The Hate-Mongering Tart

THE TART HAS MOVED!

2010-03-04T12:28:00.004-06:00

I got a freakin' dot com! So hold onto your hats and head on over to www.ekristinanderson.com!

Appropriately enough, one of the first posts over there is going to be about the EPIC giveaway I'm having for UNSUNG YA. So, seriously, don't miss that. Tell your friends, update your RSS feeds and your Google Reader. Eat vegetables. (That last part only if you want to. I'm currently eating a whoopie pie for breakfast.)

LOVE YOU ALL!

xEmily

There will be a giveaway on this blog!

2010-03-02T14:08:00.004-06:00

Yes, you read that right. I will soon be doing a giveaway on this blog, based on the fabbity fab Unsung YA Heroes Project! I am looking to feature some authors here, so if you or a friend are one of the authors featured in my previous post and want to help me out, leave me a comment and I'll send you an email!

If you're a reader of this blog who just wants in on the giveaway action (duh, that's what I'd be interested in), keep watching The Tart. IT WILL COME. In the mean time, check out these videos, as I am now addicted to video blogging:

Vlogging is still not a word. I swear.

2010-02-27T00:47:00.002-06:00

So. I decided to pick video blogging back up, mostly inspired by my friends K.A. Holt and P.J. Hoover (the latter of which is a CAMCORDER NINJA) who do fabulous vlogs. Here's my first, it's long-winded, but James assures me it's "funny." We'll see how this goes.

Distractions are my friend. That's what I'll keep telling myself.

2010-02-20T20:01:00.008-06:00

Okay. So I've been neglecting this blog again and I 'm going to tell myself that it's because I've been in my revisions cave. Funny how my revisions cave looks EXACTLY like my living room. And who put these cats here? Jeez.

But you know, it's hard to stay in the revisions cave. Sometimes really shiny things come up. Today I spent a good amount of time working on the playlist for the main character in MYSELF BEHIND MYSELF (formerly called HISTORY) so that I could revise when I was done. But what did I do when I was done? I IMed my friend James to tell him what I was doing and then when he said he wanted to see my awesome playlist (it is awesome) I told him I would put it up on last.fm. And when I finished putting that one up, I put all my project playlists up. And uploaded art. Fun!

Oh yes, it is super fun to procrastinate by making pretend cover art for your books. I shared some for previous projects in a past blog post, but here is my mock cover for 1999. Look! It's so colorful and cute! I used free stock art from sites like morguefile.com and deviantart.com.

I also counted all the swear words in MYSELF BEHIND MYSELF. Why? Because I can. Scrivener -- a writing program that, incidentally, changed my life -- has a text statistics option that lets you count how many times you use certain words. MYSELF BEHIND MYSELF drops 28 F bombs in it's third draft. There are 31 variations of shit and 7 instances of taking Jesus' name in vain, including 3 where Christ is included. I am sad to say, right this second, there are no douches. I will work on that.

This option also allowed me to tell my mother, upon sending her the first draft for 1999, that this book has much more swearing than my previous manuscript and that I didn't want to hear about how offensive it is. She claims she can handle it. But you'll be happy to know it has 3 creative uses of douche/douchebag. My characters, apparently, have potty mouths. Unlike ANYONE I know...

I've been watching Olympic hockey games and telling myself that I can totally watch and revise at the same time but OH NO WE ARE SLAUGHTERING RUSSIA GO TEAM USA. Right. Women's hockey rules, and instead of actually getting any work done, I'm generating ideas for new books while screaming at the television. Also, this week my buddy Kyle explained curling to me in such a comprehensive manner that I mostly understand it and can now watch the sport with interest. Crap.

And of course there's one of the best excuses in the world: my cat is sitting on my manuscript. I know, this is right up there with "my dog ate my homework." But, you know, sometimes the truth is the truth. I mean, look. Turkleton is a very needy cat. He spends a lot of time vying for my attention, always in contention with this strange laptop machine that I'm always staring at and clicking on. When he can actually, physically PWN his rival, he's going to do it. (Telemachus, for those of you wondering, doesn't care if I'm writing, as long as I give him his own pen to chew on. Much easier to deal with.) Let's also take the time to note that, in his spare time, Turkleton also likes to sit on my phone, my keys, books I have open and am trying to read, and my arms while I'm trying to type.

Naturally there's also this classic distraction, the internet. Between micro-blogging on Twitter and this long and rambling post I'm writing right now, the web is a fun distraction that sucks up a lot of time. Of course, it is useful procrastination, right? Twitter is a great resource for meeting and chatting with other authors and industry professionals. And this insight into the glamorous life of being a yet-unpublished-YA-author is sure to, uh, help someone else along, right? And sometimes I even research things like chupacabras and 1990s pop culture items that have escaped my memory.

Hey, at least I haven't turned on my TV yet today. And it's not like YOU'RE writing right this second, are you? That's what I thought.

Writing for Young People is NOT a Lesser Art Form

2010-02-05T22:44:00.017-06:00

This evening I have been participating in a hashtag conversation on Twitter: #whyYArocks. This was tarted by the illustrious Ellen Hopkins in response to a review of BEAUTIFUL CRE ATURES by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl. (Psst, here's Margaret's take on the whole fandangle.) The review is generally lovely and positive. However, the reviewer implies what a lot of our society echoes: readers of young adult literature are lonely people, that they aren't as discerning as adult readers, and that young adult books aren't so much literature as they are something fluffy we give to teens to tide them over until they can read "the big books."

It's a trend I've seen in a lot of other articles over the past few years, and it saddens me as both a writer and a reader of young adult books. For one thing, teenagers are some of the least casual readers I've met. They can tell me exactly what plot point an author forgot to follow through on, what sort of continuity errors are in the third book of series X, and specific reasons they'd vote for a character for president. They read in many different genres, whereas many adult readers limit themselves to one type of book, or even just one author.

This trend, looking down upon books for young readers, is also disturbing because it implies that a writer of young adult or kids' books is less of an artist than a writer of adult books. It is a different, art, yes. In some ways, it could be argued that writing for young adults is even more important than writing for adults. But, nonetheless, young adult (and kids') books run the literary gamut just as much as adult writing. There may be "fluffy" romances and "generic" thrillers, but there are also thoughtful dystopian novels, hearty historical fictions that many adults wouldn't tackle reading, hard-hitting books about real issues and mind-bending high fantasies that give Tolkein a run for his money. We have vampire fiction that touches on everything from Romanian mythology to social class and elitism to classic literature. We have novels that cross political lines and address social taboos and don't apologize. I've included an example of each of these types of YA literature in this post.

YA writers are not writing with a handicap. Our work does not need to be judged on a different scale.

YA books can be as sophisticated or as light as any adult novel, yet adult reviewers and the literary elite look at the books (and their readers) as second class citizens. I have talked to countless authors who claim that they have been asked by friends and family "Yes, it's great that you sold your children's book. Now when are you going to write a real novel?" That breaks my heart.

As someone who sits on both sides of the fence -- I'm both a "snotty" poet and a "lowly" YA writer -- I just want to see this end. If Rowling and Meyer are any indication, the market for books for young readers has evolved over the last decade in a way that makes juvenile fiction accessible in a whole new way. Not only are children buying books and thinking of authors as other generations have thought of rock stars, but adults of all ages are choosing to include young adult and children's fiction as part of their literary diet. It's not going away. And it's about time this huge section of your local library is given the props it deserves.

I challenge you, whomever you are stumbling across this blog, to go to your local library or bookstore and ask the staff for a literary YA novel. They won't laugh or sneer or even puzzle over it, if they're worth their salt. They'll give you a whole stack of options. And when you've somehow managed to choose which to read first, when you've taken the plunge and devoured this novel, I guarantee you this: If you weren't on board to begin with, you'll be ready to join the YA Revolution.

Things I've been reading, plus whacky dreams of David D.

2010-02-01T23:07:00.006-06:00

It's a gross, cold, rainy day here in Austin so I thought maybe I'd finally come through on some promised reviews for my blog readers. I've mostly been reading contemporary YA lately, while taking breaks to read ten or so pages each night from CRYPTOZOOLOGY A-Z by Loren Coleman (from Maine!) and Jerome Clarke. Yes, it's research for a book I want to write, but, let's be honest -- the book was on my Amaz*n wishlist for like two years before my novel idea gave me an excuse to buy it. Let me just tell you: it's fascinating.

The first book I want to tell you about is GIRL FROM MARS (Groundwood Books 2008) by Tamara Bach, translated from the German by Shelley Tanaka. This book has garnered multiple awards and much praise in its native Germany, but the only reason I even know about it is that in my past job as a bookseller I saw it in a catalog. Only 29 people on LibraryThing have it, and to me, that's a travesty. It's a beautiful story of first love, told in the quirky voice of Miriam, a self-described plain fifteen-year-old girl in a small town who dreams, like many of us, of getting out and living a fabulous big-city life. She wishes she were beautiful and popular and spends every morning commiserating in the girls' restroom with her two best friends, Ines and Suse. Then enters Laura, with her wild black hair and carefree attitude, who rolls her own cigarettes and goes to clubs. Miriam is instantly enchanted, and begins to feel something she's never felt before, especially for a girl. GIRL FROM MARS is beautifully written, and rife with genuine emotion. This is a book that should not be ignored, and I urge anyone who can to track down a copy. It will make your heart ache in all the right ways.

I also recently read LEFTOVERS (Orca Books, 2009) by Heather Waldorf , which is also with a small publisher. This one wasn't quite as intense as I'd expected -- one of its core themes is sexual abuse -- and I found the author's treatment of this theme a little too light. However, the story was compelling. Taking place on a small island in the St. Lawrence River (close to Ottowa, Ontario), this is the story of Sarah Greene, who, after stealing and crashing her mom's boyfriend's car, is sentenced to community service at Camp Dog Gone Fun, a charity that treats misfit dogs to a summer of leisure. What her the judge, her fellow campers, and even her mother and her boyfriend, Tanner, don't know is that the reason she freaked out was that having her picture taken freaks her out. So when Tanner got out his brand new digital camera and asked Sarah to smile, all she could think of was the "secret" nude photos her dad had been taking of her up until he choked on a piece of steak and died. At the camp, though, Sarah throws herself into the work, cooking meals for her fellow delinquents and fin ding companionship not only in her special project -- a wild, enormous pup named Judy -- but also in Sullivan, the director's stepson. If she lets herself, this could be the summer that allows Sarah to heal, and her unexpected friendships with everyone at Camp Dog Gone Fun -- four-legged and biped alike, might just get her through. While I would have liked to see more grit in the story, LEFTOVERS ultimately makes a painful story of sexual abuse more accessible for readers who might not otherwise pick it up. Dog lovers will appreciate the canine hijinx and stories of rehabilitation, and Sarah's wacky sense of humor and conversational narrative shine a light at the end of the tunnel. This is a lovely, fast read that will find a place in the hearts of many young readers.

I'll admit it -- I'm obsessed with the show Hoarders. I think part of me is always afraid that my pack-ratty-ness make me susceptible to that extreme. But shows like Hoarders don't always show the human side of this serious, clinical illness, and DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS (Walker Books for Young Readers, 2010) by C.J. Omololu gave me a real look at what it's like to grow up in a hoarding home. Lucy is a typical teen in most ways -- she goes to school, she has a best friend, she likes music and coffee and has a crush on a boy. But what her friends don't know is that her house is full of stuff -- stuff that her mom has collected over years and years and refuses to throw away. Her older brother and sister have both grown up and gone away, leaving Lucy alone with her mom, who has let the house get so bad that there is no longer hot water, let alone the smells coming from the kitchen. When Lucy comes home one day to find that the unthinkable has happened, she begins a mad dash to try and clean up the mess that her mother has spent years building before anyone can see what her life is really like. DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS brilliantly takes place in a period of about 24 hours, utilizing carefully-placed memories to fill in the blanks of Lucy's difficult life in a family that has ceased to function. While I felt the ending came to quickly (sequel, please!) I absolutely could not put this book down and I highly recommend it to anyone who has enjoyed YA books by Laurie Halse Anderson, Elizabeth Scott, or Judy Blume. (Yes, I just invoked The Judy.) Go find your local indie and pick up a copy ASAP.

Right now I'm reading THE MAZE RUNNER by James Dashner, which I'm finding a bit slow to start -- does anyone who read this already want to weigh in? I also would like to state, for the record, that I had a sexy dream about David Duchovny last night, but it was ruined by his MULLET. What?! Also, I've had "Thinking of You" by Hanson (yes, really) stuck in my head since I woke up morning. Mostly it just makes me want to call my sister and reminisce, but I think she's blocked out most of 1998 pretty well.

Austin SCBWI recap. Whoa, longest most awesome day ever!

2010-01-31T16:33:00.002-06:00

So on Saturday I attended my first ever SCBWI conference. IT WAS AWESOME! No one made fun of my pimples or roots and I even made new friends and learned things! It was so fun to catch up with a lot of my writer buds, whom I haven't seen in a while, not to mention meeting some of my friends who live in my computer for the first time!

Here are some exclamation points! For good measure!

The whole event, as usual, started with TRAVEL DRAMA. I am still a pedestrian, and getting to remote, busless places like Cedar Park is difficult for me. Fortunately, my amazing friend Jessica Lee Anderson offered up the idea of having a sleepover at her house (okay, it was more of a stay-up-all-night-because-we're-too-excited-to-sleep-over, but whatever) where I presented her with A DOG SNUGGIE. Jess is more than an amazing critique partner, but someone I'm lucky to call a BFF. She gave me great advice on what to expect at the conference and a jillion reasons I shouldn't be nervous. PS, if you haven't read her latest book, BORDER CROSSING, get the eff on that. It rocks. Jess recently gave an interview here, btw, which is a must-read.

We got there at the butt-crack of dawn, and it was COLD out! Not Texas cold, but normal people cold. Luckily, the Austin SCBWI croud is WARM and welcoming, so the second we arrived the chill melted away. The muffins helped. One of the first people I saw at breakfast was Shelli Cornelison who I know from YALITCHAT on twitter. She introduced me to Nikki Loftin and a group of lovely ladies at breakfast. Here is a picture of breakfast that I lovingly stole from Jo.

Former editor and current agent Mark McVeigh gave an opening presentation, in which he explained that the publishing industry is not in collapse, but in transition. He gave several arguments for accepting the digital revolution. "There will always be people who want hardcover books," he said, comparing these people to today's vinyl aficionados. He made the point that most people were no longer buying CDs, especially young people. Whenever people talk about ebooks and the digitizing of the publishing industry, my brain goes right to that scene from UGLIES, where Tally discovers the old library in the Smoke and all the paper books and magazines that are unrecognizable relics to her and her peers. I find it terrifying. But, McVeigh is right. "We are all running scared," he said. "Use that fear." He also suggested writing outside our comfort zones as a cure for writer's block: "Rub your muse the wrong way."

Over there is a picture Jo Whittemore took of Brandi November Lyons and, yes, that's me, looking, supposedly "sassy and cute." Okay, Jo. I think it's a little more "half-crazed, early-morning style." But, whatever you say! We were waiting for our critiques in the "holding cell."

I had my first critique of the day with the adorable Sara Lewis Holmes, author of OPERATION YES, which I am so very looking forward to reading. Sara's advice was practical in every way. She had HISTORY, which is my completed YA contemporary, and I have always felt there was something missing in the first few chapters. With Sara's suggestions (and some from Shana Burg, later in the day), I think I know how to make HISTORY a million times stronger than it is now.

Cheryl Klein, editor extraordinaire from Arthur A. Levine Books (Scholastic), was one of my favorite presenters of the day. She gave a lot of wonderful information on picture book writing -- a genre I am just beginning to try. One wonderful bit of advice she gave was that picture books should be centered in a real childhood emotion, like like of power. Delightfully, she added, "You have to get rid of the parents, because parents are like the anti-power." She also introduced us to (Laurie Halse) Anderson's Law: Plot = Compulsion vs. Obstacles.

At this point in the day I had an amazingly helpful critique with local lady P.J. "Tricia" Hoover, author of THE EMERALD TABLET and TH E NAVEL OF THE WORLD. It was so nice to sit down with Tricia, as she's someone I often talk to about books and writing, but never really about my books and writing. Since I knew that Tricia loves mythology and sci fi, I sent her pages my unfinished paranormal project, HARKNESS BEACH. The first thing she told me was that she loved the story but the voice felt female. This was so important to hear -- my narrator is a teen guy and I need to make him sound more dudely. Tricia also recommended a few books that she thinks share similar themes and will help me figure out my voice and pacing. Yesterday I started writing some new scenes for HARKNESS BEACH, which I've had a hard time working on lately. This book has a whole new lease on life!

I had a great lunch with Kelly J. Holmes of YAnnabe, founder of the Unsung YA Heroes Project! Funny thing: we found each other twittering during a presentation and made plans to meet up at lunch. Oh, intarnets! I also met the fabulous Tessa Burns, who ended up giving me a ride back into town (thankyouthankyouthankyou) and Lynne Kelly Hoenig, another of my YALITCHAT buds. Guys. Seriously. I cannot express enough how awesome twitter is for connecting with other writers in your community, not to mention writers you wouldn't normally get to talk to. GET ON IT.

Another of my favorite presenters was author Kirby Larson, whose book HATTIE BIG SKY is a Newbery Honor title. She was funny and delightful and full of witty advice. My favorite? She told us we had to "write through the bad stuff." Meaning, life gets in the way of writing. Shit happens, but the only way to get to the other side is to slog through it. She also gave us some great quotes from other folks: "Inspiration is not a gift" from Madeleine L'Engle and "Frustration is a sign of seriousness" from Ralph Keyes.

Around this time I had two more critiques. Chris Barton, Austinite and Sibert Honor author of THE DAY-GLO BROTHERS and the upcoming (can't wait for this!) SHARK VS. TRAIN, took a look at MOON YETI and knew exactly what it needed: a real plot. Ha! Like I said, picture books are new to me. He asked me some import questions about character motives. I have a lot of work to do on MOON YETI, but with Chris' help, it will get there.

Immediately after my critique with Chris, I got to sit down with the amazing Shana Burg, local author of A THOUSAND NEVER EVERS, who always has good writing advice (I loved her presentation at one of the previous SCBWI meetings, during which she shared some marvelous tips on character development). Shana had fabulous advice, and suggested some bold suggestions to the opening of HISTORY. She thinks it should be more spooky, and I totally agree. I'm going to be doing some reworking of this book in the near future before sending out too many more query letters.

Lisa Graff, former editor and author of Texas Bluebonnet List titles THE THING ABOUT GEORGIE and THE UMBRELLA SUMMER (the later of which has been on my TBR list since I first saw it in publisher's catalog) gave a very entertaining talk about how to be a writer and your own editor, and why you shouldn't wear your writer and editor hats at the same time. My favorite tidbit from her presentation? "An author knows what a genius he is, an editor knows you could do better." Basically, as an author, you have to believe that what you are writing as amazing and valuable and world-changing. You have to believe in it, or you'll never get anything done. But when you attack it as an editor, you also have to believe that you have the ability to improve it, and make it the best it can be. At some point Tim's photgrapher caught me furiously scribbling notes and looking out-of-my-mind. I like to call this "Portrait of the Artist as a Young Crazy Person."

At the end of the day we had a short panel with several of the featured local SCBWI authors. My favorite parts? Philip Yates, author of my favorite Christmas picture book, A PIRATE'S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS, wrote a poem about getting an agent by name-dropping all the amazing Austin talent. He also confesses that he likes to print out his manuscripts and read them aloud to his cat. And Shana Burg professed that she approaches revisions "like a daredevil...open to any suggestion." She said you have to make painful changes, and, that is one thing I am going to take seriously in my upcoming revision process.

So I've got a lot to do this week. For now I'm focusing on HARKNESS BEACH, but I've always got my crop rotation process to fall back on. It may be time to start revising 1999 (my Y2Kpocalypse novel) in the near future. And of course I have amazing critiques to work with for MOON YETI and HISTORY. I started reading THE MAZE RUNNER by James Dashner last night, per P.J. Hoover's suggestion, and I'm super intrigued by it. My next post should have some book reviews. In the mean time, I hope you all have a great week, writing, reading, and otherwise!

