Book Review: Jen Calonita's "Side Effects"

I was lucky enough to get a review copy of Jen Calonita's upcoming book "Side Effects." Full disclosure: I met Jen last year, when she came to the bookstore I worked at, to do a reading. She was so incredibly nice and friendly, and her YA books are fun to read, and well-written. "Side Effects" is about this 15 year old, Whitney, and her 4 siblings. Their mother died a year or two before, and their father disappeared a few months ago, which is when her brother came home from med school to help take care of his younger siblings. Whitney is on medication (as anyone would likely be, after that), but her medication has an odd side effect….it produces musical hallucinations, making a situation turn into a music video, almost. This got a little confusing in the beginning, and actually, I think the book would have been good without that. The storyline and characters were so well-developed that that element wasn't necessary. It added whimsy, but I think it would have worked regardless. The chapters are told from different viewpoints of the siblings, which gives the reader a really good idea of the environment and the dynamic in the family. I finished this in a day, because it was suspenseful, engrossing, and the characters were so real.

If you like this book, her other ones are just as great: the Belles series, and the Secrets of my Hollywood Life series are my favorites.

white coat envy, again.

I went to the Strand last night to see Atul Gawande speak and read from his new book, Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End. Simply put, he single-handedly reignited my white coat envy. I have read all of his books, and like Jerome Groopman, he is one of those physician-writers whom I love, the kind of doctor I had envisioned I would be one day. Needless to say, my life took some detours and my path ended up different. Gawande has his MD and MPH, and is so down-to-earth. I got to ask him a question during the Q and A, and asked about his thoughts on the Death With Dignity Act. He gave a thoughtful, thorough answer, looking at me, making eye contact, and talking to me like it was just the two of us, he was that focused. I could see why patients would love him.

One thing gave me pause, though. Someone asked how he balanced everything - being a top surgeon, a nationally known writer, a New Yorker staff writer, public health, etc. He looked down, and said, "If you want to make a difference in the world, or be really really really good at something, you have to accept that it's going to suck up an incredible amount of time." He went on to say that he "steals" time to write, to plan, to do things. He also said he's probably not always the best husband, and that he's probably a "B" father, not an "A" father. "For instance, I'm missing my daughter's recital right now," he said. I appreciated his candor, and felt both admiration and sadness. I was glad to see he wasn't promoting the idea that yes! you can have it all! Because the sad thing is, you can't. Especially if you're a woman, it feels like. But I was sad because his book is about dying. He talked about how you want to live. And I wondered if, on his deathbed, he'll wish that he spent more time on book tours and writing, or that he went to more of his children's recitals. Will he wish he had sacrificed some media exposure to be an "A" dad, especially when his children are young? That's for him to decide. And maybe he won't, maybe he will be completely satisfied with his life decisions. That's not for me to judge. I know how important a career - especially one you love and are passionate about - can be a huge part of someone's life, someone's identity. But then I also wondered what would have happened if a woman had said what he said. What if a female physician had said to a crowd that she sacrifices part of her motherhood for her career, that she knows she's a "B" mother? I think she would be excoriated. She would be raked over the coals, torn down as a mother, seen as "cold" or unwomanly, bitchy, or unnatural.
I was told today that Helen Gurley Brown did not mention motherhood at all in her book "Having it All." Just something to ponder.

I am so thankful that I got the chance to see Dr. Gawande. His book is smartly written, the parts that I've read, and his storytelling draws you in because of his way of writing directly to the reader.

So many good books lately. I've been on a Virginia Woolf kick, and I'm trying to read the "classics" that I missed (and somehow, I've missed A LOT of them. Like, an embarrassing amount). But I haven't had much time to read, between writing for several websites, tutoring, and working for a writing/editing company. Which is good, but still. I guess when I'm recovering from foot surgery and still on pain meds (aka, not able to write coherently) I will get to read a lot. I'm being presented at Grand Rounds on thursday to the orthopedic team, since this surgery will be a doozy. Awesome.

Take Four

So. It looks like I will most likely be having a fourth surgery on my left foot. I called several doctors at HSS today and waiting for them to get back to me. Apparently I have two broken screws in my foot and "post-surgical changes." Awesome. I cannot even imagine what this corrective surgery will entail, or the subsequent pain and recovery. Not only will it be a repair of the bunion that has recurred, but taking out the screws and somehow fixing the mess that is my foot. At this point, I just hope I have a toe/foot left at the end of all this. I have a feeling this is probably the end of my running days. So much for doing soccer this fall.

Writing is going well. Exhausting. Freelancing is kind of like a never-ending race, because you're constantly looking for another project because you don't know when you'll need it. Add looking for a full-time job, and it's stress city. But that's pretty much the theme for my generation right now, I think.
Studying for doula training (Intuitive Doula) is going well. I've been working on the first Module and reading the books, and I'm pretty excited.

I just read Belzhar, by Meg Wolitzer. It comes out in September, and though it's categorized as Young Adult, I think it stands on its own as simply a novel for adults, too. I think it's one of my favorite books ever. Magical realism, Sylvia Plath, self-discovery, writing - it has it all, and it's done well.
FINALLY finished Infinite Jest. All 1079 pages of it. I'm not sure I can explain how I liked it, but the writing was excellent, and DFW was truly talented and a genius. Who knows what he would have done as the years go by.

