Stacked

When you aren't allowed in the building

2012-02-25T08:56:00.004-06:00

This isn't usually a topic I'd talk about on STACKED -- I'd take it over to my library-related blog -- but this is such an important issue and one that impacts anyone who loves and advocates for ya books, so I'm going to talk about it here.

You know I am fired up this year about making sure books I care about are nominated for any of YALSA's award and selection lists. And you know I've talked about how anyone can nominate books they think are worthy of consideration for those award and selection lists. That's a huge deal and something not many people knew about. I think I've beat this horse pretty well.

Wednesday night, I went to go look at a book list on YALSA's site and came across something that bothered me (click to enlarge):

What was once an open and freely accessible resource of YALSA book award and book list information was suddenly requiring me to log in to my YALSA account to access. I clicked around for quite a while without logging into my account and realized that not only could I not see any of the award or selection lists without signing in, but I couldn't even see what the award or book lists were without logging in. That means, I had no idea how many awards there were, what they were called, what the criteria were for books to be considered for any of the lists, nor anything else related to any of YALSA's award or book lists. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, accessible about the award nor book lists without logging into my account.

Part of my professional responsibility as a librarian, at least in my head, is belonging to my professional association. It's very pricey, especially since I pay for the membership on my own and don't have an organization that pays it for me. To be a member of YALSA, you must also be a member of ALA -- you can't just be a member of YALSA. Yearly membership into ALA for me costs $100, and my membership into YALSA costs $50 (I'm also a member of PLA and ALSC, which are also additional costs). I think it's a steep price to pay each year, but it's one I make. Paying means I'm a member and I help support the creation and development of these award and selection lists, among a host of other things. It gives me the ability to have a say in the organization, as well. It's $150 I spend because it supports many things I am passionate about and allows me to have a say in many of these arenas.

When I hit the fire walled screen on Wednesday night and found out I needed to log in to my account to access, I was at first confused. Why would my professional organization hide information about one of the biggest things they do? Why would they require me to log in to see something that's always been openly accessible and available? I passed along the link to a non-member to see whether it was just me, and I came to find out that no, it wasn't just me.

No one could access these lists from YALSA's site without logging into an account of some sort.

For me, this means another couple of clicks on the screen to log in to my account. It's not the biggest deal in the world on a practical level. And non-YALSA members can also access the lists and information about the awards by filling out a short form that asks for a name, email address, and what products or services they might be interested in from YALSA. It also opts them into being signed up for YALSA email.

Let's step back a second here. To access even information about what awards or selection lists YALSA makes each year, you have to log into either your YALSA account or provide your personal information to the organization and be opted in to an email list. No longer can you access these freely from the YALSA site without information being collected about you. No longer can you hop onto YALSA's site to look at what books were Alex Award winners last year. No longer can you look at the criteria for Printz Award books. No longer do you even know how many award or selection lists there are without logging into some kind of account. No longer can you nominate a book for a list without breaking through the fire wall.

I'm disturbed by this because it chokes access to information. More than that, though, I'm bothered that nothing was said about this change in access. Librarians strive to prove access to information and our goal is always to make it as painless as possible. But here, YALSA, the biggest professional organization for young adult library services, has put up a barrier to information about the biggest honors they bestow upon ya literature each year.

And they did it without telling anyone.

After a little investigation, it was discovered that there was a Board of Directors document discussing a potential change in access to information about these award and selection lists. The document suggests that there should be a change in access so that due-paying YALSA members can access privileged information. More specifically, annotated lists would be put behind a fire wall and made members only, but general information about the award and selection lists, as well as the non-annotated lists, would still be freely accessible for anyone. This change makes sense to me -- as someone who pays the dues, getting the benefit of an annotated list, one that not everyone can access, seems fair. It's a small perk for paying the money each year to keep the organization going.

However, that is not what happened. Rather than hide simply the annotated lists behind a log in screen, YALSA has hidden everything behind a log in screen, and this change in policy was never discussed. It is not in any Board document, it was not discussed with membership, it was not put to vote, and it was certainly not shared on their website nor in any of their communications. This was a decision made behind closed doors somewhere.

Accessing any information about book award and selection lists is now a privilege.

For me, this means another couple of clicks on the screen to log in to my account. It's not a big deal, but it's an extra step in accessing information I need. And people who aren't members of YALSA can still access the lists by filling out a small form on the website. The problem is, YALSA's now collecting your information and it's now forcing you into their email list. This isn't an opt-out situation but an opt-in. You can't choose not to be forced into their mailing list.

Think about it this way: say you're a library patron whose library has always allowed anyone to use the computers in the building. You don't need to log into them with a library card, since you can just use one if it's open. One day, though, there's a change in the policy. It's not written down anywhere but you find out when you go sit at a computer and discover you need some kind of ID number and password to sign in. You're a little frustrated because no one told you there was a change, but you go to the librarian and sign up for a library card to get your log in information. Not a huge deal, but an extra step in the process.

Except in this scenario -- with the YALSA list access -- you aren't even allowed in the building without some sort of ID. You aren't even allowed to see what the library can offer you because you have to have the log in information before you walk inside.

I'm deeply bothered by this change in access to information by YALSA, and I am frustrated that as a member, I wasn't told about this change. When YALSA was asked about this, their response was that the choking of access to all of this information was a technical glitch and that the Board's decision about what information would be privileged would be the information fire walled when the glitch was solved.

But in my mind, besides sounding like a really bad excuse, the damage has already been done.

If we're advocating for books and reading, if we're advocating for the best of the best, and if the goal in having these awards and selection lists is to provide information, then there is no excuse for cutting it all out of public reach. Yes, I believe there is value in member's only content -- especially for something like annotated lists -- but there is no value in blocking off everything about these award lists. What is the value in not letting anyone even see what the award and selection lists ARE? It's locking out not only information, but valuable promotional opportunities. It puts barriers up to advocacy. Everything I told you about nominating books for awards because it's important still stands, but now there are extra steps involved in making those nominations. How many people will go through the extra hassle? I know I wouldn't.

Whether or not you are a YALSA member, you should have access to at least the basic information about these awards. That's one of the reasons you'd consider joining the organization in the first place -- you want to know what your money will be supporting. It shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that the reason YALSA took these steps was so it could collect information about non-member behavior in hopes of growing their membership. And it makes sense. There's money to be made through growing membership, but this is not the way to achieve it. In fact, by developing this fire wall and not telling anyone about it, YALSA's pushing people away. It's making it an exclusive club.

Fortunately, there are workarounds to this situation that allow you access to the information without logging in or creating an account with YALSA. The first? Google the lists. You'd have to know what lists you're looking for, but a Google search of "YALSA Alex Awards" will take you to the information without forcing you to log in.

Now I don't know about you, but it seems backwards that you should be able to access information available on YALSA's site without restriction by going through Google, rather than YALSA, but I digress. You can do it this way.

The second means of accessing this information is by asking someone who is a YALSA member to log in and share the link to the list with you. I guess if you're given a link from a logged in member, you can go directly to it. Again, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me, but it works.

What this long post is about is this: YALSA screwed up big time, and they didn't bother telling any of us about it. Instead, we're finding out when we're being locked out of information that's always been freely available. Information that's always been freely available and accessible. We're being forced to share our information with YALSA. We're being forced to figure out workarounds so we can access and share this information with others.

We're being pushed away from advocating and promoting these awards, these selection lists, and we're being pushed away from spreading the information about why these things are important.

The organization which supports freedom of information and spreading of knowledge is breaking down those very ideas.

This is not okay.

So You Want To Read YA?: An Intro To Our Series

2012-02-24T00:00:00.006-06:00

There's no question we're passionate young adult fiction readers here at STACKED, and we like to think we offer up a nice mix of genres and styles in our reviews. We have pretty diverse interests and tastes, but more importantly, we are open minded and like to give new things a try.

One of the questions we're most often asked -- both as bloggers and as librarians -- comes from those who are new to YA, and it's simply "Where do I start?" It can be daunting to point out a title or two as starting points to the YA world. You can't possibly pick one or two titles as essential starting points. You have to know what your reader likes and wants to read in order to feel like you can give them their correct starting point. Yes, I wrote that right: THEIR correct starting point.

So after thinking about this question, we decided we'd address it here at STACKED. But we're not just addressing it ourselves; we've invited 20 (yes, 20) guests to write us a post answering the question "Someone who has never read YA Fiction before is interested in getting their feet wet. Where would you tell them to start?" We told our guest posters the question is open to interpretation, since we wanted to cast as wide a net of answers as possible. The answers we got to this question are fascinating and even for seasoned YA readers, there will be new books to discover.

You might be wondering who our guests are. You're in for a treat. Our guests range from bloggers who blog because they love YA lit, bloggers who work as teachers and bloggers who work as librarians. We also have posts from a variety of YA authors, as well as folks who edit YA novels, and those who market YA novels. It's a diverse and exciting group of experts who span the YA book world and every time we got a "yes" response back to our invitation, we were shocked and eager to see what thoughts they had and share them with our readers.

Our response was so phenomenal that our original plan to kick off the series in April changed a little bit.

Starting Monday and running through the end of July, we'll be posting a "So You Want To Read YA?" response to kick off each week. They'll range in focus and in length and in recommendations, and some will even include a giveaway or two. Kimberly, Jen, and I will kick it off for the first three weeks, and then we'll dive into what our brilliant, witty, and insightful guests have to say.

We hope you enjoy! We have certainly loved seeing how our guests answered this question, and we are excited to give new (and veteran) YA readers new books to explore.

A Pair of Cybils Reviews

2012-02-23T01:00:00.000-06:00

Anna Dressed in Blood by Kendare Blake

Cas Lowood kills ghosts for a living. Well, he doesn't really make money at it, so I suppose you'd call it more of a hobby, or a compulsion. His father was a ghost-killer when he was alive, and since his death, Cas carries his deadly athame, the tool used to kill the dead. Cas and his mother have just moved to a new town, and Cas is determined to kill the local ghost, Anna dressed in blood, a teenage girl who was murdered many years ago. Only things with Anna aren't quite what they seem, and Cas slowly begins to not only sympathize with her, but to fall in love with her as well. He also picks up a couple of good friends who learn about his unusual vocation, and they serve the dual purpose of assisting Cas in his quest to kill Anna as well as adding some interest to the story.

I've discovered that I'm not the audience for ghost stories, but Kendare Blake's book made a valiant effort to change my mind. I thought the pseudo-romantic relationship between Cas and Anna was intriguing, and I appreciated that Blake didn't shy away from high stakes (there's a nice body count). The climax was unexpected, but made sense in retrospect. It's a different sort of ghost story than the norm, and it mostly worked for me.

My main problem with the book was pacing: some parts just really dragged. For these chunks of the novel, it seemed like the troupe of characters wasn't doing anything in particular, just kind of flailing about. It gets a bit dull to read about after a couple of pages. But then it would pick up nicely and I'd be hooked for another twenty pages, until it got a bit dull again. So overall, it's a good book, but not an outstanding one.

Angelfall by Susan Ee

The angels of the apocalypse have descended on Earth, and teenage Penryn has become caught in the middle of it. Her wheelchair-bound younger sister has been kidnapped by the angels. She must team up with another angel, Raffe, in order to rescue her. Along the way, the duo experience a significant amount of peril and intrigue, plus some romance (naturally).

I'm kind of flabbergasted by all of the positive feedback Angelfall has received, because I was very unimpressed. I think the skeleton of a good story is there, and I dug how gruesome Ee dared to be near the end of the book. But for most of the book, I was doing some serious mental eye-rolling, and it's mostly due to the writing - it doesn't pass muster. The book is full of awkward phrasing, clunky sentences, and cliched dialogue. Part of the reason I had a hard time getting through most of it is because it felt like a romance novel with some fantasy trappings for the first three quarters (rather than a fantasy novel with some romance). The dialogue between Penryn and Raffe tries to be clever repartee, but it just comes across as ridiculous. And I say this as a reader of romance.

Aside from the writing, I had problems with the world-building and development of ancillary characters. Put all of these lacking elements together and you quickly realize that no amount of fast-paced action can save this book.

Help a librarian out: a survey on teen/ya library services

2012-02-22T15:00:00.002-06:00

I don't like to talk too much librarian shop over here, but I know we reach a big librarian readership, so I'm taking the opportunity to tap that.

I've got a survey about teen/young adult library services on my other blog, and it's focused on providing reader's advisory and collection development. If you're a librarian, can you spare a few minutes and fill it out? And whether you're a librarian or not, if you know someone who could fill it out for me, please spread the word!

I appreciate your help so much!

Here it is.

Drowning Instinct by Ilsa J Bick

2012-02-22T00:00:00.008-06:00

Jenna Lord's given a voice recorder by the detective working on her case. She's just woken up in the hospital, and he wants her to tell the truth of the story about what happened. Why she's there. Why and how she almost died. Again.