Really silly things I'm worrying about right now. Le sigh.

2010-01-28T23:09:00.008-06:00

So the SCBWI Austin conference is this weekend and I'm totally excited. All of my Austin writing friends will be there (except for poor Kari, for whom we will be tweeting) and then of course there's the special guests like out-of-town authors and agents and editors.

Oh, wait. VIPs are coming! I am TERRIFIED of VIPs! VIPs en masse could give me a heart attack! I'm all twitchy.

So instead of thinking of important things like how I might pitch my novel if asked or what questions I'll ask other authors I'm meeting for the first time or what I'm supposed to bring I'm worrying about the following:

I have two zits on my forehead and they are getting kind of huge and what if they don't go away before the conference?
(Because obviously someone with zits can't write a decent manuscript and should be shunned.)

I noticed yesterday that I'm getting major rootage and my dye job is fading.
(Because no agent in his right mind would sign a pseudoredhead. If ginger kids have no souls, what on earth is in store for a faker?)

What if someone asks me about my book and I completely forget the plot?
(Because, you know, even though I spent a year and a half of my life having conversations in my head with a made up character this is totally likely.)

What if I fall asleep in the middle of a presentation because the conference starts so early and I don't really like coffee and I can't figure out how to sugar up the coffee provided enough so that I can actually drink it and, BAM, catching z's.
(Because coffee is rocket science. Only rocket scientists can make it. That is why Starbucks is secretly run by NASA.)

In my sleepy stupor my Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome will flare up and I'll either make an inappropriate Freudian slip or say something ridiculous and make someone important hate me.
(Because it's not like I've ever made a good impression on someone. Of course not!)

The list goes on. Does anyone else get the jitters before an event like this? It's a great opportunity, and it will be hugely informative, but I know it's also going to be big-time fun. Clearly, I need to chill out. And that's why the world is blessed with pharmaceuticals.

In the future: I plan to blog about a few books I've read lately. Feel free to tell me what you've been reading down in them there comments. I love reading suggestions. Now I'm off to finish Girl from Mars by Tamara Bach (sososososo good) while listening to Catatonia. Goodnight.

Unsung YA! or The Greatest YA You Haven't Read (plus a few bonuses) = longest blog ever

2010-01-20T22:14:00.004-06:00

It's that time of year: "best of" lists are flying around the blogosphere. Everyone's talking about their favorite books of 2009. And we've been seeing a lot of repeats.

Which isn't to say any of these books are undeserving of recognition - there's a reason so many people love GOING BOVINE! It's a fabulous, hysterical, heartbreaking, ridiculous read! BUT, there have been a lot of books in recent years that completely flew under the radar, and that's where this project comes in. Over at YAnnabe, Kelly used LibraryThing to find other YA bloggers and their most loved but least known-about YA books. These is my list, and for everyone else's check out the list at YAnnabe.

BAD GIRLS DON'T DIE by Katie Alender (Hyperion DBG 2009; 116 LT members)
Alexis Warren is part of your average dysfunctional family. Her sister is an obnoxious princess, her parents who just don’t get it. She may be the pink-haired artsy type, but even her photography hobby can’t distract her from her sister’s latest weirdness. Kasey has always collected dolls, but ever since she found a certain specimen she’s been acting crazy -- maybe even possessed. As Alexis finds herself deeper and deeper in the history of her home and her town, she finds she might have to enlist the help of her least-likely co-conspirator: a cheerleader. This intensely creepy, highly insightful book goes beyond the typical haunted house story. Bad Girls Don’t Die is a novel about class, status, and consequences. Still, you don’t want to read it alone in the dark!
RAVEN SUMMER by David Almond (Delacorte Books for Young Readers 2009; 30 LT members)
In the eerie, literary voice David Almond is so well-known for, RAVEN SUMMER chronicles the life of Liam Lynch, a young man living on the English country side. When he and his friend follow a Raven on one lazy summer afternoon, they’re shocked to find an abandoned baby. What unfolds is a chain of events that all lead back to that day. The people Liam meets through saving the baby will change his life, and the life of his family, forever. Touching on current events, the human condition, and coming of age, everyone will see a bit of themselves in these characters. Part adventure, part drama, part contemporary folk tale, RAVEN SUMMER is the kind of book that stays with you long after you’ve read it.
BORDER CROSSING by Jessica Lee Anderson (Milkweed Editions 2009; 12 LT members)
Manz is living on the border, in so many ways. His father was Mexican, his mother is white, and he lives in Texas pretty close to Mexico. Things haven't been right with his Mom since his father died, and since she lost the baby it's gotten even worse. But Manz is starting to worry about things he didn't used to: like Operation Wetback and whether or not his stepdad can be trusted. As we delve further and further into Manz' story, we see that he is not only battling physical and cultural borders, but that he is on another border as well: sanity and delusion. BORDER CROSSING is heartbreaking, real, and impossible to put down.
CANDOR by Pam Bachorz (EgmontUSA 2009; 92 LT members)
Candor is the perfect city where perfect teens live perfect lives and make their perfect parents proud. Oscar knows why -- his father, the founder, developed technology that makes even the most rebellious teens conform. Oscar gets kids out…for a price. Then he meets Nia, an artist and a rebel, and he finds himself smitten. Oscar wants to change -- he wants to save Nia, whether that means getting her out or hiding her in plain sight. But the powers that be are stronger than even Oscar realized, and soon he is asking himself what sacrifices he is willing to make for love. CANDOR is a terrifying, heartbreaking, slightly insane story that clearly resonates a Stepford vibe and keeps the reader guessing through the last page. If you’re looking for a chilling sci-fi, this is your book.
FADE TO BLUE by Sean Beaudoin (Little, Brown Young Readers 2009; 48 LT members)
FADE TO BLUE is easily among the weirdest books I’ve ever read -- and the most engaging. The heroine, Sophie Blue -- or Gothika, as her not-so-friendly classmates call her -- is haunted by visions of a mad popsicle truck driver, and thinks she hears a voice telling her to visit ‘the lab.’ Sophie’s best friend, Lake, an ex-cheerleader-turned-paraplegic, has little advice to offer. Her mother is too depressed and disconnected to help. The school counselor only makes her write essays, and her brother, O.S., is seemingly too caught up in his comic books to do anything but get fatter. But when Kenny Fade, basketball star, starts to question his perfect life, reality begins to unravel, and Sophie is forced to confront something she has been trying to put past her: the disappearance of her father. With its references to pop culture, snarky sense of humor, and a plethora of bizarre characters, FADE TO BLUE will stick with you long after you’ve turned the last page.
JENNY GREEN'S KILLER JUNIOR YEAR by Amy Belasen & Jacob Osborn (Simon Pulse 2008; 13 LT members)

Disappointed by recent social politics at her prep school, self-proclaimed JAP (Jewish American Princess) decides to follow her crush, Josh, to a boarding school in Canada. Away from Long Island and her ex-friends, Jenny is sure she can finally snag her boy. But things don't exactly go her way, and it's not long before Jenny discovers that men are pigs and they must die. This book is not for the weak of heart -- it is a scandalously delicious black comedy that is sure to have the Tipper Gores of the country screaming with rage. But love her or hate her, Jenny will get under your skin. And you'd better hope she's not interested in dating you -- you could, in fact, be next.

PRETTY DEAD by Francesca Lia Block (HarperTeen 2009; 103 LT members)
First and foremost, this is NOT another vampire novel. This is a love story, through a century of fashion, music, architecture, friendships and losses. This is a story of grieving, after the suicide of a young girl -- the story of the vampire girl and the human boy who have survived her. This is a story of fear -- fear of the unknown, of death, and of the people we cannot ever leave. Francesca Lia Block is as elegant and beautiful as ever in writing her take on the current vampire trend. And, you know what? It is ethereal and disorienting and nothing like anything else in the genre. Pick it up. Read it. Fall in love.
THE WATERS & THE WILD by Francesca Lia Block (HarperTeen 2009; 70 LT members)
Francesca Lia Block is one of my favorite writers for a reason -- her smart, poetic prose easily transports you to an alternate reality, layering real issues with surreal context. In her latest, we explore the possibilities of a doppelganger, as thirteen-year-old Bee has begun to see herself at night, claiming to be the real her. Turning to the weird kid at school, Haze (he's rumored to believe he's an alien) she discovers that she might not belong in L.A. -- in more ways than one. Picking up Sarah, a street-singer with a gorgeous voice who believes she's a reincarnated slave girl, the trio embark on a mission to save Bee, and to understand their own realities. Like Block's other works, The Waters and the Wild is tightly written, with an ethereal feeling that leaves you feeling pleasantly disoriented. Don't miss this wonderful opportunity to be enchanted.
WE WERE HERE by Matt de la Peña (Delacorte Books for Young Readers 2009; 32 LT members)
Miguel's life wasn't so bad before what he did. His crime landed him in juvi and then a group home, where he knows he doesn't fit in. Sentenced to write in a journal, Miguel chronicles the events and people surrounding him, including his ex-roommate from Juvi, Darnell and Mong, a kid too crazy to think twice about killing you, if he felt like it. What Miguel never could have expected was that Mong and Darnell would convince him to run away from the group home in an attempt to start over in Mexico. The trip that ensues is an unexpected story of friendship and redemption. WE WERE HERE is one of the most beautiful and heart-wrenching books I've read, and it is not one you want to miss.
DIRTY LAUNDRY by Daniel Ehrenhaft (HarperTeen 2008; 25 LT members)
Carli Gemz (pronounced "games") is a teen actress who has just landed a role in a new TV show: Private Nights. Since she'll be playing a bitchy teen queen and a boarding school, Carli is being enrolled undercover at the Winchester School of the Arts, an East coast boarding school where all the freaks, geeks, and would-be criminals are sent after being kicked out of more prestigious academies. With a reputation for harboring the "dirty laundry" of the social elite, Carli knows that the few weeks she'll be spending as Sheila Smith will be pretty wild, but she never imagined that, together with her boss's son (and her new personal assistant), she'd wind up investigating the disappearance and possible murder of Winchester's favorite student, Darcy Novak. Fun, the aforementioned son of Carli's boss, is only still attending Winchester because of the money the school is getting from his dad for hosting Carli. He and his room-mate, Nails, would usually be up to no good, but with Carli on campus and the disappearance of Darcy, he has better things to do. Especially when it turns out that everyone is a suspect. Ehrenhaft's novel is part mystery part satire, at times dark and at other times sweet. The characters are completely three-dimensional, and while they will surprise you, their motives and methods are realistic within the context of the wacky world of Winchester. This is not the sort of book that one can put down easily.
GIRL IN THE ARENA by Lise Haines (Bloomsbury USA Children's Books 2009; 87 LT members)
After his son died in Vietnam, one man started a back yard gladiator league to honor his memory. With safety gear and rubber-tipped swords, he never imagined that 30 years later gladiators -- who now fight to the death in nationally televised events -- would be celebrated celebrities, followed by the paparazzi. Lynie G. is the daughter of seven gladiators -- her mother Allison likes her to say this, though, really, Tommy G., her current (step)father is the only one who has been a family man. In fact, Allison would love if Lyn would attend the local college for gladiator’s wives -- but Lyn is uninterested in “glad” culture altogether. That is, until the day Tommy’s opponent Uber gets a hold of Lynie’s dowry bracelet, forcing her, by the gladiator bylaws, to marry him. But Lyn has other plans. She wants to fight for her honor. This gripping novel that follows an alternate U.S. history and highlights some of the more gruesome aspects of culture -- both ancient and modern -- is both beautiful and terrifying. With all the Greco-Roman influenced middle grades on the market, GIRL IN THE ARENA is a refreshing new take on the topic for teens.
POSSESSIONS by Nancy Holder (Razorbill 2009; 19 LT members)
Lindsay is a scholarship student at Marlwood Academy. Surrounded by rich girls, Lindsay isn’t sure she’ll survive. Of course, fitting in is the least of her worries once she discovers queen bee, Mandy’s, weird obsession. Marlwood has a secret past, and Mandy and pals are up to no good…in a black arts, raising the dead sort of way. Possessions is the novel Steven King would have written has he been asked to write GOSSIP GIRL -- full of the posh cliques, girlie drama and high school shenanigans, but also scary as Hell. With its creepy, secluded setting, ethereal language, and leanings toward the occult, Possessions is the perfect book to not read alone in the dark.
EVERYTHING BEAUTIFUL by Simmone Howell (Bloomsbury USA Children's Books 2008, 53 LT members)
Tricked into attending a week-long Bible camp by her dad and kooky stepmother, Riley Rose feels doomed. For one, she’s an atheist, and she certainly doesn’t play by the rules. She’s a big girl, but she flaunts her figure just to unnerve the people around her. She cuts and dyes her own hair. Her best friend is definitely a bad influence, but Riley likes it that way. She arrives at camp with a plan to go AWOL halfway through the week. But by the time that day comes, Riley’s take-no-prisoners attitude has rubbed off on many of her bunkmates -- and Riley herself has befriended a paraplegic ex-bully who just might have values that rub off on her as well. Howell’s novel is about way more than spirituality -- it’s about growing out of selfishness long enough to understand someone else, about the universal suffering that is teenage awkwardness. Howell’s writing is honest, cheeky, and fun, and her character, Riley Rose, is just the same. She’s an angry kid with a chip on her shoulder, and yet she is completely accessible, hitting the heart of every teen girl that ever longed to love herself -- and isn’t that all of us? Everything Beautiful leaves a truly lasting impression worthy of acclaim.
SISTER WIFE by Shelley Hrdlitschka (Orca Book Publishers 2008; 103 LT members)
While polygamy and religious fundamentalism are hot topics for fiction right now, SISTER WIFE steps outside the box to present the truly compelling story of three different girls from the same polygamist sect.Two sisters and one outsider each speak from their own points of view, and Hrdlitschka weaves their voices seamlessly together for the sort of prose the reader is easily wrapped up in. Celeste will soon be fifteen and assigned a husband, but she has plenty of doubts about the Movement, unlike her sister, Nannette, who is as pure as they come. It is Taviana who is bold enough to speak her mind - a former teen prostitute, taken in by the Movement, only to be thrown out when it is clear her influence is "dangerous." But there are other ways for Celeste to discover the world outside, and as it gets closer and closer to Celeste's birthday, she knows she has a choice to make. This stirring novel may not tell the most original story, but it tells the story well. The characters will stay with you long after you've turned the last pages, making time you've spent with SISTER WIFE time well spent.
FREAKS AND REVELATIONS by Davida Wills Hurwin (Little, Brown Books for Young Readers 2009; 27 LT members)
What do a skinhead Neo-Nazi and a homeless gay teen have in common? Not much. FREAKS AND REVELATIONS begins in the seventies, several years before the incident that will impact Doug and Jason for the rest of their lives. The two boys are both growing up in troubled homes, one with an abusive dad and another with an intolerant mother. The fact that the story starts long before the identity of the characters has begun to develop puts an intriguing spin on the characters themselves. FREAKS AND REVELATIONS is a heartbreaking page-turner, and a must read for anyone who’s loved books by Laurie Halse Anderson and Ellen Hopkins.
HANCOCK PARK by Isabel Kaplan (HarperTeen 2009; 15 LT members)
I can't believe this stunning debut novel was written by an eighteen-year-old! Our heroine, Becky Miller, is an average girl with an above-average life. She goes to an elite L.A. high school, and appears to live the dream life. And, aside from her struggles with mental health, Becky is mostly okay with being average. She has her best friend, Amanda, to lean on. But when Amanda moves to New York and Becky's parents split up, it turns out that junior year will be tougher than predicted. To make matters worse, her shrink has just gotten in trouble for prescribing Becky way too much medication. On the bright side, the Trinity -- the school's most elite clique -- have their eye on Becky. Before she knows it, Becky is popular. But of course this comes with strings attached -- Becky can't be the public brainiac she used to be, or hang out with drama-geek Taylor, who might be her only real friend now that Amanda's gone. With her self-worth dwindling, Becky has choices to make. Can she find her old self, or is the new Becky the real Becky after all? In stark contrast to the no-consequences world of GOSSIP GIRL, HANCOCK PARK is a strong, fulfilling addition to teen literature. I can't recommend this enough to girls who want to read about the glam life, but don't want to ditch the real life altogether. I'm looking forward to seeing more novels from Isabel Kaplan.
NOTHING BUT GHOSTS by Beth Kephart (HarperTeen 2009; 67 LT members)
To label this as a novel about loss is a gross misrepresentation that does Beth Kephart's latest no justice at all. To think of it as another grieving daughter story or an issues book takes so much away from this multi-layered narrative. Nothing But Ghosts is as much a mystery about the town in which Katie D'Amore lives, the woman she works for but has never seen nor spoken to, her father's genius and the painting he's restoring, and the blossoming of new relationships as it is a mystery of personal loss. As Katie remembers her mother's final days, their trip to Barcelona before she was diagnosed, her childhood, spending time with friends before she began ignoring them (avoiding their questions about her mother), she is evolving. Where many young adult novels lay aside the adult characters to focus solely on the teens, Kephart has created a father for Katie who is as 3-dimensional as the hand in front of your face. The buildings are characters too -- the library, the D'Amores' home, Miss Martine's estate - they all live and breathe life into a story that cannot be laid to rest even after you've turned the last page. I urge you: pick up this book, enjoy it.
HEADLONG by Kathe Koja Farrar, Straus, & Giroux (BYR) 2008; 38 LT members
Not your typical boarding school tale of hook-ups and hijinx, HEADLONG is the story of Lily Noble, a lifer at Vaughn - a school known for its “Vaughn Virgin” social elite. Lily has always fit in with the girls at school -- the pretty ones with perfect grades and wealthy families. But then Hazel comes to Vaughn on scholarship, bringing her alternative family, her hot cherry licorice, and punk-rock style. Soon Lily is drifting away from her old friends, and as she spends more time with Hazel, she comes to realize she’s never truly known herself. This coming of age story will surprise you, with characters as malleable and honest as real teenagers, and poetic writing perfectly in touch with the experience of finding one’s identity. HEADLONG will stay with you long after you’ve put the book down, and it is an absolutely worthwhile experience.
HOLD STILL by Nina LaCour (Dutton Juvenile 2009; 73 LT members)
After her best friend’s suicide, Caitlin is devastated. She struggles with school, where her photography teacher -- whom she thought would be her greatest supporter -- is ignoring her. Then she finds Ingrid’s diary, filled with heartbreak and desire, and Caitlin is both pleased and terrified to be entrusted with her last thoughts. As she works to rebuild her life and find new friends, you will be moved irrevocably by Caitlin’s vulnerability and her strength. Unlike so many “issues books” we’ve seen in recent years, HOLD STILL transcends the genre to make something beautiful out of the grim.
GOTHIC LOLITA: A MYSTICAL THRILLER by Dakota Lane (Ginee Seo Books 2008; 24 LT members)
Miya and Chelsea, are half a world apart, living in Japan and L.A. But it's been three years since Chelsea's last blog post, and Miya is feeling lost without her friend, even if they didn't really talk much. Chelsea misses the connection with Miya, too, but a tragedy in her life has kept her from communicating, and it seems like she'll never be okay. But there is so much the girls don't know about each other, and as the pieces fall into place, their lives will never be the same. You know you're in for something unconventional the minute you open this book. There isn't a capital letter to be seen -- perhaps emulating the style of many teenage bloggers, since the two girls in Gothic Lolita met through their online journals. Part of the story is also told with black and white photos, and these images are both haunting and ethereal. This, with the poetic voices conjured by Ms. Lane, makes GOTHIC LOLITA a must read.
THE MILES BETWEEN by Mary E. Pearson (Henry Holt and Co. (BYR) 2009; 87 LT members)
This story of four friends on a road trip is both heart-breaking and triumphant. When Des decides to disregard her loathing of October 19 -- a day that has always plagued her -- and take charge of her own fate, the coincidences multiply to astounding proportions. For a girl obsessed with coincidences and anomalies, this is both terrifying and exciting. As Des digs to find the truth of her abandonment, however, it is no coincidence that emotions run deep and the friends she told herself not to make surprise her in wonderful ways. A complete departure from THE ADORATION OF JENNA FOX -- Pearson’s highly-acclaimed previous novel -- THE MILES BETWEEN is a sweet, enchanting story rife with twists and turns til the very end.
Touch by Francine Prose
STRUTS & FRETS by Jon Skovron (Amulet Books 2009, 21 LT members)
Sammy Bojar is a musician. He plays guitar in a band that, unfortunately, is named Tragedy of Wisdom, since his lead singer, Joe, is the kind of terrifying dude that you just don’t mess with when he tells you Tragedy of Reason sucks. His best friend Rick is the bassist and TJ the drummer is one of the most solid musicians you’ll ever find. When a Battle of the Bands is announced, Sammy worries that it’s too commercial for their band, but once again Joe convinces everyone they’re going to play. Of course, this would require Joe to remember Sammy’s lyrics and Rick to play the right baseline. But priorities go out the window when Sammy’s grandfather starts acting strange. Further complicating matters is Sammy’s other best friend, the super cute but (up until now) one of the guys Jen5, is revealed to be in love with him. This funny, sweet, exciting novel is a sure-fire hit with indie-rock wannabes and veterans, as well as anyone who’s ever had to navigate the complex fields of first love.
THE LUCKY PLACE by Zu Vi ncent (Front Street 2008; 18 LT members)
Zu Vincent's voice is poetic, her short chapters capturing the moments in Cassie's life from the age of three, when her alcoholic father left her at the racetrack. After her mother's divorce, Ellis comes into the picture. Ellis is everything Old Daddy wasn't -- responsible, affectionate, available. He even buys the family a house - their "lucky place." Cassie's brother, though, refuses to accept New Daddy, creating a rift in the family. And when the unthinkable happens to Ellis, everything lucky seems to fall apart. This story is poignant, unforgettable, and one of the most beautifully written I have ever encountered.
VIOLET ON THE RUNWAY by Melissa Walker (Berkley Trade 2007; 90 LT members)
Violet has always felt like a bit of a freak - too tall, too thin, and too plain to fit in with the queen bees at her high school. But when an agent discovers Violet at her part-time job, she is whisked into the world of New York fashion week, and facing a whole new life. Leaving behind her best friends for her model apartment in Manhattan, Violet has a lot of choices to make. Should she talk to someone about her room mate's drug problem? And should she be drinking and clubbing with the older crowd? And what about the cute boy socialite who seems to have eyes for her? Worst of all, will she leave her BFFs behind for the popularity that fame has given her? Walker's novel is a refreshing look at the modeling world, providing all the scandal girls want to read about through the eyes of a character they can relate to. Violet on the Runway is witty, exciting, and perfect for young fashion aficionados.
BREATHLESS by Jessica Warman (Walker Books for Young Readers 2009; 54 LT members)
This elegantly written story chronicles the high school years of Katie Kitrell, a swimming prodigy who is sent away to boarding school when her schizophrenic brother, Will, becomes violent. At first she resents her parents, but soon she is relieved to be a part of a world that doesn’t know about Will and his outbursts. It’s not long before she is telling people he is dead. Shedding her past and embracing new friends, and even a new boyfriend, Katie finds herself keeping up in the competitive reality that exists in the pool, the classroom, and the social scene. But Katie can’t hide from who she is, and the choices she makes, whatever her reasons, have repercussions. BREATHLESS is a beautiful novel, with so many delicate layers to sift through – it’s the sort of book that stays on your mind.