THREE YEARS

DUDE. Things have been crazy busy. BUT - thesis is turned in. And ironically, three years ago today, I got the phone call that I was accepted into Columbia's MFA program. OH THE IRONY. Job interviews are happening. Life is happening. Editing gigs are happening. So keep your fingers crossed that things are panning out. And if I happen to (gulp) happen to stay in the Empire State, so be it. But at least I will earn enough money to visit my peeps in Chapel Hill often. :) The weather has been completely shitty. My LLBean boots have been getting so much use, not to mention my pink Dora Docs. Last friday I found a pair of red shiny Doc Martens on sale at Harry's Shoes for $29!!! You can bet I scooped those babies up. It made me so so so happy.

I spent a large chunk of change on an online class through LitReactor to take a class with Lidia Yuknavitch, but I can honestly say it's been worth every penny so far. It's a 6 or 7 week class, and when I say I've never been challenged like this before, I mean NEVER. EVen at Columbia, I have never had such thought-provoking, soul-searching, earnest lectures like the ones Lidia gives, not to mention the homework she assigns us. It's a real challenge. You can't bullshit your way though it. And my peers in the class? I am astounded by their graciousness, their sensitivity, and their tact on critiquing when something needs work. No egos here. No bloodbath like in an MFA classroom. Makes me wonder if I could have saved thousands of dollars and just taken class after class on LitReactor for two years and put together my own reading list during that time. But, what's done is done. I don't regret spending the money. And If - when - I get a full time job - I want to continue taking these online writing classes to keep my writing sharp. I didn't get to take fiction and poetry classes at Columbia, so these are a great way to expose myself to them. I am a lucky girl. And very thankful. Of course, I'm hoping my tax refund covers what I spend (and then some, which would be nice).

I've been loving my tote bags lately. I got a Strand x Kate Spade one. But I often find them a little too small. Maybe because I carry a ton of shit with me. Especially since I decided to start the behemoth of a book Infinite Jest. I mean, 1079 pages? Come on, DFW. I need two bookmarks for this bitch of a book - one for the story, one for the footnotes. It better be good. I have stacks of books waiting to be read. PLus job searching and apps, getting my manuscript written and finished for Rhonda, figuring out what I want to do with my life, hoping I don't become infertile in the next few years, you know, the usual.

Latest obsessions: tote bags, Alex & Ani bangles, bullet earrings, scarves, Docs, Our Lady of Guadelupe bracelets (and I'm Jewish, go figure), Kanken backpacks, naps, bracelets, Reading Rainbow

New Year.

Wow, it's been a while. I've been busy and stressed. I managed to read 318 books in 2013, which could either mean I'm a really fast, amazing reader, or I have no life. You choose. Winter break was good, I got to spend time in North Carolina and Chapel Hill, and as usual, I'm missing it like crazy.

There's less than two months until my thesis is due, and I've been busy doing some freelance editing, tutoring, book reviewing, and applying for jobs. Oh yeah, and reading, of course. :)  Something tells me that with all the work I have to do, and all the anxiety I have, that I won't be getting much sleep in the next two months. Or really, until I get a job. But, in the wise words of Scarlett O'Hara, "I won't think of it now. I'll think of it when I can stand it."

I read The Goldfinch at the end of last year, and loved it - I don't think there's any way the story could have been shorter, and still be that amazing. I'm reading Lee Smith's "Guests on Earth" right now, and though she can basically do no wrong, this book is especially wonderful. Set at Highland Hospital in Asheville, NC in the 1930s and 40s, it is a historical fiction hybrid, telling the story of a girl named Evaline who befriends Zelda Fitzgerald, who later died in the fire at the hospital. She also examines how, even back then, women who didn't conform - who were just too MUCH of anything - were seen as ill and needing to be reformed. I'm really loving it. I've also been reading a lot of the classics I missed out on - Brave New World, Lord of the Flies, etc. And I'm pretty much loving everything on Hawthorne Books' website.

So yeah. I'm still alive, sluggin' it out in NYC.

book review: The Mary Smokes Boys

So. It's been quite a while. I've been busy writing, fighting off colds and the general malaise that comes with turning the clocks back, etc. I've been reading a lot, too - my goal is to break 400 books by the end of the year, and I have a little more than 100 books to go.....

One of my favorite publishers is Hawthorne Books. Their books are a distinct rectangular shape, with heavy, thick, beautifully done covers with inside flaps, and they always smell good. Oh, come on - if you're a booknerd you KNOW you smell new books. But more than that, I can honestly say I have yet to read a Hawthorne book I don't like. The thoughtfulness with which they are chosen is clear. The writing is intelligent and fierce, the characters are vibrant, the memoirs are heartbreakingly beautiful. Really looking forward to allll the books coming out, especially "I loved you more" and Ariel Gore's memoir. I want to read ALL THE BOOKS.

I was lucky enough to get an advance copy of the book The Mary Smokes Boys, by Patrick Holland, which comes out early next year. The first thing I noticed about the writing is how lyric, how poetic it is. The prose dances on the page: "...He watched wet oats and feathertop glinting in the broken light..." This is a story about a brother and sister, Grey North and Irene North. Their mother died in childbirth and their father comes and goes and is a drunk. Mary Smokes is a small town, with many people working with horses. The book unfolds over years, following both Grey and Irene as they navigate growing up, and watching Grey protect his sister because there is no one else to do so. Each character in the book is so richly drawn that the layers of stories never feel confusing or like too much; rather, they pull the reader in and demand you become part of them. Without giving anything away, I can say that I was devastated at the end of the book. I did not see that plot twist coming, and had to put down the book for a minute because it was so unnerving. I wanted to stay with the Norths forever.

fall = frustration?

