until about the 80% mark. King’s great at keeping the reader interested but not (quite) frustrated.
The story is really about Vera coming to terms with her family life and forgiving her best friend for A) betraying her, and B) then dying. She’s literally haunted by her knowledge of what actually happened to/with Charlie at the end, seeing thousands of ghosts of him at a time. The mystery of it comes together fairly quickly at the end.
Some people have mentioned that they thought this book was funny. I didn’t really find it so funny, because somehow I just took everything seriously, though there were definitely moments that made me laugh. There’s an ongoing joke about Charlie being a pickle (since “now he’s a series of molecules”) and some of the situations Vera finds herself in are ridiculous.
King is a great writer. The writing itself is very good—good dialogue, evocative descriptions, etc. Also Vera’s one of the most well-drawn characters I’ve read. She’s eighteen but still feels very much like a semi-lost but still college-bound teenager who lives at home, which she is. And Charlie—wow. He’s so unusual and not very appealing to me, but I had no question about what drew Vera to him, and even though he was deeply flawed, I did like him. The other characters in the book are also very believable and real. Her dad is frustrating and weird, but also such a dad. None of the other characters really gets a deep treatment (James, her older sort-of-boyfriend, and Jenny, Charlie’s girlfriend), but they both feel very three-dimensional, anyway.
Overall, it’s a very engrossing book that I’d recommend to anyone looking for something unusual to read.
* If you’re ever in Portland, you absolutely must go to Powell’s, a massive bookstore that is several stories and takes up an entire city block. They have over a million books.
If You Could Be Mine is set in modern-day Iran, which is definitely a setting I’m not very familiar with, so I was excited to read it. It’s narrated by Sahar, a seventeen-year-old lesbian, which is not okay in Iran. In fact, it’s illegal and the penalty can be as dramatic as death. The immediate problem for Sahar is that she has been in love with her friend Nasrin for as long as she can remember, and Nasrin loves her back. Of course, they spend a lot of time alone and this allows them to make out uninterrupted, so everything is fine.
Sahar’s mother is dead and her father is detached, so he has no idea. Nasrin’s parents, her mother in particular, are a little more observant. Consequently, they come up with a dramatic solution to save Nasrin from herself and the dire consequences if the girls are caught—they accept the proposal of a man who confesses love for Nasrin.
Sahar doesn’t take to this kindly, of course. She hates him, despite the fact that he’s a successful doctor and seemingly kind and even conventionally handsome. She’s desperate to stop the wedding even though Nasrin herself seems a little resigned. She seems to think they can continue in secret even after she’s married. Sahar doesn’t think that, and she instead comes up with her own dramatic solution. Because while homosexuality is illegal, transsexuality is not and the government will even pay for sex reassignment surgery. It seems perfect—she’ll become a man and she and Nasrin can simply get married.
But of course it’s not that easy. Sahar learns more about the surgery itself and thinks more about the consequences. Does she really want to be a man? What would things really be like if she and Nasrin married as man and woman? Also, is Nasrin truly worth that?
Sahar is a great character, increasingly self-aware as the book develops. She’s a little funny, too. For me, Nasrin didn’t come off so well. She was very believable, but a little selfish and silly for my taste. But there’s more going on in the book than the relationship between Sahar and Nasrin—Sahar’s father has some growing to do, himself. We also see Sahar risking her entire future with her fixation on the sex change, so we’re not sure how things are going to turn out. The book itself is a quick read, and I’d recommend it to anyone vaguely curious about homosexuality in Iran.
I mentioned in my previous post that I’d be attending the Pacific Northwest Writers Association’s Annual Conference. It’s a regional conference, but it’s also well-organized and respected across the country. Many editors and agents based in New York and other places come out for it. It went really well this year. And it was nice to see all my writing friends, too. 🙂
On Thursday I did a master class with Christopher Vogler, who interpreted Joseph Campbell’s anthropological studies of mythology and stories into a pseudo-formula for writers many years ago. It eventually came out as a book called The Writers Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, which provides a solid structure framework called the Hero’s Journey, which writers can use to construct a satisfying story. There’s some controversy about the true universality of this story structure (some feminists claim it only applies to men’s stories, for instance). My opinion is that while it is not the only possible good story structure, it can be a useful guide for almost any story. But there are definitely other story structures out there. Regardless, his class was good—Vogler’s a good speaker and he’s very emotionally involved in stories and his work with them, which really draws in the audience.