While we're at it, here are a few middle grades to consider:

TRUDY by Jessica Lee Anderson (Milkweed Editions 2008; 11 LT members)
Elegantly written, Trudy is the story of a middle-school girl faced with the sort of problem no one her age expects: her father has alzheimers. This just compounds Trudy's list of problems: she's embarrassed that everyone assumes her parents are her grandparents, her best friend has abandoned her, and math is doing her head in. As Trudy and her mother try their best to hold the family together, Trudy finds companionship in a fellow outcast. This is a story of tragedy and hope that truly stays with you long after you've read it.
KALEIDOSCOPE EYES by Jen Bryant (Knopf Books for Young Readers 2009; 52 LT members)
This novel-in-verse is a lovely tale of a treasure hunt, family and friendship, all beginning when thirteen-year-old Lyza finds three maps in her grandfather's house after his death. It appears that her grandfather has left her clues to find the famed pirate William Kid's treasure...in New Jersey! Taking place in the late 60s, KALEIDOSCOPE EYES has all the vibrancy of the era, and Bryant delves into history -- both 1960s and 1690s -- in all the best ways. With all the sneaking around, Lyza's sister thinks she must be on drugs, but when Lyza and her friend Malcolm confide in her sister's boyfriend, everything just might fall into place. It's a secret treasure hunt, complete with pirates. What's not to love?
I WANNA BE YOUR SHOEBOX by Cristina García (Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing (Paperback Edition) 2009; 25 LT members)
Yumi's dad is half Japanese and half Jewish; her mom is Cuban. She is like no one she has ever met. But she fits in fine at school with her musician friends in the orchestra, which is all well and good, until the school announces that there is no longer a budget for the orchestra and it will be disbanded. To make things worse, Yumi's grandfather has been diagnosed with terminal cancer and her mother's boyfriend is cramping her style. Yumi, however, has a few plans. For one thing, if she is going to lose her grandfather, she is going to have her tell him his life story. Secondly, she and her friends will raise money to save the orchestra, but how? In this poignant story of challenge and change Yumi is an eccentric young heroine - a clarinetist who surfs with a punk rock dad and an author mom. Cristina García constructs a powerful story around her, woven together with her grandfather's memories of growing up in Brooklyn. While sad, I Wanna Be Your Shoebox is hopeful, sweet, and truly memorable.
WILD GIRL by Patricia Reilly Giff (Wendy Lamb Books 2009; 55 LT members)
Lidie hasn’t cried since her father and brother left for America when she was seven. She has learned to be patient, living with her aunt and uncle in Brazil, waiting for the day her father would send for her. When he finally does, it’s not the reunion she expected. Her father and brother, who now work training racehorses, don’t know her like they used to. They think her favorite color is still pink and that she loves Snow White even though she’s now in sixth grade. Worst of all, they don’t realize she already knows how to ride a horse. School isn’t much better, since Lidie’s English is still pretty poor. But it is through Lidie’s connection with one special horse -- Wild Girl -- that she might finally find her way. WILD GIRL is a beautifully written novel that transcends the notion of a “horse book” or an “immigrant family story.” It is as compelling as it is heartfelt, and readers will have to work hard not to identify with Lidie and her horses. The spirit of this book will stay with you.
A TASTE FOR RED by Lewis Harris (Clarion Books 2009; 33 LT members)
This new take on gothic kidlit by Lewis Harris is a wonderful, funny read about a girl who thinks she might be a vampire. Svetlana Grimm sleeps under her bed, has a sixth sense, and only likes red food -- it’s the obvious conclusion, right? She’s starting sixth grade after being homeschooled her whole life, and she is NOT happy about it. The new science teacher is interesting, though. She’s absolutely beautiful, but smells like rotting food. And she seems to have it out for Svetlana. Her only hope may be the strange old lady who lives next door, and her new -- if unwanted -- friends from school. This fun, exciting middle grade novel is perfect for girls and guys who want to jump on the teen vampire bandwagon, but aren’t quite ready for some of some of the racier teen books.
PIP: THE STORY OF OLIVE by Kim Kane (David Fickling Books 2009; 22 LT members)
This engaging narrative takes place in suburban Australia, following the unusual Olive Garnaut, who is just entering Year Seven in school. Olive has wide set eyes, pale skin, and white-blonde hair; the girls at school aren’t always very nice. Olive’s mother, Mog, is a rather successful career woman and is rarely at home. This leaves Olive with a lot of responsibilities. She has her own credit card for groceries, and her own mobile phone, which her best friend, Mathilda absolutely adores. Things are mostly fine, but when suddenly Mathilda allies herself with the school Queen Bee, Olive finds herself out of place. It is fortunate that this is when her twin sister, Pip, appears. And Pip is everything Olive is not. Where Olive is polite and shy, Pip is brash and outspoken. Where Olive is reserved, Pip is spontaneous. So when Olive mentions their long-lost father, WilliamPetersMustardseed, it is Pip that insists they embark on a journey to find him. Funny, sweet, devastating, and wicked, PIP: THE STORY OF OLIVE is a book with characters that are so alive, you soon feel that they are your oldest friends. Sprinkling a modern Australian landscape with bits of magic realism, Kim Kane’s first book will enchant you from page one.
THE UNUSUAL MIND OF VINCENT SHADOW by Time Kehoe (Little, Brown Young Readers 2009; 13 LT members)
After Vincent's mother died, he began to lose his inspiration. He'd always been an inventor, and even had a secret lab in his New York apartment, which his mother had helped him to build. Things hadn't been going well, however, and it was getting even worse. His step mother gets her way and Vincent is forced to move across the country and leave his lab behind. On the bright side, though, there is this annual contest run by an eccentric toy-inventor, and Vincent has to be a contender. If only he could get it together. Told with excitement and panache, Kehoe -- a real-life toy inventor -- captures the spirit of childhood creativity and the loneliness of genius in the beautifully illustrated debut. This is a perfect pick for reluctant readers and science geeks of all ages.
THE WITCH'S GUIDE TO COOKING WITH CHILDREN by Keith McGowan (Henry Holt and Co. (BYR) 2009; 43 LT members)
Remember the story of Hansel and Gretel? Well, the witch – one Fay Holadarry – is still alive. The city has been built around her, where the forest used to be. And her house no longer looks like candy, but she has her ways of getting children. Parents, for example, who no longer want their children can drop them off at various locales. Holaderry does not go hungry. When Sol and Connie move in next door to Holaderry, they immediately smell something fishy. It’s not long before these clever kids learn Holaderry’s secret and decide to do something about it. This delightful tale is as quirky as it is heartwarming, with distinct characters that readers young and old will not easily leave behind. Illustrations by Yoko Tanaka fit in perfectly with this retold classic.
THE BOOK OF NONSENSE by David Michael Slater (Children's Brains Are Yummy Books 2008; 29 LT members)
Even though they're twins, Daphna and Dexter don't get along. Their father is a book scout who travels the world looking for rare and interesting tomes, and while Daphna loves to accompany him on his adventures, Dexter hates books and everything to do with them. While their father was gone on their last trip, the ABC, a new used book shop that mostly stocks texts on magic - opened in the twins' hometown. Daphna is excited to show her dad the ABC and takes him there with his latest acquisition: an incredibly old book filled with nonsensical words. But the owner of the shop is a creepy old man who seems to hypnotize their dad, tricking him into giving the book away and signing up Daphna to work in the shop. The twins are soon whisked into a wild world of magic and mischief as they try and steal the book back from the weird old man and the spooky red-eyed boy he keeps in his service. Slater's is a book filled with whimsy and intrigue, with a perfect sibling rivalry and plenty of surprises. This is the first in a series that I predict will be exciting and top notch - one that kids will want to read again and again
THE SECRETS OF THE CHEESE SYNDICATE by Donna St. Cyr (Children's Brains are Yummy Books 2009; 3 LT members)
This delightful and surprising story begins with a brother-sister squabble and an unlikely elixir. Actually, it begins way before that, when a man went in search the mysterious Cheese of Eliki went missing, leaving his wife and two kids behind. These kids -- Robert and Janine Montasio -- are soon confronted with a secret world of cheesemongers, manticores, and other hazards. But Robert is in a bind -- if he doesn't accept the Cheese Syndicate's mission, his obnoxious sister Janine will never stop shrinking...and he may never find out what really happened to his dad. Laugh-out-loud funny and sure to please fans of SPIDERWICK, THE SECRETS OF THE CHEESE SYNDICATE promises to be the start of a fun new mythological series.
CLOVER TWIG AND THE MAGICAL COTTAGE by Kaye Umansky (Roaring Brook Press 2009; 23 LT members)
Ten-year-old Clover Twig is a practical girl. She knows how to cook and clean and likes things neat and tidy. When she sees a classified ad for a housekeeper, she knows she is the girl for the job, even if it means moving in with the local witch, Demelza. Of course Clover Twig did not anticipate the many downsides to this job. Like the fact that this witch might be the most disorganized woman on the planet, or that a clumsy delivery boy would make her life difficult, or that a feud with Demelza’s evil sister -- who has a PLAN -- could put her in a lot of danger. This whimsical, exciting story will easily capture readers both young and old with its lighthearted magic and sense of humor. Johannah Wright’s wonderful illustrations are the icing on the cake. For sure, Clover Twig is a character you will not forget
LEAVING THE BELLWEATHERS by Kristin Clark Venuti (EgmontUSA 2009; 18 LT members)
Absurd, hysterically funny, and impeccably well-written, Leaving the Bellweathers is the story of one butler, Tristan Benway, and the family in the lighthouse on the hill, whom he is bound to serve by an Oath of Fealty sworn by one Benway long deceased. But this oath will soon be expiring, and Benway has decided to write a tell-all book about the strange family: the mother who is constantly painting the walls, the inventor-father who accosts all doorbell-ringers by dropping things from the window, the artistic triplets who only speak VERY LOUDLY LIKE THIS unless they are Up to No Good, the bagpipe-playing daughter who takes up any cause she can find (and often invites them to dinner, and the son whose love for endangered animals that can kill you has recently brought an albino alligator into the house. There simply is nothing like LEAVING THE BELLWEATHERS, and it is easily among the best middle grades of the past few years.

And, for good measure, here are a few of my picks for under-loved adult titles:
(NOTE: most of these will appeal to mature YA readers as well)

UNDISCOVERED GYRL by Allison Burnett (Vintage 2009; 56 LT members)
I was sucked into this voyeuristic mess from page one. Katie Kampenfelt is seventeen, and already everything our mothers warned us about. Her blog chronicles her excessive drinking and drug use, her sexcapades with her boyfriend and the older man she's sleeping with, and fantasies about her boss. The style, while gimmicky, is relevant -- everyone has a blog, everyone thinks their life is newsworthy. And while Katie's blog is indeed different from the rest, what she's writing is nothing you would want for anyone close to you. Like a bad reality show, you can't stop watching. But unlike said reality show, Undiscovered girl is cleverly written, culturally important, and the perfect summer read for young fans of transgressive literature. It's like Bridget Jones, if Bridget were a mal-adjusted, alcoholic, promiscuous teenager. And while most moms of actual seventeen-year-olds would be horrified to find this book in their daughter's room, you can bet the daring teens will be sneaking around to trade it with their friends.
THE SEAS by Samantha Hunt (Picador 2005; 64 LT members)
What I love most about this book is its insane romanticism -- not insane because it's romantic, but romantic because it's insane. Hunt's narrator has a special idealism in the face of imminent tragedy, and has convinced herself that she is a mermaid. Living with her mother and dictionary-writing grandfather in an isolated coastal town, a 19-year old girl is still mourning the loss of her father, who one day walked into the sea never to return. The desolate landscape of the story is spattered with her doomed love affair with a (much older) Gulf War vet and her desire to escape. THE SEAS is unbelievable, and unforgettable.
IN THE HEART OF THE CANYON by Elisabeth Hyde (Knopf 2009; 94 LT members)
It's nearly impossible for me to summarize this book. For a few days, this was my own personal Colorado River adventure. The characters felt like my friends, and as each day passed in the book and the strangers felt closer to each other, I felt closer to them. These people from all different walks of life -- a Harvard professor, a mother and her overweight daughter, a family from Salt Lake City, an elderly couple - may have signed up for this two-week ride, but the relationships that develop and fall apart on the journey are what make this book so authentic. Elisabeth Hyde's writing is smooth and compelling -- she changes voices from one character to the next seamlessly and artfully. This is the sort of book whose multiple angles will find it a wide audience - adventure and wilderness fans, older teens venturing into adult literature, family drama readers. Everyone will be ensconced, everyone will be thankful for the ride.
A MAP OF HOME by Randa Jarrar (Penguin (Paperback Edition) 2009; 83 LT members)
Nidali has an American passport, since she was born in Boston. Her Mama is Egyptian and Greek, her father is Palestinian, making Nidali "half-and-half." Growing up in Kuwait, she never quite feels at home. She is a smart girl, but it's never quite enough for her father, a man who expects her to become a famous professor. On her thirteenth birthday, Saddam Hussein's Iraqi army invades Kuwait, leaving her mixed family with no option but to flee to Egypt where Nidali once again wonders what it means to be at home. A MAP OF HOME is an unusual, poetic book that simply has no equal in contemporary literature to date. Jarrar's language is fluid, honest, and liberating, painting a beautiful picture of the Middle East that one would think impossible during times of turmoil. Nidali's account of growing up -- from school and friends to sex and politics -- transcends culture and unites us all in the struggle that is adolescence. At the same time, this is a novel that shines a new light on coming of age in an Arab family. Jarrar is a storyteller in the truest sense of the word, using charm and humor as much as hardship to bring us close to her characters and her truly musical narrative.
A TALE OF TWO SISTERS by Anna Maxted (Plume 2007; 130 LT members)
This book surprised me. While just as punchy as Maxted's other efforts in chick lit, this is as much a warm, heartfelt book about responsibility and growing up as it is a dry comedy. The story takes turns between the narratives of two sisters, Lizbet and Cassie, as they struggle through their relationships (Lizbet is single but committed, whereas Cassie is married but questioning her vows), their jobs (editor and lawyer, respectively), and their feelings for each other just as a surprise, followed by a tragedy, hit the family. Perhaps it sounds a bit cliche, but trust me when I say that this is Maxted's best book, rife with wit and cynicism, pushing her out of the chick lit pigeonhole.
THE VISIBLES by Sara Shepard (Free Press 2009; 34 LT members)
Sara Shepard is best known for her hit teen series PRETTY LITTLE LIARS. THE VISIBLES is a distinct departure, feeling much closer to the literary world than the world of GOSSIP GIRL. Her protagonist, adolescent Summer Davis, is devastated after her mother abandons the family out of the blue. She becomes obsessed with the concept of DNA, convinced that it is through science that she will one day reconnect with her mother. As Summer grows up, attends college and eventually finds her way to the genetics lab at NYU, it becomes her father that may hold her back, as his battle with mental illness finally reaches a head. THE VISIBLES is an intense, thought-provoking novel, and I look forward to Sara Shepard's next adult venture.

Hey Jerks, I'm back!

2010-01-05T13:31:00.010-06:00

I'M SO FREAKING SORRY, OKAY? I AM BLOGFAIL.

First and foremost, I must apologize to CARRIE (pictured left, with me, at a Books of Wonder party), who is the one person who reads my blog like it's a religion, and I may have caused her a crisis of faith. I AM SORRY.

But, seeing as it's about time for the obligatory New Year's post, I'm going to just gutspill here for a mo, if that's cool wit'chya'll.

I had a pretty ups-and-downs-y 2009. Went through the most devastating breakup of my life to date, lost a job that meant the world to me, and am currently working to re-establish my identity as a member of the bookworld, grown-up society, and an independent tough chick. Hey, I always tell myself I've been through worse and can come out on top, but looking for a job is not fun for anyone, especially when your talents are in the arts. Yuck. Of course I have amazing friends, family, and colleagues and I can't stop being thankful for all of them. My BFF Amelia and my awesome new boyfriend, Jorge, are ridiculously awesome. Also, my TX bff crew - Misha, Tim, Ali (pictured right with me and her bday pressie by Micol Ostow), Tony, Clay, Katy, Sarah, James & all y'all.

My grandparents are amazing people and there's really nothing more I can say about them. I love them and owe them more than even they know.

Thanks mucho to the support of (shout-out time) some of the fabbity fab crew of the Austin Kidlit scene. Folks like Cynthia Leitich Smith, Jenny Ziegler, Varian Johnson, K.A. Holt, P.J. Hoover, Liz Garton Scanlon, April Lurie, and countless others who tell me every time they see me how my time is coming and that patience is a virtue and that I am an appreciated and loved member of the community.