It's been a while since I've posted....life's been busy. My beautiful niece was born in late July, and I've been doing a lot of reading and trying to write. And honestly, I've been trying not to let customers get to me as much as they were. It's hard though. The lack of basic manners never, ever fails to irk me. I get very irritated. It takes two seconds to say "please" or "thank you." You gain nothing by being demanding or demeaning to a shop worker. I just don't get it.

There was a woman today who was not only condescending while looking for books, but when she went to pay, didn't like the manufacturer's sticker on the back of the book. We cover the price with our sticker, but she didn't understand that we couldn't take off the manufacturer's sticker because it would rip the cover of the book. She started getting irate, her daughter was like, mom, calm down. I said that I doubt the child would mind, and she got all huffy and said SHE would mind. Come on. It is a sticker on the back of a book jacket. In the grand scheme of things, this is nothing. Chill out. She even grabbed the book out of my co-worker's hands and I thought things were going to get physical. This woman was a trip. The daughter must have been used to this, because she hustled her mother out quickly.

Then - and I know I may get flack for this - there was the woman who came in wanting books on transgender issues for a second grader. My first thought was, hmmm, that's a bit young, no? I mean, we have "My Princess Boy" and all that, but my gut reaction is just, why bring this into childhood so young? Just let the kid do what they want and be a child for a bit longer. We had books for teens, but the mom voted them down. Okay, but if you're bringing that topic up, obviously you think your child is mature enough to talk about and grapple with this....so....I'm not sure what level you're looking for.

I just wish everything were simpler. Things seem like they were simpler when I was a kid. No "special topics" section, we read the classics, I went to a private school where everyone's parents wanted them to be successful but I don't remember anyone's parents pushing them like these parents do. And for Christ's sake, people, don't take yourselves so seriously! I mean, really. None of this is a life or death situation. I promise. Much of these are serious #firstworldproblems of the highest degree. I hate to break it to you, but no one outside Manhattan really cares about your child's 40k per year grade school. Most people probably think it's ridiculous. How did we get to this place?

the ugly side of smart.

(Identifying details have been changed, just so you know). Oh, you Manhatannites. Why do you make this so easy for me? Seriously. Tonight, at work, this older couple comes in. The woman looks high-maintenance, wears her sunglasses inside (maybe she doesn't know the sun's going down and um, we're inside), and they explain they came here this weekend and bought their 5-year old grandson 2 Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, but he already has them. And you know, the grandmother informs me, he's been reading since he's 2 -- self-taught, no less -- and he understands everything, so nothing is too hard for him. The grandfather was more realistic and realized that, hello, the kid is still five and not 15. As they're checking out, my coworker was talking with them, and the grandmother goes, "I just don't understand it. He got a 99 percent on standardized tests, not 100. His best friend -- who I don't think is really as smart as he is -- got a 98 and got into Collegiate, and he didn't. How could he not have gotten 100? Is that what they want?" My coworker explained that with standardized testing, a 99 percentile score means he did better than 99 percent of kids taking the same test, and it's not really feasible to get 100. Then the grandmother starts talking about how smart the grandson is -- did she mention he taught himself to read at only two years old -- and she just really wants to find out why he didn't get into Collegiate but got into Hunter, but of course they won't tell you, and she doesn't think they ask about reading because if they did, he would be in for sure. At this point, I believe my blood pressure was probably somewhere near 200/150 and I don't know what my face must have looked like. I couldn't actually believe what I was hearing. Remember -- THIS IS FOR KINDERGARTEN. They're talking about Kindergarten, and the gifted and talented programs for kindergarten. Can you imagine what these grandparents would be like about COLLEGE admissions? *shudder* I SO wanted to tell them that there's different kinds of intelligence, that the kid is only 5, for Christs' sake, that it's KINDERGARTEN, no one really cares where you go for it. And gifted and talented kindergarten? We've had this conversation before. Get over yourself. (The snark in me was all, yeah, well if he's so smart, why didn't he start kindergarten at 4, like me? BAM. kidding. I don't really care. Just being obnoxious to meet them at their level.). Eventually, they left the store, with the grandmother still talking her husband's ear off about how she really wants to find out why their grandson didn't get accepted to certain schools, and I'm sure he was tuning her out by then. I just turned and looked at my coworker, speechless. I literally could not believe what had just happened, that people like that actually exist. It was like The Devil Reads Scholastic. I hope this child has more supportive parents, healthier parents. My Lord.
She's going around dogging his best friend, saying he's not as smart as he is - when, clearly, he is - geez, woman. The kid is five. If someone ever disparaged my nephew over his struggles with reading, I would throw down in a hot minute.
This woman doesn't know the courage it can take for a kid to open a book.

I miss being with my nephew even more on days like this. When I talk to him on the phone and he tells me he wants me to come home so we can get another cat in the hat book, and then I have an interaction like this one -- such a stark contrast makes me so grateful for my life and my nephew. My nephew might not be reading fluently, but he has found a niche he enjoys, and I cannot tell you how happy it makes me when he asks if it's okay to read in bed. Or when he excitedly tells me he has a diary. Or when he wants to go to the "liberry." He has a heart of pure joy and happiness, and draws in everyone who meets him with his infectious lovingkindness. You can't learn that. And that's more important than any G&T program or standardized test.

