Hitting On Girls in Bookstores

Slammed - a review, or Smugged a New Novel by Colleen Hoover

2013-05-22T06:53:00.000-04:00

Slammed: A Novel
Colleen Hoover
352 pages

I've heard a lot about Slammed. It's been making its rounds on all the Young Adult blogs for a while now. Unfortunately, I was off on an adventure while it did this. As of last week I only knew two things about it: it was originally a self-publish novel and got picked up by a publisher (And proud we all are of Colleen Hoover for pulling off that feat)*, and it was written in one month.

This book isn't about all of that, though. It's about love, death, life, and trying to fuck your poetry teacher.

TRYING TO--PARDON MY LANGUAGE--GET SLAMMED BY YOUR NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR. GET IT? IT'S A PUN.

Like, seriously, guys, seriously. Will "The Hunky Next Door Neighbor" Cooper* and Layken "The Lake" Cohen are almost in a relationship but then not. Will is 21, Lake is 18; it's complicated y'all The entire book is like seeing a Facebook relationship status between overly dramatic friends over the course of one week. It would look something like this:

Will Cooper is in a relationship with Layken Cohen.
Will Cooper is single.
Layken Cohen is in a relationship and it's complicated.
Will Cooper is single.
Layken Cohen is in a relationship.
Will Cooper is single.
Layken Cohen is... you know what? You get it by this point.

Slammed means more than the kind of poetry present in the book. We are slammed with plot twists. We are slammed with harsh realities. We are slammed with Avett Brothers songs. We are slammed with life and an overuse of italics.

An overuse of italics. I thought I was the only one guilty of this. But guess what? Colleen Hoover's writing does hold up. It holds up so well that I slammed (see what I did there) through the book in several hours; this is the first book I've read in a single day in a while. Whether or not this is because the writing is simple and straightforward, or because it's just a quick OMGWHATHAPPENSNEXT type of thing; I don't know.

If you're looking for a quick read--and one that will make you question your own morals--this is the book to do it.

Also, I deducted a Fuck. This book should get Four Fucks, but a real romance would not have a sequel.

Three Out of Five Fucks Given

*I'm still not reading self-published books. Also, this is not a self-published book since it's been picked up by a publisher. Loopholes! Not just for Congress.

Scarlet - a review, or Little Red Riding in the Hood

2013-05-20T07:07:00.001-04:00

Scarlet (Lunar Chronicles, Book #2)
Marissa Meyer
464 pages

(This review is spoiler free, which, you know, is hard to do).

I fell down a hill yesterday because a girl smiled at me. I mean, like, smiled smiled at me. I scraped up the whole right side of my arm and bruised my butt. The aftermath of the fall resulted in cursing and hissing and the girl quickly walking away from me. I was also on the phone with my sister.

She heard everything. I apparently said "Fucking boat shoes." Then I thought about
. Cinder who--in the last book--snapped her foot off, which leads to her incarceration in prison, and the new Emperor Kai keeping the cyborg girl's foot in his desk (clearly something is afoot with his feelings).*

Smile Girl and Cinder have two things in common: both of them walked away quickly from an out-of-control situation, and both of them made a guy swoon. Like, a hard swoon. Scarlet does not have these attributes. Scarlet would have stopped and helped me (alright, she would've laughed at me, or would have pushed me back down). She is, after all, on a quest to find her grandmother.

There's also a guy named Wolf who may or may not be a bad guy, and Cinder, and Iko, and the newly crowned Prince Kai; everyone is back. Even the evil step mother, the evil Moon Queen, the evil robots...

Scarlet is a retelling of Little Red Riding Hood, Cinder a retelling of Cinderella; except these two heroines don't lose shoes or get trailed by wolves; they lose feet and team up with wolves.

I'm starting to think Marissa Meyer got too tipsy on wine one weekend and had a Sailor Moon marathon followed by a watching of The Tenth Kingdom.** There are so many different elements at play, so many things I could reference, so many good science fiction-y moments, that I had trouble keeping up. (There's even a few Heart of Gold moments a la The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy).

What Scarlet is is a much more put together story--a more broader look at the world of Cinder--than the first book of the Lunar Chronicles.

Every once in a while I give a series a second chance, a pardon. Looking back Cinder wasn't a terrible novel; it just didn't jive with me. Looking at Cinder after reading Scarlet? I'm prepared to give a HOGIB pardon to Marissa Meyer. She actually pulled off a rebound.

Well done.

Four Out of Five Fucks Given

(full disclosure: I bought--and read this--on my Kindle).

*This is a pun.
**Go suck an elf if you haven't seen this one.
Edit: Yes, I really fell down.

Why The Next Generation Was Really About Data

2013-05-13T07:26:00.000-04:00

I see a lot of memes about Captain Jean-Luc Picard. I like Captain Jean-Luc Picard. Of all the captains he's probably my favorite. But the television show--and the movies--are not about Picard. They're not even about Riker. They're not about Wesley Crusher becoming a man (and I hated those episodes). Star Trek: The Next Generation is about the humanoid android known as Lt. Commander Data.

"Hello? Yes, I'd love to hear
about AT&T Uverse."

The first scene of the first episode of TNG has Captain Picard interacting with Data, giving him more back story than any of the other characters on the screen; Worf is there (we are not told about his Klingon-ness), Troi is there (we are not told about her tela-pathetic abilities), etc. We learn more about Data than we do any other character in about 30 seconds.

Contrast this first scene with the last scene of Star Trek: Nemesis, which is the very last Star Trek movie starring the TNG cast. The last two characters we see--again--are Picard and a now defunct Data. The series begins with Data's quest for his humanity and ends with his death.

(The series also begins with Picard walking down a hallway contemplating his new ship and mission with a scowl on his face. It ends with Picard walking down a hallway contemplating his life, smiling).*

If you were a child of the eighties or the early nineties (when TNG reruns still ruled the air) you can remember at least one scene from The Next Generation. That scene will always involve Data. In the episode Phantasms he starts dreaming. Everyone remembers this episode because there were two guys taking pick axes to the Enterprise.

Everyone remembers the episode where Data got a girlfriend (it was really an allegory for gays in the military, apparently). Everyone remembers the episode where Data got a daughter. Everyone remembers the episode where Data gets a brother; when he is then betrayed by his brother. Everyone remembers Data's freakin' emotion chip.

Mostly all the pivotal episodes of TNG revolve around Data. Including the one where Picard is abducted and assimilated by the Borg. What's Data doing in that episode? His roll isn't big, but in the original version of the script it called for Data and Picard to become one being. Which would, you know, have been a big deal.