Also, the YALITCHAT community, both on twitter and Ning are AMAZING. Georgia McBride really got things rolling there, and it kicks serious butt. It's full or resources for both published and unpublished writers in all stages of their careers, and it's growing every day. VISIT, OKAY!?

Among my other new Twitter/Facebook friends are Lynne and Shelli and Jamie and Jennifer and OtherEmily and Janni (if you haven't read Janni's book Bones of Faerie, you're dead to me until you do) who are supportive and full of information and love. Great internets BFFs if there ever were any. And lets not forget my fellow Mainer Carrie Jones, who writes about pixies in Need and Captivate and you MUST READ THEM, okay? I think she's my secret twin.

And, oh wait, there's the amazing JESSICA LEE ANDERSON who is my one-person starving artist support group. We meet regularly to talk about our writing, obvs, but also about how frustrating it can be to BE a struggling artist (because even tho Jess is getting glowing reviews these days, she assures me that my feelings of despair and insecurity are natural and normal and a part of the process).

I know that the book I wrote this year is important and going somewhere. I'm the good kind of nuts. Nutty about my book, and about getting it into the hands of readers, nutty about changing the world one reader at a time. Goals for my first book? Taking stigmas on certain topics down a notch. Killing high school stereotypes while maintaining the fact that high school is a struggle for even the most "cool" and "together" person you know.

Let it be known that I am writing this blog from a wild state of mind known as SUDDEN INSPIRATION and EARLY IN THE DAY JOIE DE VIVRE.

I have some goals for this year. We all do, right? Call them resolutions if you want, but resolutions just make me feel like the 10-year-old my mom sat down with to make a list. A list with things like "stop picking my nose" and "clean my room every day." LAME.

My one New Year's Resolution is this: LEARN TO PLAY THE UKULELE. I must admit, I was inspired by the fabbity fab Kristin Clark Venuti, who wrote the best middle grade novel I've read in YEARS, Leaving the Bellweathers. When she came to Austin she played a song on her uke about her book. It was hysterical and awesome and I want to DO IT. Who knows...by this time next year I could have my first Ukulele singer/songwriter album out. Or, you know, at least know a few cords.

But I do have GOALS and EXPECTATIONS for this year. I will get an agent. I've gotten some positive and critical feedback from some well-respected agent-types which gives me the confidence to back up my claim that I WILL, yes WILL, get an agent this year. I also believe that I will sell my completed YA manuscript and possibly my picture book ms as well.

I also expect that I will finish my next YA this year. It's a book that I, unintentionally, perhaps, started writing when I was 16 for a competition in high school. I did not win, but the story stuck to me and I've tweaked it to the point that it is unrecognizable as the original story. Anyhoo, it is a story that is important to me and I think it's going to kick serious ass. It takes place in the town where I went to college, New London, Connecticut. I think New Londy is sort of an underdog, and I'm excited to set my book there. I just have to get my crime story brain going, as well as some supernatural elements working overtime. Oh yeah.

My other major GOAL is to submit a full poetry collection and find a publisher for it, or at least get feedback. I have a lot of work under my belt in the field of poetry, and it's freaking time. My work rocks, and it needs to be out there, and I'm not going to self-publish. Heck no.

Some New Years dreams? I think it might be kind of cool to get some of my photographs in a gallery. Unlikely, but it could happen. I'd like to write some short stories for children and submit them to magazines or anthologies - some of my local buds and I have an idea for an anthology to work on, but, who knows where that will go.

And, most importantly, I'd like to spend some time this year reconnecting with friends whom I love but have fallen out of touch with. I suck. I'm sorry. Let's catch up, okay? Email me. We'll chat.

Vampire-Zombie Showdown; PS There's Queries!

2009-10-25T23:06:00.005-05:00

Hello, blogiverse!

I'm pleased to say I had a marvelous weekend. On Saturday I was honored to be a part of the first annual Austin Teen Book Festival! (insert cheers here) I was, of course, there on behalf of my employer, BookPeople, the official bookseller of the event. But several weeks ago I was also asked to moderate one of the panels, and duh, I was all over it.

Madeline, my BP cohort, and I got to Westlake High at what felt like the crack of dawn and it wasn't long before readers started pouring in and books were flying. I felt like such a dork, with this big smile across my face, but selling YA books is one of my favorite things, and seeing so many teens at a book event on a Saturday morning made me so happy.

Libba Bray's keynote speech was silly, funny, heartbreaking, heartwarming, and inspiring - you know, everything you'd expect from a "luminous supervixen." Attendance was impressive and the crowd gave her a standing ovation. I don't think you can really ask for more! I got to chat with Libba briefly later in the day, and she is just a fabulous woman.

Throughout the day festival-goers had the option of going to one of four panels in three different sessions. Since I was moderating the Vampires vs. Zombies panel, I got to hang out with the fabulous Heather Brewer, Carrie Jones, Daniel Waters, and Cynthia Leitich Smith. Now, I know I'm a little biased here, but I think our panel was pretty bitchin'. Which isn't to say there wasn't a fabulous array of authors at the fest (several of whom I'm lucky enough to consider friends and cohorts), BUT, I simply cannot imagine anyone having more fun than we did. Don't believe me? Read this post by Liviania at In Bed With Books.

Things I now know:

Pixies are dangerous and my homestate of Maine is particularly unsafe. Carrie lives in the Bangor area, where she claims everyone dresses in work boots or snow boots and flannels. These people could be PIXIES and they will SUCK YOUR SOUL. I'm just saying.
If there were such a thing as a zombie pixie vampire, it would look like Tom Cruise. Heather Brewer said so, and we all know Auntie Heather knows all.
If Cyn were trapped in a zombie apocalypse situation and could have three other authors from the Austin Teen Book Festival on her survival team, she would have April Lurie because of her skills learned as a nurse in New York City, Carrie Jones due to her travelling with Grover (a personal cheerleader and general awesome furry muppetness), and Libba Bray for her fighting spirit and superhuman courage (you've seen the cow suit video, right?).
In the same zombie apocalypes, Heather would take anyone with a two-by-four, Daniel would pick the meatier, slower people (and would sacrifice Carrie - this earned him boos), and Carrie would pick Grover. Carrie's pick techinically wasn't on the menu, BUT, would you say no to her? She's the cutest ever!
Daniel has a very real crush on Tinkerbell. Even though she's fairly tiny.
In case of a vampire apocalypse, Heather plans on finding the head honcho and getting herself turned before the food supply runs out.
Carrie would kiss a zombie. Especially a zombie from Daniel's books, since they are slightly less skin-fally-offy.

Pictures of the event are starting to turn up on the web - check ou these images found on Twitter, and Flickr:

The post-festival dinner with authors and planners was also wonderful. I got to say hello to Justine Larbalestier, whom I met last fall when she came to BookPeople on her How To Ditch Your Fairy tour. I also met Matt de la Pena, who knows a thing or two about one of my favorite Brooklyn neighborhoods, and caught up with fellow Austin ladies Shana Burg, April Lurie, and Margo Rabb. I can also report that the queso at the Hula Hut is fantastic.

In other news, the query process has begun! My first novel is, well, finished. It was sort of anti-climactic. But now it's out in the world. I'm buckling in for the long haul. Cross your fingers for me!

Return to the blogosphere - here's hoping it sticks.

2009-09-21T22:06:00.017-05:00

I'm finding myself micro-blogging on Twitter way more than I expected. A few months ago someone - I think the brilliant, gorgeous, and hysterical Justine Larbalestier - asked tweeters if microblogging was taking away from keeping up with actual blogging.

My answer, as you may have noticed, is a resounding, all-caps YES.

The summer here has been a wash of dramas - both personal and vicarious - so I've thrown myself as much as I can into my writing.

My front-burner work-in-progress, History, is in the final stages of its first draft. My critique partner, Jessica Lee Anderson (no relation - we all know Anderson is my nom de plume, oui?), is a freaking godsend, and the Austin writing community (mostly the SCBWI cult, which I will be joining in the future, if only for their excellent KoolAid) is beyond amazing. If you write YA or MG, move to Austin stat.

I mean, come on, I'm such a nerd for my projects I've even got fake covers for two of them:

Harkness Beach is back burner #1, a story I've been rewriting since I was 16, but which has recently come to light as what it's meant to be - a YA sci-fi detective story exploring secular Hell and reincarnation. Whoa. History is the big project, my real first novel, that I've been assured will find a home if I can just finish the thing. These covers keep me feeling positive that they're real books that will find real places on real shelves one day. I highly recommend making fake covers - it's great for upping your ~~ego-maniacal writerly rights~~ self esteem.

If you'd asked me two years ago if I was going to be a novelist - as a career or as a hobby - I would have told you no. Poetry is all that my attention span allows for and I'm fucking good at it. Why dive into a craft that isn't lucrative if it only means I'll be bleeding from both arms.

Backing up - the infamous Blanche Boyd, Writer in Residence at my Alma Mater, Connecticut College, refused to let me take her fiction writing classes at the same time as taking classes with Charles O. Hartman, my first real teacher in poetic medium (he showed me how much I sucked and, thank the lord, gave me the tools to fix it). I recall a phone call with Blanche in which I did a lot of eyerolling as she said in her delectable Southern accent "Honey taking my class and Charles' at the same time would be like bleeding from both arms. You'd be crying in my office every week and I'd have to put you in counseling."

I was too speechless to tell her that I'm a certifiable crazy person who was already IN weekly counseling. Hey, everyone loves a high-functioning manic-depressive with a sprinkling panic disorder and hypochondria. I never did take her class.

But she was right - having endeavored into novel-writing I've all but abandoned my poetic roots. I can't compose poetry while trying to figure out what my girl Jody is going to do next and whether or not she's a reliable narrator and how on earth to disguise my high school experience as a fictional world. Of course, that doesn't mean I don't want to write as poetically as, say, my newest heroine Randa Jarrar. I swear, this woman is the literary equivalent of the marshmallow-pooping unicorn on that Threadless tee I can't quite get the nerve (or the cash - I'm a starving artist here) to buy. Everything she puts on the page is gold. I won't believe her if she ever tells me she writes crappy first drafts. I just won't. Sorry, Randa.

That said, Twitter has been a great tool in keeping me in touch with other writers, as we encourage eachother to keep cranking out wordage, celebrate each other's successes, and have Twitter Book BDays. (Mitali Perkins is a goddess.)

I'd like to say that I'll pick back up on this blog. Every YA novelist needs a blog these days, and here's mine. It should have words in it on a regular basis. I'm going to try. But I'm such an oversharer! I beg you to bear with me.

In the mean time, the other arm I'm bleeding from is The BookKids Blog, which I write for several times a week for BookPeople, the largest and most awesome bookstore in Texas. (PS, it's an indie.) I post a lot of book reviews and banned books propaganda (oooooh that fire is always in my belly!) and interview whichever authors are willing to put up with me. I love it. I hope you do, too!

Email me any time, y'all. I'm open for questions, comments, and bad jokes.

Love,
Emily

Seeing as I've let blogging go by the wayside...

2009-03-26T22:09:00.005-05:00

Quick announcement: Two of my poems are in the current issue of Orbis, a quarterly journal based in the UK. I'd sent in work a while ago and had nearly forgotten about it when their lovely editor emailed me to let me know they were interested. Hoorah! The issue came in the mail today and it looks great - you might should (Texan lingo) pick it up!

In other news, I am so over moving. I feel like I've been moving since January, and, in a way, have been. It took half of February to get all of our stuff out of the old place and smoosh it into the new place. I sort of hate it - tiny kitchen, tiny bedrooms, not enough room for all my books. For shame! So please excuse the lack of forthcoming recipes...until our next move in July.

Having consulted various coworkers, it seems that most people have a box or two that doesn't get unpacked every time they move. For me, this box has multiplied. I've moved about four times in the last five years and with every move comes another box. It tends to be a box of keepsakes - stuff that I don't need but want - that has no place on display. I.e. notebooks I kept in college and mix tapes from my high school boyfriend (sorry, Mark).

But knowing we won't be staying in our current place for very long, Mark and I have been ridiculously unmotivated when it comes to unpacking. I tried unpacking the kitchen before giving in to frustration - where will I put my breadmaker, my kitchenaid mixer, my food processor, my toaster(s), my microwave, my electric kettle, etc etc with just one outlet...over the sink? So depressing.

And of course most of my shoes are still in boxes - I mostly wear sneakers or boots to work, since I'm on my feet all day, so no need to unpack the stilettos, right? Same for most of my going out clothes and jewelry. Actually, the only boxes that I've completely unpacked are books, and only fiction. While nonfiction has been confined to Mark's closet, the kids books and adult literature are on the shelves in alphabetical order.

Naturally living with so many of my posessions packed away has lead me to wonder if I have too much stuff. Or rather, it's made this wondering a little louder. I'm a packrat and a materialist and I was always that kid in college who managed to fit way more in a dorm room than seemed natural. I've been considering the idea of getting rid of some things, but usually this comes down to the sentimental value and the nagging what-if possibilities that I'll need said things in the future. I'm hopeless.

At least I'll have things ready to go in July. The only thing worse than unpacking is packing, right?

Things I want to do this year

2009-01-17T22:43:00.003-06:00

I don't really like making new year's resolutions. I think that those sorts of decisions and goals shouldn't be reserved to a one-time, year-long commitment. Also, I don't like setting myself up to fail. I like setting goals that I know I can reach. Call me gutless, but that's how I do.

Of course, I have some fairly lofty goals for myself in the coming year. I want to finally finish at least one of my manuscripts so I can start rewrites. Maybe it won't be the first novel I publish, but it will be the first novel I finish, not counting the 300-handwritten-page epic I wrote about Hanson when I was 16. Oh yes, you read that right. Details may or may not be available upon request. Sadly, the notebooks in which I wrote this masterpiece are somewhere in my parents' house in Maine. The world suffers.

I also promised the boyfriend I would learn to drive this year. I'm really really REALLY terrified of driving. I took driver's ed. just after turning 17. FYI my birthday is in December (I like presents) and I grew up in suburban Maine. Do the weather-math and you'll realize exactly what I was up against. Throw in my crotchety, nervous instructor and my soon-to-be-diagnosed bipolar disorder (questions welcome) and panic disorder (funsies!), you can see why I remain a pedestrian at 26. That's why I moved to New York after college. However, I now live in Austin, and Mark is sick of driving me everywhere. Crap. Pray for me/send any extra Valiums this way.

I want to learn to read faster. Is this sort of lame? Maybe. If only because I don't know if it's possible. But I basically want to read twice as many books as I read this year (I think it was like 40-50 but I don't have an official count) without actually spending more time reading. This is only because I don't think I could actually spend anymore time reading than I already do while maintaining a social life, eating, sleeping, and keeping my job without ripping a huge hole in the spacetime continuum. Sad Christmas. But my rate of book intake > rate at which I read books > rate at which I get rid of books. In fact that last bit stands at a fairly certain 0. Again, Mark is none too pleased that when we move in a couple of weeks half of our boxes will be filled with words.

I want to walk more. Because a) Texas makes you fat and b) walking makes you un-fat. Also, carbon footprint blah blah blah. I already take the bus a ton, but walking is way more good for you. Plus, we're moving to a neighborhood where walking is more fun. Right now we live off a major roadway and there's really nowhere to walk to. Plus, most of the streets are dead ends and cul-de-sacs. So new place = more walking.

And, of course, an important goal for this year is to finish watching ALL SEVEN SEASONS of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I know I can accomplish this goal, since I bought the ENORMOUS box set and started watching it with Mark last week. Despite his initial protests, he's now as addicted as 16-year-old me was. We are halfway through season two and are having so much fun with it. Why can't Buffy still be on the air? The world would be a better place, you know it.

Christmas is coming, the budget's getting tight!

2008-12-15T17:38:00.012-06:00

Last year I posted a run-down of my favorite books to give as Christmas gifts. This year I've been posting book reviews on a fairly regular basis (though I have been sluggish as of late - there will be some to come!), not to mention doing almost daily holiday shopping recommendations over at The BookKids Blog. To avoid major redundancy, her comes a post highlighting some of my favorite cheap-o stocking stuffers.

As a huge fan of Etsy, I can't help but troll their website for trinkets, even though the only stocking I'm stuffing belongs to my grumpy boyfriend. However, there ARE dudely gifts on there, for example these geeky cufflinks. They're legos, for crying out loud! Mark is always rambling about wanting fancy cuff links (God knows why, he never dresses up), and while I hardly think this is what he has in mind, but I think they'll tickle his fancy. This seller also has cuff links featuring Darth Vader, Batman, D20s, scrabble tiles, and typewriter keys. Geek heaven!

Okay, I said I wouldn't mention any books, but I lied. I can't help it - I work at a book store, I write, I live and breathe books. Everyone loves Mr. Men and Little Miss books, though, right? These titles by Roger Hargreaves seem to multiply like rabbits every year, but titles like Mr. Grumpy, Mr. Bump, and Little Miss Bossy are a great way of teasing your loved one on Christmas morning. Mean? Sort of. Hilarious? Definitely. Plus, the retro-factor will get you points with any 20-something. Just don't get Little Miss Plump for your wife or girlfriend - that's a really, truly terrible idea.

Every lady loves jewelry - and Etsy is once again to the rescue! For the literati on your list, many sellers including this one offer Scrabble-tile jewelry. The necklace pictured is just $5, and comes in a little gift bag. You can also build your own Scrabble charm bracelet or pick from several other varieties of Scrabble charms. Other sellers, such as this one re-fashion old jewelry, junk, and eclectica into beautiful new fashion pieces. At a range of prices from budget-savvy to splurge-worthy, any hip fashionista would love one of these unique pieces in her stocking.

Tote bags are really hip right now, and everyone can use one. They also fit into stockings if you roll them up tight (and take up a lot of space, too, for a more "full" look to the final product, you sneaky sneak!) - so why not find one for your giftee? There are tons of awesome ones out there, naturally I'm a huge fan of this giant-cassette shaped tote I found on Amazon. Most grocery stores carry a recyleable tote, too, that would be perfect for the environmentalist in your life, and they tend not to cost more than a couple bucks. Again, Etsy is rife with stocking inspiration, offering tons of screenprinted totes, such as this one, which declares "Make tea, not war." Everyone carries stuff, right?

Now I know a lot of geeks, and ThinkGeek.com has LOTS of solutions to this, er, problem. Whether or not you buy from the website, it's definitely full of ideas. Like astronaut ice-cream, which I've loved since the first time I visited the Boston Science Museum - I think I was eight or so. And what geek hasn't fantasized about being a space cadet? I'm also a huge fan of giant microbes - plush toys shaped like germs and other sick-making miscreants. I've given my mother gonorrhea and my sister cyphillis, and how is that not fun to say? Plus, any hypochondriac deserves to face their fears. And of course, th ese stickers will make any inanimate object instantaneously awesome. Seriously - grinning stapler? Can of soda with eyeballs? Yes, it's a winner.

Who doesn't love a t-shirt? Companies like Threadless.com offer tons of quirky shirts in sizes for girls and guys (kids, too!), most less than $20. On cafepress.com, you can custom-print your own t-shirt, or look for something wacky & fun already available. Thanks to the internet, there's no shirt that isn't available. For example, my boyfriend's favorite shirt, pictured at left, with the slogan "We do things my way or the Hemingway." He's already worn one into oblivion, so if he's lucky, there'll be a new one in his stocking this year.

There's plenty of stuff to make, too. Every baker needs a few dozen more potholders (seriously!), every music nerd loves mix tapes/cds, every glasses-wearer needs polishing wipes. Worst case scenario, do what my dad does when he's in charge of stockings: run down to the drug store on Christmas eve and just buy everything. It works for him.

Mimesis 5: Best Mimesis Evar

2008-12-01T23:00:00.003-06:00

That's right, the new issue is out, and I've gotta say it's pretty impressive. Sure, it DOES have a couple of my pieces in it, but there's a lot of other stuff worth reading in there. Contributors include Brent Fisk, Jeff Calhoun, Aditi Machado, Ian McLachlan and Carolyn Srygley-Moore. There's also a really smart essay by Luke Kennard. I highly suggest you plunk down some cash for a copy - it's super cheap for a lit mag, and there's free shipping in the UK and the US (enter me, the new US distributor).

