avengingsybil

Until Further Notice

My extended silence here probably tipped some of you off that the big event has come and gone. It has! And since my son arrived in the early hours of April 27th, I've been too smitten and/or exhausted to even think about reading aside from compulsive dips into Eat Sleep Poop: A Common Sense Guide to Your Baby's First Year by Scott W. Cohen M.D., F.A.A.P. (this was an awesome gift from my boss - I highly recommend it for fellow first time parents).

I guess it goes without saying that this site is on hiatus. But I will return. I will read whole books again one day soon. For now, though, I'll be devoting my full time to my most important (and adorable) project.

UBGR 2010

I've been on a bit of a book binge, polishing off Will Grayson, Will Grayson and Just Kids in a few days' time.  WG, WG was awesome in many ways. The teaming of Green and Levithan is absolutely inspired, they both bring the best of smarts and humor to the table. But to me, this is Tiny's story, and we don't get to hear his voice. I understand that the point of his existence is to connect the two Will Graysons, but the more involved I got in the story, the idea of Tiny as a literary device made me frustrated. He's so alive, it's obvious to me that his role as a vehicle should have been left behind in the editing stages. Not that either Will is dull by any means, both are well-drawn characters, but it's Tiny I really want to know about and at book's end it's unsatisfying that there's a huge chunk of his story left untold. Sequel perhaps?

One great thing I've come to expect when David Levithan is involved is the way that gay teenagers are allowed to exist openly and with little harassment. Where else but in Levithan-land are the most flamboyant kids in the school allowed to also be the biggest sports stars (not to mention aspiring playwrights able to win the whole school's support in staging a musical based on their lives?). I've said it before, but I'll say it again: that's the world in which I want to live. Despite recent shameful setbacks (I'm looking at you, Itawamba Agricultural High School) in the real world, I do think we're getting there, and it can only help that we have authors like David Levithan to create a rich, vibrant stage on which to entertain the possibilities.

Just Kids was the next installment in what I'm calling the Unintentional Big Gay Read of 2010. I have long adored Patti Smith, and I couldn't wait for this memoir, which chronicles her long, evolving relationship with Robert Mapplethorpe. It really didn't disappoint. She has a way with details, and in her loving words everything from junkie neighbors at the Chelsea Hotel to wandering the French countryside in search of Rimbaud come across as equally sacred. Her time among musicians and poets and what-have-you in New York is fascinating, and the listing of the many celebrities with whom she has shared space, conversation and more doesn't feel like name-dropping and boasting. It's more of a record of those who have touched her life and how each person has made her feel blessed. The book is a tribute to Mapplethorpe's life, but also a joyous and occasionally deeply sad catalog of her own life, as if she's saying to the reader, "Can you believe that I got to live this, and really, how lucky and grateful am I?" I know I'm an unapologetic fangirl, but there's something so pure about Smith's voice. I sincerely hope she's at work on more stories about her extraordinary life right now.

Currently reading: Game Change: Obama and the Clintons, McCain and Palin, and the Race of a Lifetime by John Heilemann and Mark Halperin (I'd love to have this one wrapped up before the baby comes, we'll see); Posh and Prejudice by Grace Dent.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

Excuse My Excuses

Sugarless turned out to be a winner through and through. I like how the book revels in its own darkness; Magruder's writing is grounded in the senses, often focusing on the unpleasant, and to me it was like the more repulsive the imagery, the deeper I was pulled in. Oh, and it's hilarious to boot.

The book is unapologetically sexual, and yes, graphic. But the graphic-ness is less gratuitous than frank. Protagonist Rick's telling of his journey of self-discovery is equal parts messy, confounding, humiliating and joyous, like sex itself. I like how, even though he knows he's gay pretty early on, it doesn't stop him from dabbling in some gray areas. Again I know that this isn't a YA title, but it reminds me that the best YA books give the reader enough credit to work with ambiguity. Of course Rick's relationship with a teacher probably wouldn't go over too well in a title meant for young adults, not without much harsher consequences. And the treatment of it might have been a bit different had it been, say, a heterosexual relationship between a male teacher and a young girl (that's a whole other post to be written). But the story is what it is, and it comes across as entirely realistic. I'd definitely recommend this one.