(The Borg later abduct Data in First Contact and try to convince him to join them).

The thing I've always appreciated about TNG has been its ability to comfort me when I'm down. The idea that I can throw on an episode and listen to it in the background, or watch it again and again. It's always been there for me. The parts that have always made me smile were the parts with our pale android friend.

Data doesn't quip, it's his lack of understanding that leads to comic relief on the show. And Data is the only comic relief on the show for many seasons. It's odd that an android--that is void of emotion--is the chosen vessel for this plot element.

If Data were not on the screen we would not get the message TNG is trying to convey. That humanity might be out there exploring the stars, but really, we're just trying to find out who--and what--we are.

*Throughout the years the show was on Picard goes from smiling once a season to every episode.

Currently reading...

2013-05-11T09:49:00.000-04:00

Right now I'm in the middle of reading Scarlet by Marissa Meyer. It's actually--and I do not say this lightly--better than Cinder. Some of you might remember that I wasn't the biggest fan, but some of you should know, I've met Marissa Meyer (yeah I'm name dropping) and she's a lovely woman.

When asked how she came up with the concept for Cinder she had an interesting response. I might be misquoting her:

"I came up with the idea for Cinder by writing Sailor Moon fan fiction. I entered a fan fiction contest and the rules were that I had to pick two themes. I had to pick a fairy tale and a setting. So I picked Puss and Boots and space. It turns out only two people entered the contest... and I didn't win."

I think the Red Riding Hood mythos is more appealing than some girl losing a shoe, anyways. (Anyone remember Freeway with Reese Witherspoon? Absolutely terrified me as a kid).

I'm also on a Jack Spicer kick again and rereading--okay, thumbing through--My Vocabulary Did This to Me: The Collected Poetry of Jack Spicer. Here's an excerpt:

Any fool can get into an ocean
But it takes a Goddess
To get out of one.
What’s true of oceans is true, of course,
Of labyrinths and poems. When you start swimming
Through riptide of rhythms and the metaphor’s seaweed

This is kind of like an "Oh no he didn't" poem. Anyone can write a poem, but it takes a poet to get out of it. At first glance the entire poem is light-hearted and jokey. But something about the last two lines of it always strike me as, for lack of a better word, poetic:

What’s true of labyrinths is true of course
Of love and memory. When you start remembering.

Poetry is suppose to be these little moments of thought, emotion, and sensory perception all at once. Poems are written for memories or from memories. I've always thought these last two lines were Jack saying "You know what, I'm a poet, but I'll be damned if it isn't depressing."

So yeah, oh no he didn't.

Jack Spicer died in 1965, a result of alcoholism. (It seems all great poets and musicians have about the same life span).

Full poem.

I've also been catching up on the World of Alcohol, but not really drinking it. I mean, unless it's Samuel Smith, which happens to be very delicious.

Uncorking the Past: The Quest for Wine, Beer, and Other Alcoholic Beverages

BUT FOR YOU LAUREN OLIVER FANS:

Which, you know, I watched How Beer Saved the World on Netflix recently and the entire subject fascinates me.

That's about it for this week.

why the f*ck friday? (18)

2013-05-10T09:15:00.000-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "why the f*ck are you linking to the evil, the vile, the small business-destroying, Amazon.com?"

This is a question that has popped up this week because I came back, put my Amazon wishlist up (it's on the right sidebar), and was immediately questioned as to why I did this.

Most of my followers know I do not want to monetize this website, and putting my wishlist is "kind of" like asking for money. Putting up a donate button? I might do that. Yes, I might start asking for donations for books, or I might put up an unobtrusive advertisement (but only of something I like).

No, I am not going to start taking ARCs or galleys or anything else. (and you self-published people can still back off). The reason why I am having to put stuff up is because I will not compromise on this position.

This has more to do with having a free website up that a lot of people come to. And me having to sometimes spend $30 on books a week when I am actively blogging. Add that up. It's $120 a month. I am taking a loss on this blog, on my hobby, and on my passion.*

I am not the richest person on the planet, either. I actually have a very mundane job that pays for most of my lifestyle, but if I can eliminate one cost, I can live a little better, I can blog a little better, and I can improve the content on HOGIB.

Investing in this blog will make this blog better.

So here's what I want from you guys this week: what is your honest opinion on a blog that monetizes? On blogs that accept donations? On blogs that accept ARCs? On blogs that just stop being so indie?

If a large enough majority of you disagree with me, this website will remain ad free and donation free, and the Amazon wishlist will come down, and I will try harder to bring my own costs down.

*Yes, I do go to the library, but things like Scarlet by Marissa Meyer are on a waiting list for months at a time.

All These Things I've Done - a review, or All This Coffee I've Brewed

2013-05-09T07:38:00.001-04:00

All These Things I've Done (Birthright)
Gabrielle Zevin
368 pages

This how I imagine the pitch for this book went down.

Publisher: What's it about?
Gabrielle Zevin: Well, it's about Prohibition but in the future.
Publisher: (yawns)
Zevin: Where chocolate and coffee has been banned--
Publisher: (starts to nod off)
Zevin: In a future dystopian society a crime boss' daughter falls in love with a district attorney's son, the two are star-crossed lovers... and... Romeo & Juliet... and... paper is scarce!
Publisher: ......
Zevin: And there's gonna be killin'. Lots of killin'!
Publisher: Sold!

Anya (who also goes by Annie, Miss Balanchine, and a plethora of other names) is the main character in this one. Her boyfriend, well, new boyfriend (who also has a bunch of different names)* is the secondary character.

I mention this because I will be calling them First and Second from now on. First meets Second at school, First and Second fall in love, First and Second try to hide their secret and forbidden love. First and Second fail at hiding their secret love. First and Second do absolutely nothing the entire book.

Absolutely. Nothing.

Like, I mean, seriously. Nothing. All These Things I've Done? This is another Britney Spears "Oops I Did It Again" moment. Britney, you never told us what you did the first time. First and Second, you didn't do anything!

All First and Second do is flirt and get out of trouble--because they haven't done anything. They do not traffic chocolate, they do not imbibe illegal substances, they do not eat green eggs and ham, Sam I am. So I am left to wonder: what the fuck did Anya/Annie/Ann/Balanchine do?

ATTID (I'm tired of typing it out) is a classy teen novel set in a future full of vintage clothing and limited resources. A future where the police don't do much policing. A future where it's an adults job to (once again) stop kids from canoodling. Because who needs a bunch of canoodling kids?

Things I did like because I'm rambling on like this is the worst book ever? The Romeo & Juliet references, the throw-back to a granny saying OMG and the kids not knowing what it means, the handicapped brother (because there's always a handicapped brother)**, Gabrielle Zevin's ability to write a mean sentence and tell a good mob story.