And, in case you don't know what to get the curmudgenly poet type on your holiday shopping list, you can't go wrong with a Mimesis subscription! Seriously, a great gift!

Go now!

Things I should be doing instead of reading your blog

2008-11-16T17:34:00.002-06:00

1. Widdling down my to-read pile which, I assure you, is bursting at the seams. No, it's warping my bookshelf quite literally. I need to add more shelves to the unit but Wal-Mart (hush, hippies, I'm POOR) doesn't carry them. ANGRY.

2. Working on either of the two YA books I'm meant to be writing and have manuscripts-in-progress for. I have organized them both into Scrivener (which I discovered thanks to Maureen Johnson's blog), as well as an incomplete thought of a middle-grade novel and a not-so-short short story that I wrote two Augusts ago. The crop-rotation method has ceased to work on either of these projects and tho I have disguised one as my NaNoWriMo for this year (I didn't start it this month but I didn't work on it for the first half of the month so, no harm no foul?) and still have managed more than a scribble.

3. The dishes. I think there's stuff growing in my sink.

4. Reading more books by Justine Larbalestier, Scott Westerfeld, and M.T. Anderson since they'll all be at BookPeople this week and I'd like to have something useful to say to them. I'm halfway through Magic or Madness right now and totally into it, but that leaves little time for me to engage the rest of the books in this "upcoming authors" stack.

5. ~~Studying~~ Cramming for the GRE which I am taking on Tuesday. TUESDAY! I've been operating under the assumption that if I don't know it now I'm not going to know it anytime soon, but, as ~~Tuesday~~ Doomsday approaches, I'm getting nervouser and nervouser. And less able to use real, dictionary-certified words.

6. Sending in my writing sample to UT, where I have applied for a fellowship in their MFA program. I'm a crazy person and am completely terrified that my work is not what they're looking for. I've gotta just stamp the envelope and put it in the mail.

So, you see, you people writing blogs are NOT helping me at all. Cut it out. I have too much to do to be reading your clever, funny, exciting, tragic, important ramblings & rants on the interwebs. No more!

The &#@$%($^&@ censors make me sad.

2008-11-13T22:21:00.004-06:00

I live in Texas. As you may have heard, Texas is a haven for conservatives, Christians, and Republicans. I'm cool with that. I don't really take issue with other people's values unless they're trying to tell me what to do or how to think. Usually, they don't. Especially since I live in Austin, which is a blue city in this red state.

But every time I turn the corner I see something about books being challenged in high schools and middle schools, libraries, etc. And this doesn't so much bother me because I don't believe in book banning - and I don't, I think it's insane - but because I don't think the people questioning young people's literature are even reading the books.

If they were reading, they'd see that the girls in Lauren Myracle's TTYL, one of the most challenged books this year (and currently raising a hullabaloo just north of my town), might make some bad choices, but that they ultimately have a moral compass and deal with the consequences of their actions. Who cares if the author has chosen some particularly "shocking" language - this is the reality of being a teenager.

You can't take bits of books out of context and present them as problems - the book as a whole is what's important, what can create a dialogue between you and your children/students/friends. Banning books puts up a wall and creates an atmosphere of distrust.

I was at a panel tonight given by several of Austin's YA Authors, including Jennifer Ziegler, Cynthia Leitich Smith, Margo Rabb, and others. Jennifer mentioned at one point that you don't need to add drama when you write YA, because being a teenager is dramatic. I couldn't agree more - it's rough out there, it's the hardest thing to go through, and books provide a great escape, a wonderful therapy, and a valid educational endeavor. Whether its a gothic fantasy like Cynthia's, a heartbreaker like Margo's, or a dramedy like Jennifer's, YA authors have a way of getting to teens - who are we to take that away?

A New Future

2008-11-04T22:37:00.003-06:00

I am so impressed with my country right now. I'm watching John Lewis talk on MSNBC, saying he didn't think he'd see this in his lifetime. I didn't, either. I was afraid that our biases and our judgments that we pretend no longer exist would prevent this moment for a few generations down the line.

We have elected an African-American president. But more than that, Barack Obama will make us so proud to be Americans, even those of us who have started to feel that there's nothing we can do to turn our country around.

I hate talking about politics most of the time, but I can't let this moment slip by without expressing my happiness.

Where Did Halloween Go?

2008-11-01T21:11:00.003-05:00

When I lived in Brooklyn, I didn't expect many trick-or-treaters. I lived in an apartment building in an urban area - I can see why parents didn't bring their kids to my door. But now that I live in a house in Texas, I figured we'd get TONS of Halloweenies last night. Right? I mean, we're practically in the 'burbs!

Mark and I sat at home last night and waited. My parents came over (they're visiting from Maine) and we made burgers on the grill (Mark makes great burgers) and watched Scrubs on DVD (the musical episode, specifically) and waited some more. Not one child rang our doorbell. I was so excited to see the costumes. I figured that even though we're in a cul-du-sac off a main road, there are enough kids around here (our neighbor even runs a daycare!) that we would need two huge bags of candy to fill their bags.

And now I have those bags of candy - open, even - in my house. Where they will be eaten. By me and Mark. Even we don't need this much candy in our lives! I mean, come on. I bought us a bag of fun-size Almond Joys to not give out at all, to hoard for when all the delicious yummies had been doled out to costumed children. But they never came.

What is up with that? I know it's not like it used to be even ten years ago - we don't know our neighbors like we did then, and lots of parents in my home town were driving their kids around rather than walking by the time I was in high school. But do people not do it at all anymore? My mom tells me that when she was a kid, people gave out homemade treats like popcorn balls and caramel apples. Now we have candy x-rays set up at the police station to make sure sealed candy bars aren't filled with needles. In just two generations, has America gone that sour?

There is cheer on November 1st, though. While I have way too much candy, I did get to go to Texas Book Festival and meet the very cool authors Melissa de la Cruz, Lauren Myracle, Paula Yoo (who loves New London as much as me, yay!) and Jennifer Ziegler (who is from Austin and with whom I've totally talked to at work without knowing it). These ladies have super cool books, and their panel discussion rocked. Paula even gave us a violin performance - some classical favorites followed by some Led Zeppelin! My books are signed and happy now, and I am going to go read them and eat Swedish Fish...if Mark left any for me.

Awesome New Book + A Little Effort = Costume

2008-10-31T18:59:00.005-05:00

So I'm totally obsessed with Justine Larbalestier's latest, How to Ditch Your Fairy. Thusly, I have appropriated her character's fairy - the dreaded parking fairy - for my Halloween costume. Luckily I work at a bookstore, so it's not terribly odd for me to be dressed up like something from a book. Though I did have to do a lot of explaining.

But who doesn't want a parking fairy? Getting good parking spots rules!

While you're waiting...

2008-10-20T18:26:00.003-05:00

...for me to actually put up another post here (soon, I promise - lots of reviews!), I think you should take a peek at the following:

1. The BookKids Blog, which I write for pretty often these days. (I think I'll have a post going up most days in October, and when I'm not posting, Madeleine and Meghan are!)

2. Mimesis, the awesome poetry journal based in the UK, which will have its fifth issue out soon
(hi, James. I know.) including some of my work as well as other runners up and, of course the winners of the magazine's first digital chapbook initiative. My digital chapbook is also up on the website, and y'all should check that out when you're done poking around the rest of the mag.

3. YA for Obama! This is a fun political social network for young adult authors and readers regardless of age. I've been spending a lot of time on their forums talking about policy and books, you should too! Everyone is welcome!

4. Operation Bahgdad Pups, which as an animal lover just breaks my heart and fills it with hope at the same time (cheesy, I know). This is a charity set up by the SPCA when a soldier asked them to help him with a dog he and a fellow soldier had taken care of as a puppy. The army wouldn't let them, as it was against the rules to befriend or an animal while overseas. But with the help of the SPCA, the dog is now safe in the US and tons of other dogs, otherwise homeless in a dangerous part of the world, are in loving homes.

Dear Sarah Palin

2008-10-12T19:34:00.005-05:00

Here's the thing. I think it's super great that we've finally got a woman on the ticket for Vice President. But I'm not so stoked that it's Sarah Palin. I have a bunch of reasons - she's into book banning, she wants to charge victims for rape kits, she has little regard for wildlife or conservation, she's abused her power as a state official to mess with people's personal lives, and she's into letting her faith govern what other people should be able to do. And she and the Republican pundits have the gall to call us naysayers sexist. I'm not sexist, I just think that Palin's being a woman doesn't mean I can't criticize her as a politician. Heck, to not look at her just as critically as a man in her position would be very sexist!

But that's not to say I don't want to sit down with her and have a chat. I'm really interested in Sarah Palin as a person. I want to know why she's afraid of kids reading certain books, what it was like growing up in Alaska, how John McCain's keeping her in hiding has affected her self-esteem. I want to know what she thinks of Tina Fey's sketches on SNL, how she feels about being called a MILF, and what her favorite cookie recipes are.

I'm actually a little obsessed. And I'm interested in what teen girls all over America have to say to her. I bet a lot of these girls, most of which are under the legal voting age, have had a good long think about what it means to have a woman on the VP ticket, and, moreso, what it means that this woman is Sarah Palin. And I bet a lot of them, like me, want to know what it's like to be her. I bet they have questions. Maybe they don't want to have her over for tea and muffins, like I do, but teen girls are more insigtful than we give them credit for, and, given the chance, I bet they'd ask the questions we all are too scared to ask.

Hot for Texas

2008-10-05T16:45:00.003-05:00

And not even voluntarily.

It's October. Where I come from, that means cute sweaters and wool minis and opaque tights. Here, that means sunblock, boob sweat, and funny tan lines from sitting at the bus stop for thirty minutes because they changed the bus schedule and you still can't figure it out.

I used to think I was lucky if my mom didn't make me wear a fugly turtleneck under my 'enchantress' dress on Halloween (forget the year we all went as Spice Girls). But if the neighborhood kids show up at my door on the 31st wearing anything more than an underpants-only superhero costume, yeah, that'll be lucky.

Seriously, Texas? They told me that it would start getting cooler in October, but I have been LIED TO. My electric bill is still breaking the bank when at this time last year I was embarrassed to be the only one in the neighborhood who hadn't put her window units in the closet yet. (Those things are heavy, okay?) My outdoor cat who HATES me desperately wants to come in.

It was about 100° on Friday. And all I got was sass from anyone I complained to. Just wait 'til "winter" hits and it drops below 65°. We'll see who's a whiner then. Jerks.

A Freedom I Can't Live Without

2008-09-14T21:09:00.005-05:00

I have a naughty new obsession. As Madeleine over at The Buried Editor will confirm, banned books are bloody addictive. It's not so much that I'm reading them right now, since I have a stack of ARCs that could kill a man if its center of gravity were disturbed. It's that I'm reading about them. Constantly. I set up a display at work of some of our most popular and intriguing banned and challenged books. The display includes classics like In the Night Kitchen, Huckleberry Finn, Alice in Wonderland, and James and the Giant Peach. It has recent favorites like Walter the Farting Dog, Captain Underpants, Looking for Alaska, and Harry Potter. So many books have been banned or challenged it simply blows your mind.

Naturally I'm a fan of freedom of expression. But what a lot of us don't consider here in the states, or in most western countries, is intellectual freedom. Sure, you may be able to go to the store and buy any of these banned books. So what if a bunch of yahoos want to ban a book from their school library, how does that effect you as long as they are available for purchase? But here's the thing about that: banning books from libraries makes freedom of intellect a privilege saved for those with enough money to buy all the books they want to read. And I think that's wrong.

Sure, maybe we shouldn't put Francesca Lia Block's sexed-up fairystories in the hands of ten-ten-year olds. But I don't think the government should say what I, were I that ten year old (or eight-year-old or twelve-year-old), should read. That's between me and my family. So while elementary and middle school libraries should perhaps be monitored, high school libraries and classrooms should have significant freedom. And, for the love of all things literary, keep your matches out of our public libraries.

The public library system is one of the greatest things about our country. Sure, the Austin Public Library has a price on my head right now ($17.48, I think). But if I return my books on time, it is completely free for me to walk in there and read whatever I want, even if my neighbor's cousin's mom thinks Where's Waldo has a topless chick in it somewhere.

The point is, young minds should be protected by parents. That said, I think parents should keep one thing in mind when they're getting ready to challenge a book: human nature. Your child will read the "bad" book behind your back; subsequently he will not be able to talk to you about it. My uninformed, inexperienced, parenting tip: if you think something in a book your kid wants to read could confuse, frighten, or corrupt him, consider reading it WITH him. Keep the discussion open - that way you can talk to him about the sex, drugs, violence, or moral quandries of the characters. That way when the inevitable happens, you can still be involved.

On that note, here is a list of some of my favorite banned & challeneged books:

Are You There God? It's Me Margaret by Judy Blume - One of the most challenged books of all time due to frank discussions of adolescent sexuality.
Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank - Challenged in Wise County, Va. (1982) due to "sexually offensive" passages. Four members of the Alabama State Textbook Committee (1983) called for the rejection of this book because it is a "real downer."
And Tango Makes Three by Justin Richardson & Peter Parnell - Unsuccessfully challenged in Lodi, CA public libraries. (2007) Reasons: anti-ethnic, sexism, homosexuality, anti-family, religious viewpoint, unsuited to age group
The Lorax by Dr. Seuss - Challenged in the Laytonville, Calif. Unified School District (1989) because it "criminalizes the foresting industry."
A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle - Challenged at the Polk City, Fla. Elementary School (1985) by a parent who believed that the story promotes witchcraft, crystal balls, and demons.
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou - This book is frequently challenged because of Angelou's descriptions of her rape as a child.

(ps, I got my info on the bannings from forbiddenlibrary.com and ALA.org - thay have lots more information about banned books than me, plus tools and ideas for banned book week, too!)

I'm Cheating on You

2008-09-14T16:24:00.002-05:00

With another blog.

So I work at this amazing bookstore and help run the kids section and we have this blog all about kids' books. I write in it. It's awesome. Here is my first post for said blog, and, goddammit, you should read BookKids regularly.

September 11th, Which Won't Go Away

2008-09-11T20:45:00.002-05:00

So I was at work today, as I tend to be on weekdays, milling about when a coworker asked me "do you really love New York?"

Of course it took me a good second or two to figure out that a) said coworker was being cheeky and b) she asked me because I'm wearing a nice, touristy I heart NY tshirt. Naturally I guffawed at her, insisting that duh I love New York, I lived there for two goddamned years and I miss Brooklyn every day so help me god etc.

What didn't occur to me until a few hours later is that today is September 11, and, that I was unintentionally showing some sort of patriotic solidarity with my East Coast brethren. It had been a usual roll out of bed and into the shower morning; I just grabbed the quickest t-shirt I could find and ran out the door to try (and fail) to catch the bus.

So it's 9/11. And every year on 9/11 I spend all day suddenly remembering that I'm existing in my own little world on a day that matters so much and yet flies by in a blink. I always want to say "yeah, New Yorkers still feel that moment every day," or "I used to go by Ground Zero on the way home at night, it's so weird, a big, gaping hole," or "I knew a girl whose mom died."

The thing though is that none of that shit matters a whole lot. Not to you, or, really, to me. And I'm trying so hard to make 9/11 matter that I'm worried about the size of my patriotism as if I were an frat boy stuffing his shorts. Truth: America is fucked up, just like everywhere else. But I think it's a great country to live in, every day, where we have the freedom to tell our stories and watch racy shows on cable TV and show our big, meaty legs in short shorts.

I met a cool lady tonight, Randa Jarrar, who wrote my new favorite book, A Map of Home (review to come in my next book post). She's an Arab American, and I told her that I was gonna send her book to my grandmother, who has never met an Arab person before and is terrified of Muslims. I told her that my gran a smart lady who just doesn't have any experience to show her otherwise. The thing is, the story of Nidali, the girl in Randa's book, is the story of every little girl, the story of finding self-identity and the struggle of adolescence. It's a totally cultural book, set in the Middle East, but it's hysterical and heartbreaking and perfect.

If I had my way A Map of Home would be in every high school library, even though the Tipper Gores and the Sarah Palins of our country would be all over it for the sex and the dirty words and the violence. But, that's how life is, and if we could all see through Nidali's eyes, through Randa's words, I think the youth of America would stand a chance at fighting the bullshit cultural war we've gotten ourselves into.

And on that note, I hope I never write about September 11 again. I hope it's all out of my system. Then again, I'm nothing if not repetitive.

The Possibly Annual Shark Admiration Post

2008-07-27T20:34:00.003-05:00

The boyfriend is pretty miffed that it's Shark Week. I'd like to think it's because I'm going to be giving more attention to the boob tube than to him, but I know it's just that he'd rather watch non-shark programming on Discovery. That doesn't, however, mean that I understand his aversion.

Sharks are so amazing. Look at the size of those animals. Look at their enormous mouths, the rows and rows of teeth. The electromagnetic sensors in their snouts. These animals are truly top predators.

So I'm not saying that I want to hang out with sharks. Not without at least some chain mail armor and definitely a dive-cage. As cool as a shark-bite scar would be, with my luck any shark-related injury would lead to shark-related death. I'd be another fun statistic.

But ultimately, sharks are misunderstood. They're pretty smart creatures, and, while not dolphins, I still can't fathom eating them. Endangered sharks are illegally fished in parts of the world for shark fin soup (which I'm pretty sure I wouldn't eat even if I didn't think sharks were too cool to be food), and you know we wouldn't let this go as easily if sharks were cute and furry like a tiger.

In conclusion, here are some things you already know if you've ever watched Shark Week:

- Sharks don't think people taste good and only try to eat us when they think we're something else.
- Bull sharks can go in fresh water and salt water, making them pretty awesome.
- Playing dead is a better defense than thrashing around like an injured animal in case of shark attack.
- It is thought that the sharks that massacred the shipwreck victims of the Indianapolis were Oceanic White Tip.
- The short-finned mako is the world's fastest shark, but it's pretty impossible to see how fast since they're pretty tricky, and pretty strong.
- Sharks can be effectively hypnotized by flipping them upside down. (This is not to say, of course, we should all go out and flip sharks. That wouldn't be very nice...or smart.)

PS, here's a picture of me with shark teeth, courtesy of discovery.com. I think I could have done better with PhotoShop. But, you know, obsession and all...

American Satire & Obama Drama

2008-07-15T22:35:00.005-05:00

Since I've been getting emails and IMs about this, I figured I may as well lay it out here in Ye Olde Blog. I think there's nothing wrong with The New Yorker's recent cover. You know, the one causing all the ruckus, since it's got the Obamas all dressed up like terrorists. Since I'm not terribly politically-minded, I can only assume all y'all are harassing me 'cause I used to work at that fine magazine. That's ok. Just let me share my piece.

I really think the biggest problem with the cover has nothing to do with the magazine or the artist (Barry Blitt) at all. I think the biggest problem is that American's don't get satire. And that's fine, except, there are a lot of smart media outlets like TNY that are really great with satire, and the Obama cover is a perfect example. It addresses all the propaganda that the right-wing pundits are throwing at the Obama campaign. You know, that bullshit about him being a terrorist, a Muslim (and who cares if he were, really, but that's another blog for another day), etc. It highlights that "terrorist fist jab," has a flag burning in the fire place, and a portrait of Bin Laden on the wall. I mean, really, folks, what's not to get about this? It's so absurd, it has to be a joke.

And, okay, okay I get that it's a controversial cover. But seriously, the folks at The New Yorker are smart people, and you shouldn't think for a minute that they weren't expecting some sort of lashback from Obama supporters and the liberal media. And they know exactly what Fox News and all those conservative pundits are going to do with that - but, let's face it, those guys are preaching to the converted. You could put Obama in a crown of thorns, a frilly pink dress, or a Hitler-esque mustache on a magazine cover and these folks are still going to refer to him as "B. Hussein Obama" when they call in to raise a stink on talk radio.