She agrees, and we're thrust into something much, much darker than expected.

Jenna's family life is anything but pretty. Her father's a surgeon and he's exceptionally controlling and demanding. Jenna's mother works long hours at the bookstore she's in charge of, so she's not around much. That may or may not have to do with the fact she's also an alcoholic and avoids her husband. Then there's Matt -- Jenna's brother -- who enlisted in the military to get away from the mess of a family. She and he are close, and she turns to him when she needs an escape. Then there's grandpa, who is in an institution because he's unstable, too. That may or may not have something to do with the fire in his house, the one which caused Jenna many of the scars and skin grafts covering her body.

The rest of the scars, though, are her own doing.

It's those scars which put her into therapy and which eventually lead to her being sent to Turing for school. Her father believes putting her in a new environment like Turing would be good for her and help her adjust to being a normal girl again, whatever that is. But when she starts school, things only become more complicated. She meets Mr. Anderson -- Mitch -- near immediately on her first day, and she meets him when he's wearing close to nothing.

It's the start of a relationship between a teacher and a student that should have clear cut answers. That should be about right and wrong. But it's so, so not.

Drowning Instinct is the kind of novel I love: it's character driven, it's dark, and there are no right or wrong answers. It's not a clear cut story, and just when I thought I had an idea of how things would progress, I'm not given the break. Because the characters -- Jenna, especially -- gets absolutely no breaks in this story. Her only break comes in the form of self-mutilation. That's why she was getting therapy in the first place (or at least that's how it's explained and the truth is, that's not necessarily the whole truth). Jenna cuts to escape the pain from her home, and because it gives her a sense of ownership.

And cuts heal.

The relationship between Jenna and Mitch, one which should cause the reader discomfort because of what it is, challenges expectations. Mitch is so good to Jenna and he's the first adult who has given Jenna any reason to feel safe and secure. He also gives her opportunities and responsibility, and he believes in her not only as a student, but also as a runner. She'd given up running, but he wants her to go out for the team. He wants her to be his teaching assistant. He goes out of his way to keep an eye on her. While Jenna is at times skeptical about him, she eventually allows herself to see he is being genuinely concerned for her, and that he genuinely cares about her well-being -- something she's never experienced before outside of a therapy office. He knows a lot about her, and he happens to have this knowledge because he's done his research (and he tells her that much) but also because he stumbles upon some of the same messes she does. He sees how unstable her family is first hand.

Then Mitch maybe delivers the biggest blow Jenna's ever felt and the one that rattles her awake. He knows the truth to her biggest secret. One she doesn't believe he could possibly know. But he does. It almost seals her to him now. He's ripped open one of her scars and lets it bleed.

Even though Jenna decides he's worth trusting, she's wondering where the faults in his story are, and the closer she gets to him, the more time she spends with him in and outside the classroom, the more cracks she's finding. His wife is never around and he never talks about her. Then there's a picture in Mitch's house that haunts Jenna. And then the time she called his house and his wife -- supposedly away taking care of a sick family member -- answers. It's not just the wife situation that makes Jenna nervous though: it's the fact Mitch appears to have had a relationship with another high school girl, Danielle, and she's not exactly friendly with Jenna. Then there's Danielle's comment about how Mitch always liked the broken girls. These words rub Jenna wrong. They feel like knives on her flesh.

But she hasn't pressed down yet.

The relationship between Jenna and Mitch is tortured. But it's also safe. When they're together, when he's holding onto her with love and affection she so desperately needs and deserves, everything feels right. And yes, things get sexual. There is something so tender in those moments though that as readers, we almost forget they're teacher and student. That Mitch is her superior. That he's married. When they're apart though, when Jenna's left alone with her thoughts, that's when things don't seem right. That's when she questions who Mitch is and whether or not he's good for her. The thing is, she can't stop herself from staying close to him.

He's become her new method of cutting.

Bick's talent is not only in drawing these incredibly complex characters. It's the fact she has developed a pair of characters who aren't clear cut on whether they're victim or predator. It goes both ways. They feed off one another, and their secrets (and the secret of their relationship itself) tread a morally ambiguous line because the way it's presented makes it feel so right and so wrong at the same time. Jenna deserves this kind of love and even though we aren't entirely clear what's going on in Mitch's life, it just seems like he does too. And the way he treats Jenna makes it feel that way, too. They're safety nets for one another time and time again. Even if there are suspicious things afloat. Jenna and Mitch are very broken people, as are the other characters in the story. Each character carries immense pain and sadness but never once does it come off as melodramatic. It's drawn realistically, with a rawness that slices through what could/should be morally straight-forward territory for readers. None of these characters, even the ones with little page time, feels wasted and none of their struggles feel like shortcuts through the story.

What also stood out to me in this book was the use of place and space to tell the story. Bick is a Wisconsin author, and she's not afraid to set her books here. Drowning Instinct is neat in being set both in suburban Milwaukee (where Jenna attends school) and in the more rural areas outside the suburbs. The rural settings add a haunting feel to the story and they mimic the relationship between Jenna and Mitch well: there's the safety of the suburban setting but then there's the questionable nature of nature itself in those more remote areas. In places like the cabin on Mitch's quiet property. For me, the setting was a crucial layer to developing the story and the characters.

The book is well-paced, starting slower at the beginning as Jenna comes to in the hospital, but it eventually picks up speed until the very end. I had become so invested in the characters and unraveling the truths of these characters that I read through the bulk of it in one sitting. The reveals make use of subtle details woven into the story, but maybe the real power of the reveals is that they're not necessarily all that settling. They add further shades of gray to the story and to the characters. There are no real answers here, but the feeling I walked away with when I finished the book was worth the uncertainty. I took away what I needed to take away, and I like to think it's the same take away Jenna has. I also found myself crying near the end of the story, as well. I'd fallen so in love with the characters, their flaws and mistakes and all, that I couldn't help but feel the full weight of everything crashing around them. Bick made me care enough to not only love the story but also emotionally connect with these hurting and aching characters, despite the endless stream of mistakes they made.

Drowning Instinct will appeal to readers who like their stories dark, realistic, and raw and who like their stories to have real voice behind them. These characters are desperate and broken, and the book is relentless. It's wholly contemporary, and it'll appeal to fans of Amy Reed and Courtney Summers with content and character execution, and the set up of the book -- the short chapters, the great pacing -- will make it quite appealing to fans of Ellen Hopkins, as well. I could also see this novel working for fans of Lucy Christopher's Stolen and Tabitha Suzuma's Forbidden for readers interested in novels about elicit and taboo relationships. I've read two other novels this year, neither of which I've had a chance to review, but it reminded me of a mash up of the two of them, and I've found it fascinated how this year's novels are playing around with the norms of family, of safety, of security, of what it means to love and be loved, and just what survival takes. I have respect and admiration for authors who go for it full out, giving their characters challenge upon challenge, and Bick offers exactly that.

I wouldn't say this book doesn't appeal to reluctant readers because it does, but I think more mature readers will walk away with a lot from this book, especially as it comes to issues of right and wrong. Those who appreciate Laurie Halse Anderson will want to give this one a shot, too. I didn't touch on the metaphor here, the whole idea of the drowning instinct, but it's a huge one smartly thread through the story, and readers who want a more literary read will find it here. The back cover summary sums it up really well, I think: this is a fairy tale with teeth and a novel about pain, deception, desperation and love. Without doubt, this book will stick with me for a long time, and it will be one of my 2012 favorites.

Review copy received from the publisher. This book also has one of the best covers around, doesn't it?

Misfit by Jon Skovron

2012-02-21T01:00:00.000-06:00

I think I've mentioned before that one of the best things I got out of being a Cybils judge this year is that I read good books I never would have picked up otherwise. Misfit by Jon Skovron is a prime example of this. It's everything I normally avoid in a book: paranormal, present tense, and...well, that's usually enough. I'm so glad the Cybils were around to change my mind.

Jael's mother - many years dead now - was a demoness. She's known this for years and had to keep it a secret from all the other normal humans. You'd probably expect that being half-demon would mean Jael has all sorts of cool powers, but she doesn't. She just has to move around a lot, thanks to her paranoid father. Then Jael turns 16, her father gives her a shiny necklace that belonged to her mother, and everything changes. Now she has those cool powers, but it's brought her to the attention of some very dangerous types. Jael must learn how to harness these powers so she can fight off the bad guys. She has the help of her mother's brother (a demon himself) and her unwilling father, but really, is that enough when all of Hell wants you dead?

There's more to it than that. Skovron has created a wonderfully rich mythology, weaving together elements of Christianity with almost every other religion (living or dead) you could think of. And he's given us a terrific love story between Jael's parents, which is swoony and romantic and dangerous and badass and completely outshines the love story between Jael and her skater crush.

I've mentioned about a hundred thousand times before how important Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials trilogy was to me as a tween/teen. Aside from being beautifully written, fantastic stories, I loved how incredibly daring those books were. I don't mean daring by employing foul language or sex or putting its characters in risky situations or supporting an unpopular social or political stance. I mean daring in its treatment of Christianity. Pullman took one of the most enduring stories of our culture and completely turned it on its head. He plumbed the religion's richness and color to create a hell of a good story.

Misfit doesn't go as far as Pullman's books do. Skovron isn't trying to re-write the Bible or impart any atheistic message (Pullman certainly was imparting this message, at least in part, and those who deny it cheapen the books, in my opinion). What he does is similar to what Pullman did, though, and that is to use these incredibly powerful stories in a new and interesting way. I think that novelists as a whole tend to stay away from using Christianity as a fictional tool because it might lead their readers to think they believe Christianity is a fiction. (I should point out that there is a big difference between what Skovron does here and what "Christian fiction" writers do.) But there is so much material for really, really good stories there, and Misfit proves that.

I could be all wrong about why we see so few novels that twist Christianity in a really obvious way, but the fact remains that I'm glad to see it when it does appear. Not because of any disrespect towards the religion, but because the religion as a whole really does have so many good stories. Yes, there are books about angels everywhere now, but it's just not the same as what Skovron has done with Misfit. He's taken Christianity and treated it all - not just the angels or the demons or one other single aspect - as a mythology to be worked with, just as Riordan does with his books. True, millions of people believe in Christianity and very, very few believe in Zeus. What makes Misfit daring is that Skovron weaves in elements of Christianity with Greek mythology, and so many other religions, past and present, putting them on the same footing. So in that way, he treats them all as equally mythological.

So, I appreciated that Misfit was a little bit daring in this way. (Look out for a review of Pete Hautman's The Obsidian Blade in a couple months. Daring is an understatement for that title.) I also appreciated Jael's parents' story, which we get in past-tense flashbacks and is frequently more engrossing than Jael's. Other hallmarks of a good book are here too: a protagonist who grows believably over the course of the story; fascinating ancillary characters; an action-packed, albeit brief and a bit slapdash, climax.

Obviously, I was impressed. I'll be looking for the sequel. There's no news of one that I could find yet, and the book does have a firm ending (thanks Jon Skovron!), but it's open enough for many more books. Here's hoping.

(P)reviews: A Sampling of What's to Come

2012-02-20T00:00:00.025-06:00

I've been reading well ahead of publish dates lately. I like to post reviews as close to publication date as possible, even if I read the book months beforehand, because I like to think it helps put the book on the radar when it's actually possible to buy it. So while I've been reading and writing out my posts, I was thinking it might be worthwhile to give a preview to some of the titles I've been reading lately. You'll get the longer reviews closer to pub date, but for now, a sampling of titles to whet your appetite now (and surprise -- a couple of these titles I'll be giving away when the time gets closer and one of them may be up for grabs as part of Lenore's Dystopian February this week, too). Interestingly, all of these covers feature girls on the front.

Crazy by Amy Reed (June 12, 2012): This is probably the most realistic and painful portrayal of bipolar disorder I think I've read in YA lit. The book's told through two voices -- both Conner and Izzy get to have their say -- and it's told entirely through email messages. They've become friends and confidants to one another after a summer camp where they bonded, and while it's never blatant, it's sort of hinted that Conner wants something more than friendship from Izzy but she's not receptive. And for good reason. Izzy's home life is hurting her, and it's only contributing to the debilitating depression building inside her. Both voices are strong, well-defined, and the feelings readers walk away with, having both sides of depression (the person falling into it and the person on the outside watching it happen) will resonate with anyone who has ever experienced depression. Reed's writing works for me as a reader, and this, her third book, is her strongest.

The List by Siobhan Vivian (April 1): I got to read this book back in September (I know -- lucky me!) and I'm still thinking about it now. Every year on the week of homecoming, a list containing the names of 8 girls is posted at Mount Washington High; the prettiest girl and the ugliest girl in each class is listed. What Vivian does in The List is let us into the minds and lives of each of the eight girls selected this year, challenging our expectations and understandings of popularity, beauty, and ugliness through each of their eyes. There are eight voices in this story, but the third-person present tense style really allows each of their voices to stand out -- I didn't have any trouble keeping them apart. Vivian's got a way of writing stories that empower girls, and this is no exception. It's the kind of book I can't wait to hand off to high school girls; not only will they find themselves relating to one (or all!) of the girls, but they will want to talk about it, too.