Even though the First and Second characters do nothing but hold hands the entire book, Zevin delivers a back history (which is really just our history but from the perspective of the future--genius!) that's both compelling and rich. Zevin might have banned chocolate and coffee, but really, those are just metaphors for, erm, I have no idea.

Three Out of Five Fucks Given

*Seriously, I can't pronounce half the names in this book correctly.
**Where the hell did this trend come from?
Note: Obligatory link to The Killers - All These Things I've Done.

Outpost - a review, or Fifty Shades of Fade

2013-05-06T05:52:00.000-04:00

Outpost (Enclave series #2)
Ann Aguirre
336 pages
(read my review of Enclave here).

(this review is spoiler free, which, you know, isn't easy).

I have a problem with Outpost. The main character's name is Deuce. Which, you know, means two. Ann Aguirre does not utilize this clever name to her full ability. Not once does Deuce say "Deuces!" or "Looks like double trouble!" after stabbing a zombie to death.* Puns she does not. This is like watching a movie where a character doesn't say the title in it.

It's painful.

How am I supposed to know what the name of the movie is if they don't say the title in it? This is madness. There's also a love interest named Fade. These two are out there fighting and killing zombies in a post-apocalyptic wasteland (all the while trying to save a town called Salvation). And yes, not once--after slaying what they call "freaks"--does he pun "And fade to black."

They use giant knives to kill stuff! There's so much pun opportunity--punortunity--it's ridiculous.

I also have no idea what the hell is going on. Like, why is the world the way it is? Why is everyone super religious and what are these "freaks" really? Ann keeps revealing these little tidbits one by one. It's maddening to me. This kind of slow world building builds a lot of suspense, and I had to watch seven years of Lost, so I know about slow building suspense.

I, of course, really appreciate all of these characters and settings and things. And I, of course, really recommend reading the first book, Enclave. (pronounced on-clave, not in-clave). And I, of course, don't mind the amount of gore or mature themes running through the book.

And gore there is.* Copious amounts of gore and a whole new future world to splatter it with. There's also a girl main character who's handy with the big knives (but not with puns) that's discovering her humanity. She's not your typical YA heroine ala Anna and the French Kiss, she's more like that chick from BLOOD RED ROAD.

This is a zombie novel that is not a zombie novel. This is a teen novel that's not really a teen novel. It contains--like an HBO show--mature themes. But that's the way this world is going these days, and Ann Aguirre is one of the writers taking us there.

Four Out of Five Fucks Given

Full Disclosure: I purchased this book in Cincinatti, OH after meeting the lovely Ann Aguirre.

Notes: I got to meet Ann Aguirre a few months ago. She said that in order to really write a fight scene she has to listen to Let The Bodies Hit the Floor by Drowning Pool. It shows. It really shows.
Extra Note: I love the Sirantha Jax series.
*Can a zombie be stabbed to death if it's already dead?
**Not this Gore.

I am making a return to blogging...

2013-05-04T14:09:00.000-04:00

On Monday.

I could go into depth about where I've been, what I've been doing, but no one wants to hear about break-ups, hook-ups, book writing, Medicaid claims, or my cat's projectile vomit.

Instead I will post a picture of a cat on my back.

Also, some things have changed. Including Google Reader. So I am now on Bloglovin. Follow my blog with Bloglovin

why the f*ck friday (17)

2013-03-29T09:17:00.001-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "why the f*ck are you in a non-bookish relationship?"

I blame David Levithan for all my relationship problems, or lack of relationships to begin with. Specifically: The Lover's Dictionary (my review). In the book he captures the disintegration of an unnamed couples' coupleship*.

Not just a normal couple, but a bookish couple. Most couples are not avid readers, most couples do not fret with mixing their book collections with another persons. Most couples do not quote Shakespeare to another, they quote Honey Boo Boo at one another because It wasn't love at first sight, it was bed at first sight. You have to try the milk before you buy the cow.

The current culture does lean more towards reality TV, sports, and pop music so cheesy you can't help but love it. But for those of us fortunate enough to date a bookish person, isn't it just great? You get to read some of the same books, go to bookstores, and have intense discussions about Margaret Atwood's overuse of artistic license. Fuck, you could even quote Shakespeare to one another in bed.

Guy: Shall I compare thee to a summer day?
Girl: Don't sweet talk me, we're not doing anal.

OR:

Girl: One half of me is yours, the other half yours. Mine own, I would say; but if mine, then yours, And so all yours.
Guy: So... anal?

It's unfortunate--and true--that there's a difference between being bookish, literary bookish, and a non-reader. Or even a non-reader reader (someone who reads six books a year and recommends all of them to a serious reader).

There's a lot of ways this can play out. As someone with a literary background, and someone who reads a lot of young adult novels, I don't often sync up with the women I date. We haven't read a lot of similar novels, we don't have similar tastes, but we can introduce one another to these things.

Dating a non-reader is harder. The TV is always going, there's always noise, there's no quiet nights of books. There's reality TV, there's sports, there are bookstore trips in which the other immediately goes into beta mode, disinterested in everything around them.

These characters don't exist in The Lover's Dictionary. The discussion about mixing books is often one line: "Just put them there." I want to fucking argue about it, damn it. And I am let down that it's never a conversation.

I can picture each relationship distinctly in my mind, reader with non-reader, bookish with non-reader reader, and how each would dissolve quickly. I'm not one to base an entire coupleship** on books alone, but being a freelance writer, being a reader, being a part time blogger; it's my lifestyle. Attempting to share it with someone else who isn't interested in what I do, what fascinates me, is hard to ignore. It's almost a deal breaker, but not really.

There are no book requirements to date me, you just have to be interesting, but cracking open a novel once in a while does help.

How does this sync up for a majority of couples? What kind of relationships have my fellow bloggers and fellow readers been in? Does reading contribute that much to a relationship? Does your significant other read at all? How does this work? Does anyone have similar rules? Or similar thoughts? Post them below.

*Not a real word.
**Still not a real word.

why the f*ck friday (16)

2012-10-19T19:46:00.000-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "why the f*ck are you such a purest?"

When I was younger I used to abuse my books. I'd leave them in cars so the spines would melt, I'd drop them in the pool, I'd have an ice cream in one hand and a copy of Hitchhiker's in the other; the pages sticky with sugar.

Sometime later I stopped doing that. I started cherishing the little square things. Keeping them safe, making sure I didn't dog-ear pages, and I would never, not a million years ever, write in a book or highlight a passage. That was a cardinal sin to me.