Work-in-progress confession time: it's not going so well, kids. It seems that the nearer my due date, the less interest I have in focusing on... anything. I might have one last creative burst in me, I haven't given up, but I can't imagine I'll be too upset if I don't finish the draft before I finish hosting the baby. One day it will really really be done, but when that day will be I don't dare speculate.

Next up on the reading block (where focus never seems to be a problem for me):  Just Kids, the memoir by Patti Smith, who is one of my personal heroines. I've been really excited to read this one. And when I went to pick it up, I was surprised to find John Green and David Levithan's Will Grayson, Will Grayson waiting for me like the library equivalent of a bonus onion ring in my french fries. Delicious.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

Like a Polaroid Picture

I'm currently engrossed in Sugarless by James Magruder. This is yet another one of those non-YA titles that could so easily be, or could at least be appreciated by a YA audience. My bff recently read it and told me that it was right up my alley. Hmm, what about it ever could have made her think that? The 15-year-old gay protagonist? Show tunes? Sex scenes? 1970s time frame? Swap the setting from Chicago to the UK and we would have had a perfect storm of a book, but even barring that, it's got everything I can't resist. And I doubt if would have been on my radar had she not stumbled upon it. Tis a fine thing to have a friend who knows your tastes so well.

Just check out this paragraph from p. 115:

Okay, so no Penthouse Forum letter, no pictorial or photo or old Japanese print, nothing had made a case for kissing. After two hours, there was still no bottom to how incredible it was. It wasn't just first base on the way to better things, it was as good as the rest because it never had to stop; it had no beginning or end, it ran without rules and filled every in-between. It didn't think. It came and went, it was every piece of punctuation, and I was good at it right away.

How totally rad to get such a thoughtful, visceral dissertation on kissing from the point of view of a teenage boy!  Should the book ultimately disappoint--which I have no reason to believe it will, but bear with me--it's got that going for it, and that goes a long way.

The rest of my reading list contains the same books I've had on rotation since the beginning of time, or more accurately, the onset of pregnancy brain. All good stuff, but it's great to have something new and unexpected to shake it up. I like to shake things up, in case you hadn't noticed.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

A Wee Dram of a Post

This morning I finished Lowboy by John Wray (thanks again for the rec, Kristin) and my skin is still crawling. I didn't love this book-- I can't even say that I enjoyed it exactly, but it was compelling and it disturbed me in a way that I can't shake off. It's not a YA book, but it centers on a day in the life of a teenage schizophrenic who is on the loose in New York after going off his meds. It's chilling, very well done, and reads cinematically. It turned out to be the perfect, serendipitous co-read for Going Bovine, but I won't go into detail as to why.

I recently realized that, after all these (could it really be six?) years, I've never done much in the way of describing books when I write about them. I just jump into my reviews and remarks and either assume that anyone who reads this is already familiar with the titles or likes surprises as much as I do. But am I merely blind to how off-putting this might be? I'm not averse to changing my style up a little if any readers feel my posts could benefit from more background. Just something I'm pondering, and I'd definitely appreciate feedback on the matter if you're inclined to offer.

Happy St. Patrick's Day (have a Guinness for me), and though it's a few days early, I don't see any harm in wishing you a Happy Spring. I think that we in this part of the country deserve it after the biblical soaking we just got.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

Home Stretch

About Going Bovine: I honestly wasn't sure about this one until the end. I went back and forth between being charmed and engaged by the zany and far-fetched plot, and being annoyed by its ever-increasing outrageousness. I occasionally found the way the characters talked to be distracting, the language seemed a bit forced, too clever at times. But then I decided to just let go and ride it out, and by the closing of the book I was satisfied. I"m not sure if it would have been my Printz pick, I didn't read enough contemporary titles to make a fair assessment this year, but it's definitely a solid book, funny and poignant, wholly original yet at the same time there's a universal feel about it. That can not have been easy to pull off. Congratulations to Libba Bray on her accomplishment (this was my first book of hers so I think have some catching up to do).

Speaking of catching up, I've got eight weeks--maybe a little more, maybe a little less--to meet my goal of finishing this draft of my novel which is not a lot of time. I'm in a zone with a lot of things right now (particularly making lists), but I have to say that when it comes to creativity I am not at my most fertile. Time to call in all my resources and see if I can rise to the challenge. I'll keep you posted.