This is Not a Test by Courtney Summers (June 19, 2012): Sloane Price has nothing going for her -- at least in her mind, there's no point in continuing living if her home life continues to be an abusive place and her sister, the one constant in her life, has left her to fend for herself. So when Sloane selects today to commit suicide and she's thwarted before she can, it's a huge relief that is when the zombie outbreak happens. Her death wouldn't even be on her own hands. Except she survives, and now she's stuck, trapped inside Cortege High with five other students who are eager to live, and all she wants to do is die. Sloane doesn't want to be here, and she doesn't want to fight for anything, but she has little choice in the matter. And the zombies keep knocking at the door. This is a book that, while about zombies, is much more about character and relationships and just what it means to survive, period. If you're wary of a zombie story, do not let that be the hangup in giving this one a try because it is much more a book about what it means to be human. I've never left a book so physically aching before (maybe even emotionally aching, too).

Amelia Anne is Dead and Gone by Kat Rosenfield (July 5, 2012): Graduation night was a big one in Becca's hometown. Not only did she have some pretty memorable celebration sex in her boyfriend's car, but then he had the nerve to dump her right then and there, leaving her empty in more ways than one. Oh, and that happened to be the same night the body of a strange girl was found on the side of the road, rag dolled and mangled. No one knows how she got there or who she was. Rosenfield's debut novel is a mystery story, but it's also a story about growing up and figuring out where you belong. Becca's being toyed with when it comes to her boyfriend; she wanted nothing but to get out of town and away from everything it is, and she made herself the promise that he wouldn't be the reason she stays. Despite breaking up, he's still stringing her along for the summer and she's unable to make an easy decision about staying or leaving. And when the story of the dead girl comes to light, it's not at all what Becca -- nor the town -- expected. The writing and many of the threads about small town life reminded me of Nova Ren Suma's Imaginary Girls; it is lush and a story you can't help but fall completely into.

Jersey Angel by Beth Anne Bauman: Lest you think I've found everything I've read lately exceptional, I'll talk about a book that was a real disappointment. This one was sold to me by the publicist at ALA Midwinter as a book all about sex and sexuality. And it was. Unfortunately, there is a real lack of character or story development at all. Angel, the main character, really spends a year having a lot of sex...and it's pretty boring sex, to be honest. I think because she's underdeveloped and doesn't give me any compelling reasons to care about her and because she doesn't have any real moments of growth or change, I found myself disinterested in her and what happened to her -- and honestly, nothing DOES happen to her. I don't buy the idea that because she was detached from herself (obvious from the meaningless sex) then she can have a thinly developed character and no arc to her. It wasn't just Angel I felt this way about either; her friends and family are just as flat and lifeless. Angel's friend finds herself in a pretty terrible situation in the story, and it should have been an emotionally packed moment, but I couldn't connect and I didn't care. It was a heavy, heavy topic and should have conjured up something from me, but it didn't. Though I found this book a let down because it really was nothing other than a lot of (uninteresting) sex, I don't think this is a book that'll be too hard to sell to teen readers because of the sex.

Review copies of each title received from the publishers.

Links of interest

2012-02-19T16:11:00.000-06:00

I've been saving up a bunch of interesting book and reading related links worth sharing, so why not on Sunday afternoon before the dawn of a new week -- though I guess some folks have tomorrow off for a holiday.

Naomi Bates, a librarian down in Texas, has created this really neat road trip of books. She's put books set in different states together in a list, complete with book trailers. They're all current titles (pubbed in the last couple of years) and it is worth checking out. They're not road trip books, but rather books set in specific areas. She's developed the "road trip" portion.

Author Nova Ren Suma has been running a fantastic series over the last few weeks called Turning Points, and if you haven't been checking in on it periodically, you are missing out. A wide range of authors have written up guest posts talking about what was the moment that changed their careers or their mindsets about pursuing their dreams. Some of these have moved me to tears because as much as they're about writing, they're about much, much more. If you're looking for a little inspiration, spend a little time reading these.

At the YA Blogger Meetup in Dallas, I met a librarian from Pittsburgh named Tessa and she started telling me about a blog project she and a friend were working on. Well their blog launched and I have to say I am impressed. I love their post from Valentine's Day that is a book list featuring sweet romance (the innocent kind) and heavy romance (the sultry kind).

Love Dystopian YA? Then make sure you're spending time this month over at Lenore's Dystopian February celebration. She's got a ton of reviews, interviews, and title previews for dystopian titles that are out or coming out in the next year.

I've been making good on my promise to nominate titles for this year's YALSA awards and book lists. Have you? Here's a reminder why it's important to do it and how you can do it.

The Knife and the Butterfly by Ashley Hope Perez

2012-02-17T00:00:00.001-06:00

Azael wakes up in a prison cell and has no idea how he got there nor why he's there. It's not the first time he's ended up in prison either but it is the first time he can't quite figure out what did him in. He remembers a fight between his gang, the MS13, faced off against the Crazy Crew, but he can't help think this prison sentence feels wrong. He doesn't get a phone call, and he isn't getting news about his family. He's also without a lawyer.

Things are even more complicated because Azael is forced to share a cell with Lexi, a white girl, with whom he has no interest. She's not opening up, and he can't help but wonder why she's in prison and what she has to do with him.

The Knife and the Butterfly (TKTB) is Perez's sophomore novel, and before delving into talking about what worked well in the story, I have to say I hope she continues writing the sorts of books she's writing for a long time. This story, as well as her first What Can('t) Wait, feature Latino/a main characters and they're both set in Houston. TKTB features a main character from El Salvador, and it's a story not only about gang culture, but also about broken homes, poverty, and the challenges of being a minority. There aren't a lot of stories tackling one -- let alone all -- of these issues, and these are the stories that when I read them, I know there is an eager audience for them. Never once do any of the issues come across as inauthentic or pandering. These aren't issue-driven books but involve characters and situations that are relatable to audiences who often don't have these sorts of stories written for them. Many times these stories are instead written at them.

TKTB is a character-driven story, rather than a plot driven one. It's told through Azael's eyes (and his name isn't really Azael, it's his street name -- his real name is Martin, and understanding this distinction is crucial to understanding who he is) as he tries to put the pieces of the event that caused him to be sitting in a jail cell yet again. As he combs through his memories, we're transported back through the events of the last few weeks and years of his life. Immediately, we know he comes from a troubled home. The only true family Azael's had is his brother Eddie, and when he's unable to to talk with Eddie about what happened and why he's sitting in juvie, Azael begins to suspect something has really and truly gone wrong. He's beginning to think maybe he's lost his only family in whatever ensued.

While in his cell, Azael manages to convince one of the staff members to help him piece his story back together. In rummaging through his files, he stumbles upon a news article about the gang fight he vaguely remembers occurring, though much of the information about the whos and whats of the incident are redacted. What Azael realizes, though, is he has to figure out Lexi. Even though she is nothing like him and he has absolutely no interest in her, he has reason to believe that they wouldn't be sharing a cell if there wasn't a reason behind it. But as much as he observes her and as much as he tries to figure her out, he can't.

Until he convinces his guard friend to take the journal she's been writing in. That's when he puts together the pieces of who, exactly, Lexi is.

As readers, we're on the outside of who she is, as well. She's not telling the story at all, and we never get her perspective until Azael gets ahold of her journal. Then we're dropped right into her mind. Slowly, she reveals bits of her life, too. Lexi hasn't had it easy; if anything, her life's been as unstable as Azael's, but in a number of different ways. She wasn't involved in gang life at all, but she'd been shuffled around so much in her life, she never really had any support system nor role models nor the opportunity to truly succeed. Both the reader and Azael come to understand Lexi and we begin to sympathize with her. Because we'd only been in Azael's head for so long, we'd only ever viewed Lexi the way he had, as a privileged white girl. But through her journal, we learn otherwise and we have to reassess our own assumptions about her. If you're at this point and thinking that the story will turn into a romance, well, I'll break the news: it doesn't. Not a lick of romance in this book.

I can't talk too much more about plot or character here, since it'd delve into spoiler territory, but I can say that I didn't see how the two characters were connected through the length of the book. Not only that, but there's a huge twist in the story that I didn't see coming -- and I credit Perez hugely for making it work out. I can usually put the pieces together quickly but this one didn't do that to me, and I didn't felt cheated or tricked, either. It was clever.

Because we're exposed to both a variety of time periods in both Azael and Lexi's lives, as well as a variety of mediums -- the straight-forward narrative, the journal entries, news articles -- there's not a lag in the pacing. This is a relatively short book at just over 200 pages, and not a word nor a scene feels wasted. It's edgy and it's powerful, and it will appeal to reluctant readers. The obvious comparison for this book to me feels like Watt Key's Dirt Road Home, but that may simply be because of the juvenile detention center setting (which will be enough comparison for many readers). To be fair, Perez's story is more mature and treads territory geared toward older teen readers than Key's story, but I think readers who want these types of stories won't think twice about it, and readers who want stories about gang life will certainly want to pick this up. I don't think there's any doubt this book will have mega guy appeal. Azael's voice is believable.

I'll admit, I had a hard time reading this book because this story was not up my alley at all. In fact, I picked this book up right before heading to Dallas for ALA, but I didn't read it on the airplane, nor while I had down time, nor even when I made it back home. I put it aside for a few weeks and came back to it with fresh eyes. This isn't a knock on Perez's writing nor story but rather the fact that I'm not the target audience of this book. But let me reiterate: there IS a target audience for this, and Perez does no disservice in writing a book that not only has this appeal, but it's a story that's also worth reading. This is the world many of the target readership may already be familiar with or one with which they've got fascination.

I'm a reader of author's notes, but I know not everyone is. This is a book that reading the author's note is worthwhile, but make sure you save it until you've finished the story at hand. Reading it beforehand may spoil the story's twist.

Review copy received from the publisher. The Knife and the Butterfly is available now.

A Pair of Contemporary Reviews

2012-02-16T00:00:00.001-06:00

As soon as I think I'm caught up on writing reviews, I find myself buried even deeper. Part of it is because I can't write the review as soon as I finish the book -- I need time to think through what points are worth talking about and which resonated -- and part of it is simply because it takes a long time to write a cogent and thorough review. Alas, sometimes I have to remind myself it's okay to write short(er) reviews that get to the key points. Then I think my understanding of what a shorter review is pretty skewed, too. The point of this all is to say that today, I've got two reviews for the price of one!

I heard about Jesse Andrews's debut Me and Earl and the Dying Girl because of Capillya's author thoughts post on the cover. I'm not a big fan of cancer stories, but I bit the bullet on this one because it looked like a much more light hearted approach to the heavy topic. And it was.

Greg's always been sort of a social outcast and fine with it. In fact, he sort of prides himself on it because it means he can blend in and out of all the different cliques in his smallish high school. Plus, he and his best friend Earl like to spend their time making videos. They aren't good at it, and Greg will tell you as much. As the story begins, we know that the story is actually already over and we're being told the "what happened" via a lengthy flashback essay. Not only is the set up immediately engaging because of this, but the essay set up also allows Greg to incorporate film scripting right into the story, and it makes his passion for making films more palpable from the onset.

Greg's always been a little awkward around girls, and he's willing to admit this. Because of his desire to sort of maintain a status-less social standing, he doesn't like to make commitments to girls, either. But then Greg finds out from his mother that Rachel, one of the girls who he knew from a church group, has leukemia. And Greg's mom thinks it is a great idea he befriend her so she feels less alone. He's not thrilled about the prospect -- it messes with his invisibility and, well, he feels weird suddenly befriending someone who could potentially die -- but Greg does it anyway. What Greg and Rachel get out of the relationship is more than either could have expected.

This is a book that does characterization very well. As much as Greg likes to pretend he's a rebel and he's worlds different than anyone else, the truth is, he's an average teen. He is easy to relate to, and he's got a sense of humor that's enjoyable as a reader. Earl, on the other hand, has a much more challenging life and personality than Greg does, but because we're seeing Earl through Greg's eyes, we aren't given the impression that Earl is anything but a pretty good friend to Greg (we learn this isn't necessarily the case the further we get into the book, as Earl is almost a foil to Rachel).

Andrews's story is light-hearted, even up until the end when inevitably, things take a turn for the worse with Rachel. Greg has a good sense of humor, and he's willing to reflect on everything that happened to him with that humor in place. Early on in the book, we hear Greg's given up his film-making aspirations, and as the story unfolds, readers are unsure when or how it happens. This was what kept me compelled -- I had so much invested in Greg because I liked him and wanted to see him pursue his dreams, but when he talks about the last film he makes, I understood why he believes he's done with film making.