Yet sometime ago I stopped doing even that. I started to abuse the fuck out of my books again. I started highlighting. I started underlining. I started to write in the margins. I started to break the spines from cracking open the same book of poetry over and over again.

I'm not that extreme about it.

I spilled coffee on them and didn't care. I took them to the park and let dogs chew on them while I wasn't looking. I abused my books. I stopped thinking of them as sacred little squares that needed to be protected. I started considering a well-read and well-abused book as something to be proud of. I would laugh at my sad little copies and state "I read the fuck out of you. You were great."

Yet. Some part of me still feels a little naughty for doing this. Some part of me wants to take that old battered copy and make it new again. I still keep some books (signed copies, special editions) in excellent shape. I still protect them.

I'm not a full blown "don't crack that book open too far" purest, but I do appreciate shelf wear and tear. Surely I'm not the only one? So this week's question is: why the f*ck are you such a book purest?

Currently reading...

2012-10-16T06:22:00.000-04:00

I used to do an entire post on what I was reading this week, just to keep everyone in the loop. It made my blog more journal-like, but at the same time I got to talk about a variety of different things that don't make it on Hitting On Girls in Bookstores. So I thought I'd start doing it again. What are you reading this week?

This week I'm torn between reading The Rook and rereading Cloud Atlas. I've had a long standing love affair with all things David Mitchell. Number 9 Dream? Check. Ghostwritten? Check. Black Swan Green?* Check.

My fanboyishness for Mitchell has extended to forcing one coworker to read Cloud Atlas (she liked it). The rest of his work is now living on my desk at work, ready to loan out if anyone ever brings him up.**

I guess it's a good thing that Cloud Atlas is going to be a movie, and that it has Tom Hanks in it, but really, if he fucks this up there will be no forgiveness on my part. But it looks like a nice movie, what with Hugo Weaving (the most under appreciated actor ever) also starring in it.

Don't fuck this up, Tom.

The Rook was actually a recommendation--kind of--from Lish McBride (Necromancing the Stone). She had brought it up at a book event recently that it's the kind of novel she's always wanted to write. I can't say I blame her, it's inventive, it's fun, it's funny. I'm really enjoying it.

Not to mention that I also had a sleeve-off with Lish McBride that night as well (more on this later--with pictures).

Also, I am completely obsessed with a poet named Sara Teasdale right now:

When I am dead and over me bright April
Shakes out her rain-drenched hair,
Though you should lean above me broken-hearted,
I shall not care.

I shall have peace, as leafy trees are peaceful
When rain bends down the bough;
And I shall be more silent and cold-hearted
Than you are now.

Her poems are passionate and brutal, dark and morose, romantic and anti-climatic. She died young and didn't write very much, but what she left behind is something that I've come to appreciate. You can find most of her poetry online for free, and Amazon even has free ebooks of her works.

The discovery of this poet can only go to Ann Aguirre. Who has written at least two favorite series of mine: Enclave and Sirantha Jax.

*Funny Note On Black Swan Green: This one was a gift. In return I gave them to The Devil Wears Prada. It seems like an unfair trade-off.
**I also keep Douglas Adams in my desk.

The Catastrophic History of You and Me - a review

2012-10-15T07:52:00.000-04:00

The Catastrophic History of You and Me
Jess Rothenberg
375 pages

There's Not Another Teen Movie. Then there's Vampires Suck. The next parody movie that needs to be made is Not Another Dead Kid. That sounds harsh, but really, it's not.

Between Shade (dead boyfriend) and 13 Reasons Why (over dramatic dead girl) and various other books that deal with the topic of death, something bad has happened. No one is really dead. I mean, like, completely dead. Like, I have zero influence on the plot because I'm totally fucking dead dead.

That's not the issue I really have with The Catastrophic History of You and Me. The issue is the dead girl herself: Brie. Brie who dies when her boyfriend says "I don't love you." Because, you know, that happens all the time and a boyfriend is something that you should base your ENTIRE existence on. He should be your social life, your best friend, your study buddy, your barf barf barf.

Brie--without knowing how clingy she comes off as--is dead. She can influence some events (push things, let people feel her presence) and is running around San Francisco with a teenagemalepotentialloveinterest* trying to figure out how to move on. That's the plot.

Oh. And she won't shut the fuck up, either.

Really. She will not stop whining. Mostly every conversation in every chapter goes like this:

Brie: I should be alive and able to (insert whatever).
Teen Angel: You can't. You're dead.

Or the teen angel makes some other kind of a quip as to how dead Brie is. It was all so CSI: Miami. I was just waiting for that yell: YEEEEAAAAAAHHHHH as one of them put on their sunglasses.**

It's something I can't handle. Teen characters being all whiny and repetitive. Catastrophic wasn't horrible. It has its moments. The afterlife is part pizzeria? Sign me up. There's an adorable dog. There's a... each chapter opens with a quote from a song!

There's also a great father character that didn't get enough time in the book. Instead it was boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend. It's just a book I couldn't get into. I guess it's a dead giveaway that this one didn't live up to its potential... YEEEAAAAAHHHHH.

Two Out of Five Fucks Given

*It's one word now.
**YEEEEAAAAHHHH!
Full Disclosure: I read this on my Kindle.

why the f*ck friday (15) (and introducing my rating system)

2012-09-21T06:27:00.000-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "why the f*ck don't you have a rating system?"

I guess it's inevitable that I would fall into the trap that is a star rating system. It seems the popular thing to do. Some people even go out of their ways to make it a little different by using different symbols.

I've always steered away from using a rating system on my blog. If I used one--I thought--no one would read what I wrote and go directly to the whole "three out of five stars" thing and fixate on it before finding out why it's three out of five stars. A scale should be accurate and only aide in a book review.

Stars? No. Fuck that.

So, I've decided to start using one on my blog. I'm just going to test the waters with it for a week or so to see if it sticks. If it doesn't, then it goes. If I get lazy or tired of it: it goes.*

I'm trying this now because I feel like I've built up enough of an audience for them to understand that the scale is just a sign post. It's something to be guided by, not the end-all-be-all of the entire review.

So here it is. I'm not going by stars. I'm going by Fucks. I have given this a lot of thought. I was originally going to use cats, but felines seem a little too over done on this blog already. But Fucks? I can never have enough of those. Here's the scale:

One out of Five Fucks Given - I either missed the point or it just wasn't for me.
Two out of Five Fucks Given - There's something here. It's not for everyone, but it's fun.
Three out of Five Fucks Given - Probably worth a checkout if you're a fan of the genre.
Four out of Five Fucks Given - Knock it up on your TBR pile so we can talk about it.
Five out of Five Fucks Given - Why have you read this yet? Why did it take me so long to read this?