Bram Stoker must have known Manhattan parents.

Today was Lindsay's memorial service. I didn't/couldn't go. I had work and didn't plan ahead to ask off and carpool up to Buffalo. Things have just been crazy insane, it feels like, between work, reading, writing, endless fatigue and daily life chores. It's hard to explain. It's been busy.

Manhattan parents, as always, have been a source of astonishment/frustration/disgust/and then some. Can someone, PLEASE tell me the point of smash cakes? They're exactly what they sound like. For a child's first birthday, it's a small cake the child SMASHES and mashes into their face and outfit, while everyone cooes over how cute they are. And people pay top dollar to have custom-made, expensive smash cakes. Then, a dad came into the store with a bag full of Eleni's cupcakes, all frosted and sparkly and personalized Happy Birthday-ed out -- at nearly $50 for a dozen, he had at least two dozen. And he picks up a picture book for the kid. I get that you want a memorable birthday. But if you're giving your daughter a picture book, do you think she gives a shit if her cupcakes are from Eleni's? Save yourself some money and go to Magnolia Bakery. Or - gasp - just get store-bought ones. Whole Foods actually has really nice ones. If you REALLY feel like roughing it, you could make them YOURSELF. Or have the nanny do it. Sigh. I just don't get it. And you - yeah, you, the mother who loads up on workbooks for her daughter so she "has an edge" on the other kids come September? Buying books that are a grade ahead to give her that "edge?" You keep going, and she's gonna fall off that edge. Take my word for it. Or not. But it won't be pretty.
And the babies and toddlers learning Mandarin. Another thing I don't get. Is this to trot them out as shoe ponies, showing how smart they are, that they are learning a super hard, culturally sophisticated language? Wouldn't, say, Spanish, be more useful? Hell, I wish I knew Spanish.
Then -- then -- I almost lost it this morning. This morning! Early! I hear banging and smearing on the front window - these kids are jumping and then smearing their hands down the front windows, and their parents are standing RIGHT THERE, looking at them, talking to them, seemingly having a normal conversation. Honestly, I was thisclose to walking outside and asking them to control their children. I just think that's complete disregard for other's property and outright disrespect. My parents would not have tolerated that behavior with my brother and I - we don't tolerate that behavior NOW, with Trey -- and he would never even think to DO that. I just am amazed at the entitled behavior of these little monsters sometimes. Really. It's like The Nanny Diaries, but multiplied a thousand times.

Then there are the sweet grandmothers who come in and I help them find books for their granddaughters, or we talk about the original Nancy Drew mysteries, and I tell them that I read them from my grandmother. Or the kids who are so genuinely mannerly and thankful for your help.....these are the rare ones. But it's nice when it happens.

I still really don't understand the need for multiple books about giving up pacifiers or diapers. I'm not sure how I feel about the AIDS books for kids in the "special topics" section. (when did we become a society that even needs a special topics section? My favorite title in this section is "No one wants a nuclear war." NO. SHIT.). Kid, you shouldn't even know what nuclear war IS.

But there are mixed messages. We do carry the Magic Fairies series, which is cute, I admit. There's a bunch - the Weather Fairy series, the Music Fairy series, the Sports Fairy series, the Color Fairy series. All is well and good until the fucking FASHION FAIRY series. Really? Do we really have to carry this? The Accessory Fairy? The BEAUTY Fairy? If you're going to tell me that it's so important to be progressive and have Meaningful Picture Books downstairs with Deep Messages, why do we have the Fashion Fairies? This causes way more anger than it really should.
Deep breath. I just figure my kid will get stuck with Madeline, Paddington, Corduroy, Dr. Seuss, PD Eastman, Berenstein Bears, Curious George, Eric Carle books, Beatrix Potter....classics. I don't need witty "word play" books or gender-neutral characters or whatever. If you do, more power to you.

They're kind of like vampires, Manhattan parents. They suck the life and energy right out of you. And most of my college classmates are these people. Lord help me.

again, people.

For the love of G-d. I just keep reminding myself to take deep breaths. Manhattan parents, I just cannot even. There was a father today with a little girl - she couldn't have been more more than four, five at the very, very most - and he asked for suggestions. So naturally, I suggested Fancy Nancy or Pinkalicious. Apparently she has all the Pinkalicious books already, and after looking at the glittery Fancy Nancy book, he said he doesn't want her to read more of "this stuff." Okay. I suggested Clifford, the big red dog. Nope, she has read ALL of those. How about Dr.Seuss? Yup, she's gone through those. All of them. Every single one. I suggested the Curious George series. The genius has read all of those. She's also read "The Velveteen Rabbit," every Madeline book, dad voted down "The Giant Dance Party" without even looking at it...get the hell out of here. If she's read every single one, get this girl a goddamn medal. He just wanted to get something so he could feel morally and intellectually superior so he wasn't buying a book about Caillou from Canada or a big red dog. The little girl would have been happy with anything. Although, really, she seemed pretty passive and didn't show attraction to anything but Pinkalicious when it was mentioned. What these parents don't seem to get is that no reading is in vain. You don't get  it, do you, people? Foster your child's interest. Make it fun. If they show an attraction to a book, take a look at it - don't dismiss it because it's not "intellectual" - if you show disdain, your kid will subconsciously pick up on that. Every time. Believe me. Even if they don't quite know what that feeling is.