There's definite male appeal in this book, and I appreciate how Andrews did not go down the romance path in this book. What emerges between Greg and Rachel is at best friendship and, in my mind, it's not even necessarily friendship. This story was much less about what Rachel needed as she sunk deeper into illness and much more about Greg learning to connect with other people and to connect with himself. Leukemia is sort of the tool, and it's used well and treated fairly without becoming maudlin or being too convenient and easy. Readers who are wary of cancer stories can rest assured that while the outcome in the story won't necessarily be the happy one for Rachel, it doesn't require the reader to bring their own baggage and experiences to the story. This one's about Greg learning about himself.

The voice sings in Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, and that, along with the set-up and execution of the story reminded me a lot of Geoff Herbach's Stupid Fast. This book will appeal to fans of Herbach's, as well as those who love Brent Crawford's Carter series. Andrews's debut will be available March 1.

Brian James's Life is But a Dream is an exploration into the debilitating mental illness of schizophrenia. From the onset, I was impressed with James's ability to not conflate schizophrenia with dissociative identity disorder (multiple personalities). This story follows Sabrina as she becomes sicker and sicker, to the point her parents choose to institutionalize her for treatment. Prior to institutionalization, Sabrina's life was full of color and fantasy, and she lived in what basically amounted to a dream world. Her experiences in the real world paralleled what most people experience in deep sleep. While it doesn't necessarily sound scary, the effects of such distance from reality isn't pretty and it causes Sabrina to act in ways that put her in danger.

While being treated, Sabrina meets Alec, a boy who convinces her the folks in the institution are working against her. Taking the drugs they're giving her is only harming her, he says, and she begins to believe him. She doesn't want to become brain dead, and she becomes convinced her life will be better if she doesn't go along for the treatment. So she and Alex make an escape plan. To save themselves.

This part is spoiler, so feel free to skip down to the following paragraph. As a reader who knows a bit about schizophrenia (and about Sabrina's experiences with it), I was never quite sure whether Alec actually existed or if he was one of those dreams concocted in Sabrina's mind. The evidence to support either argument is in the book -- he could be real or he could be a figment of her dream world telling her to act a certain way. Even in the end, when Sabrina makes a run for it, it's uncertain either way.

The uncertainty, though, might be the greatest strength in the book. I found the writing to be distancing, and while it works for Sabrina's world and her own voice, it kept me far away from her, too. I couldn't connect with her in any way, and because I wanted to, I became frustrated. It makes sense because that's how these illnesses work, but it doesn't necessarily mean it works for readers. It's a dream world.

Moreover, I found it a little disappointing that the person who'd save Sabrina would be a boy, as I find that a trend that won't stop coming. Even if what I said in the previous paragraph were true, it still doesn't settle too well for me. I'd not come to see Sabrina as much of a romantic or one who'd love a relationship with Alec, but it's something I could have bought had Sabrina's voice been stronger and she let me in. Fans of stories about mental illness will want to read this one, especially those who are interested in schizophrenia because James nails it (I'd say textbook nails it, but textbooks can leave out the emotional side of the illness, and James offers that quite well). Life is But a Dream will be available in mid-March.

Review copies provided by the publishers.

The Hardcover to Paperback Cover Switch: Six to Consider

2012-02-15T00:00:00.001-06:00

I haven't talked about book cover changes lately, and it's something I've been doing a lot of thinking about lately. I'm working on a post about series books and mid-series book cover changes (specifically, about how much they impact libraries and librarians), but in the mean time, I thought looking through some recent cover swaps would be fun. It's always interesting to see how a cover is revisioned when it moves from hardcover to paperback, as sometimes it's spot on, and other times, it's worse.

Here's the hardcover of Franny Billingsley's Chime, and it's a cover I've never been a fan of. I haven't read the book, but from everything I know about it, it just doesn't seem like a good fit of a cover. It's the girl, I think -- she detracts from the fantasy aspect of the story for me. I don't care a lot for the color scheme here either, as it's dull and almost lifeless. It's a sleepy cover.

Billingsley's book comes out in paperback in April, and it's getting a makeover. This works for me, and I think it'll attract a new range of readers. Even though I'm not a huge fan of the face-on-the-cover, this girl is much less "dead girl" than the hardcover edition, and she's even got a spark of power to her (I see it in her eyes and the fact her hair isn't blown across her face). Moreover, I'm a fan of the change from a drab color scheme to a brighter one. The cover kind of reminds me of the repackaged Francesca Lia Block books. I find it interesting the paperback features a blurb from Libba Bray, whereas the hardcover edition didn't have a blurb.

The hardcover edition of Cathy Ostlere's Karma is interesting to me because it's so simple. I read this book last year, and it's a lengthy verse novel about 1980s India and the search for heritage. It's a hard sell conceptually for teen readers but I think the cover here does the story some favors in that it might entice otherwise skeptical readers. It's pink with yellow designs that are an homage to Indian culture. The couple on the front (beneath the title and above the author's name) make sense in context of the story, too. I love the title font and how it fits nicely with the font for the author's name, too. Sometimes the simpler, the better.

The paperback of Ostlere's book came out in January, and you know, I think they got it even more right in this cover. Even though both the paperback and cover fail to give the sense of time period (I'm not sure how they could), I feel like both do a good job giving a sense of place. Like the hardcover, the paperback features a great title font, though I do find the font selected for the author's name to be a little distracting. It's not as in sync with the title font as the different fonts on the hardcover edition are. I love, too, that the cover doesn't appear to be whitewashed; while we don't get to see a face, the hands and arms here are brown and not white. For me, the flowers she's holding sort of represent the heritage aspect of the story. Although they're wilting, the girl's holding them with reverence and respect. More generally, I find the color palette works here, and it's all together visually appealing. There is just enough going on to keep an eye engaged without being over-the-top.

Adele Griffin's psychological thriller Tighter is another cover that had a dull color palette going for it, but because of the story, I think it works just fine. I like the shadowy figure against the cover, almost like there's a film over the picture and the person is trying to see through. It's fitting for the story and I think it helps give the book a genre classification. It's reminiscent of a scary film. The title font works fine, as does Griffin's name font. I do find it interesting her name is larger than the title itself.

The paperback edition of Tighter will come out in June, and I think it hits the mark pretty well, too. It's got the sort of drab but haunting feel of the setting with the darker background color, and the girl who is ghostly captures the genre of the story. I note again the fact that the author's name is larger than the title, which I think is an interesting choice. I like that the fonts are the same (or at least very close to the same) as those on the hardcover. They work well, and the slight blur to the title font isn't dizzying nor distracting. My one comment on this one is I think the cover might be more appealing to female readers than the hardcover, simply because it's more obvious it's a girl at the center of the story.

I think that the cover of Julie Chibbaro's Deadly is jarring because it's an uncomfortable color of greenish yellow, but it's a cover that stands out for me because of that (as well as the silhouette-style girl on the cover, her dress crawling with infestation). This book stands out on a shelf, and I think it does a good job reflecting the content inside. It's a story based on the legend of typhoid Mary, and it's heavily vested in the science of disease. I'm a fan of the red font and lower case only lettering on the title, and I like that the tag line shifts its color scheme when it's laid over the girl. One of the themes of this story is the role of females in society and the book challenges what it was to be a female in the early 20th century, especially when it comes to being a female interested in science. I think the cover does an interesting job reflecting that in portraying a girl in a big dress and in the fact the girl's at a full stance. Her head is up and the bugs are moving down and away. She's got some power and defiance to her.

The paperback edition of Deadly will be out at the end of the month, and I'm not feeling it the way I felt the hardcover. It's dark and shadowy, and I don't think it at all gives a sense of time -- though admittedly, it probably gives a decent sense of place, as the story's set in early 1900 New York City. There's a definite mood developed in the image, but I'm not entirely sure it fits the story itself. The girl in the dress is in the shadow on the ground and at full stance, but I don't think it connotes quite the power the girl in the hardcover edition does. I'm not a fan of the title font here, as I think it kind of bleeds right into the image itself. For me, this book looks a lot more like a mystery than a historical fiction, and I'm afraid it'll blend into other books that just look dark on the shelf.

I can't remember if I've talked about not being a fan of Janne Teller's utterly bleak novel Nothing -- but see, the thing is, I wasn't a fan and yet it's a book I think about a lot and think deep down I kind of admired for being so risky and different. The hardcover of the book is spot on in depicting the feeling of hopelessness the book conveys. It's a late fall or early winter setting, with the trees lacking their leaves (need I tell you the symbolism there?). I quite like how the title is in a light box on top of the trees but the title itself almost fades into the background as if it, too, were nothing. I think the single girl in the middle crying into the one spot of color in the cover captures the story so, so well. I'm a little torn on teen appeal of the cover since it is so heavily symbolic and it's not necessarily a stand-out on the shelf; however, the teens that this book would appeal to will so get the cover and appreciate it. It may be what draws them to it in the first place.

The paperback of Teller's novel will be out in March, and it, too, gives a nice sense of the bleakness in the story. But this time, we have two people embracing one another, almost in desperation. I don't read this as romantic at all and I think that it captures the mood of the book well. It's desperate (at least for most of the characters). The coloring of the cover is again dulled, though this time, there's not a symbolic spot of color quite the way there was in the hardcover, unless you count the girl's hair. The title being centered and spread widely across the center of the image works, too, and like the hardcover, I think the simplicity of it helps it sort of blend in all together.

I have a pile more of cover changes I want to talk about, but I'll save them for another post in the near future -- except one. Most of the changes above haven't elicited a whole lot of reaction from me. I don't think any of them are way off base, even though I've certainly preferred some of the hardcovers over the paperback. But here's one I really don't like. One that I think is a mega disservice.

Gabrielle Zevin's All These Things I've Done has a great hardcover image. I love that the title is in red on graying image, and the only other spot of color is the dripping chocolate heart. There's the back image of the cityscape, and while it's shadowy, there's enough recognition to know it's New York City (even if in the story it's a distant, future NYC -- the shadow effect here gives a bit of the potential for the physical appearance to be different at that time). Aside from the heart, I think this is a cover with appeal to both genders because it's fairly ambiguous. I appreciate there's not a face or a person on the cover, and really, there is something to be said for simplicity in cover design. The other thing I think is neat about this cover is the juxtaposition of the all lower case lettering of the title with the all upper case lettering of the author's name at the top, and yet, neither competes to be the bigger role. They're in harmony.

Enter the paperback edition of the Zevin title and while we still have quite a bit of a blurred city image that works well, we now have a girl face. A girl face that looks a bit vamp-ish and scary. For me, this book is much less about the dystopic future of a city without chocolate or coffee but about a girl who looks like she's going to do some pretty bad things in the city. I can't put my finger on exactly what movie or television show image it reminds me of, but it reads much more action-adventure to me than the story really is. Although the new color palette doesn't bother me, it's the way the girl still manages to jump out from it that doesn't work for me. There may also be a little too much going on in terms of the fonts, the stacking, and the color use in the title and author text.

Now I'm curious -- do you think any of these do it better in one edition or the other? I've heard more than once that the hardcover is the one aimed toward librarians while the paperback is the one aimed at the true teen demographic, though I'm not sure how much I buy that excuse at all if the true goal is to sell a book (there'd be as much emphasis on both then to produce the best possible cover, period). Or have you seen any changes recently -- say the last six months or so -- that have caused you to stop and wonder why the change was made?

Cybils and The Hub

2012-02-14T14:58:00.000-06:00

If you haven't already heard, today was the big announcements of the 2011 Cybils winners. You can see the list right here. If you're interested at all in kidlit, these are the books (and apps!) you want to START with this year, if you haven't already enjoyed them. They marry literary merit with reader appeal. Both Kim and I served this year in different capacities, but speaking for myself, I could NOT be happier with the YA Fiction winning title, Geoff Herbach's Stupid Fast. It was one of my favorite reads last year. All of the finalists in my category were strong, but this one held a special little place in my heart.

Today I'm over at The Hub talking February debut novels, too. If you get a chance, hop over there and drop a comment or two.

There is No Dog by Meg Rosoff

2012-02-14T01:00:00.000-06:00

What if God were a teenage boy? That's the question Meg Rosoff asks in her latest novel for teens, and the results are pretty darn funny. The god of Earth is Bob, a perpetually teenaged boy whose mother won the creation of Earth in a game of cards and decided to give the job to her son. He created Earth in a creative but rather slapdash way, which means there are some truly unique creatures, but none of it works together very well. He also had the appalling self-centeredness to not only make humankind in his own image, but to make them all worship him to boot.

Bob isn't necessarily a bad guy, but he's not exactly good either - selfish, lazy, and short-tempered are all excellent descriptors for him. In order to keep things on Earth somewhat controlled, the administration assigned Mr. B, a middle-aged middle-management type, to assist Bob. Poor, poor Mr. B. Was there ever a more thankless job? Particularly now that Bob has fallen in "love" (again) with a human girl named Lucy, throwing Earth's weather completely off-kilter.