But let's face it folks, controversy sells. This cover is going to move units, and that should make Obama supporters happy. If you actually open the magazine, you'll find not one but two articles on the senator. Now, given that a) I don't work at TNY anymore and b) as a result of a) I'm broke (and busy), I haven't had the time or money to sit down and read the articles (you may have noticed I'm up to my ears in teen and middle grade books), but, given the way the magazine tends to lean, you can be pretty sure that they have something good to say about Obama. At the very least, you know that they are going to be smart, no-bullshit pieces. And, you know what? That's exactly what the skeptical and the undecided need to read.

Yes, I support Obama. As I previously stated, I'm not very smart about politics. I'm one of those horrible people that gets pissed off when the President gives a speech or there's an important debate and it interrupts my TV programs. I don't read a lot of political magazines (or any, these days - like I said, too many kids' books), and I don't do a lot of research on the candidates. That said, I have seen Obama speak, I've heard what he has to say, and it seems to me he has a lot of good ideas for the American people, and the drive, ambition, and will-power to see these ideas through to fruition. Barack Obama loves America. For Chrissakes, anyone who is going to let a magazine cover dissuade them of that fact was never willing to consider Obama's character in the first place.

In conclusion: what's the big deal?

In another conclusion: I think you guys just need something to complain about. As if there wasn't enough already. Seriously.

This is just to say

2008-07-13T17:17:00.004-05:00

That I'm really
going to miss
reading recipes
and anecdotes
from Miss A.

I hope she gets
healthy and
maybe blogs
again. (So sweet
and delicious).

Die-Cut Covers Are the Enemy

2008-07-12T23:02:00.006-05:00

Dear Publishers,

I am writing you as a lover of books, no, an ambassador of books. As an inventory manager at a large independent book store, I assure you, I care for books like very few Americans do. I spend a lot of time every day thinking about books, shelving them in my head the way you fit Tetris blocks mentally after having played for hours before bed. Things like humidity pain me not because of the state of my hair, but the state of paperback covers curling when they are face-out on the shelves. But at least these covers revert to their prior state of flatness when shelved spine-out and pressed between their literary brethren.

Not so is the case for a damaged die-cut jacket.

Publishers, I come to you hoping that you will understand that books with die-cut details in the jacket or cover, however cute or funny or exciting to look at, stand no chance on a shelf not maintained and guarded by an ex-member of the FBI's bomb squad, treating each with the delicacy and precision he would treat a live wire. Inevitably, these seemingly simple jackets will be shelved too close and too hastily next to another book by a customer - or even a distracted, busy member of the staff - and the material that creates the cute little hole(s) will start to tear backward. The tome has begun its descent into book purgatory.

One tiny tear is never where it ends. Even books with just one simple cut in the cover wind up with their covers tattered beyond recognition, and remain lonely on the shelves where they cannot, will not sell until marked down and banished to the clearance aisle. And nobody wants a damaged book. Much like Rudolph's Island of Misfit Toys, the damaged books in this aisle can stay there for years before anyone even gives them a sidelong glance.

So here's the thing, Publishers. If you want your books to look beautiful and pristine on the shelves of my book store, stop making books with die-cut covers. Especially books for kids and teens, as these are folks who often times haven't figured out the proper care and keeping of a perfect-bound masterpiece. And even the young ones who do love their books as much as I do have no control over the four year old who comes into the store behind them just thinks it's fun to pull book after book from the shelves, throwing them to the floor, just to see how much damage they can accomplish before Momma notices. Kids will be kids, after all.

I understand that you want your books to be the most intriguing, cutting-edge items customers can see. But if you want your books to be seen at all, for the love of all things literary, make that cutting edge a little less literal.

With All Due Respect,

Emily
Ambassador of the Books

EDIT: Below is a picture of Sarah Dessen's latest book. I haven't read it, and have no opinion on the book itself. But I thought maybe this post needed an example photo. Here you have it:

Completely OK at Forking

2008-06-19T20:17:00.008-05:00

I miss Amelia. I miss her so much. Amelia is the big sister I never had. She fills in all the gaps left by a dramatic teenhood and a funny relationship with my mother. She tells me what I need to hear, and sometimes what I want to hear, but would never sugar-coat something important. She's the only person I know who fully appreciates driving fast down the interstate blasting Bryan Adams ("Summer of 69") and singing along until the third verse at which point we sort of mumble forgotten lyrics (RIP Amelia's car's speakers). She doesn't make fun of me for having too many cats...usually. And she gives the best hugs ever (sorry, Mark). I really miss her.

Amelia moved to Arizona in February, shortly after I moved to Texas. It's great for her - AZ is where her family is, it's her home base, and, as an Army wife and sometimes-single mother (when the hubby is overseas), she needs all the support she can get. But it sucks for me, 'cause it's way farther to her house now than it used to be. You could listen to that Bryan Adams song at least a billion more times.

I love my life here, and as much as I'd like to cut myself in two and have my left hand with Amelia and my right hand with Mark, I hear that science hasn't advanced enough for this to be possible. So I do what I can. I listen to Sunny Day Real Estate and The Appleseed Cast and all that great emo music that was cool before the bad haircuts and black eyeliner of recent years. I keep a loaf of bread she made me in the freezer (we were saving it for sandwiches but then we forgot to get the sandwich meat and then it was Amelia bread so how could I eat it?), I tell anyone who will listen about my fabulous BFF, I chuckle every time I see the flashlight she gave me (inside jokes are awesome), and I bake my little heart out.

Amelia and I both grew up with a love for baking. She is a perfectionist, and rightfully so. I swear, if she weren't such a good Christian who didn't want to show up Jesus, she could make water from wine. She makes the hard stuff look easy. I marvel at the ease with which she makes biscuits - the first time I visited her, last June (it's almost our anniversary), she made me biscuits for breakfast, but had run out of white flour, and used whole wheat. Amelia claims they weren't that great, but I swear, to this day, they are the best biscuits I've ever had.

This winter I was at her house and she pulled from her freezer a bag of rolled peanut butter dough (see how she even plans such simple things ahead? I would never have the patience), and together we made hash marks in them with forks. I told her how this past Christmas, in all the hullabaloo of my mother's baking frenzy (my sister and I counted about 25 different types of cookies that she baked enormous batches of for the neighbors, work, family, etc.) I'd been banned from forking the peanut butter cookies because I wasn't being neat enough. Amelia thought this was funny and told me I did a fine job. So today, as I made peanut butter cookies (an amalgam of several internet recipes, posted below), I couldn't help but to text my best friend and tell her how much I missed her, and her faith in my fork-hashing skills.

In response she called me, my phone showing a silly kissy-face photo of her, blasting a tinny "Summer of 69." She told me she would send me good-hashing vibes, and I guess it worked, 'cause the cookies came out both pretty and delicious. Neither of us really like peanut butter cookies all that much, either. But they're fun to make, and these have extra brown sugar for extra chewiness and pb and chocolate chips for extra yumminess. I know it's summer, but with a little AC, what's turning the oven on, if it reminds you of your dearest amigo?

Amelia-Chip* Peanut Butter Cookies:

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 cup natural crunchy peanut butter
1 + 1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 large egg
1 tablespoon water
1/2 cup chocolate chips
1/2 cup peanut butter chips

*No actual Amelias contained in this cookie. Mostly because we like Amelia, but also because Amelia would taste gross, even though she's awesome.

Preheat your oven to 350°. In a medium-sized bowl combine the dry ingredients: flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In a large mixing bowl use an electric mixer (or a really strong hand) to blend the peanut butter and the butter until smooth and creamy. Blend in the sugar, and then add the egg and the water. When thoroughly blended, slowly add the dry ingredients. The dough should be soft but crumbly. Stir in the chocolate and peanut butter chips (if you want, Nestle makes some fun "swirl" chocolate chips, including a milk chocolate/peanut butter blend. I used two cups of these instead of one cup of each kind). Using your hands pinch bits of dough from the bowl and form into small 1-2 inch balls. Roll the dough in your palms, but don't over-handle! Set the balls of dough about an inch apart on a non-stick cookie sheet, and using the back of a fork, make hash marks in the dough. This will flatten the dough some, but be aware that they still will spread out by baking! Bake the cookies from 10-15 minutes. Let cool on a drying rack (wax paper on a counter top works just as well) and enjoy with a loved one. Or by yourself. Or send them to your best friend in Arizona (if she likes peanut butter cookies).

PS, Amelia, I made this one after you called, because your vibes helped me hash a heart:

Morse-Adkins Cat Motor Lodge

2008-06-15T16:53:00.004-05:00

Last night being Saturday night, Mark and I were actually going to do the whole date night thing and see that new M. Night Shyamalan movie at the nearest theater. We were about to leave when he realized he'd lost his wallet and after scouring the house for an hour still couldn't find it. While we still could have made the movie, I'm a broke book store employee and can't afford movie tickets for two until pay day (if I want to eat this week). We changed plans, drove out to Waterloo Video and rented some horror films — The Eye (the original Chinese version), Teeth, and Ab-Normal Beauty (another Chinese film). We came home (with sodas from Sonic, of course) still mourning the loss of Mark's wallet, but on our way in heard some noise in the bushes. It sounded like a cat, so we started taking a mental inventory of our animals. All but one stay inside at all times, and that one wasn't out. So we started calling —here, kitty, kitty etc — until out walked a black beauty of an animal, mewling. She immediately flopped over at Mark's feet begging to be loved.

It's hot enough in Texas for people, but, for a domestic animal that clearly has spent most of its life indoors, the summer sun is brutal. We couldn't leave this poor girl outside so Mark scooped her up and we brought her directly into our bathroom where she would be safe, but still separate from the resident population. I wish this was the first time this had happened to us, but apparently there is some neon sign on the front of our house: FREE FOOD. CAT MOTEL.

Two of our other cats are charity cases. Mocha, the irritable Siamese came to me back in New York when a room mate neglected her and I just took her on when the girl moved out. And Turkleton, our big Abyssinian mix, lived under our porch for several months before we deemed it too hot for him to live out there anymore. This is in addition to the two cats we adopted on purpose: my Maine Coon, Telemachus and Mark's three-legged calico, Beatrice. Seriously, we are not wanting for cats.

But people keep dumping their animals, which I guess shouldn't be shocking to me, since it's a crisis in just about every area, urban or rural. The impression I get of Austin, though, is of a caring, neighborly community full of activists and leaders and people who should give a shit about their pets. I've called every veterinarian in the area, as well as the Town Lake Animal Center (where all lost pets in Austin are registered), the SPCA, and the Animal Trustees of Austin. No one has called them about their missing cat.

We really can't afford to keep this baby girl, even though we are already growing attached, so we're hoping to find a friend to take her in if we can't locate her family. I met one family today who were hoping that their lost kitty was the one we found, but it just wasn't in the cards, and they're the only possible family that Craigslist has turned up. My biggest fear is that someone thought it would be a good idea to get a black cat on Friday the 13th - for a prank or a party or just for funsies - then thought better of it and ditched her. Thankfully, she's in good spirits anyway.

I'm pretty sure that my readers are the proverbial choir, but, seriously guys, lets take care of these furry creatures, at least for karma's sake.

Growing Up: Still Just for Old People

2008-06-13T22:09:00.006-05:00

So I was reading up on Scott Westerfeld, since I'm currently ensconced in his Uglies series, and in his FAQ he states that while he has written adult fiction before, he is wary to go back because a) adults don't send as much fan mail and b) adults tend to stick to one genre or author and do not venture elsewhere. He said some other stuff, too, but I'm a lazy paraphraser.

It sort of makes me wonder how many great authors I missed the boat on by moving directly from my non-reader phase to my literary snob phase shortly after college. I'm working on that, at the moment reading a lot of teen fiction, and consequently feeling more and more overwhelmed by the day by the amount of adult books that are also out there. I mean, literally, piles and piles of books I'll never be able to read in my lifetime.

It's a dilemma. A coworker and I talked about it today, and it's one of those conversations that always ends like this:

"Yeah."
"Yeah."
(awkward silence)

I've often joked about wanting to read books by osmosis - simply by touching a book to my face all of its contents would work into my brain and I'd be full of knowledge and pleasure. But of course there's a fundamental problem with this plan, just as with any revolutionary idea: what about the pleasure in the process of reading? In whizzing through books the way I have been over the last few weeks (I feel really smart and cocky and have to keep reminding myself I'm reading stuff written for people whose brains are still developing), I feel myself rushing to get from one book to the next. I used to read in a more leisurely manner, taking in only 20-30 pages in a sitting, usually while waiting for something or riding somewhere, and would stretch a book out over a couple of weeks. And sometimes I'd do this on purpose, just to savor the last few pages of a delectable book (most memorably, Eleanor Rigby by Douglas Coupland).

So here I am, with a hundred pages left of Pretties, both excited and scared that I've got so much to read when I'm done. There's Specials, the third book of the Uglies trilogy, and at some point the follow up, Extras, will come out in paperback. Meanwhile the boss lady gave me a pile of books to read to prepare for the fall season at the store. And, of course, there's my own ever-expanding home library (I swear, sometime soon, I'm going to read Stephanie Klein's memoir, Moose, since, you know, I've got a signed copy at arm's length right now and a girl needs some nonfiction every now and then).

The idea of growing up and giving up on reading (again) scares me. Is Westerfeld right? Am I going to limit myself to one tiny chunk of the literary world (contemporary fiction, authors C through L, perhaps?), or can I fight it, push the boundaries of adulthood and rebel against the tendency toward stagnation? I'd like to think I will. It's not like I'm any good at growing up anyway, and it will be something to do when I'm too old and wrinkly to be seen in public. But only time will tell, and as far as I can see, it will be a while before I let the joy of reading slip away again.

The Next Movement: Death by Words

2008-04-06T22:48:00.004-05:00

It's April, and you know what that means - it's National Poetry Month! Some of us, in the name of Masochism, I suppose, have twisted this into (Inter-)National Poetry Writing Month, or NaPoWriMo. This is much like NaNoWriMo, except instead of writing a 50k novel, the goal is to write a poem for each day of the month of April. Poets in several communities, online and off, I'm sure, are participating, cheering each other on, and cranking out verse. The idea, much like with NaNo, is not not necessarily to produce top notch writing, but simply to produce. It's an exercise in endurance, in breaking through writers' block, and, for me, in having 30 poems at the end of April that I might edit into something decent come May.

So far I'm doing well, and have penned five poems over the past five days (today's has yet to be written, but I'm sure I'll get there before I fall asleep). I started with a list of topics I might write about, with some lines and phrases and words that I'd like to work into my poetry, and have been referring back to this list for inspiration from time to time. Strangely enough, I seem to keep writing about bugs, which is weird, because I hate bugs. At the same time, it's not so weird, because I love watching Discovery Channel specials on bugs. They're fascinating.

This is the third year I've participated in NaPo, and since in the past two years I completed the task, I'm raising the bar for myself. I'd really like to write 30 pieces that are usable. Even though NaPoWriMo isn't about quality, I think as a writer I need to challenge myself. Several poems from last year, and even a few from the year before, have since been published, and I wish I had more salvageable works to draw from. This is partially because I'm hoping to take a big leap in the upcoming months - toward a chapbook or a collection.

I'm not sure of the exact benefits entailed in having a book of poetry vs. having pieces published in magazines, but I've been assured that they are many. Of course I also like the idea of having a selection of work all in one place that my ~~amassed fans~~ grandmother can pick up and enjoy. At this point in my career, I am a bit loathe to self-publish. I am rather confident that with time and patience I might stand a chance in the big kid's league.

So, in the very near future, I will be submitting manuscripts to the Mimesis Digital Chapbook Contest (my manuscript for this contest will include my photography as well), and to the Templar Poetry Pamphlet & Collection Competition. Wish me luck!

Only The Fashion Police Can Judge Me

2008-03-20T00:48:00.005-05:00

There is little more unnerving than cleaning out your closet and taking your clothes to a consignment store. Let me explain.

I have a clothing addiction. It's been a problem since I first started my career as a mallrat in the 7th grade. I bought things that I thought were hip, but not suited to my body type, just because they were on sale at Contempo for $4. As I got into high school I would buy things that I would have to take in or fix because, well, this is a deal and just because the zipper is busted, well, $12 for this twill tube dress is just awesome! By college I had discovered the glory of eBay and the array of DIYers and thrift-store junkies that sold their goods therein. I wound up with clothes that didn't quite fit or that weren't quite like what they appeared as in the listing or that were so outrageous that I wore them to one party or on one day at class and then stuffed back into my teeny tiny exploding college dorm closet.

You can imagine how much my wardrobe expanded when I lived in Brooklyn for two years, with a professional salary to boot. I went to actual (not virtual) thrift stores, bargain stores like Daffy's, and neat local shops. There was an H&M on almost any corner and I knew where to find the best sales at the cool boutiques. When I started packing to move to Austin, I found tons of clothes that still had the sales tags in my closet. In addition, you can imagine, I pulled out many skirts, jackets, shoes and t-shirts that were never going to see the light of day again. And, so, I took them to Beacon's Closet, the hippest thrift store I'd ever been to, and dumped my items on their counter.

My boyfriend, Mark, came with me that day for emotional support. We went to lunch while they evaluated my goods, and I dreamed of the pile of money I was going to rake in. Much to my chagrin, I became only $11 richer that day, despite the designer jeans (still with tags!), funky vintage waitress dresses, trendy shoes and cashmere sweaters I had in the huge bag. They told me "we bought these two pair of shoes which will retail for $35," and gave me a voucher to cash at the front of the store. My heart pretty much dunked itself in sadsauce, but I had already resolved to, for the sake of the move, give whatever the didn't take to charity. I took my $11 and swallowed my pride.

Pride, because, what feels worse than a bunch of hipsters telling you "only two pairs of shoes in this whole bag of swag are cool enough for our store"? My answer is this: hipsters going through even MORE of your clothes in an even HIPPER town while you watch them reject pieces one by one.

Today my dear friend Katy gave up some of her time to take me and four big shopping bags' worth of clothes and shoes to a really cool shop called the Buffalo Exchange. Apparently this is a national chain, so you might have one near you. Reader, I must tell you, get thee to one of their locations should you find one in your area. What variety! What style! What a disaster for a girl on a mission to save more money this year! Katy and I browsed the aisles briefly while one of the super-hip store managers began to evaluate my clothes. Quickly we decided to go back to the counter before either of us were tempted to part with some sweet, sweet green. I found myself eying her, praying in my head each time she grabbed an item out of the bag: Please take this one, please take this one, this one is sooooo awesome!

Damn. It's like being personally evaluated on a cool-o-meter over and over. In my head I imagined her saying "Wow, this girl is so lame — she bought this hideous sweater!" and "Jesus, why would she think this is hip? This isn't vintage, this is dated!" and "There's 'so ugly it's cute,' and 'so ugly it should be burned!'" I supposed I live more in fear of judgment than the average gal, but I'm willing to bet I'm not the only person who feels this way at the counter of a consignment store. At least I made more than $11 today. I walked out with a clean $53.20. And promptly took Katy on a very romantic date at Sonic. We even shared dessert.

The Dynamic is All to Boom

2008-03-02T16:51:00.005-06:00

Recently, my boyfriend and I watched that episode of The Simpsons where Milhouse and his mom move to Capital City and Milhouse goes all bling bling and Bart is instantaneously lonely. I've never had my best friend move away before. Until Amelia left.

I moved to Austin last month, just in time to catch some quality time with my best friend, Amelia, before she moved back to her home state of Arizona. This move occurred on Friday. Amelia, the trooper, drove all 900 miles in one day. And I rode the bus wearing my "Where the heck is Copperas Cove, TX? t-shirt that Amelia brought me from her now former town.

I found myself at some of the places Amelia and I went the first time I came to Austin, and looking for her favorite ice cream flavor (Vosges Naga - a curry flavor - weird but delicious!) at Whole Foods. I couldn't write about it. Standing at the bus stop I texted her:

"Some jerk is taking up the whole bus stop bench with his leg."
"Lame!"
"Ew now he moved and his fat hairy crack is falling out of his pants!"
"Better crack than junk!"
"Toats."