Thursday night, the keynote speaker was Natalie Baszile, author of Queen Sugar. I admit I hadn’t heard of this book, though I’ve bought it and intend to read it because it sounds good. Oprah even picked it up and made a TV show out of it, which is apparently quite good. I know a lot of people snootily look down on Oprah, but I think she generally has good taste in books. Anyway, Natalie’s talk was all about her journey to publication, which was… long. She peppered the speech with family stories, some of which were funny (the box of Louisiana delicacies that were shipped every year, only to arrive as a box of rotting meat) and some of which weren’t (her father growing up in Louisiana and experiencing the small-town embedded racism there).
Friday was all about pitching. I pitched a book I’m writing under a pen name to an editor and four agents and had good results. One of the agents had rejected Finding Frances two years ago so I asked if I could resend it and she said yes. On top of that, I had a request for the first 50 pages of Finding Frances from an editor at a large publisher. I’ll send it to the agent soon, but I’m going to wait until I hear back from the editor who’s already got it before sending it to the new editor.
On Saturday, I went to several different sessions, mostly about craft. One was on hooks and how important they are, especially at the end of scenes and chapters. I went to a session about writing nonfiction for kids, something I’ve thought about dipping my toes into. I went to another session on writing diversity, which had a bunch of great tips. Sunday I went to a session called Fearless Marketing, with Bill Kenower, the guy who wrote the recently-released Fearless Writing. He’s a little intimidating because he’s excessively passionate about everything, but the session was good. One final nice thing about the conference is that most of the sessions are recorded, so I bought fifteen of them on CDs. Gives me something to do on the horrible drive to and from work.
Starting this Thursday, I’m going to be at a writers* conference, run by the Pacific Northwest Writers Association. It’s 3.5 intense days of talking to writers, learning about writing, and learning about the business of writing. I’ve been the last two years, as well, and this time I’m staying at the hotel, which is expensive but saves me the hassle of the hour on the road every day, a drive which is especially frustrating because said day runs early morning to 9:00 or 10:00 at night.
I managed to get two pitch sessions. At PNWA, the sessions are kind of a mad house, quite different from ones I’ve done at other conferences. Here, you are in a room with 150 other people for an hour. Agents and editors sit behind a line of tables at the back of the room. And you line up in front of the one you want to pitch next, get four minutes with them when it’s your turn, and move on to the next line. Depending on the popularity of the people you want to pitch, you usually get two to four pitches done. It all sounds a little intimidating, but I actually have found it’s not. Most of the agents are nice, even if they say no. Still, it’s helpful to have a pitch semi-memorized so you don’t have to read off something. I’m meeting with a friend this evening to practice.
However, I have a dilemma. I can’t decide what to pitch. I feel like I should wait on feedback from the other people on Finding Frances before querying/pitching anyone else. Maybe I’ll get more feedback. I ended up sending the revised manuscript to the agent who said she’d take a second look. (Though the more time passes, the more I’m thinking I should have figured out more things to change…). I was originally planning to pitch Sadie Speaks, however, I just sent that to a freelance developmental editor and she came back with recommendations that I change almost everything. Now, I’m not going to, but many of her points do require some serious reworking. The other option is to pitch a romance I’m writing under my pen name, but I’m only halfway done with the third draft on that one, and that won’t be the final draft, for sure. One thing that is also different about this pitching is that they don’t have a rule that you have to have the manuscript ready to send—you can wait weeks or months to send it. So I could do either.
So, quandary. I guess I’ll prepare two pitches and practice them with my friend tonight and fly by the seat of my pants on Friday, pitch day.
* Okay, I admit I never know if that should be “writers’”, “writers”, or even “writer’s.” It drives me crazy, the not knowing.
The premise of this book is interesting—Helen was betrayed by her best friend, Lauren, in a monumental way at the end of eight grade, which made the promise of starting high school as the local pariah a bit of a nightmare. But Helen gets lucky and her family moves out of state before that can happen, so she gets to start high school in a new place where nobody knows what she supposedly did.
The book doesn’t show the next three years, but we learn in summary that Helen never forgot what Lauren did, even for a second. She spent the whole time plotting different ways to get revenge. She stalked Lauren a bit so she knew everything that mattered to her. Lauren’s become a cheerleader, is one of the It crowd, is very proud of her relationship with a popular boy, and is very active in drama. When Helen gets shipped off back to the midwest to return to her old school—now as a senior—she has a real multi-step plan to get back at Lauren. Basically, she’ll figure out a way to take away the four thing Lauren cares the most about.
