Half Deserted Streets

Exciting!

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 23:05:00 +0000

It's been a rather exciting week. For starters, HDS has BlogHer ads! Woo! If anyone else is using them, please let me know how you like them. Incidentally, the first one I saw was for Legos. Yes, I think we'll get along just well...

Second, this upcoming Sunday I'm going to be published in the Orlando Sentinel! I wrote a short piece a while ago on my trip to Milan and submitted it for their travel section. I just found out that this Sunday they're publishing it. I'm pretty excited because, of all the local newspapers and magazines, this isthe one I've been trying to get into for a bit now.

Third, Friday Samir and I are leaving for Miami to go to...a book fair! (Okay, and to visit friends, but mostly the book fair). It's a week long event, but sadly I couldn't get off work for the whole thing. There are a bunch of panel discussions and author readings (including Meg Cabot, John Hodgeman, and Sherman Alexie) - needless to say, it should be entertaining.

Last, I just learned the best perk of working for a travel/lifestyle magazine. The free stuff. In two weeks, Samir and I are going on a cruise! The Oasis of the Seas is launching in December; they invited a representative from my magazine to check it out early. So, In two weeks, Samir and I get two nights aboard it. We're not stopping anywhere, but hey, it's completely free and I've never been on a cruise before. Rumor has it - there might be acrobatics.

I Heart Friends

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 01:28:00 +0000

I've got great friends. I mean, really amazing, we're going to grow old together, to die for friends. And although I've always known that, Sunday led me to believe it a bit more.

Sunday was my birthday. I'm officially 26. I wanted to do that "26 things to do before you turn 26" list, but life got in the way and I think I'm okay with that.

Anyway, after a long night of Halloween, Samir gave me my birthday presents.

Here's what he got me:

High Fidelity by Nick Hornby

The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

The Wordy Shipmates by Sarah Vowell

Now, you might be thinking "wait, don't you already own those?" Yes, I do, but those old copies have now been replaced (specifically the High Fidelity - it was a movie cover and we all know how I feel about those) because these new ones are so much better.

You see, authors never visit Florida. Ever. It's like there's an electric fence around the country that stops just short of Florida.

Knowing this, Samir found out when and where some of my favorite authors were touring. Clearly, he couldn't go see them, so he got some of our friends to go to the readings and get books autographed for me.

Seriously.

So...

My old roommate Sarah saw Hornby in Seattle

His sister saw Niffenegger in New York

My old roommate Shannon saw Vowell in San Francisco

I got three books. All three personalized and autographed, all three wishing me a happy birthday.

And that's where I was astounded. First, I was beyond excited about the books - especially the Vowell, considering she's my writing hero. Second, I couldn't believe Samir went through all the work for me. It was quite possibly one of the most meaningful and thoughtful gifts I'd ever received. Third, I couldn't believe my friends did that for me. With the exception of Shannon, the girls had never read their respective authors before. So, really, they were taking time off to see an author they weren't familiar with. They did that for me.

Moments like that are incredibly humbling. I worry about work and life and school so often that I forget how many people are really there for me. How far they'd go to make me smile. How they know that a simple book could be the perfect present.

I really do have amazing friends (and, yes, a darn good boyfriend). I know quite frankly that without them I wouldn't be the same Lauren. I wouldn't be complete. They make me happy.

I also know that I have to start preparing some damn good Christmas presents.

**Apparently Hornby asked who Lauren was, when autographing my book. She explained to him what Samir was doing, how he was having people around the country autograph books for me. He loved the idea! So, if when reading his next book you see mention of a beautiful curly haired girl getting a book autographed for a friend, think of us.

This is Halloween

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 22:50:00 +0000

And so, another Halloween has come and gone. Let's see what I was up to this year, shall we?

Once again, Jetta competed in the pet costume contest. He was up against over 100 other adorable dogs and sadly did not win (like he did last year). He did, however, look absolutely adorable as a mechanic.

(Of course we had to match. I wore my younger brother's mechanic outfit and we both had fake tools and tool belts.)

Friday night, Samir and I went to two parties. I let him decide what we'd dress up as, since I had (slightly embarrassing) plans for us for Saturday night (more on that later).

(Samir was Shaun, of Shaun of the Dead fame, and I was a zombie he fought. Since they were very last minute costumes, the fake blood was actually food color, my outfit was made up of clothes I was getting rid of, and his "cricket bat" was a poster holder. Still, I thought we looked alright!)

And now, Saturday night. Samir's one requirement was that he didn't want to dress as a dog again. Okay. Fine. I'll just make him Chuck Bass.

That's right, we were Blair Waldorf and Chuck Bass from Gossip Girl! A whopping two people commented on our costumes, but whatever. Samir wore purple and I had a red headband, school girl skirt, red tights and pearl earrings. We even stayed in character. I made him get me drinks.

Also, our friends are pretty awesome:

(From left to right: Bill from True Blood [Sookie took the picture-you can see her in the 2nd picture], Cat, Alice, Chuck, Blair, Captain Planet, Cave girl, Rockstar and Gorilla. In the second picture, we don't actually know Beetlejuice - he just jumped in our picture. We were all very okay with that.)

Book Review: Little Brother

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sun, 25 Oct 2009 22:49:00 +0000

Little Brother
By Cory Doctorow
Tor Teens
Publication Date: April 29, 2008
ISBN: 9780765319852

I'm not tech savvy. I don't know how to hack into a computer and my favorite video game system is still Sega Genesis. Regardless, I loved Little Brother, not just because of Doctorow's conversational storytelling, or because of its inspirational message, but because it made me want to try to be more observant. To be something more. Go figure a YA tech/sci-fi book would do that for me.

In Little Brother, Cory Doctorow introduces the reader to a very secure, very monitored San Francisco. Marcus, or w1n5t0n, is a 17 year old who knows how the system works. He’s smart, fast and can hack into, or override, almost any security system, including the ones at school. When skipping class, he and his friends find themselves in the middle of a terrorist attack. After being taken in for brutal questionings for five days, the group discovers that the city wasn’t how they left it. The Department of Homeland Security took over and now monitors everything. The kids can’t walk anywhere without being watched, can’t talk without being tracked. Instead of letting DHS get away with it, Marcus decides to fight. Using his advanced intellect and army of like-minded youths, he figures out ways to take down the DHS, to make them realize that it’s not smart to mess with freedom.

I like how Doctorow made this average hacker (and ex-LARPer) into someone people look up to, not a geek high schoolers pick on. In other words, Doctorow made computer dorks look cool. Not just that, he made education look cool. Marcus quotes the Declaration of Independence and continuously searches the Internet for more information. It's Marcus's intellect that plays a major role in the story.

That said, I really liked Marcus. He's a good guy, one I probably would have wanted to be friends with in high school. I really liked his group of friends and their relationships with one another. I was slightly disappointed with how some aren't mentioned as much after the middle of the book, but at least the lack of contact is mentioned.

The book has a compelling story that may be too much for some. This pre-attack California is scary and a little too telling. It shows how anyone can and should stand up for their rights and although it isn't easy, it's worth it. Doctorow's story flows nicely, occasionally interrupted only to define the technological terms Marcus is mentioning. In that sense, the book is extremely educational.

What I liked most was, incidentally, the bibliography in the back of the book. Doctorow, someone who constantly speaks out against Internet censoring, includes a list of resources for those interested in continuing their education in either freedom of speech or, well, hacking. The afterword even contains stories from well known hackers - those who do it for a living for corporations. Basically, Doctorow is saying "yes, you do it now, some may say it's bad, but it's actually awesome. Want to get paid for it?"