Please notice that the scale gives no indicator of a book being terrible. There are no bad books. There are just different kinds of readers.

Just to give you an indication of what this will look like when it comes to books:

Enclave - Three out of Five Fucks Given
Black Hole Sun - Two out of Five Fucks Given
Monstrous Beauty - Five out of Five Fucks Given

My question this week: what do you think of the new scale? Do you pay attention to star ratings? Does it influence your reading? Are you guilty of skipping the entire post? Do you even have any fucks to give?

This post is rated One out of Five Fucks Given.

*Like so many other things I've done.
Note: If we're friends on Goodreads--and we should be friends on Goodreads--then you'll notice that I do star things on there. I've been using this scale in my brain for a while now.

Black Hole Sun - a review

2012-09-20T06:54:00.003-04:00

Black Hole Sun
David Macinnis Gill
352 pages

I read this book because it was compared to Firefly. I was told it was a direct ripoff of Firefly. I am extremely disappointed because 1. I miss Firefly and 2. because this book only has hints of Firefly in it.

I'm not really sure where the comparison to a canceled space western comes in, except that this is a space western set on Mars. Durango--the main character--could bubble up to be Captain Malcolm Reynolds. He could, except Captain Reynolds had better lines.

I could see how space cannibals could be compared to Reevers (space cannibals from Firefly), but really, space cannibals have been around for a while.*

I can see how Durango's cursing in Chinese, Latin, and other languages could be compared to Firefly. Except that's all been done before. David Macinnis Gill even has fake curse words, which once again, has been done before.

It's a book set on a dystopian Mars, with cannibals, with gunslingers, with made-up curse words, with characters who curse in different languages, with fucking laser guns. It's a hodge podge of science fiction elements from across the genre mashed into one book. There's even an Artificial Intelligence in Durango's head.**

The book itself is difficult to get into at first. The problem comes from Mimi, the above mentioned Artificial Intelligence, who speaks whenever she wants and sometimes interrupts dialogue. I felt like her interference bogged down the pacing a lot. There's also the issue of the characters speaking another language. It happens way to often and lead to far too much Googling for my own taste.

So here's the deal: I am a hardcore science fiction geek. I love the genre. So, naturally, I enjoyed Black Hole Sun. Its mash up of science fiction cliches and references humored me greatly. There's even a character named Leroy Jenkins.***

There's nothing wrong with Black Hole Sun if you're a fan of the genre. It's actually great fun if you are. If you aren't? You're not going to get it. I wouldn't recommend this book to my sister, but to my nerdy "Star Wars is the best thing ever" friend? Yeah. Him. He'd enjoy it, I think.

*Here's a Wiki article about cannibalism in popular culture. I find it odd this is being kept track of.
**Dystopian Mars: Total Recall. Cannibals: Firefly. Gunslingers: Firefly/Doctor Who. Made-up Curse Words: Farscape. Witty Banter: Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Laser Guns: Star Trek, Stars Wars. Artificial Intelligence: Andromeda.
***Leeerrooooy Jenkins.
Note: The creepiest music video ever made is called Black Hole Sun.

Monstrous Beauty - a review

2012-09-17T06:16:00.000-04:00

Monstrous Beauty

Elizabeth Fama

304 pages

This is a really good book. I shouldn't even use the term book. Novel sounds so much more classier. This is a really good fucking novel. That "fucking" is italicized to emphasize how fucking good of a novel Monstrous Beauty is.

Yes. It's about mermaids. Yes. It's about a mystery and a curse and a love triangle. This isn't Nancy Drew Solves a Mermaid Mystery, though. This is The Little Mermaid meets American Gods.*

So here it is. An engaging YA novel that pushes the boundaries of the genre. A YA novel that is both entertaining, dark, and prose-y. A novel that's YA and smart. A YA novel that doesn't treat the reader like they're 14. It uses big words and big concepts and expects you to pay attention. Not to placidly sit back and marvel at how beautiful one of the male leads is. It's a YA novel that isn't a YA novel but is a YA novel.

I can't describe the plot without describing the ending, which is actually the beginning, which is actually part of the charm the entire endeavor. (insert Quentin Tarantino reference here)** So this makes Monstrous Beauty something everyone will have to read to understand.

There's a simplistic approach to the prose-y style of Monstrous Beauty. There's a richness to the writing that seems simple at first. Yet I know each sentence was labored over. It's that kind of quality that's been missing from the last few YA books I've read. Where some authors would write a paragraph to describe the ooey-gooey feelings their characters are having; Elizabeth Fama only writes one.***

I have a blurb for the back cover. I really do. I want--and this is me summing up my appreciation for the novel--to sum it all up with one sentence because I cannot do it in five or six paragraphs: "Monstrous Beauty satisfies a craving that wasn't initially there, a craving for something dark and sensuous, it's as bitter and filling as semi-sweet chocolate, I was glad to sink my teeth into it."

*I never compare anything to American Gods. I reread it every year. So this is a rarity.
**Actually, I wanted to go with M. John Harrison's Light, but I wasn't sure everyone would get that reference.
***The first line of the novel is "Syrenka wanted Pukaknokick."

why the f*ck friday (14)

2012-09-14T07:28:00.000-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "why the f*ck did I just buy that?"

I know I'm not the only one out in the world with a weird reading fetish. I'm not talking about reading multiple books. I'm talking about buying habits. I'm talking about purchasing books you have no intention of reading.

I think it's called cover appeal. I am attracted to a good cover, sometimes I don't even intend to read the book I just bought. I just like how it looks. I have found myself doing this less and less (covers seem to be degrading in quality and I can only take so many chopped off faces).

What do I consider a good cover? The Sirantha Jax covers:

What is it about these book covers that just make them seem fascinating? It's somewhere between "classic science fiction" and "bad ass chick" on the cover scale. Whomever did the artwork for them summed up the series with just a cover.

There was absolutely no reason for me to buy the actual books, I could have gotten them in ebook format. Instead I opted to buy them in paperback just for the covers. So my question for everyone this week is: what is a good cover to you? Do you buy books with no intention of reading them? Just for the cover? Can you explain your attraction to them?

Note: If I ever meet Ann Aguirre I will have her sign all my copies and cut off the covers and frame them. Maybe.

Enclave - a review

2012-09-10T05:47:00.002-04:00

Enclave
Ann Aguirre
272 pages

I want to start my review of Enclave by talking about zombies. Or what classifies as a zombie. Or better yet: what is the zombie motive. Clearly, the zombie motive is to eat people. But these aren't normal zombies. These zombies can reason to some extent. They can form small groups and go after people.