Currently reading: Lowboy by John Wray; NurtureShock: a New Thinking About Children by Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman; Eric Carle's The Very Hungry Caterpillar; a sprinkling of Dickens.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

Cloudbusting

My brother was in town a couple of weeks ago, and we had one of those talks, as we often do, that are less conversational than rapid back-and-forths about things we love--music and movies and books, usually--and why we love them. We are like-minded about many things, but we're each also interested in making the other aware of what we might be missing in the spaces where our tastes diverge. When we get on a roll like that, we're so overwhelmed with our urges to share our excitement and smitten-ness that we can be tough company. We don't mean to squeeze other people out of the exchange, but sometimes it happens and anyone who knows us well knows better than to take it personally. My husband may have gotten in a few words, but he's a pro by now and knows how to jump into the flow without getting steamrolled. I was thinking about it in the aftermath, how I love a challenging debate, but to my heart there's nothing like getting caught up in those kinds of bursts of positivity, just focusing on things we love instead of what's wrong with the world.

Certainly nothing gets done if we prattle on solely about raindrops on roses and Bruce Springsteen, but it's good for the soul to try to leave time for focusing on what's so great about life somewhere in the daily roster. A fine solution, to me, is to take something awesome (YA literature, for discussion's sake), and upon encountering the not-so-awesome aspects of it (icky double standards), use examples of how it's being addressed in a positive way to move forward. I'm thinking of Colleen Mondor's recent post, which I recommend checking out.

Clearly YA lit and society at large has a long way to go in regard to the good girl-bad girl dichotomy, but instead of bemoaning the length of the journey ahead, it helps to know that there are already people out there helping to carve out the path.

These days I continue to divide my time among Olympics fever, baby-book reading, cleaning out my DVR and Little Dorrit (I'm not going to say that I chose my birth doula solely because she noticed it on my coffee table and wanted to talk about it during her interview, but let's say that it didn't hurt). I also have the Girl Detective-approved Lowboy waiting to be picked up at the library, along with Going Bovine which is a nice surprise since I assumed the wait would be a lot longer. Oh, and by coincidence I sat next to Robie Harris's sponsored chair at the Brattle Theater this weekend, which gave me a thrill, being that she's a personal heroine.

It's a miserable rainy time here in the Boston area, but in my little space, sunshine abounds.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

The Cramming Continues

Theoretically a sick day is a great time to make a big dent in a tome such as Little Dorrit. Theoretically. Though I'm continuing to luxuriate in it, there's only so much Dickens I'm capable of ingesting in one sitting, and so I spent the majority of my recent one-day convalescence (just nursing a wee cold) with a new obsession on BBC America On-Demand: a little comedy called The Inbetweeners. My continuing affection for British teens is the reason I decided to give it a shot, but this show really is special. It makes me laugh and laugh so that I have to rewind periodically to pick up bits I've missed. The humor is crude and off-color, befitting four male leads who are mainly obsessed with pulling girls. There's a well-done exploration of male adolescent friendship as well as relationships with their families that are also sort of sweet. My only real criticisms are that there's not much to work with in terms of the female cast members-- they don't get the funny lines and seem to be there only to act as vehicles and/or straight men in relation to the four stars. I also find some pervasive, casual sexism and homophobia in the humor that I want to overlook for the story's sake but I can't quite do it. Still I recommend it heartily, particularly if you can get in a five-episode binge like I did. I can hardly wait for this week's episode to be available.

Between that and the Winter Olympics, for which I have a huge soft spot, (not to mention work, and, er, life) it's a wonder I get any reading done at all. Still I'm thinking I need another contemporary YA read, STAT, to supplement my venture into the classics. I have a huge TBR list, but I'm always looking for recommendations regarding what should be bumped to the top, even if it's not brand new. So if you've got any, I'd be much obliged if you'd send 'em my way.

Happy Presidents' Day to all, and Happy Truck Day (yay Spring Training!) to my fellow baseball junkies.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

Were There No Spark Notes for Gatsby?

Few things bring out my ugly, judgmental side more than people who are famous for no particular reason and who are continually rewarded for their celebrity. In this case I'm speaking specifically about Lauren Conrad, who I was already mad at just by the virtue that I know who she is even though I've never watched her show. Don't get me wrong, I watch a lot of questionable TV (my latest obsession being Be Good Johnny Weir), but I missed out on The Hills altogether and I can't say I regret that.