All in all, Little Brother is an excellent book for those interested in technology or, even simply, freedom. It's an excellent book for teenagers and I can definitely see them being very addicted to it. And it shows - the book was translated over and over again by, that's right, fans from around the world. There's even a Brail version.

So check out the securities around you. Stand up for what you believe in. And always use your voice.

Little Brother official site

Boing Boing

Download the book for free from Doctorow's site

Read the first chapter and see some related links at Macmillan

Reader generated annotated version of the book

Q&A with the author on Publishers Weekly

Doctorow's new project on Publishers Weekly

The Day The Circus Died

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 13:08:00 +0000

I moved yesterday and although I want to post pictures and discuss how awful it was to move a couch up a flight of stairs, something tragic has paused my excitement. Yesterday, Dickie, my old circus coach, passed away.

I got the call yesterday from Megan, her voice choked up. We each called a person or two after, painfully spreading the news. It was better hearing it from someone close rather than facebook or twitter. My friend Dacia called me freaked out - she works for a funeral home. She was the one who got the call. She had to close his eyes.

He was like a father to us, in a way only a teacher could be. He knew our flaws, physically, and would point them out when we were up in the air. Not to make us embarrassed or upset, rather to inspire us to achieve something move.

His wrinkled hands were scarred from years of skin cancer and he smelled like fresh laundry and stale cigarette smoke. He had a southern drawl that personified someone who was born and raised in Florida. He pronounced my name "Laren," not "Lauren" and for him I never cared.

I wasn't one of his favorites, he didn't hand pick me to be in quartette, but I still strived to impress him. To make myself better so he'd be proud. I jumped further, swung higher, flipped faster. Adrenaline pumping, I'd fly through the air towards approval.

He wasn't always there, like a part time parent, which we constantly joked about. He'd miss practices and sometimes didn't see an act until the show's run-through. But when he was there, his skinny legs always clad in tight jeans, would walk him over to the net and ensure everything was safe. And when something was done wrong...

One wrong move and he'd freeze, hands raised slightly over the light dimmers, as he'd see one of his children falling wrong into the net. Sometimes they'd be fine, sometimes they wouldn't be. He saw broken legs, wrists, hips...he saw it all, and every time it hurt him.

He was difficult, at times, stubborn and set in his ways but it was always for a good reason.

He was one of the best directors the FSU Flying High Circus has ever seen. A year ago he left, retired, to finally rest. At the show this past April he sat in the stands like any other spectator, grinning ear to ear. He longed for being part of it again, of course, but he was so proud of what went on after him. So happy to see it survive and prosper. So happy to see us all again.

We were his children, all of us, and we're all incredibly sad to see him go. The circus won't ever be the same. Tallahassee won't be the same.

And so, rest in peace Dickie. We'll always miss you.

October 17, 2009 - The day the circus died.

(Photo thanks to Mike)

One Year Gone

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 23:04:00 +0000

My grandfather once told me that girls don't play drums. Although he was wrong, he was right about me. I couldn't play the drums, as much as I tried. I wasn't coordinated enough - one hand couldn't move without the other asking to come along.

Back in the 40's, my grandfather was quite the musician. He played the spoons at all the Brooklyn hotspots until he left for the war. He tried teaching me once. I wasn't good, but I caught on quickly - maybe my hands were meant for something simpler.

I never had an especially close relationship with my grandfather. Besides telling me I couldn't play drums, he also told me I could never make a living off writing. I guess I proved him wrong. Although, he's too proud to admit anything like that.

Chaya was incredibly strong-headed and singleminded. He had to get his way, HAD to, which is why his nickname means animal. The thing is, his stubbornness and resistance to change did him good.

He made me laugh. He wore his socks high and shorts short. He wore suspenders in bright blue, red and always had a Veterans cap on, as well as slippers. He tried growing a ponytail once, a silvery gray one that looked greasy and wrong. He ate hot dogs and hamburgers, claiming that he was a vegetarian and practicing Jew. He ate bagels and bread, claiming that he was on the Atkins diet. Yes, he made me laugh.

A year ago today, Chaya passed away. He was old, in his late 80s, and his Alzheimer's and dementia kicked in. It was painless - my grandmother was there. She was sad, yes, but content that he wasn't in such a sad state anymore. It was the first time I lost a close family member. I didn't know how to cope, and yet I did.

Back in July, while in NY for my cousin's wedding, my family visited Chaya's grave. Deep at the back of a quaint graveyard, there it was, his headstone - big and proud just like he was. We wiped some dirt off it because we knew he'd be complaining about it if he was there. Those cockamamies, he'd yell.

The graveyard was lovely and he had a great view - but we knew he wasn't there. Yes, his body was, but he was having a row with his other ghost friends at a local bar. My grandfather wasn't an alcoholic, far from it, but he loved his Jack Daniels.

Before leaving my brother put his business card on the grave. See, I made something of myself, he said. I did it for you. I cried.

A week ago I was at a Mexican restaurant with my parents. A mariachi band danced by and we listed to the music pour out of their instruments. Loud, sure, but moments like that Chaya loved. We knew he'd be clapping along, no, playing the spoons along with him and smiling. I thought of him and his yelling. It was how I remembered him best. I still remember his voice, gruff, yet high when he was contemplating. He was kind and caring even if he didn't let on. I always knew he worried about me. For a moment I was teary eyed, realizing I'll never hear that voice again, but then it was okay. Because I can't play the drums, and I do write for a living...but I know, even the way I am, I still make him proud. Wherever he is.

We miss you, Chaya.

Book Review: The Graveyard Book

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Wed, 14 Oct 2009 01:48:00 +0000

The Graveyard Book
By Neil Gaiman
HarperCollins
Publication Date: September 30, 2008
ISBN: 9780060530921

“The boundaries are always there—between the graveyard and the world beyond, between life and death, and the crossing of them.” -Neil Gaiman

Bod is an unusual boy who was raised in an unusual place.

As a baby, Bod miraculously escapes from a brutal murderer and makes his way to a graveyard. With his parents and older sister dead, the residents of the graveyard - the ghosts - take him in and vow to protect him. Named Nobody Owens, the boy learns practical things, like reading and writing, as well as otherworldly talents, such as fading and moving through bars and coffins. With a pale complexion and the ability to blend in with his gray surroundings, Bod feels comfortable within his shadowy home. That is, until he wishes to make friends, see the world, go to school.

In short scenes, the book follows Bod as he ages from baby to teen, growing up in contemporary Britain in and outside the graveyard. He learns that ghouls aren't always friendly and the undead still have a lot to teach as he learns his limitations and ages beyond his years. In Gaiman's chilling young adult novel, Bod finds new dangers and new strengths around every corner...and tombstone.

The Graveyard Book is not as scary as it sounds, but it is pretty chilling at times. The book is full of amazingly crafted characters and plots that all weave together in the final climactic moments. From witches to guardians that are dead, but not quite dead, the book has everything to provoke an active imagination. What I love most about Gaiman's writing is that he doesn't change is verbiage even though he's writing for young adults. Instead, he challenges his readers to keep up, giving them far more credit than many other authors would. I find that refreshing.

The Newberry award winning book is a fun journey through the streets of "Old Town" Britain. Although the book does start with a horrific murder, it's not shown, just hinted at and even in the end, the battle isn't too brutal for children to read about. The book, in it's Jungle Book way of a child being raised by ghosts, shows how to learn from mistakes, how to grow and how to follow your instincts. It shows the beauty in learning and the need for connections.

I really enjoyed The Graveyard Book. I loved the characters. Bod was adorable, but it was Silas who I liked most - his mysterious guardian who cared more than one would imagine. I loved Bod's ghost parents, Mr. And Mrs. Owens who I imagined to be happily plump and constantly baking deserts (that is, if they were alive). I loved the graveyard too, as a setting. Gaiman made it just haunting enough to be realistic, but friendly and comfortable enough so you didn't worry about Bod.