The bus was late. It was just after rush hour. A long trail of traffic stretched down Lamar from the stop light. Two old men in a pick up truck were waving and moving their lips. In New York I would have ignored them, but apparently in Texas talking to strangers on the side of the road is totally normal and almost expected. I took off my headphones.

"Take 190 from I35!"
"That's...true"

Before the traffic moved, I told the old man about Amelia and he told me that she was lucky, and gave Cove the thumbs-down. I texted her again.

"Some old dude in a truck saw me at the bus stop and gave me directions to Cove."
"Oman laffo!"
"Srs. He said you're lucky!"
"Don't I know it!"

And she is. She's going back to Arizona where her family is, and a lot of her friends. She'll have people to help her with her little girl while her husband is in Iraq.

On Thursday night, before the Great Escape from Texas, we had our last hurrahs. Mark took us to the Alamo Drafthouse to see Be Kind, Rewind - it was hilarious and sentimental, and artsy enough to quell Mark (who is just about the biggest movie snob ever). We found our friends Katy and Sarah (like little sisters to Amelia and I both) and frolicked on 6th street. I watched her almost lick the building that houses Emo's, a very scenester nightclub that Amelia never actually made it to during her time here. We shared a peach-flavored cigarette from Sarah's 75-cent pack (don't tell my gran. I don't really smoke). We laughed at the skinny sorority girls wearing their teeny tiny uniforms. We let her dogs out in my yard, where they peed on my fence. And, in the morning, she came in to wake me up, told me that I didn't have to get out of bed, and said goodbye to my cats, and then to me.

I miss her.

This is Your Blog on Drugs

2008-02-08T14:02:00.000-06:00

That's what I was going to call this blog, anyway. It turns out the prescription painkillers I was prescribed did almost nothing for me. Oh, well.

I was brushing my teeth last week when suddenly a piece of my molar fell off. Well, it more or less peeled off. That's what you get for ignoring your cavities, kiddies. I officially feel like a southwestern hillbilly. Luckily I had two days left of insurance from my previous job in which to have a dental adventure.

I'm petrified of the dentist. Honestly, as far as I'm concerned, anyone who wants to spend their lives inside other people's mouths is either a nut job or a sadist or both. Of course, I have to make the exception for my boyfriend's mum, a dental hygienist, who is one of the nicest people I've ever met. We called her that night at around 1am to find out what we should do, and she didn't even complain about the hour. In any case, I just don't understand the profession, and most of the tools I see in the office resemble torture devices from spy movies. (Remember that tooth-pulling torture guy from Alias? Seriously. Imagine that guy giving you a root canal and that's what I picture every time someone says "dentist.")

I've sort of known for months that I needed a root canal, actually. The molar in question has been in pain for years, following what I think was a botched filling. The dental industry has had so many opportunities to redeem itself, but is constantly failing. This particular incident was in November 2004 - I had three fillings done and, not only did 8 shots of Novocaine not numb me while drilling, the fillings hurt constantly for several months. And it wasn't just a little ache, or a sensation when eating hot or cold. It was a constant throbbing, blinding pain in my teeth.

I called the dentist and she prescribed a painkiller (it was acetaminophen-based, but I don't remember what the naughty stuff in it was. Not codeine, though, since I was too busy in college to be taking anything that would render me useless), which, as per usual, did nothing. I put myself on a regimen of Excedrin, taking two or three pills every four hours, including a dose at bedtime to avoid waking up in excruciating pain (this almost always failed). By January or February I was no longer in constant pain, but still had regular toothaches. Even years later that one molar always bothered me, but I just thought that, with my history of panic and anxiety, it could be psychosomatic.

When a brown spot appeared on the tooth — followed by a crack — I knew I was wrong. So last week when the tooth just finally broke, I wasn't so much shocked but angry that I'd let my fear of dentists get the better of me.

Seriously, though. The dentist guy from Alias. So scary.

So I've got a temporary filling in place and will be getting a crown on Tuesday. I'm not happy about it, but seeing as the only real pain I've had so far from the root canal is from chewing up my own cheek (and let me tell you, that is some serious pain), I'm feeling better about it. But, you know, if I'm going to be doing this whole dental thing on a regular basis, I'd better at least get some fun drugs out of it.

Star Power

2007-12-27T18:00:00.000-06:00

I really only allow myself to read gossip magazines in two places: the hair salon, and the airport. But the internet spews the same information at me constantly. My room mate introduced me to Perez Hilton several months ago, and I'm guilty of checking his website about once every two weeks. Sorry Perez, but you bring my faith in humanity way down.

This man is famous for drawing fake coke and cum on photos of celebrities who may or may not be down on their luck. Regular parts of his vocabulary are "fugly," "pAArty," "hot mess," and "hag," not to mention his juvenile, dirogetory nicknames for his favorite celebs (i.e. Mischa Barton = Mushy Fartone and Britney = Unfitney). Hilton's escapades have moved from his blog to YouTube (his channel is mostly him going over his own personal life and dancing for the camera), a show on VH1, and, apparently, guest appearances on various other media outlets. At least Paris Hilton is famous for being famous, not bringing her peers down. I don't think I could live with myself if I centered my life around the downfalls of others.

So apparently Britney Spears is so addicted to fame that she goes looking for paparazzi. I wonder if she would have dug such a hole for herself if Perez and his colleagues hadn't given her the shovel.

At this point Perez can make or break a new artist by mentioning him on his website. This is a power to lift up, so I can't comprehend why he instead chooses to — with such unwavering joy! — make one destructive post after another.

Yeah, I read it. But I find that, generally, tales of celebrities' personal problems just make me disillusioned at best. I did, however, find this satirical celebrity gossip blog, that doesn't have the same attitude problem as Perez. Should I feel the need to feed the celeb goss cravings, I feel a little less guilty there than at perezhilton.com.

'Tis the Season

2007-12-18T00:06:00.000-06:00

I have a problem. As my readers know, I'm a bakeaholic. I spend a lot of time concocting in my kitchen. You would think I knew how to use a potholder.

The sad truth is, a few times a month I get a little buzzed from all the culinary excitement, and, woops, grab a hot plate/pie tin/baking sheet from the oven, promptly giving myself second-degree burns. Tonight marks the worst yet:

That is, thankfully, my left hand, after using my right hand to pull a batch of cookies out of the oven with a dish towel and, upon the cookie sheet being too hot, and coming in for the save with a whole lot o' nothing protecting Leftie. Poor Leftie.

Since then (about an hour ago) I've taken 3 Excedrin (no sleep for me tonight, hence this blog) and been running my hand under freezing cold water. I've also been alternately clutching a paper towel filled with ice and splaying my hand so that the skin stretches a bit (the internets says that if you don't stretch the burned skin it could heal too tightly, thus making your life extra miserable forever). Most of this post was typed with one hand.

Incidentally, the cookies I pulled out of the oven were burned, too. First time testing a new recipe. I put them in a tupperware for my room mate with the following note:

CARRIE - THESE BURNED COOKIES TRIED TO TAKE MY HAND. PLEASE EAT THEM. THANKS. -EMILY. (DETAILS IN MY BLOG)

Hi, Carrie.

Don't worry, folks. I give Carrie plenty of non-burned cookies, too. She ate half the sugar cookies I made in November, and was shocked and disgusted to learn tonight that they have Crisco in them. Oh yes, I do love my Crisco. All my old family recipes have them. Holiday treats shouldn't be healthy anyway.

In any case, I'm calling my new recipe "Burn Unit Special Xmas PB Cookies." They're basically peanut butter cookies, with a little candy twist: Hershey's candy cane kisses. Yes, friends, peanut butter and peppermint work shockingly well together. I would normally use my mum's recipe, but her's calls for, well, Crisco. I had to invent this one. Get out your sprinkles:

1 1/2 C flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 C unsalted butter (softened)
2/3 C creamy peanut butter
1/2 C granulated sugar
1/2 C light brown sugar (packed)
1 large egg
1 1/4 tsp vanilla
colored sugar sprinkles
1 bag of Hershey's candy cane kisses

Preheat oven to 375 F

Mix together flour, baking powder, soda, and salt. Set aside. Using an electric mixer or a quick hand, blend butter and peanut butter, then add the sugars. Beat in egg and vanilla. When the mixture is smooth, slowly add flour. Pinch off teaspoon-sized sections of dough and roll into balls (dough will be soft, don't over-handle). Dip into colored sugars and place on cookie sheet about an inch to two inches apart. Squish a kiss into each ball of dough and place in the oven. Bake 9-12 minutes, until edges begin to brown. Transfer to rack to cool.

And, folks, please remember kitchen safety. Pot holders can save your hands from a shit load of pain. I promise.

The Obligatory Christmas Gift Post

2007-12-12T22:40:00.000-06:00

Believe it or not, I'm literate. I spend a lot of time reading pop novels, because that's what I like to read. I'd like to think that one day I'll battle through Ulysses, or even engage some of the Hemingway tomes I've bought for my boyfriend. I have books by Virginia Woolf and fully intend on reading them. It should be noted here that one of the reasons I have yet to read Mrs. Dalloway is that my emotionally unstable siamese peed on it (along with Microserfs by Douglas Coupland and Averno by Louise Glück) when I left it out on the kitchen counter, which is, apparently, her new favorite place to assert her authority. The truth, however, is I probably wouldn't have read it yet anyway. Though, it may be noted, that I have a ton of books by decorated poets. And I've read most of them.

The point is, I think, that pop novels make for great holiday gifts. I've read all of these books, and thusly can give my stamp of approval. I'm even gifting some this year (I feel safe saying this because my giftees either have an aversion to internets or to blogs). And, as tacky as it is, Happy Holidays to all two of you who read this blog. And a happy new year, or whatever.
( And, yes, I'm aware that I'm a bit late for Hanukkah, but that never stops the cashiers at Macy's from saying "Happy Holidays." I recommend avoiding that place right now, it's a zoo. A zoo filled with steroid-enhanced wildlife that may or may not have recently snorted cocaine.)

A Tale of Two Sisters by Anna Maxted
I read this one last year, picked it up because it's by one of the only chick lit authors I enjoy, Anna Maxted. But it surprised me. This is as much a warm, heartfelt book about taking responsibility for one's own place in life as it is a punchy comedy. The story takes turns between the perspectives of two sisters, Lizbet and Cassie, as they struggle through their relationships (Lizbet is single but committed, whereas Cassie is married but questioning her vows), their jobs (editor and lawyer, respectively), and their feelings for eachother just as a surprise, followed by a tragedy, hit the family. Perhaps it sounds a bit cliche, but trust me when I say that this is Maxted's best book, rife with wit and cynicism, and a great gift for any woman in the family.

The Seas by Samantha Hunt
What I love most about this book is its insane romanticism. Let me pause. It's not insane because it's romantic, it's romantic because it's insane. Or is it? The narrator has a special idealism in the face of imminent tragedy, and is convinced of certain paranormal experiences - most prominently she believes she's a mermaid - that really define the ebb and flow of the story. She is engaged a doomed love affair with a much older Gulf War vet, and lives in a small ship-building town, that, despite giving no specific geographical location, reminds me of northern Maine. It's the spirit of this book that has caused me to already gift it twice.

Hey Nostradamus! by Douglas Coupland
It's not really about religion. Its characters, in various states of spiritual decomposition, don't have a platform on Christianity. In the wake of a high school tragedy, the four narrators of this story are all determined to move forward. Some get there faster than others, and, like you might expect from Coupland, each character's progress is interwoven with the others'. Like most of Coupland's work, this novel leaves both an apocalyptic and a hopeful aftertaste.

Songbook by Nick Hornby
This was actually given to me a few years ago, by my childhood best friend. It's nonfiction - part memoir, part music journalism, with Hornby's musings on his 32 favorite songs. This makes a perfect gift for a music-lover - the friend who has a story for each of his favorite songs. You know, the "Oh the first time I heard this I was driving down Congress Street with Joe..." friend. It's also a quick read, so it's not like you'd be burdening him with the chore of reading War and Peace. Unless, you know, he's into that sort of thing.

Cockatiels for Two by Leo Cullum
Leo Cullum is among my favorite New Yorker cartoonists. And cat cartoons never cease to be funny. This book, comprised entirely of his cat cartoons, is a no-miss gift. Unless your recipient is a dog person. For him, there is Cullum's book of dog cartoons. But that one doesn't interest me nearly as much.

Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot
For lovers of fixed-verse poetry and cat fanatics alike, children and adults, this Eliot classic is a pleaser. I mean, who wouldn't love a poem about Jennyanydots, or Macavity the Mystery Cat? These poems are entertaining and nostalgic, and most fun read aloud!

Beasts by Joyce Carol Oates
A coworker recommended this book to me as she said it reminded her of having gone to college in a rural, eastern location, much like I did. It takes place at an all-girls college in New England, where one girl's obsession with a professor of literature, and, in turn, his wife the art teacher, quickly becomes unhealthy. While dark, Beasts is a compelling read that draws a narrow line between art and self.

Big Mouth and Ugly Girl by Joyce Carol Oates
When I initially purchased this book from half.com, I suspected that it might be a young adult novel. The cover art, I suppose gives it away. I mostly didn't care, as a) Joyce Carol Oates is awesome and b) I like kids' books. What surprised me was the careful, strong narrative Oates crafted using two teenage misfits as protagonists, and, in the aftermath of so many school shootings and bomb threats in the 90's and 00's, the way she tackles such an incident without gimmick or glamor. This is the sort of smart, funny novel that teenagers should be reading, and that adults can certainly get a kick out of, too.

Sputnik Sweetheart by Haruki Murakami
This was the first Murakami book I read. I know, he's a huge buzz name right now, but hear me out. Your contemporary-literature-loving friend probably doesn't have this one. It's not one of Murakami's more well-known novels, but perhaps it should be. I admit, I chose it not on its merit, but on the fact that it was the shortest of the Murakami novels that were on sale at the Strand. I don't regret this. It mostly takes place on a remote island off the coast of Greece, in search of a woman who has disappeared, seemingly, without a trace. While Murakami is, arguably, hard to read, once you discover the elaborate mystery and romance of this novel, it's difficult to put down. I, for one, missed my stop on the train at least once while reading it.

Latin for Even More Occasions by Henry Beard
Okay, this was geek-love-at-first-sight. Henry Beard may not be a creative genius, but I can't say I haven't enjoyed this book a little too much. And I'm certain that anyone with an interest in Latin, language, or Greco-Roman studies will get a kick out of this. This is especially useful for the holidays: Cogito sumere potum alterum.

Slam by Nick Hornby
I haven't finished reading this yet, so I can't give you an absolutely definitive opinion. But, I can tell you that Nick Hornby's first young adult novel is a hoot. It takes on both heavy and light-hearted subjects with the sort of narrative voice that I have enjoyed In every other Hornby novel that I've read through the eyes of Sam. Sam is a 16-year-old skater (not an ice-skater, mind you, a skateboarder) living in London. He has girl trouble. And there's very little not to enjoy about his story.

Miss Wyoming by Douglas Coupland
Another Coupland novel that I devoured this past year, Miss Wyoming is as delightful as it is frightening. Frightening in the sense that, yes, this is the human condition. It skips about in time, narrating both the history and current affairs of a former teen pageant queen and a washed up movie star. Susan Colgate has survived a plane crash followed by a year-long disappearance, John Johnson has survived a drug overdose followed by months of self-prescribed homelessness. They both have survived, as you can imagine, some extremely odd family dynamics. As the story switches perspectives and carves out each surprise, you find yourself putting faith in the aforementioned human condition, and the odd little mission that this pair ultimately have set out to achieve.

There you have it. Happy shopping (read: may you not venture into any malls or department stores). And, if you're wondering what to get me, here's my very own Amazon wish list. I like presents.

Happy Accidents

2007-12-09T21:32:00.000-06:00

These cookies are entirely a misunderstanding. My dear friend Amelia, who is, sadly, at current, trapped in a small town in Texas without internets, texted me a few weeks ago to tell me that she and her daughter had been baking up a storm. "I made chocolate chookies with peanut butter chips and Andes mints!" she said. I texted her back, "You're a genius! Mint and peanut butter together!" Well, Amelia hadn't put both in the same cookies — she'd made two batches, one with peanut butter chips and one with Andes. But, upon testing a bite of each together, she texted me with, "Wow, this is genius, salty and also fresh. Great combo."

Well, I think that's how the texts went. My cell-phone automatically deletes things after a while. But I have a pretty good memory.

So, today, I rustled through my baking cupboard and pulled out the ingredients necessary for this happy accident. Said ingredients are as follows:

2 C flour
3/4 C white sugar
3/4 C packed brown sugar
1/2 C cocoa powder
1 C peanut butter chips
1 C mini chocolate chips
1 package chopped Andes mints
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp vanilla
2 large eggs
1 C (2 sticks) unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C). Mix dry ingredients in a medium bowl and set aside. With an electric mixer cream the butter (softened) and the two sugars. Blend in eggs and vanilla. Slowy add dry ingredients and mix well. Drop by teaspoon-fulls onto ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 9-12 minutes.

And Then There Were Five

2007-12-03T00:48:00.001-06:00

It's official: I'm off to Texas.

If you'd asked me a year ago if I were ever going to move to one of the redneckiest states in the nation, I would have given you the evil eye. However, after having visited the lovely city of Austin, its suburbs, and also having roadtripped to San Antonio, I'm making one of the craziest moves of my life. I blame my boyfriend, Mark, who has enticed me to join him there. Despite my lovely Brooklyn, and all the seductions of the city that never sleeps, he didn't want to come here. And, well, my roots are barely planted, so as a writer, why not wander?

After the initial shock of friends and family wears off, they've been asking a lot of questions. How will you get there? Are you living together? Are you living TOGETHER together? How will you get around? What about your job? And, finally: What about your cats?

As you all know, I have two special cats. On the left, Telemachus, my 16lb+ Maine Coon with a heart of gold and the will to snuggle. On the right, Mocha, the small but plump (about 10lbs, where she should be 6 or 7) Siamese that was abandoned by several owners before finding her way to me and peeing on my carpets and kitchen counter. More on that later. These animals are family and of course are making the trip with me to the Lone Star State. Most likely by plane. Because of Mocha's nervous habit of urinating-at-will, the plane ride is a huge concern. I brought her to the vet on Saturday to find out that, well, she needs kitty Prozac.

I shit you not, the vet gave her antibiotics in case of an infection, but assured me that her pee problems are most likely the result of anxiety. Given her abandonment issues and past on the harsh streets of the Boston 'burbs, I can't say I blame the poor girl. But cat Prozac? I thought this was the sort of thing that only ridiculous celebrities and crazy show dog breeders would recommend, not a nice, friendly neighborhood veterinarian. Mocha has run up a nice list of veterinary bills for me already - her former owner ditched her with me when she moved out of my current apartment. At the time Mocha had ear mites which lead to her scratching her ear so hard she gave herself a hematoma that required surgery. She also needed to be dewormed and demited.

So why, after all this, are Mark and I adopting another cat? No, wait for it:

a three-legged calico kitten whom Mark has insisted upon naming ~~Imogen~~ Beatrice SQL Fleeterson should the adoption papers go through. Yes, this is our soon-to-be-lovespawn.

She's precious! Just look at that face! She apparently suffered some nerve damage to one of her front legs before she was rescued from the streets of Austin and had to have that leg amputated.

I'm a veterinarian's dream.

So, in Austin, I will have three cats, a new house, and a new job. Which, of course, all ties into this post. I want to be a veterinarian. Sort of.

Whenever I take the cats to the vet I wish I'd had the brains to stick to biology and the stomach to do veterinary school. I know I couldn't handle a lot of the things vets do - invasive surgeries, euthanasia, etc. But, why not get a job at a veterinary office? Yes, right now I have a fairly successful publishing career under way. I am looking at a ton of publishing venues from University presses to Austin-based magazines. But if the price is right, so is a change of pace. And, hey, I bet I'd get a good deal on veterinary services for the animals, seeing as I have several sickies to take care of.