There were maybe 3 or 4 kids who actually thanked their parents when they bought the books for them. It's sad when that's an anomaly. There were the few kids who were very sweet and said please and thank you and they were a joy, as were their parents. I wish there were more of them.

I know I sound crotchety and old, but seriously, the entitlement is just way too much. It's not even that - it's lack of basic manners and social skills. But what should I expect when parents actually don't even let the person in front of them put their change in their wallet before putting their own purchases in front of the person, practically forcing them out of the way. There are the parents who come up to the side of the desk while I am still helping the person in front of them - and they'll shove their stuff onto the table! Basic line etiquette, people. I thought we learned that in preschool, no? Or did we have to go to the gifted and talented preschool for that? Oh, snap. 

I also think maybe the whole competitive, driven academic thing is nagging me. I have been a gunner my entire life. Meaning I have been competitive in classes. Always doing the readings. Raising my hand. Honors classes. Honor Roll. Everything depended on it. And then in grad school, at UNC, everything depended on getting into a PhD program. And when I didn't, my entire world as I knew it dissolved. I had no idea who I was. I worked freelance and nannied for 2 years, and then applied to the MFA programs. At 30, I finally let go of the need to try and be the best. (and yes, I get the irony that I wound up at Columbia).  Maybe I've failed. Maybe I haven't. It's all in who's seeing the picture, I guess.

Another thing I don't get is this phenomenon of parents buying a gift for a child on the way to said child's birthday party. They have waited until they are en route to the party to get a gift. Making it essential that they get out of the store quickly. With the present wrapped. In the good ole' days, we used to go ahead of time and pick out a present, really take time with the decision, and then wrap it at home. I just don't understand this. Does this happen everywhere or just here? Is it a generational thing?

If I sound cranky, I am. I'm tired. I'm still not physically 100%. I have made absolutely no progress on my thesis because I'm always so tired or blah. My tremors are especially pronounced lately. My next appt is at the end of June, but what's the movement disorder dr going to do? There is no more medication to try. Klonopin dulls the tremors a little, but to see any real improvement, I have to take a full pill, which knocks me out, which does not bode well for taking it during the day. And it has a long half-life, so even if I take it at night, I have that "hung-over" and super tired feeling the next day, which is a bummer. And people, benzos are addictive substances. As Nancy Reagan taught me, "Just say no to drugs."

But parents, here's a gifted kid pro-tip: In the real world, people don't really give a shit if you're "gifted" or not. So along with buying whatever book you're buying, teach your child to say please and thank you. And I promise - promise - your child will not disintegrate if you tell her "no" to something. Hard as it may be to believe, it is, in fact, true. If you don't feel comfortable trying it at home, do it in a public place first, just in case.

what a day.

So.....staying in NY. Working (at a job I love, a kids/YA/teacher/parent bookstore), trying to write my thesis, reading a lot. My paternal grandmother passed away, making that three family members I have lost in less that a year and a half. Trying to find an angle into an essay on that. Still on one medication for tremors, at the lowest possible dose. I'm trying not to let the tremors interfere too much, but sometimes scanning things or in stressful situations they get bad. At least they did today.

Manhattan parenting....yeah. Getting an inside view. It's stressing me out, and I'm not even the kid. I don't know. I could never raise a child here. Parents are buying $50 books to get their children ready to take tests to get into Gifted and Talented Kindergarten. What could you possibly do in GAT kindergarten? Learn relaxation techniques during nap time? Meditate? And really, will that make a difference in your child's educational career path? I would wager a guess and say probably not. And honestly, if you keep pushing and pushing and pushing.....have you ever seen the movie "Little Man Tate?" Great example. A kid needs to know they're not *just* their achievements. They need to be allowed to screw up and read silly things and do messy projects and sometimes do things below their age level that they just love. A kid can only take so much pushing. Really. Because eventually, they'll internalize it and do it themselves, thankyouverymuch, and though this is good to an extent, if your self-esteem and identity is built around it, this can be not so great. Drive is wonderful, huge fear of failure is not.

Not every book has to Have a Message. Sometimes it can just be fun, like Pinkalicious. It's just important to instill a love of reading in the kid. Give the Intellectual Stimulation a break.
I read Madeline as a child and was not traumatized because she was an orphan.
I read Clifford the Big Red Dog and am not dumb because it's more "commercial."
I read the Berenstein Bears and am not morally deficient because they "don't always send the right message."
Christ, I read about Rainbow Brite and Strawberry Shortcake and My Little Ponies. I think I turned out okay. People are amazed at how much I read. This is why. Because I learned to love it at an early age. And, I happened to be good at it. It was/is My Thing.

If reading isn't your kid's thing or doesn't come easily, that's okay - my brother was/is an excellent artist and great with putting things back together. Not to mention he's much more logical than I am. Being smart manifests in all different kinds of ways. I wish I could remind some of these parents of that.

wrinkles in time.