So the question becomes, “Is revenge worth it?”
I’m not going to claim that this is a super-deep, philosophical book, but it does take an honest look at this question. Because Lauren’s betrayal really was spectacular, and in retrospect, it’s also clear to Helen that she was never even a good friend at all. Helen was always second best. Helen’s grandmother counsels her against revenge, but she proceeds with her plan. It goes rather swimmingly for a while, until things get a little out of hand. It’s fun to watch Helen try to handle it as best she can, even not everything can be fixed. It’s also interesting to see whether or not Lauren is really redeemed in the end.
I think this might qualify as a nice summer read. I don’t really do summer reads because I am not a fan of heat and sun, but I think I know what it means. So, if you want an entertaining book, go for it.
I’ve made a little more progress in making my house look like a real house. I finished painting last weekend and then manually extracted each stupid carpet-pad staple from the subfloor. I got about 75% of the drywall compound off the floor by mopping it earlier in the week, making a bucket full of drywall mud in the process. I primed the floor in two coats so now it’s solid white (well, it’s two different whites because I had to use the two different primers, but still). At least it’s not subfloor-colored with various colors of paint and plaster all over it. I mean, it looks ridiculous, but if you use your imagination, you can sort of see a great room in there. (I don’t mean a “great” “room”, but a “great room”.)
Friday I got my Ikea furniture delivered—in 12 boxes. Sigh. I spent most of yesterday alternating between painting the floor and putting the furniture together.
Yay! Marvin only left his paw prints on some of them.
Okay, so I wasn’t 100% successful. You try it. It will be so nice when it’s really all together. I have a couple of rugs to put down once the floor is more properly dry, and then I’m hoping the electrician will finally come and finish all that work up (I still have no heaters and have an ancient chandelier), and then I really will get the rest of the furniture put together. I can’t wait.
Really, it can happen. I’m convinced.
Oh, and on top of that, my last class finished a couple weeks ago so I’ve finally been able to get back to my writing, like I should. I’m working on getting Sadie Speaks ready to query at the PNWA conference in mid-July, so that’s a lot of work, but it will be good to start getting that one out there.
First off, I have to mention that I never watch movies. I’m not exaggerating much—the last movie I saw in the theater was The Hunger Games (that would be the first one), which of course I enjoyed because it was true to the book. I rarely watch them at home, too. There are reasons for this. Second of all, I must also mention that although I quite like graphic novels*, I have never particularly been into the superhero genre. So I went to this movie as a fresh and naïve viewer. I’m not going to give a plot summary here, but instead just look at some of the aspects of it.
I did enjoy the movie. When I do get around to watching a movie, if it’s any good, it totally sucks me in and makes me feel like I’m in some twilight zone for a while even after it’s over, and usually also makes me cry at some point near the end. This one did all that. Additionally, it made me want to go out and learn to fight, something that hasn’t happened since I binge-watched Buffy.
I didn’t even mind (too much) the fact that Wonder Woman was nearly naked most of the time, because on her home island, at least it made sense—why not be comfortable? There were no men around to harass all the women. Confining clothes aren’t great for physical training. And I was surprised, but her sort of weird and ostensibly ineffectual weapons actually worked for me in the movie. I mean, it’s hard to imagine a lasso being too impressive, or a bullet-repelling shield and bracelets, being all that powerful, but I thought it was okay. Plus, there was a fancy sword added to the mix.
However, I have the same issues with it that I very often have with movies (one of the main reasons I prefer TV shows to movies): character development and story. There usually isn’t time in a couple hours to do justice to both. First, while Diana/Wonder Woman herself and the pilot Steve Trevor were developed well enough for me, the supporting characters were flat. Three diverse characters went along with Steve and Diana to the front, a Scot, an Arab, and a Native American, and they weren’t developed at all. They were just sort of there. The same goes for the secretary, who was funny, though.