Given the fact that I have no experience in animal clinics or shelters, this is just another pipe dream. But, I can volunteer. With any luck Mark will keep me from bringing home every stray animal I encounter, and I can help some orphan cats and pups stay healthy and happy. And, with that in mind, I have two hungry cats waiting for me to finish this up so I can cuddle and feed them. Cat Lady Out.

Have an Original Thought Already

2007-10-29T18:04:00.000-05:00

For some reason, I love horror movies. I am stating the fact in this manner because horror movies, as a genre, are consistently disappointing. All the good parts are in the previews, so you think you're going to be batshit scared and then, not only is the plot shaky and dragged out, not ONLY is the acting weak and misdirected, NOT ONLY is the dialogue predictable and painful to follow, but the anticipated edge-of-your-seat queasefest is entirely nonexistent.

It's probably just the fact that it's all been done, and all there is left to do is gross out the audience. I mean, once upon a time, Jaws was terrifying. Today, that shark is fairly laughable, even if the movie is great. Even films like The Shining and The Exorcist can't scare me (side note: admittedly, Evil Dead does). I need faster, grosser, weirder monsters — or a psychological element so terrifying that I can't sleep at night.

Last night I was watching the Horrorfest 2006 movies that were being aired on Sci-Fi. I caught the end of The Hamiltons, which, while not particularly frightening, is a fairly interesting flick. It, unlike the rest of the Horrorfest films that I've seen, had its moments of innovation. It had a twist on an old favorite (vampires), a morally ambiguous cast of characters, and quite a few surprises. In addition, a lot of the shots were through the eyes of the teenage protagonist, and the lens of his hand-held video camera. Unrest, while a step up from many horror films in some of its visual stimuli (a huge chunk of the film takes place in a bleak cadaver lab, with medical students cutting and groping at body parts in a totally-not-for-Grey's-Anatomy fashion. But, naturally, the whole the dead-comes-back-to-life-to-avenge-postmortem-disrespect thing is so overdone that no element in this film can possibly make up for it, especially with its lack of subtlety, giving no credit to the intelligence of the audience. Penny Dreadful is the worst of the batch, as it could have been a great psychological thriller, but instead is the audio-visual torture of a girl trapped in a car with her dead therapist crying and having panic attacks.

I really don't know why I keep watching horror movies and expecting something out of them. The last truly scary movie I saw — a squeeze-your-date's-hand-so-hard-it-sorta-hurts movie — was 28 Weeks Later. It was fast-paced and unpredictable. I really liked it. Previous to that, only the Japanese could make me cringe. Films like Ju-On and Ringu really got my attention, but, like all trends, this one hit a rut as well. Reincarnation (Rinne, in Japanese), was a part of last year's Horrorfest, and since it was directed by Ju-On's Takashi Shimizu, I expected it to be so terrifying that I couldn't bring myself to watch the DVD for weeks. But it was as predictable as any other horror film. Come on, Horrorfest, give us something to sink our teeth into!

This year's "8 Films to Die For" look remotely promising. The blurbs on the website make the films sound more creative than last year's, and interesting enough that I'm tempted to have hope. I worry that I've become completely desensitized to gore, but at least one of these eight films must have what it takes to make me cover my eyes and scream.

Recipe Time

2007-10-28T21:22:00.000-05:00

My room mate says I'm like Izzie from Grey's Anatomy. If you're not familiar with the show, she deals with stress by baking, to the dismay of her room mates who are then forced with the dilemma: to eat or not to eat.

I don't know what's come over me, but recently I, like Izzie, can't stop baking. Muffins, cookies, breads — it just doesn't stop. I've been modifying recipes (note: you can try, but you just can't make cumin cookies taste good) and heating up the kitchen. While it is probably stress-related, I haven't heard many complaints from coworkers, who are happy to share in the bounty of my bakathon.

Tonight I made pumpkin muffins. Sadly, I was out of walnuts. Hazelnuts are no substitute, and neither are almonds. So I was forced down a different route altogether: chocolate chips. I added both miniature semi-sweet and white chocolate to the batter. And they are delicious. So, if you would like your very own muffingasm, try this recipe. It's my very own, so, you know, if one day I'm famous and write a cookbook, you can say you were privy to this information back in the day.

INGREDIENTS:
1 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 cup canned pumpkin purée
1/2 cup olive oil
2 eggs, beaten
1/4 cup water
3/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/3 teaspoon cloves
1/2 cup mini semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup white chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Whisk together the flour, salt, sugar and baking soda. In a separate bowl, with an electric mixer, blend the pumpkin, oil, eggs, water, and spices. Slowly mix in dry ingredients until just combined. Add chocolate chips. Pour into papered muffin tin. Bake 25-30 minutes (until a knife comes out clean when poked into the center of a muffin).

I cannot promise that they will be beautiful, but they will certainly be delicious.

Body of Evidence

2007-10-17T22:24:00.001-05:00

Women are fat.

We're not chubby or plump. We're not hefty or big. We're fat.

Men can be jolly or whatever.

I've decided to be squishy.

Most of the time I'm okay with squishy. My boyfriend is okay with squishy, he's really only ever known me squishy. Of course there's the inevitable return-to-the-hometown desire: I hope everyone else is fatter than me. The truth is, I would love to be tiny for my 10-year reunion. And recently I've discovered that some pants don't fit like they did six months ago. Being happy with your body is just really bad for dieting.

And I don't believe in dieting. This whole culture of feeling in control of our lives by controlling what we eat is weird. The Atkins diet shits me - the guy DIED from cardiac arrest and put a ban on vegetables but people still want to eat steak steak steak to lose weight weight weight. And then there's Weight Watchers where you go to meetings, which, I presume is something like AA:
"Hi, I'm Judy Jones, and I'm FAT."
"Hi Judy."

"Hi, I'm Katie Clarke, and I have been thin for six months!"
(thundering applause)
And of course Nutrisystem, which, apparently, costs a damn fortune (their prices don't include a lot of parts of the "meal" they send you - like the meat).

And there is, of course, the idea of skipping food control all together and going straight to appetite control. Pills! We have a pill for everything — AND YOU NEED THEM. We have celebrities to endorse them all, too. FAT celebrities, who got skinny.

I don't think Americans — Westerners, even — will ever have a healthy relationship with food. We think of food like something naughty, an indulgence, a vice. Food is not something we eat to sustain ourselves, but to satisfy ourselves. And there's no balance. If we are satisfied, we must have had too much. My weight loss plan is this: don't think too much about it, do some pilates, walk more. I don't want to think about my snacks in terms of calories and carbs.

My friend Amelia has this theory on feeding children: kids' bodies know what they need. If you make good food available, they will, usually, get what their body requires. Her daughter seems to eat like a pigeon, but, if you watch closely over several days, you see that she gets everything she needs from several food groups. I don't see why we, as adults, can't function similarly. Eat what we want, when we want, listening to our bodies instead of the ingredients list on the backs of packages. And if I want I need I must have McNuggets, so be it. If I never lose this extra weight, I'm okay with that, too.

I'm Almost Proud of Him

2007-10-11T17:57:00.003-05:00

This is my cat, Telemachus. He is a 15lb Maine Coon, and about two years old. He loves mischief.

When I woke up this morning, he had caused a bit of a massacre in my bathroom. As long as I've known him, Tele has had a fascination with toilet paper. As long as I've known him, he's loved to unravel it to play, generally creating a mess for me. However, I've never seen anything quite like this:

As you can see, he's quite proud of himself. This is a cat masterpiece. I think this is the feline version of TPing your teacher's yard. There's nearly a whole roll there, including some that is in the bathtub and behind the toilet. My other cat, a wee Siamese — who is, incidentally, dumb as a stick — was rolling around in it, as if trying to take credit for Tele's hard work. Sadly, yes, it's an incredible waste of paper. My grandfather used to roll it back up onto the tube, but I can't bring myself to do that. This is why my room mate shouldn't feel bad about the fact that I buy most of the toilet paper. When so much goes to entertaining the animals, I just wouldn't feel right asking her for TP money.

Hug Your Mail Man (or Woman)

2007-10-10T18:24:00.000-05:00

I can really understand why postal workers are so grumpy. They do what I've been avoiding my whole life: dealing directly with the public. I was at the post office today and the line was a slow-moving fifteen people deep when I walked in. Some of these people had children with them, one of which was running wild, playing with the stamp machine and one of the mailboxes.

I don't know about where you live, but where I live, the postal workers are all behind double panes of bullet-proof glass. You speak through an intercom, and any time you give them something (or vice versa) you open your side of the window to place the item on the counter and after you close your side, they open theirs to retrieve your goods. National security at its finest.

So you can see, perhaps, why the line of customers moves slower than molasses in January. Mailing a letter requires quite the rigmarole - opening and closing windows, etc. - and if you're the attendant dealing with a cranky old woman (my neighborhood has its share) who can't hear or can't lift the heavy glass or just feels like being difficult, it's going to take that much longer, and you're going to wish that much harder for a freak tornado/tsunami/nuclear explosion to blow up your postal district.

Enter my new best friend, the Automated Postal Center. The APC, or, as I like to call him, the MailBot, is a lovely little machine that I've seen in several post offices that will do almost everything a human postal worker can do without any attitude or security systems. And, in my neck of the woods, there's never a a line. There was one man in front of me today, and the only other time I've had to wait was so that the receipt paper could be replaced. So, why on earth would you wait in that long line to mail a letter when, using your debit or credit card, you can purchase stamps, weigh and mail a package, and purchase delivery confirmation or insurance.

I'm in the post office every week at least once. I mail out submissions to lit journals like a well-oiled machine. On top of this I have friends all over the globe, not to mention a boyfriend in Texas and a wee sister at her first year in college up in Maine. Care packages are necessary. The MailBot gets me. He doesn't judge the amount of mail I send — though I'm sure the mail carrier considers it odd that I receive so many small manila envelopes addressed to me in tag-like print (my goofy handwriting) without any return label (rejection letters). And the MailBot is just so fun to use! With a touch screen and perfect postage you can affix yourself, there's nothing better. Except, well, a lot of things. But, as an individual obsessed with mail, I have to give props.

And let's give those postal workers a break, eh? They have to deal with plenty of stooges every day. I'm sure they love the MailBot, too.

We're the 'Brews

2007-09-26T18:35:00.001-05:00

Friday night we'll be drinkin' Manishewitz
Goin' out to terrorize Goyim
Stompin' shaygetz, screwin' shiksas
As long as we're home by Saturday mornin
Cause hey, we're the Brews
Sportin' anti-swastika tattoos
Oi Oi we're the boys
Orthodox, hasidic, O.G. Ois
--NOFX

So my friend Rich was in town from the Pittsburgh area this weekend. On Sunday evening he and I decided, after yet another failed attempt to go see a movie, to head over to the Brooklyn Industries outlet store in Williamsburg. Williamsburg is this weird little part of Brooklyn that is sort of ghetto-as-fuck, but also swarming with hipsters who pay massive amounts of rent for recently converted factory-to-apartment shitholes (hey, I have yet to see a nice Willy-B apartment, and I've seen quite a few, including one that was BARELY two bedrooms, had two walls knocked down and no bathroom sink. Oh, PS, the kitchen floor is coming apart. $1600/mo.). Williamsburg is also a major hub for Hasidic Jews.

Backing up a bit, we drove there from my place in Bensonhurst, which is just outside Borough Park, which, reportedly, has one of the largest concentration of Orthodox Jews outside of Israel. It's not uncommon for me to run into Hasidim at the postoffice, on the train, in the shops, or on the sidewalk. We don't talk, but their culture is fairly insular. I did a lot of Wikipedia research on them after my room mate started saying that she thought they hated her. She goes running, often in short shorts and a tank top, and was, at the time, convinced that they found her offensive. Honestly, I think that we place others' judgments on ourselves when we don't quite understand said others' culture. I learned that they don't shake hands because they consider all touches intimate. I learned that their marriages aren't arranged but rather adults in the community set up their kids on dates. I learned about the ways that the keep alive the Yiddish language.

So when Rich and I went barreling down 18th Avenue (really it was more of a crawl in rush hour traffic) in his red Jetta, blasting "The Brews" by NOFX, with the windows rolled down, well, I blushed a bit as we hit Borough Park. You can't look left or right without seeing Hasidim, and, while I'm sure they didn't care or know that we — two back-woods gentiles — were listening to a song that, in its own way, celebrates Jewish culture, It was like a 'hood-wide awkward mo'.

And, to bring this full circle, as we exited the BQE, now full of the Big Gulp coke (no ice) we'd gotten at 7-Eleven (fountain soda felt necessary after our big plan to see a movie in Cobble Hill was quashed), the NOFX record had begun to repeat itself. Through the streets of Williamsburg "The Brews" played again, and the 'brews were out and about, and Rich and I laughed.

The Lock-Out Blog

2007-08-23T15:24:00.000-05:00

If this were a proper lock-out blog, it would have been written while I was actually locked out of my apartment on Tuesday night. Of course that means I would have had to write it on my cell phone somehow, and, seeing as I don't have a Crackberry or any sort of high-tech CIA-issue tracking device variety of phone, this would have been a frightening endeavor.

I could have written it immediately after breaking in to the apartment, but it was, by that time, 3:15 am, and even this night owl needed some shut-eye.

The irony in all this (I think, anyway, as the true meaning of irony has always eluded me), is that i had my keys. My room mate and I spent a good half an hour banging on our own door after bending my key in the deadbolt lock. It wouldn't budge. We tried to MacGyver our way in, too, with a barrette but mostly wound up embarrassing ourselves. Eventually we called a locksmith who took a power drill the the cylinder and woke up our neighbors. They were not pleased. One of them is a scary feminazi who listens to Ani Difranco on vinyl (you can learn a lot of things simply by looking at a person's mail) and does not mince words. I made them cookies. That is how we deal with things where I come from.

So, who is to blame? Us or the landlady? After a shouting match with said landlady over the phone my room mate and I were too frazzled to think straight. All four of our parents told us to ask around and to stop freaking out. Apparently in NYC the landlord is only responsible for putting a regular lock on the door - like the one in the doorknob. The deadbolt lock, or any other locks, are the responsibility of the tenant to maintain. The landlady came over yesterday afternoon and hugged it out with my room mate who gave her the rest of my cookies. We're splitting the locksmith's charges ($255) three ways, which is better than footing the bill ourselves, but not as great as being reimbursed.

So, friends. Got any good lock out stories? The only one I have that beats this one is December 6, 2003. It was my 21st birthday, and had had a glass of cheap champagne, two bottles of Mike's Hard Lemonade, and a Coors Lite. As a total lightweight, this rendered me totally drunk. My friends locked me out of my room for pranking purposes, then forgot to unlatch the lock before shutting the door and running away. I had to call a campus safety officer for a lockout, wearing a vintage 1980s evening gown (it was Festivus, as well, par-tay), and, of course, he asked me to sign a lockout form. I still have it, as a marker of the night I couldn't sign my own name.

When I grow up

2007-07-29T19:32:00.000-05:00

Summer time can be a veritable wasteland for cable viewers - our network favorites go into reruns and new short-season summer series are often no more than a flash in the pan. Thankfully TNT developed The Closer a few years ago providing at least one night a week with some clever crime drama. Army Wives, while airing amongst the notoriously sentimental and uninspired shows on Lifetime, is an intriguing new series that lands it a good few notches above mediocre. But every summer, without fail, the Discovery Channel alone can boast an event with both reruns AND original programming that would completely beat out a week with new episodes of House, Criminal Minds, Grey's Anatomy, and CSI - at least on my TiVo.

Shark Week makes me want to go back in time and become an ichthyologist.

These animals are brilliant and beautiful. I just finished watching Top Ten Most Dangerous Sharks, which I remember watching last year. The narrator talked about all these amazing experiences, and shows biologists and divers doing the most exciting things. I want to go swim with sharks, get bitten by one or two (nothing fatal or damaging, just enough for a cool scar and a story), experience the awe and adrenaline of sharing the ocean with them.

When I was young I was obsessed with whales, and I feel like I missed out. If I had had a poster of the various species of sharks on my wall, instead of whales, perhaps I would have stuck to my guns and become a biologist of some sort instead of crapping out in high school and giving up on the sciences. It's not likely, as the science programs, even in my school district in coastal Maine, weren't exactly deep sea expeditions.

I found myself writing a poem about shark predation on the train last week, in anticipation of the Shark Week extravaganza. I felt like a cheat. I've never seen a shark in the wild, only in aquariums (and according to the aforementioned program, it was most likely a sand tiger, as they survive best in captivity and their needly teeth make for a great spectacle). My experience on boats is limited to Portland Harbor and the Staten Island Ferry. I once went on a whale watch - I was about 14 - and wound up seasick and vomiting and not seeing more than a dorsal fin. I will take whatever drugs necessary to go on a shark watch so that I can record their majesty in earnest.

I promise not to get eaten.

And so it begins...

2007-07-24T14:04:00.000-05:00

Inspired by my many "serious" blogger friends, I am hereby abandoning my past as a "casual" blogger. Blogging is, as some might say, serious business, after all, and there are a lot of serious things to be said.

My name is Emily, but some of you may have read my poetry published under the moniker E. Kristin Anderson. You know, as in ekristinanderson.blogspot.com. Yes, it's a penname, don't fault me for it. Some other Emily Morse got there first and published screenplays with my name. I know, I know, it's a tragedy. But I figure this is a great way to take advantage of my grandmother's maiden name. And she's an awesome lady, so why not be an Anderson? And as to prevent further confusion with the billions of Emily Andersons that must exist, I decided to shorten that first name to E. and use Kristin. Of course, this has caused just the slightest bit of agony. It seems that the popular way to spell Kristin is with an e: Kristen. Funny story: my Dad can't spell. And having not discussed spelling with my mother before she was put on infinite painkillers, I was born and my birth certificate was filled out wrong. And never corrected. I'm a walking mistake, in some sense of the world. No wonder I'm a hate-mongering tart.

Emily is a great name, though. The first person I shared my name with was Miss Emily Dickinson. I mean, clearly, there were millions, no, billions, of Emilies running amok in the world at the time, but when i was seven or eight I was standing in line at the book store with my mum and saw that there was a book with my name on it with all the other bargain books: the Collected Poems of Emily Dickinson. It MUST have been a bargain book because it was a massive hardcover tome with roses on the cover, and I can't imagine even my, who was and is a great advocate of reading and the arts for kids, spending more than ten bucks on a book of poetry that I wanted just because of the author's name.

I fell in love with poetry that summer. I read most of Emily's poems (I'd like to say all, but I know that's not true), which of course I thought were all about love of nature and wanting to live in the ocean as a mermaid and such - the naiveté of childhood blocks out the ideas of depression and suicide that are so predominant in such works - and that fall I started telling people that I was named after Miss Dickinson. A total lie: if I was named after anyone, my mother said, it was her "Aunt" Emily, who was actually just a favorite babysitter who spelled her name E-M-I-L-I-E (another spelling mistake on my parents' permanent record) and, truth be told, it wasn't so much that I was named after her but that my mother really liked her name. I kept lying, much like I had when I found out that Emily had once been a nickname for Amelia and started writing Amelia Morse on all my school papers.

Nevertheless, Emily Dickinson and her twee poems about the birds and the ocean and her deep, dark heartache built me as a writer. Her superfluous use of the em dash and her impenetrable meter may not be my shtick, but she gave me my first taste from a cup that I just can't seem to put down. Over and over I asked my mom why she never showed anyone her poetry, why she hid it (I imagined that she kept it with a few hand-made sachets of potpourri in her underwear drawer) and it was only published after she died. I can't remember what my mother answered with, only that it was unsatisfactory. Poetry is art, and art is meant to be shared.

Recently I began my quest to share my poetry in a serious manner (i.e., not just posting it on the web for my friends). On the right, much like my pretentious poet friend James, I'll post journals that have picked up my verse for publication in their pages. For the time being, some of my poetry is also available at my deviantART page, but it is quickly disappearing these days, as it finishes its time being workshopped and is mailed off to literary journals. Literary journals to me are worse than crack-cocaine and I hope never to go to rehab for this addiction. I hope that literature will be the problem that takes me over and puts me in the ground. It is, after all, so much like love.