The book was a journey - a fun one that illustrated Bod growing up scene by scene. It wrapped you up and kept you interested up to the very last page, with characters and plot lines that are hard to forget. It was incredibly well done and a remarkable edition to Gaiman's already favorable list of publications. And as it's on it's 53rd week on the NY Times best seller list, I'm clearly not the only one to think so.

US official site for the book

UK official site for the book (where you can see the awesome illustrations by Dave McKean)

Excellent article from the NY Times on Gaiman's book

Gaiman's blog (and his reaction to it being a best seller for one year straight)

Listen to Gaiman reading the book at Mouse Circus

Not Quite Perfect

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 21:59:00 +0000

I've always been the "not quite perfect" girl. I suppose it started when I was young, nine, and wanted to be an artist. While others in art class were drawing houses, I was drawing stick figures. I wasn't quite perfect at drawing, but I gave it my best and my teachers still put gold stars on each piece of construction paper.

In middle school I rollerbladed all the time. Up and down my block I'd zoom past neighbors and pets. I wanted to be amazing like those kids who went to the roller skating rink every Friday night, and yet I still fell and still scraped my knees because I was not quite perfect at skating. I never could manage to go down a hill without jumping onto the grass when things were passing by too fast. But still, my parents clapped when I came home unscarred and my rollerblades moved from New York to Florida with me.

I practically lived backstage in high school after I joined the drama club. Infatuated with the theatre, I'd audition for every part, memorize lines, and do anything I possibly could just to be close to the stage. And, miraculously, I was cast in shows and became part of the troupe. But when I performed my monologues, I knew the girl before me was better and I knew I'd never get the lead because I wasn't quite perfect at acting. But it didn't stop me; I kept memorizing, kept competing, kept dreaming and my teacher kept casting me because she saw that I had passion.

When I moved up to Tallahassee for my first year of college, I never thought anything would replace theatre in my heart, but within weeks I found the circus and was once again enamored with an activity. I did pull-ups, push-ups and sit-ups every night so I could get an act. And once I did, I was at the tent every day holding lines, practicing my act or just coaching fellow performers. My swing was never great and I had terrible core muscles; I wasn't quite perfect enough for flying trapeze, but I was okay at Perch and Rolla. I knew I'd never be as good as some of my friends, but I kept swinging and kept practicing because I loved it. And my coach saw my passion and gave me acts because he believed in me.

Next week I'm moving in with my boyfriend. We've been long distance for three years and I'm afraid that, although he knows me very well, he'll find out that I'm not quite perfect. Of course, he never thought I was, but still - he'll learn every idiosyncrasy - those things that only my closest roommates found out if they were lucky. How I have to check the door three times to make sure it's locked. How I'm moody pretty much every day. How I like certain things done and certain times in certain ways. I know he's ready for this, and so am I, but i'm afraid my not quite perfectness may cause frustration.

Tonight I made pumpkin cookies to celebrate the season, even though it's close to 100 degrees here. My cookies, much like everything else, were not quite perfect. They weren't circular, they were square and oblong and tasted more like cake that cookie. But still, they were delicious and my dad loved them and we ate way too many.

I'd like to think that if my pumpkin cookies are still okay being not quite perfect, then so am I. I'm happy with who I am. I'm happy having to try that much harder to get something than others might have to. I like striving for things and I'm excited to strive for a happy house where idiosyncrasies will be accepted. Plus, perfect is boring anyway; sometimes a flaw, or that unrelenting passion to be just good enough, is much, much better.

An Afternoon Driving To and From Ikea; Or: I'm actually 12 Years Old

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 19:02:00 +0000

Setting: We're driving home from Ikea. Our trip started at 9:30 a.m. and it's now 2:30. It's our second trip from the store, due to the fact that I was buying an apartment worth of stuff. I'm tired.

The back door of my dad's SUV is open and my newly purchased couch is slightly sticking out. It's around 98 degrees out. The air conditioner is blasting, but not too successfully.

Dad: Do you feel the heat coming in? It's taking over the air conditioner.

Me: Yeah, it's like when Harry and Voldemort's wands met and tried to out-spell one another.

Dad: ...

End Scene.

Book Review: Stargirl

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 01:43:00 +0000

Stargirl
By Jerry Spinelli
Knopf Books for Young Readers
Publication Date: May 14, 2002
ISBN: 9780375822339

This is the third time I read Jerry Spinelli's Stargirl, so I'm sure that says something. Before reviewing it, I'd like to tell you a little story -

During my sophomore year of college, I had this roommate named Renee, or Ney for short. Ney was the most extraordinary person I ever met. To sound extremely cliche, she marched to her own beat. She wore whatever outfit made her happy, even if it included two different colored socks. She made little cards and notes out of construction paper, as a 5th grader might do, and would leave them on my desk for me to find after class. They always said something simple like "hi" or "have a great day!" She had the biggest smile, the biggest laugh, the biggest heart. If you were sad, she was sad. If you were happy, she was happy - she took on your emotions. She helped the elderly cross the road and cooed at every baby. I still remember her glowing eyes the day she found Flight of the Navigator, her favorite movie, on VHS in our campus's Wednesday marketplace. Quite simply, she was an inspiration.

We stayed close after being roommates, but, like most people end up doing, drifted a bit when she moved to another state. While she was gone, I read Jerry Spinelli's young adult novel, Stargirl, and was convinced it was written for Renee. That April, when she visited, I gave her my copy of the book - I knew she'd like it better than a new copy because it was worn, and loved and worth so much more. As I predicted, she loved, and related to, the book.

A few years later, when we were both far from our college hometown and going on a year of not speaking, not because of a fight, just because of distance, I came upon the sequel to Stargirl - Love, Stargirl. I bought it, read it, and sent it to Renee. No call, no, warning, I just sent it with a little card made out of construction paper, much like the ones I made in 5th grade and she made in college. The thing was, we didn't need a re-introduction, a long phone call of catching up. We didn't need a reason to be friends. We just were. And so, the little book opened communication again and she, once more, became my Stargirl.

Stargirl is, essentially, a book about a girl who isn't afraid to be different, to be unique. In a town where everyone is alike and in a high school where everyone is a collective "we," she stands out and challenges people to look at things differently. Notice things. Read between the lines and not always go for the obvious.

LeoBorlock started out his 11th grade year of high school assuming it would be like every other year, but that day, something was different. People were whispering, pointing. And then he saw it - her. Stargirl - a girl who was as mysterious as her own name. With her floor length peasant skirt and ukulele strapped to her back, she said hi to people she didn't know in the hall, sang happy birthday in the cafeteria, and wore whatever she wanted, avoiding all fashion sense. For her, it wasn't how much you had, but how much you gave.

At first, the students of Mica High are scared. Then, with a dazzling display of school spirit, they're enchanted, behind her. Even Leo, who wants to stay as normal and unremarkable as his peers, finds her utterly enchanting. And then, just as quickly, everyone turns on her. Shuns her. But not Leo. He stays by her, in a trance from her beauty and free spirit. But it's not easy. For Leo, he has to learn who, or what, is more important - the girl he likes, or the rest of his high school class. And the choice isn't easy.

Stargirl shows kids that you shouldn't have to be like everyone else. That standing out could be fun, inspirational. And that you should always, always listen to your heart. Because if you don't, the results could be tragic.

I love Stargirl, not just for what the book stands for, but for how it makes me feel. At 25 it still makes me want to wave at strangers or leave pennies on the sidewalks for kids to find. I love the character of Stargirl and how strong she is. I love the character of Leo for how human he is. And I love the character of Archie, the old, retired schoolteacher who acts a bit like Mr. Miyagi-dispensing wisdom each chapter-because of how necessary he is.