I'm mostly--mostly-- over the fact that in her early 20s Ms. Conrad has realized and found success with her "dream career" as a YA novelist. People are buying her books, so what can I say about that? But she's crossed a line into what I consider my territory, and as such I can't help judging this author, particularly on the basis of a recent piece in Entertainment Weekly wherein she  reveals that she essentially doesn't read. It was enough to make me throw down my magazine in disgust upon first reading, and Leila's post  got my dander up anew.

Why on earth would anyone want to read a novel by a writer who herself doesn't read? Isn't that like a singer who doesn't listen to music? Just... how can it be any good? I don't believe that everything needs intellectual heft - I mean come on, I'm admitting that my source here is EWeekly (or Ewww, as my friend calls it). But I have a really hard time taking a person who makes her living writing books seriously when she says she bluffed her way through high school on Spark Notes and displays no curiosity, no genuine thoughtfulness. It hurts. It offends me as a reader and especially as a writer (albeit a frustrated and embittered one at the moment). What it shows to me is no respect for her audience. It's as if her attitude is, why bother to do the work when they'll just buy whatever it is I throw out there? If I had ever been a fan, this might have been the thing that put me off. But I don't actually know any fans of hers, so I can't say whether her seemingly unwitting pride in ignorance will affect the way her second novel will be received. I do also wonder if part of the intention of the piece was to present Lauren in an unflattering light, a sort of backhanded promotion - the pages of reader comments on the magazine's website would seem to support this notion. And it's interesting to me that the online version of the article includes more of her thoughts on what she read when she was younger, such as Laurie Halse Anderson's Speak, but it doesn't appear in the print version. I'm sure it was for space allowance, but why not cut the part about the celebrity book she enjoyed instead of the book that changed her life? Hmmm.

Before it starts to sound like I'm coming around to taking Conrad's side (not that I don't have sympathy for her youth and her role in the publicity machine, but still), I'm left to address the question of what to do with all this spite she inspired. Best case scenario, the anger should act as a catalyst, spur me on, get me writing with renewed purpose. I can channel these feelings of frustration and poorly disguised envy into something productive. And I can also become more vocal in promoting the careers of the amazing cadre of current YA authors. While it still nags at me that the author spotlight could have been used to promote someone like Maureen Johnson or Elizabeth Scott or Adam Rapp or E. Lockhart or--heavens--a most topically relevant ALA medal winner, it is a comfort to know that not only are there scores of very talented authors I can take pleasure in reading and recommending but that I belong to a community of people who care about books and all that goes into their creation with rabid intensity. And we are one blessedly vocal pain-in-the-ass collective.

Well, I feel a lot better now.

Currently reading: Little Dorrit (could I finally be on the home stretch?); a whole mess of books on childbirth.

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman

Tesser Well

When You Reach Me, good gracious what a book! Granted I am not a big reader of middle grade fiction and so haven't read much of what 2009 had to offer, but I'm not at all surprised that Stead's novel won the Newbery. It's a book with everything - a coming-of-age friendship story, a story about growing up in a lower-income, single-parent household, a tale of time-travel intrigue and a portrait of New York in the 1970s all combined into one magical whole.

The characters, of course, were the standout feature of the book for me. They all felt so real, I never got a sense of the author relying on stereotypes. Everyone from protagonist Miranda to the proprietress of the local bodega to the mother's "Mr. Perfect" boyfriend is drawn with respect, empathy and consideration. There's no filler here, just page after page of tightly plotted action interwoven with meditative space for the reader.

I do have to wonder how the book's 70s-era setting comes across to the intended audience. "The $20,000 Pyramid" was a cornerstone of my sick-day viewing as a child, but does it translate as a complicated, hokey relic to today's 10-year-old? What do the kids of the 2000s make of a world without cellphones, of a society where it's accepted that good parents can allow their pre-teens free reign of the streets of New York City? I'm really interested to know. Even if these do stand out as foreign concepts, I suspect that the inspired storytelling forgives the rest.

Congratulations Rebecca Stead on winning the Newbery, but really congratulations to everyone who gets to read this book they might not have otherwise heard of. Now to get my hands on a copy of Going Bovine...

Written material copyright 2010 Dawn A. Emerman