These are also Ann Aguirre zombies. Some might not be aware of Aguirre's Sirantha Jax series--a great space-y scifi epic for adults. From those books I have learned not to trust Ann Aguirre. So what exactly are Ann Aguirre zombies? They're smelly. They're claw-y. They're known as Freaks to the characters. They're mindless wandering and endless hunger are what set the tone for Enclave.*

Deuce is our main character. A huntress from an underground clan known as an enclave. She's never been topside (above ground). Certain things (like sex, good food) are banned for her. She's a fierce warrior girl. I end my description of the plot there. Spoilers and all that funky stuff.

There are certain moments during Enclave that I thought to myself "Is this a fucking kids book, really?" It's like watching an old episode of a TV show. One that you watched as a kid and are now seeing as an adult. Except then you realize there are a lot of adult themes on that show that you never picked up on. If I were twelve and reading this? I'd be "OMG ZOMBIES". Instead, I'm an adult, and I'm thinking "Wow. That's some serious shit right there."

How I felt while reading Enclave.

Ann Aguirre manages to plop her characters where they don't need to be. She's extremely harsh to her characters. She abuses them. She tussles them about. She'll kill them and starve them. She is not your typical YA author. She was far kinder in the Sirantha Jax series. This is saying a lot, because those books are for adults.

How bad is it? It's bad. The zombies at least have a reason for the way they are, the human characters? They're actually worse. From the worst kind of complacency to murder to hinted at atrocities to almost useless hope. That's the Ann Aguirre formula for this one.**

Enclave stands out in the same way that Blood Red Road did. It's refreshing in the same way. It's meaty and dark, bloody and bold, killer and... you get the point. Just don't wander into this one expecting fluffy bunnies and rainbows. It ain't gonna happen.

*The characters also mindlessly wander around with an appetite all their own. I see what you did there, Ann.
**Really, this book is a middle finger to The Hunger Games. Please remove The Hunger Game comparison from the cover.
Note: Wander/wonder still trips me up.
Extra Note: I'm still in love with Sirantha Jax.

why the f*ck friday (13)

2012-09-07T05:42:00.000-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "why the f*ck didn't I read for a month?"

Instead of turning this into a "what I did on my summer vacation" post, I thought I'd explain why I didn't read for a month. Or why I did read but didn't blog about it. Either or, really.

We'll start off with the obvious: it is really hard to read when you're slightly inebriated.

The inside of my fridge.

Of course, that did not stop me from trying to read while I was drinking:

This is why it took a month for me to
read From What I Remember.

So really, I made the effort to have a fun and literary summer, it just didn't happen. I have no real regrets about it. The only bad part was that I missed blogging and had nothing to blog about (and yeah, I missed you guys, blah blah blah). I briefly wanted to make this blog about the cat I just adopted:

Meet Cady (pronounced Katie).*

Also, here is a horrible picture of me, intoxicated, on the 4th of July. Humidity kills me:

It's too hot and loud outside to read.

Bonus picture of me sun burnt in an Arby's somewhere:

This only happens every summer.

And that's what I did this summer vacation, and also why I didn't read this summer vacation. Or blog. Or read other blogs (although I did stop by a few every once and a while to see what was up). I am back. I am visiting other blogs, I am reading again. So, like Amy Poehler in Mean Girls I'm asking: "What's the 411? What has everybody been up to? What is the hot gossip?"**

I'm ending this WTFF a little differently. If you're a blogging buddy of mine I want you to post what you did this summer below. Also, a few links back to your blog of posts you think I missed/would enjoy. It would be appreciated. If you're not a blogger, just a "what I did and what I read" comment would also be appreciated. And please let me know how many drinks you had this summer. Just a rough estimate. I'm going with at least a tanker truck for myself. I want to make sure that's normal.

*Here is a video of how my cat eats her food. That's my sister talking.
**There's been about five Mean Girls references in this post alone.
Small Edit/Note: I acquired zero new tattoos this summer.

From What I Remember - a review

2012-09-04T06:06:00.002-04:00

From What I Remember
Valerie Thomas, Stacey Kramer
480 pages

Ohhh. Look! A bunch of attractive people on the cover of a book. And they're dressed all stylish too. A chihuahua and a sombrero? Wow, what kind of quirkiness could be contained within the pages of this book?

It's a book about the beginning of an endless summer of romance. It's a book about teenage hopes and aspirations. It's a book about social pressures to conform. Okay. Not really. It's a book about drinking too much tequila.

Really, it's about a couple of teenagers who go out to Mexico, get too drunk, and can't remember exactly what happened. Enter Our Alternating Point-of-View Characters: Kylie (valedictorian, social outcast), Max (mysterious rich boy with a heart of gold), Chris (Max's best friend), Will (Kylie's homosexual best friend)*, and Lily (Max's bitchy girlfriend).

My entire time reading this I thought "Gee. Is this where the killer pops out and starts a-killin' these people?" Because every road trip novel could go that direction. Especially when alcohol and sex and juveniles are concerned.

It's the last day of graduation and Kylie and Max meet up to do some kind of homework assignment. I can't really remember because it's never addresses the rest of the novel. But the point is, the two end up stuck in Mexico, just a day before graduation, and might miss graduation. The two also--ahem--might've done some things after a night with tequila. Like, oh, get married, or oh, have sex, or oh, drink too much tequila. This has happened to everyone, right?

I have a lot of good things to say about From What I Remember. I remember laughing. I remember not liking or empathizing with a single character. I remember reading it with a bottle of Ketel One by my side.** I remember thinking "It's great that these characters curse and drink like real teens." I mostly remember laughing, though.

I have a few bad things to say about From What I Remember. Okay. Nothing too bad. But it was entertaining as fuck.

There are no morals that I can really pull from From What I Remember. Just that the characters learn to live in the moment. Which is surprising, because most teenage characters can't see five minutes ahead, yet these kids are planning five years in advanced. There's also that rule about tequila. Too much is a bad thing. Too much is trouble.

Too much of the airy-ness that is From What I Remember is also a bad thing. So after finishing it I put away my Ketel One and reached for something with deeper meaning. I won't remember the characters next month, I'll probably forget the plot in a few months, but it's a fun little book. It'd make an okay movie.

*I'm getting tired of books--and movies--where the girl's best friend happens to be male and gay. It's been over played these past few years. Why can't he be straight? Is it that hard for an author to explain that nothing is going on between two best friends? One is female, one is male, it doesn't me they're banging. And where is it written that all gay males have female best friends? Hollywood, men and women can be just friends. Hollywood, men can be friends with gay people and not be gay. Get over it.
**I am not kidding.
Note: This is my first review in over a month. I'm a little rusty. Excuse me while I get back into the swing of things.

why the f*ck friday (12)

2012-07-27T08:58:00.001-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "why the f*ck aren't you out enjoying summer?"