The book is adorable and great for any kid-or adult-to read. It inspires you to take action, lead the crowd. Throw your head back and laugh without worrying about consequences because life isn't about being confined. It's about breaking free.

Book trailer for the sequel

Join the Stargirl society

Banned Books Week

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 01:53:00 +0000

During my sophomore year of college, I leant my friend Erin my copy of the book The Perks of Being a Wallflower. At the time, it was my favorite book (it's still a favorite) and I probably read it at least three times. When she gave it back, it had a different smell. Rather than omitting an odor of worn pages and endlessly read words, it smelled like cinnamon apple. She spilled a candle on it. She was sorry.

To this day the book still has the same scent and rather than being upset, I really like it. Every time I walk into a Cracker Barrel or similar country-feel store, that same scent fills the air and I think of Charlie and Patrick and Sam and feeling infinite. A scent reminds me of a fictional character and a fictional moment I never experienced in real life.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower is one of the most challenged books in school and libraries. Parents are constantly trying to ban it because it discusses sexuality. But why, exactly, is that bad?Parents think if they censor their kids from all the evils in literature, their kids won't learn about them. But there's still TV. There are still movies. There's still...life.

Here's the thing - students aren't taught about sexuality in school anymore. They're taught about abstinence and the basic biology of it all, but how realistic-and helpful-is that? Books like Perks are constantly being banned because they address sexuality, they address the issues kids are actually going through. Issues that they want to read about, hear about, talk about. In the YA book So Hard to Say, the main character muses "At my school in Wisconsin they had taught us all the technical info about sperm and eggs. It was kind of interesting, but now it seemed they skipped over some of the major things, like: How do you know if you romantic-like someone in the first place?" Nowadays, kids are going to authors more often than parents with questions on sexuality. I'm not surprised.

When teaching I had a bookcase full of various books I picked up at yard sales and thrift stores. At the end of the year, some were clean, barely touched, and yet some were crushed and torn and bent. The most massacred book, due to being read too much? Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, which is also, incidentally, challenged constantly.

Maybe I'm biased. Maybe it's because I feel so strongly about literature that I don't understand why books are being challenged. Why does a book that discusses the hazards of drugs get erased from a shelf?

In school this week we're discussing intimacy in YA novels. Every novel we're talking about has been banned from a school at one time or another (specifically, Doing It, which I reviewed the other day). After reading the book, I e-mailed the author to tell him how much I enjoyed the book - how helpful it could be for teenagers. He sent me a lovely email in response, thanking me for my compliments. The thing is, he didn't write the book for himself, he said. It wasn't to make money or enlarge his ego. He wrote it because he knew he would have wanted it as a teenager. Authors writer for their readers. Every book being challenged hurts the readers as much as, if not more, it hurts the author.

This past week I learned of two more books banned from schools. One is a YALSA (Young Adult Library Services Association) chosen book that deals with homosexuality. The other is an extremely popular young adult book about heroin addiction that ends with the main character suffering for her problem and realizing how bad it really was. (Read the author's AMAZING tirade on being banned here). One of the most popularly banned books is a children's book about the true story of two male penguins taking care of a baby. Sad, isn't it?

So when people ask me why I'm going back to school, why I'm getting a master's degree in library sciences, I answer them plainly. Because I want kids to read what they want to read. I want them to learn from books. I want a smell to remind them of a fictional character and a fictional moment that they never experienced in real life.

Today starts Banned Books Week. Read something challenged.

(Stephen Chbosky talks about having Perks banned)

(Feel free to read my previous post on banning books)

Book Review: Doing It

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 11:36:00 +0000

Doing It
By Melvin Burgess
Henry Holt and Co.
Publication Date: May 2, 2006
ISBN: 9780805080797

Let me preface this by saying - this book (which I have to discuss in class this Thursday!) was incredibly awkward to read in public (as in, while in the break room at work) due to not only the title, but also the content. Regardless of said awkwardness, Doing It is a really fun read and almost too realistic at times.

Meet Dino, Jonathon and Ben - three juniors in high school. Like most 17 year old boys, they only have one thing on their mind - sex. Dino, a stock male who knows he looks good, likes Jackie - the hottest girl in school. Jackie, however, is so over high school boys and their immature ways - that is, until curiosity gets the best of her. Jonathon is good friends with Deborah, a sweet girl in his class, and that's it, he'll diligently remind you. Because Deborah, you see, is a bit overweight, so clearly he'll never be caught with her. That is, of course, until things get a bit crazy at a house party. And Ben - Ben has a secret of his own, one that can't get out, because if it does it'll ruin not just his life, but the life of the other person involved as well. The other female involved. The other older female who may be crazy involved. And thus starts Doing It, a book that follows the three boys through highs and lows, parties and breakups, mistakes and take backs. And, ultimately, through them not quite becoming mature enough to be men, but getting exactly what they're after.

Doing It isn't for the faint of heart - as the title suggests, it's rather racy and very graphic. But, that just adds to its charm, in a way. Melvin Burgess has a way of writing these private moments in incredibly raw and blunt ways. Just like guys are. As an author, he doesn't hold back. He wants it to be like you're in a locker room overhearing these three guys talk about girls. It's truthful. And because of that, clearly, as a female, I hated all three of them.

Okay, not really hated - they all had their charm, which, again, was what I really liked about the book. For instance, Dino is awful. He's the alpha; he's chauvinistic around women and macho around his friends. He's the most graphic of the bunch, constantly making sexual innuendoes and judging every girl by her looks (which, most 17 year old guys do). However, he's also sensitive. As he learns that his parents are having marital problems, you see a different side of him - the real side he hides from his friends. And although I thought the marital problems subplot was pointless at first, I realized how important it really was. It was necessarily in order to develop Dino's character, bring life to it. Jonathon keeps battling with himself regarding Deborah. Should he like her because she's great, or should he not because his friends think she's fat. And Ben, well, Ben learns that thinking with your brain is a bit smarter than thinking with...other body parts. In the end, he was my favorite character. He was smart, helpful.

What I liked most was that the end didn't bring magic and happiness. Sure, some characters changed for the better - learning from their situations, but some ended up right where they started. And that's what usually happens, doesn't it?

I liked Doing It because it really was a realistic portrayal of high school - how horrid it truly is at times. And the British slang (as Burgess is a British writer), just made it better. It's a book that should be given to high school guys, although I'm sure many teachers might disagree. Sure, there are graphic sexual scenes and horrid language, but there's also a bit of heart. And sometimes, guys really need that (heart, that is).

Read some of Doing It on Google Books

Check out Melvin Burgess's official site

Read Burgess's Twitter feed (where he's, no joke, writing a book tweet by tweet)

The First Book

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 02:01:00 +0000

We read this in class tonight and I thought it was cute enough to share.

The First Book

By Rita Dove

Open it.

Go ahead, it won’t bite.
Well…maybe a little.

More a nip, like. A tingle.
It’s pleasurable, really.

You see, it keeps on opening.
You may fall in.

Sure, its hard to get started;
Remember learning to use

Knife and fork? Dig in:
You’ll never reach bottom

It’s not like it’s the end of the world-
just the world as you think

you know it.

Not Quite Heartless

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Wed, 16 Sep 2009 12:27:00 +0000

A week ago my brother’s girlfriend broke up with him. My baby (22 year old) brother, who's known for being a typical guy with strong features, calloused hands, and a masculine personality, was broken up with. It was devastating. Like many breakups, he took it hard and it was weird to see him in such a vulnerable situation. Although it was a short lived relationship, it was his first love.