And the story. There were several points in the movie where I didn’t know why certain things were happening. Take, for instance, the infamous No-Man’s-Land scene, where Diana makes her way across the area between the Allies and German trenches by simply walking with her shield out. She blocks all their gunfire with said shield. First she’s by herself, but then Steve and his buddies follow. For some reason, the soldiers keep shooting at her rather than targeting them. By the time she gets there, all the soldiers are so freaked out that they run off. Now, I didn’t get why they were so freaked out. She wasn’t even attacking—just blocking the bullets. I’d think they’d more likely be transfixed and think she was a god or something magical. There were also some pivotal moments where all the characters seemed to understand what was going on even though I didn’t think it had been communicated.
I guess a big question is whether or not it was really feminist. I’m not sure. Though it is definitely a good thing to have a woman director breaking in in Hollywood—I don’t doubt that. But the movie itself is about female strength—but not normal female strength, just unnatural, female demi-god strength. Does that really empower the rest of us mortals? I’m not sure again. I mean, I suppose in the context of the superhero genre, it does. Most of the male superheroes out there have super-human traits and we still assume they’re celebrating men’s strength. But a bigger problem for me was Diana’s naïvety. She comes across as very simple and idealistic at times, not grasping what’s in front of her. I know she was sheltered from the real world, but still, it made me a little uncomfortable.
Anyway, I guess it’s up for people smarter than me to decide.
* Fables, I’m so sad you’re gone, even if you did get a little weird at the end
Such a Pretty Girl isn’t a long book, but it packs a lot in a little package. The back cover copy makes it sound like a dark and disturbing story—fifteen-year-old Meredith’s father is being released from prison after serving just three years of his eight-year sentence—and it is a dark and disturbing tale. Her father’s coming home, putting her in great danger. We don’t know exactly why, but we get a sense that something is very wrong. (Actually, kudos to the back cover-writer, because it actually really triggers your curiosity without revealing much, all while managing to remain wholly true to the book.)
Meredith’s father went to prison for abusing several boys in the neighborhood, and everyone hates her for it. She’s a pariah. But it’s even worse than that, because he also assaulted her. And she knows she’s not going to be safe when he returns.
Now, technically, he isn’t moving back into Meredith’s apartment with her and her mom. Because he’s not supposed to be alone with Meredith. No, but he’s got an apartment in the same complex. Officially, he’s reformed and being let out for that and good behavior. But she’s not a naive twelve-year-old anymore and she knows he’s going to come after her again. After all, there were no kids in his prison, so of course he behaved.
Meredith’s mom is a serious piece of work. She is infatuated with Meredith’s father, who she’s been with since she was twelve and he was sixteen. She is basically an overgrown child herself, unwilling to share him. It’s hard to tell if she simply doesn’t believe what he did to Meredith or if she’s only jealous. She doesn’t take the law seriously, either—Meredith’s father is over at their apartment all the time, and she leaves him there while Meredith is home. When Meredith confronts her about this, her response is the classy, “You won’t let it go, will you?” Some people might find it hard to believe a mom could be like this, but it’s realistic—there really are women out there like that. I went to school with a girl who had a mom like that.
One of the obvious questions is, why doesn’t the law do more to protect Meredith? Well, this is one of the problems with the law, really. It’s pretty rubbish at protecting people. People don’t get arrested just for having the potential for violence (which is right, of course). But sometimes the threat of violence is so great that you really do know it’s inevitable, yet still nothing can be done. In Meredith’s case, her mother definitely could do more to protect her, but she is so addicted to him that she doesn’t care. And definitely the people responsible for the conditions of his release could have made them far more restrictive, but the authorities aren’t always on the victim’s side. For instance, a woman with the Iowa Coalition Against Domestic Violence told me about a case where a man drove over his wife’s legs with the car—he was trying to kill her but missed. What happened to him? He was offered and plead guilty to driving with a revoked license. That was it. So although it’s unlikely Meredith would have been left so completely unprotected, it is feasible.
Fortunately, Meredith does have some allies in the complex. One is her boyfriend, Andy, and the other is a former cop (the one who arrested her father) named Nigel. Andy was one of Meredith’s father’s early victims, and his mother is out to get him for it. Andy wants to help protect her from her father, but he has his own life to live and sort of abandons her right after her father arrives. Nigel helps her figure out her options. She also has a grandma in town, but she’s not exactly aggressive in trying to ensure Meredith’s protected. It’s a little odd that she doesn’t try harder, but again, totally feasible. Not all families are functional.
In the end, Meredith solves the problem herself. The book wasn’t exactly a joy to read, but it was very satisfying to watch a girl deal with a bad situation. After you finish it, you will want to wash your hands. The subject matter is icky.