I'm making this quick... because I'm guilty.

I'm guilty. I've been out enjoying summer and not inside reading. Last night I think I did shots of something called Oh Wow That Burns. The week before I went to every museum in the city I currently live in. The week before that I was at a BBQ. I hate BBQ. But the mojitos were delicious.

I'm guilty of blog neglect. I'm guilty of book neglect. I'm guilty of Twitter neglect. Here's the whole thing, though: I don't feel guilty. I shouldn't feel guilty.

I'm at this point now where I've realized that I spend summers outside enjoying the sun, and winters inside reading. So the inevitable blog slow down does happen. I'm down to reading one book a week right now. I'm not exactly regretting it.

So my question this week is: is there a particular season where you get out more? What is it? What's the one activity you would ditch for reading? I seem to be attracted to water parks and wine recently.

Obligatory picture of me enjoying a summer induced sunburn:

Regular posting on this blog will resume next week. I think.

That's it for this week's why the f*ck friday. Different opinion? Similar experience? Similar thoughts on this subject? Post it below in the comments. Feel free to berate me, praise me, or buy me some fancy coffee. You can even tell me to f*ck off and then buy me a coffee. I enjoy hearing the bookish and nerdy thoughts of others.

Ashfall - a review

2012-07-24T07:03:00.001-04:00

Ashfall
Mike Mullin
476 pages

There was a point in the 90s where I became--as a teen--very aware of the threat of nuclear war. It bothered me. It depressed me. At any moment there could be a brilliant flash of light and BAM! I'm a bunch of dust in the wind. What The Day After* did for me as a teen Ashfall has done for me as a twentysomething.

It has made me completely paranoid about supervolcanoes.

Alex is left at home by his parents one weekend. He doesn't have to fight off burglars ala Home Alone style--well, actually he does at one point but with Kung Fu--but that's when the supervolcano in Yellowstone erupts. Causing chaos and destruction across America. Alex sets off to find his parents in another state. Along the way he meets up with Darla and the two go on an adventure that is mildly depressing.

I use the term mildly depressing because HOLY FUCK this book is MILDLY DEPRESSING. You think your people in The Hunger Games are starving? Think again. You think your bad guys in The Knife of Never Letting Go are bad? Think again. You think your cutesy little love stories from Sarah Dessen novels are complicated? Think again.

The trend that I've noticed recently in Young Adult literature is a move towards more darkness--even without a cloud of ash this book would be dark. There are things in here that belong in Cormac McCarthy's The Road.** There are things in here that are pulled straight from infuriating headlines of a hurricane incident circa 2006. There's also death, death, more death, rape, death rape, dying children, and exploding eyeballs.

I'm not aware that Mike Mullin intended for his books' message to be: no one gives a frak about you, you have to take care of yourself and your own, but that's what I got. Also, don't trust the government, fall in love when you can, and make sure you know how to gut a pig. I think that's about right.

Full Disclosure: I read this on my Kindle.
*I still have a fear of this scenario.
**I did not like The Road. Too dark. Ashfall? Just right.
Note: Alex does know kung-fu. There are parts where it's really cool, but other times hokey. I approve.
Extra note: I spent an entire weekend watching supervolcano documentaries on Netflix after reading this book.

why the f*ck friday (10)

2012-07-13T05:49:00.000-04:00

Whenever I meet another reader I instantly wonder about their bookish habits. The questions start next. We all do it. We try to get to know one anotherr: do you dog ear pages? Do you use one particular bookmark? Kindle or Nook?

Some of these questions are almost like asking a person what their favorite sports team is--the other ones are like asking "Chinese or Mexican?" The real deal with this is anyone who witnesses the transaction. You know what I'm talking about. That one person who's confused as to who Suzanne Collins is, or who doesn't understand the difference between mystery and horror.

There's always that one person there during the meeting between two readers who is trying to figure what the heck is going on. They might even exclaim: "I have no idea what you guys are talking about..." And then remove themselves from the conversation.

A List of Bookish Questions Asked and Their Real World Translations:

"Do you read a lot?"

Translation: "I want to get to know you. Do we have anything in common?"

"What do you like to read?"

Translation: "Do you like Mexican food or Chinese food more? What's your opinion on Thai?"

"I try to keep my books pristine."

Translation: "My apartment is really clean."

"I love Neil Gaiman."

Translation: "Beards are cool."

Can you tell I've had this problem before? Clearly talking about books with someone in front of someone else can be tricky. It immediately excludes them from the conversation. So to include them in the conversation you have to stop talking about books. When all you really wanted to do was talk about books. You've just met another reader! This is a rarity these days. It's doubleplusgood if the other person likes the same authors and books as you.

So that means it's doubleplusbad when the other person interrupts and changes the topic of the conversation. It isn't rude--it's natural. This person is being excluded. You feel bad for it. You include them again. Then the chances are you never get to have that great conversation you've been aching for. Even worse is the guilt.

I propose we stop feeling guilty when this happens. The bookish types can be shy and compromising sometimes. We understand that a lot of people don't love what we love so we compromise. Well, f*ck that. I have to withstand constant talk of baseball and football (neither of which I understand).

So the next time this happens:

Me: I love reading.

Them: Oh me too! I like Neil Gaiman!

Me: Have you read American Gods?

Friend: .....

Them: Yes! That is my favorite book!

Friend: Have you guys seen Spider-Man 3 yet?

(the conversation is now about Spider-Man)

I'm doing this:

Me: I love reading.

Them: Oh me too!

Friend: ....

Me: Shut the fuck up. You got to talk about football yesterday for 20 minutes.

(the conversation is now about books)

Problem solved.

Romancing the Screen: Pulp Fiction

2012-07-09T06:56:00.002-04:00

A new feature in which I watch something romantic--usually a movie from my Netflix instant queue--and give it a spin. It's not a review, more like an unnecessary commentary about nothing.

Pulp Fiction is not a romance. It's Quentin Tarantino's gangster movie about the lives of people intersecting one another over the course of a few days in Los Angeles. But like Tarantino, this blog puts its own spin on everything.

Pulp Fiction is a romance. Just not in the classical sense of what a romance is suppose to be (romantic). It's more of a romance movie for guys. Before I Love You Man with Paul Rudd and that dude from How I Met Your Mother you really only had one set of guys who set the standard on what being in a bromance is like. Enter Jules and Vincent.