I remember my first crushing breakup and all the ones that followed afterwards. I thought back to what made me feel better and what I did with friends to cheer them up. I couldn’t react as I would for a female friend, with ice cream, empty threats and hateful words. And I couldn’t react as I would for a male friend, with a plethora of alcohol and a crazy night on the town (okay I could have, but it would have been weird – baby brother and all). So I did the one thing I knew how to do – I baked him cookies. Lots of cookies.

I felt so helpless watching him cling to his cell phone with the smallest sliver of hope that she’d call. Reading the melancholy updates he’d post on Facebook. For the first time in my life, I knew what it would be like to be a parent.

(He’s okay now.)

New job, new school, new ads

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Mon, 14 Sep 2009 22:03:00 +0000

For starters, if you haven't heard on Twitter/Facebook by now, I have a new job! An amazing job that I'm absolutely loving so far. I'm officially the Assistant Managing Editor for Florida Monthly Magazine! I get to oversee all of the freelancers, edit their articles, assign pieces, review books (yes!) and oversee quite a bit. It's really fun and I'm learning quite a bit. The magazine covers events and stories all throughout Florida so I'm going to be traveling a bit as well. Best part? I got my friend Katie a job there as well; it's nice having a buddy in the workplace. I don't know how I became so lucky to get such an opportunity.

In other news, I'm a month into grad school. I like it so far! I'm learning a lot, but it's about subjects I enjoy so it doesn't seem like work. I get to talk about young adult books and libraries - what more could I want? For instance, I learned that i'm not quite an adult, i'm, according to Jeffrey Jensen Arnett, an Emerging Adult. It's a new stage of development between young adults and adults. The age refers to people who postpone marriage and parenthood, and instead wish to explore love, life, and work (and travel, for me). Interesting!

Lastly, HDS has finally started to accept ads. I'm picky and very protective of HDS, but some places I trust and enjoy so I don't mind them advertising with me. With that, check out VistaPrint's ad on my sidebar. Both my brother and I got our business cards done by them - they're quite good. (If anyone else wishes to advertise with me, please let me know.)

Due to work and school, book reviews and posts may be sporadic for a bit, but they'll be back on track eventually. I'm new to balancing all of this, after all.

Q&A With Dan Begley

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Thu, 10 Sep 2009 00:55:00 +0000

Recently, I read, reviewed, and loved Dan Begley's debut novel, Ms. Taken Identity. Since Dan is incredibly nice, he agreed to answer some questions for my blog. Check out his interview below and definitely pick up a copy of his book. For a guy to write chick lit, you know it's going to be interesting, to say the least.

1) What made you want to write a book that is essentially considered "chick lit?"
The cover. I knew the only way I’d ever get pink fuzzy slippers on the cover of one of my books was to write chick lit.

Just kidding! Actually, I was writing a serious literary novel based on Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken.” It had lots of symbolism and carefully crafted sentences. I’d even counted syllables. However, it turned out to be the book not taken, as every agent passed on it.

My wife suggested that I write something fun and upbeat, like chick lit. My response: are you crazy? Guys don’t write chick lit. But then I realized that she’d hit upon the perfect plot idea. What if a guy who has no business writing chick lit actually decides to write it? What would drive him to do it? And what would the outcome be? In a flash, I realized I could write about all the things that interest me: pop culture, literature, sports, and guys and gals trying to figure each other out. And I could do so with a mix of humor and poignancy, because chick lit allows that. In the end, I took the road not previously taken—a guy writing chick lit—and I’m so glad I did.

2) In your book, Mitch visits a dance studio for inspiration. Did you do anything similar to figure out your characters?
I didn’t have to visit a dance studio because I’d already done that. My wife had been salsa dancing for years before we met. She surprised me with a trip to a studio for my birthday one year, and I loved it. People in dance studios sure are friendly.

What I did have to do, however, was bone up on all things fashion and “chick,” especially handbags and heels. Oh, and chocolate. For this, I started reading every issue of Vogue and Cosmo and Elle I could get my hands on and strolling the malls, stopping in stores like bebe and Bare Escentuals and Lucky Brand Jeans and Godiva. I asked a lot of questions, such as, “What’s an empire waist?” “What’s a bronze plumper and how do you use it?” “Which flavor of truffle sells best?”

The women in the stores were always very friendly. I didn’t tell them I was researching for a book, just shopping for my wife. Occasionally, I’d bring something home. My wife loved my research days.

3) Is there any part of you within the character of Mitch?
Sure there is, though I’d like to think that Mitch reflects the me of many years ago. Mitch hates popular fiction, especially chick lit, because it’s not literature. It’s not art. As a college student and early post-grad, I had similar biases. James Joyce was a writer, not James Patterson.

But what I’ve come to realize is that telling a great story is the goal of fiction. Sometimes, that great story is art. Sometimes it’s just a great story, like the Harry Potter books. And those are just as fantastic as any piece of so-called “art.” Anything that entertains and engages us, anything that moves us, anything that brings us pleasure has value. That’s why we love campfire stories: the sheer thrill of what comes next.

In terms of Mitch’s voice and sense of humor, some of that is me, but most of it is just Mitch. As for any other bad qualities he possesses, don’t look at me; that’s all him!

4) Katharine Longwell is considered pretty much the queen of chick lit in your novel. Is she based off of any current popular novelist?
I loved writing the Katharine Longwell character because she got to voice a lot of the thoughts that I just mentioned. She’s smart and confident and she has learned that great story-telling is what’s important. She delights in the fact that her readers love her books, to hell with what any critic may say. She’s a woman who turned her life around by recognizing her God-given talent with words. I’d love to meet her.

As to any real-life counterpart, I was thinking of Candace Bushnell when I created her. I honestly don’t know too much about Ms. Bushnell, other than she’s incredibly successful. I certainly respect that. She’s obviously gained fame and fortune as the author of Sex and the City and her other books. Do Katharine and Candace share much else in common, in terms of personality? I don’t really know. I do know that Candace is a very attractive woman, and I certainly wanted Katharine to be that.

Interestingly enough, I recently discovered that Nora Roberts was a stay-at-home mom before she became an industry unto herself. So in that regard, the way Katharine turned her life around with her writing, she bears some resemblance to Ms. Roberts.

5) How has your life been since writing the book? Are you more inspired to watch episodes of Oprah?
Well, the NFL season just got underway, so I’m not sure I’ll have any time for Oprah or any of the girls!

Seriously, though, I’m working on another book that is similar in style and tone to Ms. Taken Identity. Though it won’t feature the same characters, it will be told from a guy’s POV and again focus on dating and relationships and love. (In other words, another chick lit novel.) Plus, this time around there’s a fireman.

So, I am again browsing all my favorite fashion magazines as a refresher course. Notting Hill and The Devil Wears Prada will making an appearance in my living room. (Maybe The Ugly Truth, also, when it comes out on DVD.) The work of a chick lit writer, when you’re not a chick, is never done!

6) What are some of your favorite books? Authors?
Wow, how much space do we have here? Well, starting as an early grade schooler, I loved the Velveteen Rabbit…

Okay, maybe I’ll just stick to what’s currently on my shelf. I tend to be a very eclectic reader with both fiction and nonfiction. My method is to go in the bookstore, browse tables and shelves, and just start picking up books that look interesting. I’ll also read the blog sites for recommendations. Right now, this is a partial list of books that I’ve recently read, am reading, or plan to read in the near future:

Love the One You’re With—Emily Giffin
Scot on the Rocks—Brenda Janowitz
The Devil in the White City—Erik Larson
The Story of Edgar Sawtelle—David Wroblewski
A Short History of Nearly Everything—Bill Bryson
Your Best Life Now—Joel Osteen

As far as favorite books go, I’d say Memoirs of a Geisha, Bridget Jones’s Diary, High Fidelity, Pride and Prejudice, The Birth of Venus. Those are the five I wouldn’t mind being stranded on a desert island with.