There is No Dog is more of a gimmick than an actual novel. I don't think there's any way to say that without making it sound bad, although that's not my intent. Character development here is minimal. The jacket copy makes it seem like Bob is the protagonist, but if there is one, it's Mr. B, the middle-aged consultant. He's the only one who experiences any growth and the only one we get a real feel for.

It's mostly for that reason that I hesitate to call There Is No Dog a YA novel. Bob is there, but he's always played for laughs. He's your stereotypical teenage boy whose delusions of grandeur are, in fact, not delusions at all. Lucy is 21 and is concerned with her career and falling in love, but in a much more adult way than a teen would be. Mr. B and the Eck (more on him later) are who we really care about, and neither of them are teenagers with teenage concerns. I'm actually quite pleased to have discovered this book. It seems to fit firmly into the 20-something age range, which can be tough to find. Often it seems the shelves overflow with books for teens and middle-aged adults, with not much in between.

This was a tough review for me to write, because I'm concerned that all of those things I mentioned in the two paragraphs above make it seem like I disliked the book. Far from it - I found it delightful and clever and funny and refreshingly different. The lack of character development didn't bother me. Rosoff's prose carries a laugh in almost every sentence, which means that this is first and foremost a humor book. (As opposed to simply a funny book. I hope this distinction makes sense.) In a humor book, things like character development and world-building and plot coherence aren't as important. (And here again, I worry I'm making this book seem bad. I promise you, it's not. You should read it.)

On a somewhat unrelated note, reading this book was a very interesting exercise in ARC study. Most of the book is written in past tense, but sometimes it jumps to present. There's no rhyme or reason to the switches. Frequently, it happens mid-page or even mid-paragraph. It makes me think it's unintentional - perhaps Rosoff originally wrote it in one tense and switched to the other for the final draft. I haven't been able to locate a finished copy yet, but I certainly plan to. (It should come as no surprise that I prefer the sections in past tense.)

I can't end this review without mentioning the Eck. Eck is Bob's pet. He's a "penguiny" creature, the last of his kind, and all he can say is "Eck." He is by far the most delightful thing about this book. In fact, he's the impetus for much of its action, since Bob's mother loses the Eck in a card game and Bob (and others) attempt to get him back before he's eaten. Apparently, there's a rumor floating about that Ecks are delicious. Aside from Mr. B, he's the creature we get to know best, and the book is all the better for it.

Review copy received from the publisher at ALA Midwinter. There Is No Dog is available now.

MWF Seeking BFF: My Yearlong Search for a New Best Friend by Rachel Bertsche

2012-02-13T00:00:00.005-06:00

My husband and I will celebrate our 5th wedding anniversary in June. We're both in our mid-twenties. Before we got married, we talked about everything you'd expect a couple who is about to get married to talk about: what we want in a career, where we want to live, do we want kids, what sort of life do we want for ourselves in one year, five years, thirty years. But maybe the most important thing we decided as a couple before we married was that no matter what, we would not become one another's only friends. It was crucial we'd maintain our own private friendships separate and different from our relationship.

And despite the fact the things we talked about before -- the plans we envisioned -- have gone completely astray on nearly every level, the last part about maintaining separate and meaningful friendships outside ourselves is something we have done. To varying levels. I like to think that decision has made weathering the things that weren't in the plan a lot easier to grapple with.

Because of the bumps in the road, because of the changes in place and space, I think he's had a much easier time of this than I have. My friends? I made them in college (in Iowa) and I made them in graduate school (in Texas). I live near neither. My best friend lives half a country away, and we haven't seen each other in years. Sure I've got friends near me -- one who lives literally a hop down the road (um, or will until Friday when she moves a car ride away) -- but getting together requires planning and work. Our lives our busy and getting together requires an hour or more in the car. It's hard to call them up and say you've had a day and need them there to finish up a bottle of wine right now to make it better. My husband, on the other hand, went to school here, and he has a wealth of friends who live close. It's easy for him to drop by their place after work, for him to go out with them after work. He's met his tribe here, so to speak, while I haven't.

Rachel Bertsche's memoir, MWF Seeking BFF, caught my eye when I read about it last year because I felt like I would be able to relate to Bertsche. She's in her late-20s, newly married, and she left everything she had behind her in New York City when she moved with her husband to Chicago. She lost her support system in the move, and now she was on her own to make a new BFF in her new city so she'd have someone to turn to when she needed it. Bertsche chose to do this through serial "girl dating" -- meeting up with people she'd been connected with through people she knew or through various friend-dating services or through putting herself into activities she liked and chumming up someone she felt could be a good match for her. The book is a chronicle of her dates, as well as a musing upon the ideas of friendship and how friendship changes as you get older. It's not like you can knock on your neighbor's door and ask them to come out to play anymore when you've got a career and a family.

I brought my preconceived notions to the book: Bertsche starts by telling readers what her idea of a BFF is. It's someone you can go to at any time and it's someone you can call up at a moment's notice to grab dinner with. It's someone who sees you through the good and the bad. Someone who (her words) she can grab a mani/pedi with at the last second to gossip. She talks about her two best friends in New York City and how she's looking for that sort of companionship in her new city. This is what she wants out of her serial girl dating. Immediately, I just ... didn't connect with Bertsche the way I hoped I would. Her ideas of friendship were so wildly different than mine. It was so singular, so narrow. I knew from the start she'd never be the kind of person I'd get along with and couldn't see myself befriending.

As she goes on her dates, though, she offers up some interesting research and insight into friendship and what it really is. Bertsche meets a wide variety of women, ranging from her own age to much older and even much younger, and she gets to know women who are in various stages of life (some who are single and still looking for romance, some who are happily married with children, some who will never quite grow up, etc). After each interaction, Bertsche talks about what did and didn't work and why she did or didn't see the girl as someone who had that BFF potential. At the beginning of the book, it's almost a check list to her. Would x-named girl be the kind of girl she could call up on Sunday morning and have brunch with in an hour? No? Well, time to drop her. Would this girl be the kind of girl she could spend an afternoon discussing Harry Potter with on end and then spend the evening devouring the latest television drama? No? Well, she won't work either.

I found myself so irritated with her definitions and her boxes and I kept wondering how I'd make it through the book. It's a longer read, since Bertsche does chronicle (to some level) all 52 of her dates. See, I'm a big believe in the fact friends all serve different purposes. At least, that's how I view friendship. I have friends I turn to for different things and friends who offer me differing levels of support on different things, and I like to think I offer that back. I'd be hard-pressed to believe any of my friends has a whole picture of me or knows everything about me, and it's a fact I'm okay with. Maybe one I'm comfortable with. And that's not to say I don't value friendship because I certainly do, but I prefer a wide network of friends who are one-or-a-few things to me and a much tighter network of intimate friends who know a lot more and will always know a lot more. I keep it this way because it helps me evaluate what I can offer them in return. I can't be a good friend to everyone, and I never can pretend to be. But I can be a good friend to a few people, and I can be friendly and thoughtful and kind to many, many more. If I evaluated everyone in terms of their BFF potential, I'd never actually get to offer or experience friendship. Maybe it makes me sort of a hippie in thinking there is a bit of the organic in how it happens and how it develops and how those circles I maintain can always shift. I believe give and take happens when and where it should and when you're in sync with someone else, you just know.

About half way through MWF Seeking BFF, Bertsche has a total light bulb moment. She, too, realizes that trying out everyone as a potential BFF -- her idea of what a BFF is anyway -- wasn't going to help her really make friends. In fact, she says that her idea of a BFF was in and of itself out of sync with her life now. Nothing could ever be what it was like when she was younger and unmarried and in New York City. That realization was a huge one for her, and it shaped how she approached the remaining friend dates she made. It also made me step back and think about my own preconceived notions of Bertsche, too: I'd judged her immediately, hadn't I? I considered my friendship compatibility with her, too. Who she offered herself at the beginning of the book rubbed me wrong but who she offered herself at the end of the book was someone I admired a bit.

Her biggest realization in the entire experiment? Friendship comes about when you learn to be independent. That's really what her book is about -- independence and figuring out how to be.

What stood out to me most in the book and what made it a worthwhile read, especially in the beginning where I did a lot more sighing than engaging, were the lengthy musings on what friendship is and what it really means. Bertsche made me do a lot of thinking about what friendship is and not just what it is to have a friend, but what it means to be a friend. The truth of it, and I think what makes it a hard topic to think about or talk about, is that sometimes you can never know what makes you a friend to someone else. What you believe you offer isn't always what the other person is receiving. They may be getting something entirely different. Bertsche also broaches the idea of need fulfillment and about social networks and how or why some friendships endure while others never quite hit it off. She backs it with research and her own experiences, and because I'd been along with her on her dates, I felt like I got a good understanding of the hows and whys of her assertions. She mentioned more than once feeling a bit weird when she'd find common ground with someone over a sick or dead dad (hers had died when she was in her early 20s). But she offered it, and her returns either came back ten fold or never came back at all. As much as it was awkward to put herself out there like that, her reflections upon it were great, and I quite admired her at all for putting herself out there like that. Personally, the tough topics don't make it out of my mouth until I truly know and trust someone wholly. Risk and reward are tricky.

More than once, I put the book aside and thought through my own feelings about friendship and what matters to me, and my husband and I even had a lengthy chat about what we believe our closest and most meaningful friendships are now and why they are that way. We talked about what we feel holds us back and what we do and don't have in friendships and why we do or don't care to have that. I couldn't help think this would make an interesting book club title because the topics worth discussing here are many. Even if the chronicling of every friendship gets tiring -- and it does -- the moments of reflection at the end are worth it.

One of the points I disagreed with, though, had to do with maintenance of friendship. Bertsche (and many of those she pulls from) is a big believer in the value of the in-person interaction; she's regularly discussing the phone call over the text message, over the email, over the Facebook or Twitter interaction. This sort of showed her privilege a bit in being an upper-middle class urbanite -- something that also grated at me a bit as a reader. She had the opportunities to get out and do things, had the money and resources to go on all of these dates (she does admit to the cost of the endeavor). The truth is, sometimes our good friends, those we want to give and share with, are never going to be there in the flesh with us when we need it. And while it's certainly one thing to have that person next door, in today's modern world, I think it's becoming a lot more of a luxury than a regular experience. I don't think maintaining a good friendship means you have to be there in person. It just means you have to be there, period.

My other big criticism of MWF Seeking BFF is that Bertsche periodically dives into female stereotyping. She becomes one and she pushes it in her own observations. There are moments where she discusses food and weight and bodies in a way that made me wonder why it was there in the first place. Then it hit me: target demographic. These bits weren't authentic to the story nor did I think they were even authentic to Bertsche nor the experience she was trying to share. It felt simply like a way to make her story relatable to a certain 20-something female audience. Take a second to think about all of the magazines aimed at the demographic. It's not entirely shocking, but I found it incredibly frustrating and simply noise to the greater stuff in this book. Is it possible for a memoir by a woman to not go down this road? Not everyone worries about whether they ate too much sushi, whether or not they've gained the average 2 pounds a year, whether they look like crap when they go to the grocery store when they're feeling less than amazing. I can overlook it, but it doesn't make it less irritating as a reader.

The book reads like a Malcolm Gladwell title in how it approaches weaving research and anecdote and in some ways, it reminded me a bit of Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project (which I loved). I think the audience on this one is adult women, but because Bertsche's relationship only plays into the story so long, it'll easily appeal to those who are married or single. The premise is friendship, and she doesn't stray too much from that. While walking away from the book didn't necessarily change my ideas about friendship nor relationships, it did further cement them a bit. I noted a few pages with passages and ideas I believed, including this one: "It can be freeing to have relationships built on exactly who you are at the moment [...] If it's a good match, you'll find that it wasn't actually necessary for you to have all those shared experiences." This is spot on.

Back to my original story: am I bummed to not have friends right here at my call in my new world outside college and grad school? Sure. But the truth is, what I get out of my friendships is worth more than the simple act of being able to walk to their house and share a drink. The real value is in something much deeper and something that transcends space and place, but you can never, ever go wrong simply being kind and thoughtful toward everyone, regardless of whether or not you are seeking a friend. You always get it back some how. I like to think every day I'm lucky for what I have when it comes to friends because they are worth more than their weight in gold. No matter what anyone says or tells you, they will always be as (and sometimes more) important than other relationships in your life.

I purchased a copy of this book.

The Girl Who was on Fire (Movie Edition) Giveaway

2012-02-11T11:47:00.000-06:00

With the Hunger Games movie just a month and a half away (not that there's a count down or anything), SmartPop books is re-releasing their anthology of essays on the series, The Girl Who was on Fire. This isn't just a reissue to come out with the movie; this edition contains new essays from authors like Brent Hartinger, Jackson Pearce, and Diana Peterfreund. Take a look at the other contributors, too. It's a powerhouse of current YA authors who know what they're talking about.