They kill people and set a standard
for bromances everywhere.

While I hate the word bromance--there is no other way to describe the friendship between Jules and Vincent. The two are the most quoted characters of the movie. Even people who haven't seen the movie can quote the entire "royale with cheese" dialogue. The reason why is because the two just click together so well.

There's a segment of this movie that veers away from Jules and Vincent and focuses on Uma Thurman's character. John Travolta (Jules) has to take out Uma Thurman's character (who is married and is his boss' wife) to keep her entertained for the night. What follows is a heartfelt and gut wrenching night for Travolta's character or any man who has been on a date that is not a date but wants it to be a date.

Jules and Vincent's discussion of whether or not it's a date is one that I've been in before. If you date long enough there comes a point where you're not sure if you're dating anymore or hanging out. Vincent dismisses the idea and states "It's not a date." Only later does Vincent realize, that yes, he's on a date, and yes, he's a bit smitten with his boss' wife. Jules called it. Because that's what best buddies do.

Meet any guy and he will name Pulp Fiction as one of his favorite movies. Despite the cursing and the killing, and the drug use, it is a damn good movie because of these two. No other movie portrays a hetero friendship these days without making it a comedy or cracking gay jokes. Tarantino didn't have to do it. The characters stand on their own.

Oh, and if anyone knows why Tony Rocker Horror got thrown out of that window, I'd really like to know.

*Later this couple would be reincarnated as Turk and J.D. on Scrubs, but as doctors who save people rather than killing them.

why the f*ck friday (9)

2012-07-06T06:22:00.000-04:00

Welcome to WTFF. In which I attempt to answer a single question--normally a thought on a book or a bookish subject--that I've been pondering for the past week. This week it's "Why the f*ck are you reading that?"

To really attempt to answer this question we have to go back approximately three days. All the way back ti July 3rd. Be prepared for a mental flash back that comes out like a bad Vietnam war film.

It was humid and hot. The Man With the Sunglasses had just discovered my blog. He leaned forward and asked a question that was more a statement: "You read a lot of girly books." To which I replied back "You eat a lot of Cheeto's." It was true. He ate a lot of Cheeto's. "People will think you're gay he said." I kindly started walking away stating that "People will think you're fat."

I suppose that there's an issue here that I don't know about. That reading something like A Northern Light or Sarah Dessen novels should be taboo for a male. Well, boo-fucking--hoo I tell people. To most guys I tell them "You'd have something to talk about with most girls if you read Twilight." It's true. I'm certain there are some girls that can talk about the foooootttttballlll. But just about every woman can tell you about Twilight. To most girls who question what I"m reading. Oh wait. They don't question what I'm reading. They talk to me about it and love that a guy reads.

"You're right! I shouldn't
be reading that!" - said me, never

So, why the f*ck are you reading that? Not Twilight. That book you're not suppose to be reading. I've read Ann Coulter for fun, Ayn Rand to torture myself, and Sean Hannity because I wanted his bizarro point-of-view on a few things. Sometimes I read things for perspective or ideas. It's so I can have a better understanding of the world and other people.

Reading other things that are outside of my comfort zone doesn't make me a better reader. It makes me a more understanding person. I was once asked by a male coworker for help. He needed a graduation present for his girlfriend. Outside of years of dating advice I've also read a ton of books in which a female art student was a central character. That girl really appreciated her gift.

So, why the f*ck are you reading that? What genre gets you out of your comfort zone? Do you do this often? Is it a conscious choice? Have you had an experience where someone has told you you shouldn't be reading that? Do you know any book Nazis?

Side note: The Kindle is the greatest invention to grace this planet. It's saved me a lot of trouble. I can read a book with a pink cover without the pink cover. Of course, I'm now more public about my reading, but I'm also more prone to tell people to fuck off now.

That's it for this week's why the f*ck friday. Different opinion? Similar experience? Similar thoughts on this subject? Post it below in the comments. Feel free to berate me, praise me, or buy me some fancy coffee. You can even tell me to f*ck off and then buy me a coffee. I enjoy hearing the bookish and nerdy thoughts of others.

Cat Girl's Day Off - a review

2012-07-03T06:13:00.000-04:00

Cat Girl's Day Off
Kimberly Pauley
336 pages

See, the cover on this one works because it's about a Chinese-American girl with purple hair who can talk to cats. The giant talking bubbles are coming out of her mouth and the cat's mouth to let you know it's Cat Girl's Day Off. Which is loosely based on Ferris Bueller's Day Off. That's just being fucking clever right there.

The cat is pink because he's a clue in an ever expanding murder mystery that Natalie Ng--our Cat Girl--is trying to solve. Just like Ferris Bueller. Wait. Ferris Bueller wasn't about a murder mystery. Nevermind.

THIS BOOK IS ABOUT TALKING CATS. There. I got that out of the way. I didn't want anyone to be surprised by this information. I was asked several times last week what I was reading. I explained Cat Girl's Day Off. I then talked very loudly while I explained what it's about: "IT'S ABOUT A GIRL WITH SPECIAL ABILITIES WHO CAN TALK TO CATS. I NEED MORE TALKING CAT BOOKS IN MY LIFE LIKE HOW A DRUNK PERSON NEEDS GREASY FOOD."*

That's the problem I had with Cat Girl's Day Off. I enjoyed the talking cats more than I enjoyed the actual book. The minute the plot slowed or the characters became cliche here came a cat doing something really fucking adorable. Like sleeping on a lap, clawing at feet, or solving a murder mystery.

It's just all so adorable. Kimberly Pauley? She writes adorable books. If you just finished The Fault in Our Stars and are done crying your eyes out then Cat Girl might be for you. It's very much one of those books someone reads when they can't figure out what it is they want to read. It's one of those books you need after a big heavy read. It's so light and airy it almost floats away like a 3 Musketeers bar in one of those commercials.

I'm certain that Kimberly Pauley has found a loophole in the writing universe. "Huh. This book is terrible. If I add some talking cats to it... bingo! It won't be so terrible!" Could you imagine talking cats in every bad movie you ever watched? You know the movie would suck less with them and you'd watch it again and love it. They're redoing John Carter with cats right now.

I have to warn everyone, though. When you start reading this one: it's about talking cats. Really. Don't go into this thing expecting things to be logical. We're talking about a book that contains talking cats. It's adorable... talking cats... TALKING CATS. I liked a book about talking cats... fuck.

Full Disclosure: I read this on my Kindle.
*The word greasy is inherently a nasty word to me. I hate using it. But it sounds better than "oily".
Note: This is my favorite cat joke: "What do cat actors say on stage? Tabby or not tabby!"