Book Review: Keeping the Moon

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Mon, 07 Sep 2009 13:50:00 +0000

Keeping the Moon
By Sarah Dessen
Puffin
Publication Date: September 25, 2000
ISBN: 9780141310077

I mentioned a while ago, after loving Along for the Ride, that I really wanted to check out more Sarah Dessen books. I finally did!

Keeping the Moon is about Colie, a fifteen year old girl who's forced to spend the summer with her eccentric aunt in Colby, North Carolina while her overly enthusiastic weight-loss video selling mother tours Europe to promote her new line of food, videos and work out equipment. Colie is used to being alone, however; before her mother found the weight-loss lifestyle, both of them were incredibly overweight. Having problems wherever they went, the two traveled from place to place frequently, finally settling in Charlotte, North Carolina when her mother started to work for a gym. That's when they both lost weight. Sadly, even without the weight, Colie was still unable to make friends.

Having a ton of pent-up anger and embarrasment already on her shoulders, Colie was convinced that her summer was going to be terrible. But as she frets about the students she ran away from, she meets Isabel and Morgan, two waitresses at the Last Stop Grill, who offer her a job. Morgan, the optimist, has a baseball playing fiance and a delicate heart of gold. Isabel is beautiful, yet honest and brutal to Colie in ways that anger, yet inspire her. And then there's Norman, the crazy artist who practically lives with Colie's Aunt. And Mira, the aunt who marches to her own beat, wearing bright colors and crazy glasses. Throughout the summer, Colie learns how each person goes from day to day and how no one has it quite so easy. She learns to look past those who mock and find the good and beauty inside herself. Most of all, Colie finds herself.

Keeping the Moon is a delicate book that shows how one character can survive many hardships and learn to grow past it all, with encouragement, honesty, and friends.

Needless to say, I really enjoyed Keeping the Moon. I read it next because it took place in Colby, the same place Along for the Ride was set, and featured a familiar character. I loved watching Colie progress throughout the book - watching her hit her peak and plummet within a few pages, and then build herself back up again. It was endearing to see how much heart Dessen gives each character. Speaking of, Isabel was actually my favorite character. With her rough exterior, she shows Colie what's important through hard lessons and a picture from her past. Isabel wasn't a character that grew while the book progressed, but you saw where she came from and ultimately what she was made of.

I love the friendship between Morgan and Isabel - it's so honest and true. And mostly, I really liked Mira, who was confusing at first, but offered up life lessons without realizing what she was doing it. It was her selflessness and easy-going attitude that amazed me. And, of course, Norman the "guy" in the book, with his longer hair and hippie lifestyle. The relationship between Norman and Colie was a bit forced, I felt, but cute nonetheless. There HAD to be a summer crush, right?

I liked how Kiki, Colie's mother, was present throughout the novel, without being there (through phone calls and commercials.) She wasn't presented as the bad guy, even though she was miles away, in fact she also acted as a guiding light for Colie. I really like Colby as a setting - this small town that's peak population is during hot summer days. Last Chance is a place you want to go to, hang out at. You can tell Dessen spent quite a few days living there.

All in all, Keeping the Moon is a fantastic young adult book that makes me want to ride my bike or hang out with friends under a sky full of a fireworks. It shows you that it's not always smart to "judge a book by it's cover," and how things that may be broken, can still have meaning and life. It's a book that'll definitely have me picking up more of Sarah Dessen's stories because I'm sure each one has just as much, if not more, heart.

Sarah-land Ning page

More on the book at Dessen's official site

Read the first chapter

Sarah Dessen's blog

Book Review: The Wall - Growing Up Behind the Iron Curtain

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 02:23:00 +0000

The Wall: Growing Up Behind the Iron Curtain (Caldecott Honor Book)
By Peter Sis

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Publication Date: August 21, 2007

ISBN: 9780374347017

The Wall is an autobiographical graphic novel/kids book about Peter Sis's life in Czechoslovakia during World War II. As a child, Peter loved to draw. As the book states, he drew shapes and people as a kid, and then tanks and wars as he got older, because that's what he was exposed to. The book follows his life from innocent child to Beatles obsessed teen who had to make his own instruments because real ones were banned. And all the while he drew, what he was allowed to in person, and what he wanted to in private. He kept drawing because it's what inspired him and what took him away from the life he was experiencing. The book ends epically on November 9th, with Peter imagining ways to get away and then realizing that he could as he watched the Berlin Wall fall.

This is the first book (that isn't a text book) that I read for grad school and I found it incredibly interesting. Peter Sis does an amazing job at telling his heartbreaking story of growing up in a war torn country. Each page is illustrated with large images and narrated with quick sentences here and there. Each one meaningful and descriptive. Sliced within the book are excerpts from his childhood journals. I loved this idea because it showed his innocence throughout the whole situation. While some entries dealt with his uncle being imprisoned, others discussed his desire to be in a rock band and move to London. Even though he was going through a war, he was still a child and then a teenager. The country couldn't take that away from him.

If you weren't reading the words, you'd think it was a normal kid's book. Peter Sis did an amazing job at illustrating the entire book, using hopeful and colorful images on some pages, and bleak black and white drawings on others to illuminate the difference between the real from what he, in his mind, wanted. What I found most haunting, and realistic about the images was the presence of pigs dressed as cops in every picture, showing how soldiers were always watching.

Two page specifically spoke to me. "Everyone wanted to draw. They painted a wall filled with their dreams..." the first page states. Above those words are pictures of people grafting the side of a building. The pictures are of suns and peace signs and guitars and flamingos. The next page shows the soldiers washing off the painting, and then the people re-painting it. Over and over, each strip repeats it. "...and repainted it again and again." They never gave up.

I thought this was a brilliant way to tell the story of his childhood. In the afterward, Peter states why he decided to create the book the way he did. After his children asked "How did you decide to settle here in America?" he decided to tell them through the book. "...it's hard to put it into words," he states, "and since I have always drawn everything, I have tried to draw my life-before America-for them. Any resemblance to the story in this book is intentional."

Read a discussion on the book from the New York Times

Read a clip of it, see some illustrations, and hear a reading at the Macmillan site

Book Review: The Kingdom of Ohio

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Wed, 02 Sep 2009 23:28:00 +0000

The Kingdom of Ohio
By Matthew Flaming

Putnam

Publication Date: December 31, 2009

ISBN: 9780399155604

The Kingdom of Ohio is an enigma of a book. Part mystery, part scientific novel, part love story, it's about an old book seller who discovers a photograph that brings him back to a time he's tried to forget. In the story within the story, a young man named Peter Force makes his way across the country to New York City in the year 1901. To survive, he gets a job digging the first subway tunnels beneath the city's sleepless streets. There, on a bleak day, he meets Cheri-Anne Toledo, a young prodigy who claims to have traveled through time, seven years into the future to be exact, from the illusive Kingdom of Ohio, where her father was the ruler. As Peter and Cheri-Anne fall for one another, they learn more about her past, their future, and the technology unfolding in front of them. Told from present time, the book tells the tale of the ingenious of technology (even when it might be scary) and the birth of America.

I was immediately intrigued by Matthew Flaming's debut novel by the description. I was captivated by the casual way a fictional city is mixed in with the legendary Nikola Tesla, Thomas Edison, and J.P. Morgan. Indeed, some of my favorite scenes from the book are when fact and fiction collide, much like in E.L. Doctorow's novel Ragtime (one of my favorites). And while I did enjoy the love story, I loved New York more. Flaming wrote the city as if it were a character, growing up as the pages turned. I loved learning about the progress of the subway tunnels - something I had never thought of before. It was gruesome, yet interesting, to see what people went through to make it. And, fictionally for the story, what it all meant.