I'm looking forward to diving into this one, especially given that Janssen wrote about how much she loved the collection last year. What a great book to sink into before seeing it on the big screen.

Thanks to the generosity of Sarah Darer Littman, who contributed one of the essays in the book, we're giving away a copy here at STACKED. It's open only to US and Canadian residents, and I'll pull a winner on Feruary 29 -- in time for the winner to dig into this before the film.

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Guest Review: Paul Stenis on The Fourth Stall, Part II

2012-02-10T00:00:00.000-06:00

Last year, Paul Stenis -- a fellow Texas library school alum and kid lit writer -- stopped by to write up a review of Chris Rylander's middle grade novel The Fourth Stall. When we were asked if we'd be interested in reviewing the sequel, of course we had to go back to Paul and ask if he'd offer up his thoughts. He agreed! Without further ado, we welcome Paul back to talk about The Fourth Stall, Part II.

Chris Rylander’s sequel to The Fourth Stall, the aptly titled The Fourth Stall Part II, is a worthy successor to the original. Young readers again hang out in the head of Christian “Mac” Barrett, wily sixth grader, expert problem solver, and comic genius. This time Mac faces problems with more severe consequences, but the sense of humor is the same.

The novel opens when Trixie Von Parkway, a pretty, sharp-witted eighth-grade girl marches into Mac’s office in the fourth stall of the abandoned school bathroom. Not only is she demanding and kind of mean, she has a pretty big problem. One of the new teachers, Mr. Kjelson, always chews her out and gives her detention for no reason, and Trixie wants it to stop. Mac and Vince agree to take the case only to learn that 1) Mr. Kjelson is beloved to his students, 2) he loves their favorite baseball team, the Chicago Cubs, and 3) he coaches the school baseball team. The very same baseball team that Mac and Vince are trying out for.

If that weren’t enough, a new school administrator gets wind of Mac’s business and makes it his personal mission to take it down. Trixie’s stories no longer seem to add up, even as Mac and Vince find themselves competing for her attention. Could a dame like her come between our favorite pair of die- hard Cubs fans?

I found this review difficult to write because this book is so similar to its predecessor. Because of that, rather than in spite of it, I enjoyed this book just as much. I imagine that other readers will agree that the central joke—a sixth grader in a Godfather-type role, speaking with a Godfather-like voice doesn’t wear thin. Rather than returning to the well for the same jokes, Rylander grounds his humor in fresh situations, and that keeps both Mac and the reader on their toes.

If I have a complaint, it’s that Mac makes a poor decision in this book, a decision that leads to consequences that could have been more fully explored. I’m being vague to avoid spoilers, yes, but I think any discerning reader will do a double take and think, “Wait a minute. Mac wouldn’t do that.” It’s one of the only times in either book that Mac makes a mistake, so it feels like a missed opportunity when he’s let off the hook with only a few harsh words. On the other hand, maybe we’re seeing a new side to Mac’s personality—a side that Rylander can explore in a third installment. I hope so.

Review copy received from the publisher. The Fourth Stall: Part II is available now!

Childhood faves, grown-up disappointments

2012-02-09T01:00:00.000-06:00

I'm always a little trepidatious when I decide to re-read a book I loved as a kid. Will the magic still be there for adult me, or will it have disappeared with my childhood? Fortunately, most of them have held up for me: The Giver, Wizard of Oz, The Golden Compass, Harry Potter, On Fortune's Wheel... Every once in a while, though, I re-read a childhood favorite and it just doesn't hold up. Not only does adult me not love the book, sometimes I don't even like it anymore.

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

This is the strongest example I have of this phenomenon. How I wish I loved this book as an adult as much as I did when I was a kid. I re-read it as an assignment while an undergraduate, and it didn't even feel like the book I remembered. The story in my memory was much less piecemeal (the book now feels like more of a short story collection than a novel) and much less didactic. Alcott's narrative voice intruded so much it pretty much ruined the experience for me. As an adult, I felt like I was being taught lesson after lesson. None of that came through to me as a child, and I wonder just how oblivious I was at the age I first read it. It seems so overbearing to me now.

Forever by Judy Blume

I think almost all women who were teens after 1975 have fond memories of covertly reading this book. Perhaps it was hidden under your bed, or passed around at slumber party, or shared at the lunch table amid many giggles (in my case). A friend brought it to school and had dog-eared the interesting bits (one word: Ralph). The next natural step was to hunt down the book at the public library, which had it in the adult section at the time. (I looked it up in the library's catalog today, expecting to see that it had been moved to YA, but both copies are still in adult.) Honestly, it's not that racy, but it was certainly the raciest thing I had read so far. On re-read, I mostly just found the book a little dull. As an adult, I'm not into teen romances, and there wasn't much to hold my interest here. Plus, since I had read plenty of adult romances by the time I re-read it, the interesting bits weren't so interesting anymore.

These are my two most prominent examples. Other books I've re-read have been disappointing, but my opinion on them hasn't been reversed quite so strongly. And in both Little Women's and Forever's defense, I can remember why child/teen Kimberly liked them so much, and I can understand why they are important books.

Do you have any childhood favorites that failed to live up to your memories of them upon re-read?

White Cat by Holly Black

2012-02-08T01:00:00.000-06:00

I think one of the best things about participating as a judge in the Cybils this year is that I've read some good books I would otherwise not have picked up on my own. White Cat is one of those (its sequel, Red Glove, is a Cybils finalist).

Cassel Sharpe lives in a world where certain people have the ability to perform curses - death workers can kill people, memory workers can erase or modify memories, emotion workers can create false emotions in others, and so on. Curse working is illegal, which has led to the formation of a mafia made up of curse workers. Not all curse workers are bad people, but this mafia certainly does bad things, much like our own world's magic-free mafia does.

Cassel is the only member of his family who isn't a curse worker, and he's of two minds about it. He'd really like to distance himself from his family, almost all of whom work for the Zacharov crime family, but at the same time, he wants to be accepted by them, which he's sure will never happen.

Cassel's lack of ability isn't his biggest problem, though. No, that would be Lila Zacharov, Cassel's best friend and the daughter of the crime boss. The problem with Lila is that Cassel killed her - on accident, of course. His two older brothers covered for him, but as you can imagine, Cassel is more than a little torn up about it.

So that's the background, and I feel like you get the gist of what the story is like if you know at least that much, plus the fact that this is, at heart, a story about con artists and their cons. I've always loved stories about con jobs and heists and other trickery where the reader roots for the lawbreaker. More than anything else, they are just plain fun, and sometimes that's just what I need in a book. (Ally Carter's Heist Society books are great for this.) The characters are untrustworthy, the cons are creative and clever, and the story is fast paced. All three of these things put together means that there's always a surprise lurking behind the next page.

Combining a con story with magic works well in White Cat. It's one of those stories where I didn't feel like the magic was a cheat to get the characters out of scrapes. In many cases, the magic could actually make things worse. One of the most important aspects of curse-working is the blowback:a curse-worker performs a curse, and a part of that power rebounds back at the caster. Magic backlash is certainly not a new concept, but I like how Black implemented it here, particularly with the death workers. (Cassel's grandfather, a death worker, is missing fingers.)

It reminded me a little bit of All These Things I've Done - fictional mafia, a hint of the fantastic, and the teen caught up in it - but White Cat is more overtly a fantasy. The stakes also seem a bit higher in White Cat. Obviously I can't say too much without giving things away, but I can say that Black is not afraid to let her good characters do bad things, and this includes Cassel. (Her bad characters and her neutral characters do bad things too, naturally.)

I wouldn't call the writing outstanding, but it does the job of telling the story and gives Cassel a good voice - I believed him as a teenager in that position, and I appreciated his self-deprecating, gallows-esque sense of humor.

There's a pretty big worldbuilding hole that another reader pointed out to me after I had read the book. I can't share it without spoiling a major plot point, but I will say I was completely oblivious to it until I was told about it. Which is not to say it's unimportant; worldbuilding is always important in a fantasy novel. But it certainly doesn't ruin the enjoyment.

Books, Reading, and Pinterest

2012-02-07T00:00:00.019-06:00

If you spend any time on social media at all, you know that Pinterest has captured the attention of a lot of people. It's even had an entire series of posts written about it up at readwriteweb (read through all of the links -- Pinterest grabbed a lot of attention over at rww). Tracey Neithercott's talked about how she uses Pinterest for writing inspiration, while Whitney over at Youth Services Corner has talked about using Pinterest for youth programming idea inspiration. Oh, and a little news site called CNN's talked about Pinterest being the hottest website of 2012.

I stumbled upon Pinterest last summer and used it as visual bookmarking and little more. I made up boards for recipes I wanted to try, boards for program ideas I'd like to try out at the library, some DIY stuff for myself, and more. I'm very much a visual person, so actually being able to SEE all of these bookmarks visually excites me. You can install a pinning button right onto your browser, so when you open up a blog post with a recipe that interests you, you can click the button and pin it without having to toggle between a number of different tabs.

Being that Pinterest is a social network, you can follow people whose pins interest you (and you can choose to follow specific boards of those people, rather than everything they pin). You can also choose to browse through the things everyone using Pinterest has pinned.

Pinterest thrives on the principle of discovery -- the whole purpose of a site like Pinterest is that it leads to spontaneous finding of things you didn't know you were looking for. It's similar to how if you wander into a library and stumble upon book displays. You're browsing without a clear goal in mind, and you're picking up things along the way you didn't know you were looking for. This is fundamentally different from, say, Google, where you have to actually use the site with a goal in mind. You're not going to stumble upon a recipe or a youth programming idea without first putting a specific keyword search into Google, but on Pinterest, you can. Whether or not you know it, the internet's moving more toward this discovery model of information retrieval, and sites like Pinterest are doing a good job making it happen.

For a long time, I avoided putting any of my own stuff up at Pinterest. It felt totally self-indulgent to create boards about, say, my book lists here at STACKED or create boards about books I love. Pinterest never seemed like a site about me, and I'm always on the fence about self-promotional stuff. A few months back, I discovered I could see what other people on Pinterest were pinning from the blog, and it was amazing to see people were actually saving things from STACKED (anyone who runs a website or blog can find out too -- just swap out stackedbooks.org from that link and input your own site address). You can also see on your main Pinterest page what items from your own boards people have "repinned" onto their boards.

I've watched people like Leila use Pinterest to develop boards about book awards and book lists and link to their relevant reviews, and I started thinking about how Pinterest boards about books reminds me visually of a book display. Then I got to wondering what the potential spread of pinning books could be, given that all the things I pin will move to the main page and anyone who uses Pinterest can see these things. It was time to test this out.

Not everything I read ends up being blogged about here, but everything I read I do record on GoodReads. When I end up writing a review for STACKED and it posts, I head over there and link it. I decided in my grand experiment to use my personal GoodReads reviews as the pins.

I created three book-related boards: 2012 Books Read, Favorite books (must reads), and YA Booklists. The first two lists relied entirely on my GoodReads review links, while the final list was made up of the book lists I've made for our "Display This" series. With each list, I linked to a cover image and wrote a very short blurb about each of the books I included -- I literally wrote the title, the author, and a quick reaction or thought on the title (if it was in the favorite books category). There is space, of course, to write a lot more about each of these items, but my goal was simply to see what kind of immediate spread these pins would have and whether it was worth pursuing this down the road.

After less than an hour, let me just say I am impressed.

This is only a snapshot of the activity other people have had with my Pinterest boards, but take a look at it for a second. In under an hour, my pin of Courtney Summers's This is Not a Test garnered 10 repins and a number of "likes" (which, I'm not entirely sure what that DOES in Pinterest, but there it is). None of the people who repinned that pin are people who I follow or who follow me. My pin of Truman Capote's In Cold Blood captured 5 repins in the same time frame, and about 75% of the books and book lists I pinned were either repinned or earned a "like" from people with whom I have absolutely no relation. In under an hour. You don't see that kind of response on a site like GoodReads because GoodReads, unlike Pinterest, is more dependent upon the search method of use. Your friends can see what you're reading and reviewing, but not ALL of GoodReads can as easily as ALL of Pinterest can. The ten pins my original pin of the Summers book refer only to my original pin; it's possible and quite likely that those ten people encouraged ten more pins, increasing my reach much, much beyond my own pin.

Let me repeat: in under one hour, the books I pinned into three different boards captured the attention of Pinterest users I have no relation to whatsoever. They found my pins through the main Pinterest page, and they were interested enough to save them and comment upon them. Now they've saved a link to not only a book cover, but also they have a link to my book review. I'm able to drive interest not only to the material at hand (the book), but also my own commentary on the material at hand.