I am sitting here on my bed, listening to Birdy, Ke$ha, and James Taylor on my iPhone, surrounded by books - ARCs, school books for the make-up classes I have next week, and books on childhood literature. There's also one I bought today that I keep picking up, running my hands over the shiny cover, and hesitate to actually start reading. The book is the 50th anniversary edition of Madeleine L'Engle's A Wrinkle in Time. I vaguely remember reading this as a young girl, and loving it -- yet I hesitate to start it again, as if by opening its pages, I'll open up a tesseract of my own. What is it about these books we love from our childhood that stay with us all these years? I remember wanting to sleep over in the museum after reading From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. I wasn't a huge fan of The Phantom Tollbooth, sad to say. I loved Scott O'Dell's Island of the Blue Dolphins. But what is it about L'Engle's book that is giving me such pause? It's just a book, Jaime, not a magical portal. I wonder if it will come back to me once I start reading it. This is the magic of books. This is why I want to be a writer.

everyone's a Napoleon.

wow. It's been a while. The last semester has been very busy, and I've taken some time to take care of myself. I've applied for a teaching fellowship here but am still applying to other jobs here and in NC, because I honestly don't know if staying in NY would be the best - or healthiest - option for me. I applied for a job at The Strand - and the rumors are true. There is a goddamn literary quiz on the application. A pretentious, obscure, eye-roll worthy lit quiz where you match up authors with their books. Authors like Gogol and Naipaul and McCullers and Ibsen. I think I got most of them, but really? You have got to be kidding me. THIS is what you are weeding us out with? There is a sign that says if they don't call you within a week of your application, there's not a spot for you there. Obviously, it's been like, three weeks, so the Strand evidently does not want me. FINE. I DIDN'T WANT YOU EITHER, SURLY BOOKSHOP PEOPLE. I like to smile at people and talk with customers, not act like I'm too cool for you and unless you're reading something totally obscure, can't give you the time of day.......like many people there seem to be. But I still go there, because the $1.99 ARCs are just unbeatable and the creaky wood floors and the smell of musty old paper makes me feel less alone and like I've found a home of sorts in this city of misery. Lately I have preferred books to people, because books don't form cliques and forget about you. Books don't act like assholes. I honestly think that even in a grad school environment, there is something about it that for some people, makes them revert back to middle school and it's like Mean Girls, redux. Using people when it's convenient for them, then casting them aside when they feel they've "moved up" in the social ranks. Fuck that, I'm not playing your game. Over it. Sometimes it is all I can do to go to class and smile and not breathe again until I go back to my apartment.

Art School Semester #3: Check.

This is it. I leave the city early tomorrow morning. I only have one semester of art school left. (Of courses, anyway - we have another 3 years to do our thesis, I plan on only taking one). I cannot believe the semester is over. In some ways this has trudged by - I remember the first day of school and thinking, "why are there so many first years in my classes?" because I didn't recognize anyone. And now we're making plans to workshop pieces, send book lists, hang out, etc. I had two amazing professors this semester, Eileen Myles (whom BUST magazine called "the rock star of modern poetry") and Rebecca Godfrey. Both had syllabi that introduced me to compelling new writers that broke the mold of the "literary canon" that's been full of dead white men. And the occasional mention of Virginia Woolf. And I felt more like an "artist" this semester than I have....ever, I think.

High Points of the Semester:
1. Having Eileen Myles as a prof and actually like, having conversations with her.
2. Meeting author Laurie Weeks (also mentioned in Hot Topic song and was a screenwriter for "Boys Don't Cry") and having her tell me to *trust myself*, even though you'll be told not to.
3. Reading. In public. With the rest of Eileen's class. We put it together at a gallery, had Bob Gluck come, Cecelia Dougherty was there (another Hot Topic mention), and we had a pretty big turnout, if I do say so myself. I was terrified, but I did it.
4. Becoming facebook friends and email buds with Lidia Yuknavitch, whose memoir is just so kick-ass-tastic and called Holden Caulfield a "whiny little bitch." ha!
5. Visits to the Strand.
6. Getting to know more first-years, who are a pretty great bunch.
7. Having two Australian roommates who are normal and not crazy and actually eat Vegimite.
8. My discovery of Old Navy performance fleece. Why did no one tell me about this before? Why wear anything else?

Low Points of the Semester:
1. Still trying to figure out thesis....illness/death memoir of aunt, Southern lit's influence on me.....we shall see. Maybe I will just write ALL THE THINGS.
2. All this medical stuff which has, as of right now, been diagnosed as Essential Tremor. It used to be called Benign Essential Tremor, but it is far from benign. It's a progressive neurological condition that causes, you guessed it, tremors. I have bad ones in my hands, legs, and a slight one in my head, that the neuro picked up. But my doctor is wonderful - he is one of those doctors that you really just want to thank for being who he is - never rushed, thoughtful, personable, treats you as a person.....too bad he's married. Cause I think he's Jewish, too. :(
3. Financial cost of living in NYC.
4. Dropping the famous J-school book seminar I earned my way into.
5. Having one of the meds my doc put me on have the same effect as Ambien does on me - I woke up the next day to a "thank you for your order" email from Old Navy that I had no recollection of. Thankfully, my medicated me simply did holiday shopping for other people's gifts. Practical, even when drugged.
6. My pre-Thanksgiving subway/cab/running adventure with a first year, Hal. It was like a bad holiday movie. The subway was held up, we got out and tried to get a cab, no luck, we're running through Penn Station.......yeah. He offered to hold my bag. He's quite the gentleman. But he's like, 22. A fetus.