I loved how complex the story was, how it all weaved together wonderfully, and even powerfully. Admittedly, it did get a bit tedious at times. Some parts read like a textbook, with footnotes and sometimes even side stories that went on and had me wondering how important they were (which reminded me greatly of House of Leaves by Mark Danielewski).

The Kingdom of Ohio is an excellent book that really kept me thinking. For those interested in history or science, or even a complex love story, check it out. Flaming definitely has a talent that I'm excited to see grow with future novels.

See the official page

Matthew Flaming's Facebook Page

Cover War: Juliet, Naked

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 21:23:00 +0000

With the release of Nick Hornby's newest novel, Juliet, Naked, around the corner, I thought i'd have a cover war between the US and UK's covers. (Read my review of the book here).

Here's the US cover. As I described in my review, the book (which truly is excellent) is essentially about music and what we make of it. Whether it soundtracks our life or controls it. I like how the designer made the iPhone earbuds into outlines of faces. Really creative - really neat looking.

The UK cover has a nice vintage feel - looking more like a novel from the 70's than today. I like how the girl is pulling on the guy's headphones - trying to reel him in, as the main female character often does.

I have to admit, I really like both covers, however I think this time the US one wins. What do you think?

(Juliet, Naked is out in the UK this week, in the States on Sept. 29).

Watch Hornby talk about the new novel on Penguin's YouTube channel

Read a bit of the book on the Times Online

And check out Samir's review at Are You Gene Hackman

UPDATE! Thanks to Nick Hornby's Facebook Fan page (which graciously linked to this article), here's the Italian cover:

E bella, no?

I Bleed a Lot

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 23:09:00 +0000

I'm pretty clumsy. Not in the I-fall-down-constantly way, although that is rather frequent, but more so in the I-bleed-a-lot way. The other night while at Broadway pizza, I managed to cut open my finger while picking up my rather unsharp knife.

Only I would bleed while at dinner.

Back in college, I worked at the bookstore WaldenBooks. Since I was the key holder, I'd manage the store alone while my boss was out, or on one of her seven hour smoke breaks. Or, more specifically for this story, when she was interviewing people for open positions.

She was in the back room office talking to Patrick, a guy in his late 20's with light hair and light eyes. I was in the front of the store mostly alone, aside for the three or so people drifting around the shelves. It was 3:00 on a Tuesday, so the mall wasn't incredibly busy.

When new magazines came in, it was my job to get rid of all the old ones. I'd rip their covers off to later send back to the publisher and then put the rest of the magazine inside a box, which was later trashed. I was working on a pile of PEOPLE magazines when I got my weekly paper cut. A small bulb of blood grew on my index finger, so I ran to the back room to wash it. Passing the office, I noticed Patrick and my boss Susanna conversing like normal. Susanna looked up as I passed, but I just pointed to the bathroom.

Back on the main floor, I was working on a stack of "naughty magazines," so to say. With them, we'd have to open the plastic packaging first before ripping off the cover. To save time, I typically used a box cutter and cut the entire front off. While doing that, of course I cut my finger. Sliced off a small part of the tip.

My manager looked up again, a bit perplexed, when I ran past her towards the bathroom. That time, the blood didn't stop easily, so I made a makeshift band-aid out of a paper towel and scotch tape. I waved to her as I made my way back into the store.

Three boxes of new magazines were on the counter. I was squatting under the counter, organizing additional magazines, when I reached up to grab one of the boxes. Looking up at it, I noticed that it was heavier than I thought. And also wobbly. I lost my grip and it fell quickly onto my chest. I caught it in time, so it didn't knock me over, but the corner of the box scratched my throat during the fall. I felt my neck and realized that something wet was on it. Blood, of course.

That time when I ran into the back room, not five minutes after the last time (the interview was roughtly 20 minutes), Susanna finally pipped up.

"What is going on out there?"

I showed her my finger and my band-aid. I showed her my throat and the original paper cut. She just shook her head and laughed.

"You're a mess."

At 5:00 my friend Cassie came to pick me up. Still in the mall, we wandered two stores down for our day's mission: I was getting my ears pierced. I had them pierced as a kid, but from having earrings out so often for circus (and having skin that heals incredibly fast), they closed up. Before entering the store, I described my bloody day to Cassie. She, like my manager, laughed at me.

Inside Claire's Accessories, I grabbed the stool I was sitting on as the girl, roughly 18 with huge pink hoops and florescent pink and yellow hair, pierced my ears. When it was all over, I felt my hot ears and tiny silver earrings.

There wasn't one spot of blood.

Belief & Technique for Modern Prose by Jack Kerouac

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 15:25:00 +0000

Recently, I posted Kurt Vonnegut's Eight Rules for Writing. His rules are concrete, simple and wonderful. On the other end of the spectrum is Jack Kerouac, who wrote his own set of rules. If you've ever read any of his novels, you know he's crazy. Genius, but crazy. His books don't need periods, nor correct spelling - he has a language of his own, and I think that's why I loved him so much. His disregard towards convention was inspiring.

Here are Kerouac's writing rules from 1959. I love them. Comparably, however, what do you think?

Belief & Technique for Modern Prose
List of Essentials

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

Book Review: Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 02:00:00 +0000

Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz: A Quinceañera Club Novel

By Belinda Acosta

Grand Central Publications

Publication Date: August 11, 2009

ISBN: 978-0446540513

Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz is ostensibly about 14 year old Carmen Ruiz's quinceanera - the event that marks her as a woman. However, it's really about her mother, Ana, and her quest to figure out her life.

After Ana's husband, Esteban, moved out of their house, Ana is left to raise her 14 year old daughter and 17 year old son on her own. It would be easy, however both children don't understand why their father left and resent their mother for the situation (specifically Carmen). To help ease the tension, and to get closer to her angry daughter, Ana decides to throw Carmen a quinceanera to celebrate her 15th birthday. Because, really, is there a better way to have the family come together?

As Ana tries to figure out her husband's estrangement, she becomes intrigued by a visiting artist at the college she works with. And as her feelings towards the stranger become more intense, Carmen's feelings towards her mom get worse. All the while, Diego, the son, acts as the voice of reason between his sister and mother, all the while trying to win a girl's heart and live up to his father's expectations. On top of all that, Carmen's cousin Bianca frantically takes over the quinceanera planning only to get over some secrets of her own.

Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz is a whirlwind of a book that shows what it's like to be a mother, a daughter, a son, and a father. Taking each character's side, the book shows how one event can tear a family apart, and yet another can seamlessly sew it back together.

Damas, Dramas, and Ana Ruiz is the debut book in the two part Quinceanera Club Novels series, written by Belinda Acosta. The book is very well written, delving you deep into the despair of separation, excitement of a first crush, and confusion over parents. Told through each character's point of view, it's a full story, showing each character's side of the story.

You could instantly tell that Acosta has been to her fair share of quinceaneras from the detailed descriptions spread through the book - from the dresses to the dancing. Although the quinceanera is the event that brings the story together, Ana Ruiz is truly the backbone. You watch her go from highs to lows throughout the book and cheer her on along the way. She's an incredibly likeable character and although her progress is slow, it's revealed incredibly powerfully. Acosta did an excellent job characterizing each person and bringing them to life. With that, you even like 14 year old Carmen, even though she's annoying, because she's written as a teenager should be. I especially liked Bianca, the cousin. Full of energy and enthusiasm, it's all an act that hides what she's truly feeling. That's what being a teenager is all about.

I liked how the book opened and closed. The prologue starts at the end, the day of the quinceanera, hinting at the chaos that will ensue. At the end, it goes back to that same moment, bringing it back around, giving the opening a new understanding.