I'm going to say that I expect these things to spread further over the next day or two, the next week or two, the next month or two, and they'll continue to spread as long as people continue to use Pinterest as a tool of spontaneous discovery. If my goal as a book blogger is to spread the word about books (and simultaneously get people to read my opinion on these books), then I'm sold on the two seconds it takes to add my reviews to Pinterest, as well as the other places I post them. I'm reaching an entirely new and different audience -- one that doesn't necessarily engage with book blogs -- and I'm able to pique the interest of new readers. I'm already thinking about the possibilities when it comes to things like the "So You Wanna Read YA?" series and how pinning those posts onto Pinterest can lead new readers to YA books (because it targets many of them specifically).

For what it's worth, Pinterest is invite-only, but it's easy to track down people who can hook you up with an invite -- I've apparently got an unlimited supply as an early adopter. It's a potential time suck in terms of finding content, but that's the entire point (and it makes me smile when people talk about spending all day on Pinterest because that's the entire principle behind a web discovery tool like it). There is a lot of junk to wade through on the site, especially if you wade through everyone's pins, rather than just those pins or boards of people you follow. But you can make this site work for you and for the books you want to promote.

Rather than leave you on that note and encourage you to think about using it if you're into books, I'll give you some straight up ideas for how to use it. Why not develop a board of your favorite books? You're creating a content-controlled favorite list and it makes it easy for other people to find potential "best" books and repin for their own sake. Why not develop book lists on specific subjects? I could see the value in having it become added or enhanced content for a blogger or as a way to gather material for a blog post. I'm toying with developing a series of boards about contemporary YA fiction that feature specific thematics (to go along with my database project). Whether or not people follow the boards wholly, there are people who will still find new books through the pins.

You could pin books that feature certain cover elements that are all the same (sad girls in pretty dresses, the almost-kiss face, covers that are all yellow, etc). You can pin books that pique your interest from other bloggers and generate interest that way. You can take a page out of Leila's book and pin your reviews of award-winning books or use Pinterest as a way to keep yourself on track in different reading challenges or goals. You're not only reaching your followers on Pinterest; you're reaching potentially everyone who uses the site. Another bonus -- at least in my experience -- is the setup of Pinterest also seems to make images appear higher within the Google image search algorithm, meaning you may also be reaching people via traditional search methods.

If you're on Pinterest, I recommend spending a little time thinking about how you could use it to further spread the word of good books. And if you're not on Pinterest, I highly encourage you to consider it, whether for personal pinning or for the ability to discover a wealth of new things. I think the potential ability for not only bloggers, but authors and publicists, to utilize the service is wide, as well. All it takes is a little time and creativity.

When the book just does it better

2012-02-06T00:00:00.021-06:00

Before I dive in -- this post contains spoilers, but they're pulled out and there is adequate warning beforehand. You won't have the story or the point ruined if you don't want it to be!

I think I've talked before about my enjoyment of dark things, and it's probably pretty obvious given the books that really stand out to me tend to go to very dark places. I don't tend to shy away from horror nor gruesome things, either in print or on screen.

Back in October, I picked up Susan Hill's The Woman in Black. The writing in this one was deliciously creepy, haunting, and left me with chills. Hill captured atmosphere well in this novel. Atmosphere for me is sort of a nebulous idea -- you can't define it particularly well, but you know it when you read it -- and it's the atmosphere of Hill's novel that makes it a book you don't read in the dark (or you do knowing what the consequences will be). I became increasingly invested in this story the more I got to experience the woman in black; she crept into those places that almost made me a little jumpy.

The Woman in Black is a short book, clocking in at about 150 pages, but the story isn't necessarily easy nor is it cut and dry. It's a true thriller in that it leaves you with more questions than answers, and Arthur Kipps, the main character, only furthers the reader in asking questions. He doesn't know what's going on, and we, as outsiders, know a little more than he does but we can't even be sure what we've figured out is true or simply buying into what other characters have told us. It's a book you experience, rather than read.

I bought every word of this story until the very end, where I felt let down and disappointed with the resolution. That's not to say Hill didn't nail the ending because she does. It's unsettling. Scary. But as a demanding reader, as one who'd been along for the ride, I didn't like it. (For those looking for the spoiler-free version, skip the next paragraph).

When I read this, I saw Arthur as the first truly sympathetic character the woman ever had in her life. He'd spent the time to get to the truth of her story, the truth of why she lost her child. He wanted to put them all to rest in the proper way, and he approached this with a sort of respect no one else would give her. Despite how she treated him, he cared enough to make it right. At the end of the book when things look like they're all right and like Arthur can resume his life as it had been prior to Eel Marsh House, she strikes again, and it's not pretty. The conclusion, of course, being that no matter what, the woman was going to continue seeking revenge. It didn't matter what happened or who tried to set it right. Evil won't rest.

I felt disappointed because I'd become invested in Arthur. I wouldn't say the ending ruined the book for me because it didn't, but it made me think a lot about how that particular plot point could play out on the big screen. I've watched a fair number of horror movies, and this particular book struck me as one that might translate scenes like the last one better. Enhance them, even.

This weekend, I went and saw Daniel Radcliffe play the role of Arthur Kipp in Hill's novel. I wanted to settle this battle with myself.

As a movie, I think this did a pretty good job. I haven't seen the original film production -- something on my to-do list if I can track it down -- but I have to say, I was impressed enough. Radcliffe delivered in his role as Kipp, and I thought Eel Marsh House was rendered quite true to the story. This isn't a gore-filled horror movie, and a lot of what made the audience jump came through what I thought were fairly cheap shots. They were effective, but they didn't do much for me as a viewer who'd read the book. I think this is the kind of movie perfect for those who want to like scary movies but don't. It might induce a nightmare or two, but it's not going to psychologically ruin anyone who sees it.

I found myself paying much more attention to the atmospheric elements I'd been drawn to in the book; I didn't find them quite there, but they were there enough. Seeing the woman in black was much less eerie than reading about her, and picturing how Eel Marsh House looked in my mind left me with more chills than actually seeing it on screen. Words, I think, are more powerful and frightening for me because they put the story right into my imagination, and I have to pull from my own experiences and ideas to depict these things. That is sometimes where true darkness lies. Having someone else's image on screen depicting something counter to what I've envisioned can sometimes be a let down. So for me, there was much less impact visually than there has been upon reading Hill's story on paper.

But the real let down for me, and the thing that left me wanting to write about this, was the change in the ending. As before, the next paragraph is spoiler, so skip it if you don't want to know.

The film's ending is more abrupt than the book's. In the book, Arthur gets the opportunity to travel back to London and resume his life pre--Eel Marsh House. Things look like they're resolved and like peace has been achieved, but then the woman strikes again. In the movie, though, Arthur never gets the chance to go home. Instead, when he gets to the train depot for his trip home, he sees the woman at the station and his son marches toward the oncoming train. Arthur dashes to the train to save his son, and in the process both he and his son die. It's not entirely different in terms of what the resolution says, of course. The message being that the woman won't rest. But -- and this is a big but -- in the film, Arthur is reunited with his deceased wife after the impact. She is, of course, representative of the angelic, of peace, of everything being okay. The ending here is ultimately redemptive. Even though the woman in black gets her revenge, it doesn't matter because Arthur's back with his dead wife and with his son. They're going to a better afterlife. So the woman, as much as she thinks she's in power here, isn't in power. Instead, it's Arthur's wife.

I left the theater frustrated and maybe even a little bit angry. I wanted the ending to tell me more about what I couldn't get from the book, but instead, I got something entirely different. Something that felt polished and clean. Of course, it made the story much more appealing to a broad audience. That's not to say that in and of itself is problematic, but I felt myself thinking about the book.

It's been months since I read Hill's book, but I've considered rereading it. I think I liked it much more upon seeing how the story played out on screen. I think I've bought the ending a lot more, and I think I appreciated it on a whole new level after seeing how it was skewed on film. While these cinematic choices fall upon film makers and producers to tell the story how they see it, it wasn't the story I read. It wasn't the story I wanted to see on screen, either. I never expect a perfect adaptation on screen.

Walking away from a sanitized film version made me like the book on a new level -- one I didn't consider beforehand. The appeal on the film is much higher than the book itself, but that almost makes the book more for me. Knowing it doesn't pull a punch at the end makes me appreciate it that much more. It's darker, it's scarier. It's more haunting. I think it comes back to the fact I rely on my own dark places to put together the meaning, and the places where I can go are much darker, much less settled.

And thinking about it, I love the ending of Hill's book. It was spot on. It was right. It was atmospheric.

I'm not a big book-to-film watcher, and I think this might be one of the first times I walked away from watching a book put on screen where I felt the book was cheated by the film. Reading is an intensely personal activity, and even if we talk about it, even if we blog and review the things we've read, it's still a personal experience and what you take away from it comes only from what you bring to it (intellectually or through curiosity). Film, on the other hand, is much more about what the producers bring to you. It's their interpretation of story. And while you can bring your own to it, it's never quite the same. You're sharing in a story with other people on many, many levels.

But I'm curious -- are there other books-to-film out there you've felt this way about? Or if you've seen and read The Woman in Black (or only seen or only read), I'd love to hear your thoughts, too.

In my suitcase: ALA edition

2012-02-05T16:27:00.001-06:00

I'm not going to talk about the things I've already talked about. Instead, I'm going to talk about the books I picked up at ALA Midwinter. Organized by publisher and publication date, along with links to GoodReads and any other relevant information. If you've read any of these, I'd love your thoughts on where I should start.

Bloomsbury Walker

Shooting Stars by Allison Rushby (February 28, 2012): This book looks like it'll fit perfectly into a book list on photography.

The Mapmaker and the Ghost by Sarvenaz Tash (April 24, 2012): Sarvenaz has stopped by STACKED before to talk about this middle grade novel, so I was really excited I could pick it up.

Small Medium at Large by Joanne Levy (July 3, 2012): Another debut middle grade.

Candlewick

Ruby Redfort: Look into My Eyes by Lauren Child (March 2012): This one's by the author of Charlie and Lola (the books which inspired the tv series).

Froi of the Exiles by Melina Marchetta (March 2012): Marchetta and I have an interesting relationship. One that can get a little violent maybe. But I liked Finnikin of the Rock enough I am eager to dive into the second installment of the series. I'm not a big fantasy reader, but Finnikin worked for me, and I'm eager to see what Froi does.

Long Lankin by Lindsey Barraclough (July 2012): The publicist sold me on this one with the words "Do not read this at night." It's a horror novel and looks completely up my alley.

Disney Hyperion

From What I Remember . . . by Stacy Kramer and Valerie Thomas (May 2012): If I'm remembering right, this one was kind of compared to The Hangover but for teens. Which doesn't mean much to me, since I wasn't a huge fan of that movie.

Sway by Amber McRee Turner (May 2012): Another middle grade debut. I saw this one buzzed by a number of teachers I respect.

Rebel McKenzie by Candice Ransom (June 2012)

Lucky Fools by Coert Voorhees (July 2012): This one's by the same author as The Brothers Torres, for those of you who know that one!

Flux

In Too Deep by Amanda Grace (available now)

Mercy Lily by Lisa Albert (available now): I've been curious about this one for a while not just topically, but because Lisa's a local author to me.

Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Illuminate by Aimee Agresti (March 2012): This one's a debut and the start of a series.

Radiate by Marley Gibson (April 2012): I don't know why I pick up cancer books, knowing how much I don't care for them. But this one sounds like it offers a bit more than the cancer plot. This is the author of the Ghost Huntress series, for those familiar with that one!

The Springsweet by Saundra Mitchell (April 2012): I really liked the first book in this series, The Vespertine. It's historical and magical with great writing.

First Comes Love by Katie Kacvinsky (May 2012): I feel like there's a post coming soon about 2012 covers featuring the almost-kiss.

Invincible Microbe by Jim Murphy (July 2012): So where I can't handle cancer stories, apparently I'm a fan of tuberculosis stories. This non-fiction work looks like a winner.

Harper Collins

Kiss Crush Collide by Christina Meredith (available now): This one's gotten comparisons to Simone Elkeles, who writes the kind of romantic tension I really like. Not to mention those books are impossible to keep on the shelf. This is a debut novel.

Black Boy, White School by Brian F. Walker (available now): Another debut novel. I talked about this one over at The Hub last month, and I was excited to see it at ALA.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth (February 7, 2012): This is another debut, and I just finished reading it this morning. It's a story of grief and sexual awakening. Longer review to come. This is a tome at nearly 500 pages.

Cruising Attitude by Heather Poole (March 6, 2012): This is an adult non-fiction about life as an airline attendant. I love these kinds of books, and as someone who prides myself on being an easy airline passenger, I've got a perverted curiosity about those who just aren't.

Jake and Lily by Jerry Spinelli (May 5, 2012): It's Jerry Spinelli, middle grade staple.

Never Fall Down by Patricia McCormick (May 8, 2012)

Macmillan (imprints)

The Hunt by Andrew Fukuda (May 2012): This one was sold to me at the book battle between Sterling and St. Martin's Press. Looks like an adventure.

The Year of the Beasts by Cecil Castellucci and Nate Powell (May 2012): I think this book is near the top of my most-excited-about pile. It's part prose and part graphic novel.