I'm actually surprised there are more high points, because it's been a rough semester emotionally and physically, but I think the ET has had a lot to do with it. When you have a chronic condition but it's invisible, people think you're fine. No one would ever give up a seat on the subway for me, even though sometimes my legs shake very badly. (But I'd give it to an old person first). When I bail on events because I have to come home after class and nap because a two hour period of being "on" is exhausting, it's hard to explain that to people. Since we thought maybe it was MS in the beginning, I found a pretty cool group of young people on Instagram, Twitter, etc, who have MS. They completely understand when I feel like people think I have the DTs because I shake - because sometimes people think they're drunk if they slur or off balance. They understand the sheer fatigue that really no sleep can make better. And they have a wicked sense of black humor.

I have a lot to do over break. Write. Read. A lot. More. It was my goal to read 200 books this year; I've surpassed that and now am trying to hit 300, but I'm not sure it will happen. got some catching up to do.
good times.

Strand, I just can't quit you.

Yup, this year is definitely doling out an ass-kicking. I come home from class and either write for my job, read, or sleep. Lots of work this year, lots of writing....but then again, that's kind of the point, no? When things get me down, though - which has been a lot lately - I go to the Strand. Which is what heaven must be like, I think. Yes, it's touristy. But it's also 18 miles and floors and floors of books. Carts outside selling books for $1, $2, $3. And......this will be the death of me......they sell Advance Reader's Copies for $1.99. Yes. I found books that are coming out next year, that caught my eye on websites, for two bucks each. I left last week with 8 ARCs. For less than $17. I mean, come on - at two bucks, they're begging you to  buy them. :)

second-year slacker.

Okay, I've been really bad about updating. But let me just say, second year is kicking my butt, running me over, backing up and running me over again. Things just seem incredibly busy. I love it, but it's exhausting. And I'm writing for a NYC-based website, so I'm trying to get as much work done as I can for them. All this while still struggling with this ridiculous fatigue. It's rare that I don't take at least one nap each day. Which really lowers my productivity. Anyway. We'll see what happens.

I do miss North Carolina. There are days where the homesickness comes over me so quickly I gasp. But it's not a searing pain like last year. Maybe because I am holding out hope of getting a job down there next year? I am craving a Bojangle's chicken biscuit like nobody's business, let me tell you. But for now I will have to make do with Cheerwine.

My classes are amazing. This Tuesday, 2 classmates and I are leading a discussion of ZIPPER MOUTH for my genre class -- and the author is going to be there. Eileen (professor) goes, "oh, by the way, Laurie's a friend of mine, so she'll be joining us." I swear my jaw hit the table. No pressure or anything. but I'm super excited about it -- this is why I came here. I have a wonderful workshop group, and my anti-heroines class is awesome, plus I've been emailing with the author Lidia Yuknavitch about her books, one of which I'm doing a project on for that class. I kind of want to BE Lidia.

I've read some really awesome books lately. Vanessa Veselka's ZAZEN was a book I've been wanting to read for over a year now, and could never find it. My friend Carrie picked it up when she went to Powell's, in Portland, and sent it to me when she was finished. It is the most odd, most lyrical/magical/not-quite-dystopian/off-center book, and I loved it. Something about the writing kept me reading. It's about this girl Della, who had a breakdown in college a few years ago. While working in a cafe, she becomes obsessed with self-immolators, and starts calling in bomb threats to places. Except eventually, the places she once called or imagined calling, start being bombed or attacked. It's hard to explain. But it's worth a read. Wendy Lawless is having her publisher send me a review copy of her memoir that comes out in January, CHANEL BONFIRE. I'm super excited about it and am planning on reviewing it for the Columbia lit mag website. And of course, the newest BEST AMERICAN ESSAYS, 2012 edition. This essay collection is a great thing to read if you're a nonfiction writer. Some alums from Columbia were in the 2011 edition, and every year there's a different guest editor. I have yet to be disappointed in these anthologies.
Sheila Heti is coming to Columbia to lecture (as is AM Homes and Mary Karr - HOW PSYCHED AM I????), so I read her newest book, HOW SHOULD A PERSON BE?. It's gotten rave reviews for being experimental, edgy, genre-bending......and I had to force myself to finish it. It's a novelized memoir of sorts that combines stream of consciousness, playwriting style, etc, and basically explores the question of how should a person be - especially if they are an artist. I don't know. Something about it felt forced and overly self-conscious, almost like Heti made the decisions she did with the idea of being "edgy" in mind. Or being transgressive. Not to mention it felt immensely pretentious and self-absorbed. (Yes, I get that memoirs are generally self-absorbed on principle, but there's a wrong way and a right way of doing it). So I guess I'll go to her lecture, if only to hear this darling of the young literati talk about her process. I just wish I enjoyed her book more. Maybe I'll try her short story collection.

And on another note, my ten year college reunion was this weekend. I'm old.

just another Saturday morning in the city.

I went to the Strand today for the first time since my aunt died. I only note this because the last time I was there was when I got the phone call that she was in the hospital, and to quote my dad, it was "the beginning of the end." I haven't been back since. Until today.
I know it's a tourist trap. I know it's somewhat kitchy. BUT. BUT. It is Heaven. 18 miles of books. Books from floor to ceiling, marked down in price, some as low as five dollars. Outside, books for $1, $2, and $3. In fact, I got a book I've been wanting for only $1 today. And the writing "seminar" tote for $4. My favorite is the downstairs, where they have the medical books, memoir, literary nonfiction and so forth. I like the tables on the main floor, and I admit, the tote bags are so so so so cute, touristy as they are. The collection of Moleskine notebooks, Anne Taintor wallets and magnets, and cute sarcastic change purses all tempted me. I could spend hours and hours here. In fact, if a guy asked me on a date to the Strand, I think I would ask him to marry me right then and there.
Yes, the employees can sometimes be too cool for school, but today they were fairly nice and helpful. And I don't know what all the reviewers are talking about - everytime I've been in Strand, it's never been uncomfortably busy. Maybe I just tend to go at off-peak times? I've rarely even had to wait in line.