I am really bummed because I haven’t been able to do any writing (unless you count blog posts) for a couple weeks and won’t be able to for another couple. I’m taking a certificate course in data science that’s wrapping up with a huge, time-consuming project. On top of that, I’m trying to finish painting my entire downstairs so I can get an electrician out here to install new heaters (not that I need them right now…) and a few other electrical things. On top of all that, I have critiquing I have to do and places I need to be.
Not to mention that it’s supposed to be a holiday weekend and I technically have tomorrow off, but I still have to do some work from home.
Life is so hard sometimes. Wah.
Anyway, it’s weird to not be writing and I feel sort of like I’m forgetting to do something fundamental, like eat.
As soon as my scheduled clears up again, I’m getting right back to Sadie Speaks. I’m in the process of incorporating some more feedback on it from one of my critique partners. I did a first pass through but there are some larger issues to address. Still, I’m planning to have it ready before the PNWA conference, which is in the second half of July, because I plan to pitch it there. This will be the first time I pitch it. I’ve kind of gotten sick of pitching the first one, Finding Frances, although I do have three full requests out on it right now—one with an editor at Sourcebooks and two with agents. I feel like it’s run its course. With Sadie Speaks, I’ll be querying people I already queried with Finding Frances. But hopefully someone will be interested in it and then will also read Finding Frances and feel tremendous regret at not recognizing its brilliance the first time around.
Sure. Here’s a picture of my downstairs, which is a vast improvement over the last picture I shared. There are many hours of work poured into it. The contractors took down that tacky little half wall, resurfaced the ceiling, and installed new drywall as well as replaced the subfloor around the walls (so it doesn’t smell anymore (!)). I’ve also primed everything, including the ceiling. So much work, and now I still have to take all that paint out of those four cans and apply it to the walls and ceiling. Have you ever painted a ceiling? It sucks. Note that the chandelier in the foreground of the photo is so going away. The box on the floor has its replacement. I can’t wait.
And here’s a picture of Marvin, for no reason.
Before I Die (also called Now Is Good, though I prefer the former) is really a remarkable book. I’ve never read another one like it. It’s definitely the kind of story that stays with you. There are other books about teenagers who are dying, but this one feels different.
Tessa is sixteen and she has terminal leukemia. She has months left to live and is struggling with what to do with herself in her time left. She makes a list of things she wants to experience before she dies. They are pretty reasonable to me, given her age, even if some seem silly: to have sex, say yes to everything one day, break the law, be famous, drive, get her parents back together, and finally experience love. She’s a very level-headed girl and knows that the last is impossible in her situation, but a last bit of bittersweet luck allows her to meet a boy who does fall for her.
We’re dropped right into Tessa’s world. She’s been dealing with the cancer for four years and she’s sullen and feeling a little sorry for herself, but who wouldn’t be? She feels cheated and is having a hard time dealing with it. When she starts focusing on carrying out the items on the list, she finds they don’t bring her the satisfaction she hopes for. She starts paying attention to other things and notices little details about the world that most of us miss, imbuing them with personal importance. A bird flying in a straight line across the sky; light bursting through a hole in a cloud.
One of my favorite things about the book is her dad. He’s so sweet despite the fact that he is heartbroken. He really listens to Tessa in a way I think many parents would struggle to do in the same circumstances. She can say one thing and he knows that she really means something else. He’s trying to still parent her even while giving her a great deal of autonomy since they all know there’s no point in teaching her things about life since she’s not going to get to live it. He sets rules, she disobeys him, and he forgives her. The other characters are also good. There’s her insensitive eleven-year-old brother who alternates between telling her horrible things and expressing his love for her in his awkward way. Her friend Zoey isn’t the nicest person, but she’s a friend and she’s got a lot going on in her own life. Tessa’s mom is never going to win mother of the year, but she is believable and finally sort of comes through in the end. Then there’s Adam. The one weakness in the book to me was that I didn’t quite see why he fell in love with Tessa, but if you just accept that that sometimes happens, it works and he’s a good guy.
There was a quietness to the writing itself that made the experience of reading it more powerful. Through the book, Tessa experiences several rages and if you aren’t paying attention you would miss the intensity of them. But if you are paying attention, they are heartbreaking. The book will definitely take you on an emotional ride. It’s the kind of thing that makes you cry when you’re reading it, then makes you cry again later when you accidentally think about it.