Penguin

The Catastrophic History of You & Me by Jess Rothenberg (available now): Another debut author!

There is No Dog by Meg Rosoff (available now): The publicist at Penguin, who was so eager to talk books with me, said this was one of her favorites of the season. And it looks totally up my alley.

Beneath a Meth Moon by Jacqueline Woodson (February 2012): I heard Woodston read a bit from this at Anderson's in September, and I'm eager to have a copy of it now.

The Disenchantments by Nina LaCour (February 2012): I've read this one already, and it's an interesting story told from a male point of view. It reminded me a little of Gayle Forman's Where She Went.

Amelia Anne is Dead and Gone by Kat Rosenfield (July 2012): Of all the books I've picked up, I think this is the one I'm most looking forward to. It's a contemporary mystery/thriller of sorts. This is Rosenfield's debut novel.

Random House

The Mighty Miss Malone by Christopher Paul Curtis (available now)

Sisters of Glass by Stephanie Hemphill (March 27, 2012): This one's by the author of Your Own, Sylvia, and it's a novel in verse.

Happy Families by Tanita Davis (May 8, 2012): Siblings are THE trend this year, if you read through the descriptions of the books I've linked to. But this one looks at coming to terms with a family member's life choices and how they impact you as a teen.

Scholastic

Curveball: The Year I Lost My Grip by Jordan Sonnenblick (March 2012): I really like Sonnenblick's writing, and after hearing him perform this one at the Scholastic preview, I'm even more excited for it.

Take a Bow by Elizabeth Eulberg (April 2012): Eulberg's third novel will be the third novel by her I read. It's also one about the performing arts.

Simon and Schuster

The Pregnancy Project by Gaby Rodriguez: This one's out already and it was the story which inspired the Lifetime film.

Waiting by Carol Lynch Williams (May 2012): Williams's Glimpse was her first novel in verse, and I really loved how her writing worked with the format. I'm looking forward to seeing her do this again.

When You Were Mine by Rebecca Serle (May 2012): This was a direct sell from the publicist. It's a twist on Romeo and Juliet.

A Certain October by Angela Johnson (August 2012): This looks heartbreaking and I trust Johnson will do it very well.

A non-related update I thought I'd throw out just because. Kim, Jen, and I have been working really hard on a feature that we'll begin posting once a week starting in April. Part of me wants to keep it very quiet and let it be a surprise, but I can't.

Over the last few months (years, really, but months in particular), I've been asked repeatedly by people where to begin when it comes to reading YA fiction. I have my go-to lists, but it's a question that can be interpreted a million different ways, and so I thought I'd reach out to a variety of folks in the ya world to weigh in on. We've got not only our posts, but we're collecting posts from other bloggers, librarians, teachers, authors, and editors in the field, in hopes of offering a really diverse and interesting look at the question of where to begin reading YA fiction. The response has been overwhelming, and the posts we've already seen have been outstanding. Keep your eyes peeled.

Exciting News

2012-02-05T12:32:00.000-06:00

It's always weird to think about myself as knowledgeable about anything in particular. I write things down to think through them, to consider them, to speculate about them. That's what got me interested in blogging about books in the first place.

But yesterday I got some news that made me feel like maybe -- just maybe -- I am actually pretty knowledgeable about something in particular.

I'll be presenting at this year's YALSA YA Lit Symposium in St Louis, Missouri on the topic of contemporary YA fiction and why it's going to continue to be the future of young adult lit. It's the second time I've been selected to talk about this topic on a national conference stage. As thrilling as it was the first time, the time frame for the presentation was only 15 minutes. It's challenging to cram everything important, everything you're passionate about, in such a small window of time.

At the Symposium, I'm not only getting an hour of time, but I'm getting to split that time with colleagues I admire. Sharing my passion for contemporary ya lit along with Angie, Katie, and Abby is something I never really envisioned, something I never thought could or would happen. Sharing my passion with other fervent fans of young adult literature at a conference ALL ABOUT young adult literature -- it's mind-blowing, really. But here it is.

Looking through the roster of other presenters fills me with an unmatched sort of excitement. That I get the chance to be talking at the same conference as people I've admired in the field for so long is thrilling. More, though, is the knowledge I'll get to take away from listening to what they have to say on topics ranging from transmedia to dystopia to genre bending. I can only hope people walk away from my contemporary session with a morsel of what I suspect I'll walk away with from their sessions.

So all of this is to say -- if you're able to go to St Louis for this event, come! This is a conference all about young adult literature. It's a professional event meant to education and enlighten about nothing BUT ya lit.

November feels very far away, but I suspect spending these next months diving wholly into contemporary ya lit will make the wait a little bit easier.

A Trip Down Memory Lane

2012-02-03T00:00:00.000-06:00

Recently, my librarian friends and acquaintances have made me think seriously about children's book award winners. More specifically, I've been thinking about how the Newbery winners and honors appeal to kids. The general consensus seems to be that they don't. But of course that's not entirely true - different books appeal to different readers. And I believe that this year's crop of Newbery winners and honors, while not particularly appealing to me, are well-crafted books that will find an audience among kids who appreciate that craft.

I decided to go take a trip down memory lane and see which winners and honors I loved as a kid. I was surprised by how many there were. Of course, many of them were required reading in school, but many I picked up on my own and loved without any pushing from an adult. Below is just a smattering of those, in chronological order. Warning: You won't find Charlotte's Web on the list. Sorry.

Please feel free to weigh in and tell me which Newberys you loved as a kid, and which get appreciation from kids (or just one kid!) at your library.

Indian Captive: The Story of Mary Jemison by Lois Lenski

Honor, 1942

I got this one at a Scholastic book fair in 6th grade. My mother told me I could choose a book and she'd buy it for me. I couldn't decide between this one and another book about a disappearing bike shop (I'm pretty sure it was this one). Happy ending: she bought me both, and I loved them both, and I didn't even know Indian Captive was a Newbery until I was an adult.

The Witch of Blackbird Pond by Elizabeth George Speare

Winner, 1959

I was one of those kids who loved historical fiction. (When I found Ann Rinaldi in middle school, I was in book heaven.) I was especially fascinated by the Salem witch trials, so this was a natural draw for me.

Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell

Winner, 1961

Before I read this one, my only experience with survival stories was Hatchet, which I nearly loathed. Island of the Blue Dolphins saved the genre for me. I loved stories about resourceful girls and O'Dell's writing seemed so beautiful to me at the time.

Up a Road Slowly by Irene Hunt

Winner, 1967

Historical fiction! Romance! A stern but loving aunt! Relateable problems! This was an all-around winner, and I read it at the perfect time in my life for it.

The Egypt Game by Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Honor, 1968

My fascination with ancient Egypt as a tween knew no bounds. This was a natural fit.

The Dark is Rising by Susan Cooper

Honor, 1974

I don't think I know a single person who loves fantasy who does not love this series. At the time, it seemed really similar to the Narnia books, which I also loved. (As an adult, I prefer Cooper.) Mention should also be made of The Grey King, the winner from 1976.

The Westing Game by Ellen Raskin

Winner, 1979

I loved everything about this book - Raskin's quirky writing, the very clever mystery, the fascinating characters. I read it aloud to my mother, and we kept a notebook so we could decipher the mystery as we read. It is far and away one of my best memories of my reading childhood. (It seems like this is out of print, which makes my heart break.)

Number the Stars by Lois Lowry

Winner, 1990

Historical fiction about the Holocaust was something I was just beginning to be interested in, and this book was a perfect fit.

The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle by Avi

Honor, 1991

Historical fiction, adventure, a strong girl heroine. This had my name written all over it.

The Giver by Lois Lowry

Winner, 1994

This is a cheat, since this one is almost universally beloved. But it's also very deserving of the award.

The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm by Nancy Farmer

Honor, 1995

This book was so awesomely strange to me as a tween, and I loved every page of it. It holds up well on re-read, I think.

The Midwife's Apprentice by Karen Cushman

Winner, 1996

Historical fiction, a mouthy girl protagonist, lots of talk about poop, some mild language that seemed incredibly scandalous to me at the time, plus the topic of midwifery (which also seemed pretty scandalous) all made this a winner. Mention should also be made of Catherine Called Birdy, an Honor book from 1995 - even better "swear words" in that one!

The Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

Honor, 1997

This book holds the honor of making me love it despite the fact that it has a male protagonist (something I avoided like the plague as a kid, usually). Great voice, fascinating fantasy story, and a hell of an ending.

Ella Enchanted by Gail Carson Levine

Honor, 1998

I'm pretty sure there is nothing not to love about this first (and still the very best) Cinderella re-telling I ever read.

This isn't even all of them. Would I have been exposed to these wonderful books if it weren't for the Newbery medal? Some of them, probably. But not all.

Twitterview: Matthew Quick

2012-02-02T00:00:00.007-06:00

I am so, so excited to share today's Twitterview with you -- Matthew Quick has stopped by to talk about his phenomenal forthcoming title Boy21, as well as a host of other topics including writing, reading, ice cream, and more. For anyone who has had the emotional connection with Matthew's stories and characters in the way I have, prepare yourself for this one.

And thanks to the generosity of Little, Brown, I also have a copy of Boy21 to giveaway at the end of the interview (US and Canadian residents only). Without further ado:

Pitch Boy21 in 140 characters.
It's about the Irish mob, outer space, and basketball. (It's also about friendship, love, choice, and the power to break a bad cycle.)

What inspired Boy21?
Playing street ball as a kid with brother-like friends. Losing touch with those people, because of the very different choices we made.

What should readers walk away with from Boy21?
I think all good stories help us to be better people. I hope (trust?) readers will find BOY21 to be a worthy story.

The stars play a big role in Boy21. Do you have a favorite constellation? Or maybe one that inspired your story a bit?
Used to look up at stars with a high school friend. Didn't know the names of constellations back then. Didn't matter, though. Helped a lot.

In Boy21 and Sorta Like a Rockstar, you write the voice of both genders authentically. Do you find one harder/easier/more interesting to write?
All characters--male and female--are hard to figure out. All people are complex. Writing in the female voice feels safer. Better mask.

I always ask this of male Twitterview victims -- what's your take on the notion that guys "don't read?"
I read! I'm a guy! I read in high school too. And this former English teacher taught many girl non-readers. #GuyReadersRepresent

You wrote a novel for adults before SLARS and Boy21. Why did you shift focus?
My first adult novel has a YA feel. Most of my characters struggle with the inevitability of adulthood. I still struggle too.

Speaking of the Silver Linings Playbook, it's being made into a film. What's the experiencing of seeing your story on screen?
Surreal. Amazing. Mostly surreal. (Felt very unsexy standing on the movie set next to People's Sexiest Man Alive Bradley Cooper.)

While it's unfair to play favorites, I'm going to make you. Which character among all your books is the one who speaks to you most? Why?
1-3 Is it unfair to say all of them? 2-3 I'd like to do therapy with Dr. Cliff Patel, sip green tea with Private Jackson, and stargaze with Russ and Finley. 3-3 Sometimes I wish Amber Appleton were my daughter.

Who or what do you write for?
For who: My wife. For what: Hoping to be the man she admires.

What was your most influential read as a teenager?
THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA? (Maybe the first book I felt I 'got' completely.)

Who are your top three writing influences?
Vonnegut. Hemingway. Camus. (Gao Xingjian, Murakami, so many more.)

Who do you believe is breaking ground in YA right now?
I hope I am! (Sara Zarr and A.S. King are my Little, Brown buddies. I respect their work much.)

What's the best writing advice you ever received?
Relax. Your best efforts can get in the way. Also, be the leaf in the stream.

What's your best writing advice to give?
Be authentically you. Figure out who you are and then be that person on the page no matter what anyone says.

What is your writing routine?
It's ever evolving. Work in progress. (Trying to get back to routine at the moment.) In two words: whatever works.

What gets you jazzed to write?
Whenever I can believe that writing truly makes a difference. That art saves the writer and the reader alike.

Do you have a writing soundtrack? Care to share a bit?
Can only write to instrumental. Paganini's Violin Concertos, Keith Jarrett's The Koln Concert, Yusef Lateef's Eastern Sounds, and many more.

What's next for you?
Just sold another (very different) (edgy) YA to my editor Alvina Ling at Little, Brown. I'm also writing an adult novel.

Favorite ice cream?
Ginger. (I like old-people ice cream. Pistachio. Coffee. Reminds me of eating dessert with my grandparents.)

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Cinder Audiobook Winner!

2012-02-01T17:39:00.001-06:00

Random.org has spoken, and the winner of the Cinder audiobook is Rachel of Writing on the Wall. Congrats, Rachel! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

~~Remember, you can still enter to win a copy of Audition by Stasia Ward Kehoe here. More giveaways are upcoming!~~

The winner of Audition is Kayla -- you've been contacted.

Check back tomorrow for new giveaways soon and thanks to everyone who entered!