One thing I didn't necessarily like about the novel is the interjections of Spanish terms and phrases. On one hand, it make the book more authentic. You felt like you were part of the family, hearing them as they spoke and that was a nice touch. However, on the other - since I don't speak Spanish, I didn't understand key parts, needing to translate quite a bit.

Aside from that, I did enjoy the book. It's a quick read that keeps you interested and entertained. I learned quite a bit about the San Antonio culture and felt for each character deeply. I'm intrigued to read the next part of the series, as it's about Beatriz, a minor character in this book, and her quinceanera. Fun debut novel from a talented new author.

Read the Hachette Reading Group Guide

Read Belinda Acosta's blog

Read the prologue

Read the author's articles in the Austin Chronicle

Kurt Vonnegut’s Eight Rules For Writing Fiction

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 16:35:00 +0000

By the way, here are Vonnegut's writing rules, which I found here. They're the most inspirational writing rules I've read - simple and to the point.

Eight rules for writing fiction:

Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted.
Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for.
Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water.
Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action.
Start as close to the end as possible.
Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of.
Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia.
Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.

- Vonnegut, Kurt Vonnegut, Bagombo Snuff Box: Uncollected Short Fiction (New York: G.P. Putnam’s Sons 1999), 9-10.

Determination

lauren.gibaldi@gmail.com (Lauren) — Sat, 22 Aug 2009 15:46:00 +0000

I recently read Kurt Vonnegut's 8 Rules for Writing and was incredibly inspired by his points. My favorite rule was this: "Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of." I loved it. I wanted to apply it to everything I've ever written. Anyway, here's my attempt at hurting a character. It's actually based on a true story, so I suppose it says something about me.

"God, I hate this," I yelled down to Evan, who was over 20 feet below me. "I really, really hate this," I continued, incredibly frustrated with myself, my line holder, my contraption, my arms - pretty much everything.

"Lauren, you can do it. Try again," Evan yelled up humbly. It wasn't his fault, of course, but I still hated him. Mostly because he was right every time he told me I was doing the trick wrong.

I exhaled air from my mouth hard, causing my bangs to fly up. With my sweaty wrist, I pushed them back and tightened my ponytail. Determined to do it right, I gave him a nod and started pumping my swing again.

There were two months until circus homeshows. I had every trick down and ready to be performed except for this one. I sat up high on a U-shaped rope suspended in mid-air. Evan was below me, next to the safety net, holding the safety lines attached to my waist in case I fell wrong. I wasn't allowed to take them off until the trick was perfect.

Sitting on the rope, the Mexican Cloud Swing, I closed my eyes and imagined that I was in my backyard back at home, sitting on our swing set. It was a warm spring morning. The trees arched over me and a cool breeze blew across my face. I opened my eyes only to see the intimidating red and white stripes on the top of the circus tent. Okay. It was time.

I started swinging on the rope as if it was a simple playground swing. Then, I propped my right foot up on it and pushed down. Standing on the one foot, I balanced myself so my other foot fit on the rope comfortably as well. I bent my knees at the back of my swing and then straightened my legs hard in the middle. It made the swing go higher and higher. Looking straight ahead, I yelled down "Next time here," when I hit the peak of the front of my swing. At the back of the swing I yelled down, "This time."

I should have waited until the swing got to its peak. I should have jumped then, simply jumped off the rope, letting my arms, which were held out straight next to me, catch me mid-air. I should have held the pose and then got back up, only to try it again.

But I didn't. I jumped before peak like I always did. I always jumped the gun. And I always hurt myself in the process.

"Dammit," I yelled and I knew Evan felt bad for me. Every time I jumped early, even with him holding the safety lines, I still hit hard. If the trick was performed properly, it wouldn't hurt when my arms caught. But since I went early, my arms hit the rope hard, forcefully, giving me a fierce rope burn every time.

But I got back up and tried again because I had to. My arms hurt, bad. Rough scratches and flakes covered my once smooth skin. They were starting to turn red, purple, blue.

Without stopping, I pumped my swing high enough and tried again. And again I went too early. The next time as well. The rough skin started to peel and droplets of red blood stuck to the cloud swing. That wasn't a rare occurrence, though - the cloud swing had years of dried blood on it. We didn't have the cleanest circus.

I sat on the cloud swing again, defeated. My arms were throbbing - I had tried the trick 15 times that afternoon and I wasn't getting better. I had 10 minutes left of practice and was ready to give up until Evan told me not to.

"I have an idea," he said. "This time go when I tell you to."

"You've never done the act, Evan," I said, sourly.

"So? I know peak. Get up. Go."

I didn't want to. I wanted to get down, go home, and snuggle on the cough, away from the circus. I hated him for telling me what to do, but I hated myself more for failing. So, obediently, I sat down and started swinging.

"Okay next time...there." Even called out when I wasn't even close to peak.

"Are you kidding? That's too early!" I shouted out, protesting. If I went THAT early, I'd really be hurt. My heart thundered in my chest.

"This time," he continued, ignoring my protest. "HUP!"

On hup, I went as I was instructed to do. I was right - it WAS too early. My arms caught hard and I yelled in pain and frustration.

"EVAN I'M GOING TO KILL YOU."

He wasn't phased by my reaction. Instead, he said, "OK, one more time."

"No. No way. I refuse," I shouted down, noticing the red marks on the net. My blood reached epic proportion. I was tired and my hair was sticking to my sweaty forehead.

"Lauren. Listen. One more time."

I don't know why I did it, but I got back up. I followed his direction. He was one of the circus elders - he knew what he was doing, even though I severely doubted it.

"Okay next time....there." This time, rather than being incredibly early, he was calling for me to jump off ridiculously late.

"Evan. No. That's late."

Again, he ignored me and again, for some reason, I followed his call. I trusted him. It was an inherent trust I had to have. He was holding my safety lines after all.

"This time...HUP!" I went. As predicted it was too late and I hit the rope with a thud. I bit my lips to push back the tears. As my swing slowed down, I got back up and sat on the rope. I was worn out, like an old rag that should have been tossed months ago.

"Okay, what happened?" Evan asked.

"You tried to kill me," I answered, not wanting to look at him.

"Well, no, I tried to help. The first time you went too early, right?"

"Yeah."

"And the second time too late?"

"Yeah."

"Did you feel each time? Feel when they were too early and too late?"

"Of course." I felt like a stubborn child.

"Okay. Go inbetween those times."

"Huh?"

"Go inbetween. Find the middle time."

All of a sudden it made sense. He showed me the two extremes so I knew what NOT to do, not what TO do. Wanting to test his theory I got up, one last time. My legs were shaking. I had been up there for almost an hour.

I pushed down on my swing. I felt weak, out of breath. Cramps were forming in my stomach and I wanted to chop my raw arms off. But something else took over - something that wasn't me. I wasn't in the tent anymore, I was all on my own. Just me. Swinging. No pressure.

"Next time," I yelled down, calling it at around the right spot. "This time."

And then, with my eyes closed as I was warned many times not to do, I jumped.

I landed lightly on my arms. They still burned and they still got scratched, but I didn't die. As I opened my eyes, I saw Evan looking up at me smiling. His plan worked.

I got out of the early mindset and found a middle ground. I did the trick correctly. Realizing what happened, I let out a laugh, loud and uninhibited. I did it.

Back on the ground, Evan gave me a hug for all the work and gauze for my wounds. I looked at my arms to find them mangled, thrashed up from all the work. I could barely touch them, or anything. I needed my roommate to help me change my shirt for the next few days.

The next day, arms bandaged up, I went back up on the cloud swing. I didn't find it intimidating or scary. On the contrary, I found it home. My home, where anything was possible.