Afterward, I went across the street to The Bean, a very cute coffee place with padded benches and pillows around the perimeter of the store so you can rest comfortably while working at a table. They have delicious looking gluten-free macarons and vegan treats. The baristas aren't obnoxious, and the clientele seems relatively normal and down to earth. The iced coffee with half&half was just what I needed on the walk through Union Square.

So it was a really nice Manhattan morning, I must say. A day where I was happy to be in the city. It's nice to know those days still exist for me. It reminded me of when I used to live in the city before, in 03-04, and would explore downtown 'hoods by myself on the weekends, not thinking twice about it.

In the afternoon I did some work for a new website I'm writing for. It's a NYC-centric website that posts news and reviews of neighborhood venues, area happenings, etc. I'm hoping to get more work done tomorrow on that. Finished up workshop reading and doing some writing of my own.....so I feel pretty productive today. I have been waking up the last two mornings, grinding my teeth, but hopefully that's just temporary, until I feel more settled in.

Also, September is National Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month. Familiarize yourself with the signs and symptoms of ovarian cancer, talk with your doctor about your risk for the disease, and listen to your body. This cancer is a relentless killer, and the majority of women are diagnosed at a late-stage, decreasing survival rates. So wear your teal ribbons, visit the website of Teal Toes, donate to OCRF or the gyn-onc department of MSKCC....something. Anything. Other cancers like breast cancer have done wonders with fundraising and research and political/medical change - this needs to be done for ovarian cancer now.

more lit snobbery.

So.....litsnob post #2. Sometimes I am amazed at people today. And maybe this is just me - someone who reads probably way too much - but if you work in a bookstore, especially an independent bookstore, you should probably have a wide knowledge of books, no? Especially important ones? I was in an indie bookstore here (not the one I used to work at), and a girl went up to the counter and asked for "Things Fall Apart." The clerk was like, "Things that fall apart? Who's the author?" The girl corrected the clerk, but didn't know the author. I had to stop myself from saying "Chinua Achebe." Sometimes I am not so controlled and jump in when I hear a person not remember an author. It's like instinct for me. But it's like.....I don't know. If you're making books your life, know your books. Or maybe I just want to own a bookstore and read for the rest of my life.
Of course, there was no helping the lady that came in and - I swear to G-d, this is what she asked - said, "I'm looking for a book...the author usually writes short stories but this is a novel....I can't think of her name." Yeah.

In other news, I'm reading a book that is actually challenging me - David Mitchell's "Cloud Atlas." I've been trying to slog through the first part since the end of April. I just got through it today. The first part, not the book. It's an experimental, mixed-genre book that I'm not sure how I feel about yet. But it's not an easy read, which I appreciate. I have stacks of books surrounding me right now, including an ARC of Zadie Smith's upcoming novel, NW, as well as the collected stories of Flannery O'Connor. Part of me just kinda wants to hole up for the rest of the summer, order in meals and read, read, read.
But then there's the little thing called a thesis I have to think about. Yeah. And the nonfiction book seminar at the J-school in the spring. argh. Exciting stuff, but it also gives me a stomachache just thinking about it.

growing pains.

So. Slowly.....verrrrrry slowwwlly, my writer's block is getting smaller. I've been pushing up against it and have managed to at least get ink on the page, which is more than I've been able to do most of the summer so far. I have been reading a lot. And good writers read. A lot. (Columbia believes this, too, which is why our reading lists are so crazy). It's taken me a bit to really get settled in, and I think I'm only really starting to get back to "normal" here. Up until now, i've almost felt...out of place, oddly. I've made the boundries of my life here very small, and haven't done many of the things I wanted to. I think I needed to establish a routine and just get back in the groove. I went to an indie bookstore here in Chapel Hill the other day to sell back some books, and the girl there remembered me, that I worked at McIntyre's. (We had gone to dinner with the Random House reps and authors last July and had a wonderful night). She remembered my name and asked how my program was going. I was stunned that she remembered. But that's what happens here. I got into a long conversation with the coffee guy at Weaver Street about the pro-choice buttons on his apron that said "I (heart) Pro-Choice Girls" and "I (heart) Pro-Choice Boys." People remember "regulars" and so forth, and it's just really nice. It makes me feel good that I can walk into Fleet Feet or Weaver St or B&N or Flyleaf, and be remembered and able to have really great conversations. It makes me feel like I belong here. That I have a life. But in several weeks, I am leaving again....and the cycle of adjusting will repeat itself in New York.

For better or worse, I've been feeling very "artist-y" lately. I went to the Bead Store on Monday and made my own version of the Tibetan Prayer Beads, since mine are in NYC. It's kind of like, while you pray or meditate, you hold the beads and roll them. I imagine it's sort of like a rosary? Although I'm not really sure what you do with a rosary. I collaged a composition book, like I used to do, and have just been a bit more...relaxed than I usually am up North. Not as tightly wound.

In other news, does anyone know anything about arthritis? Ever since late April, it's come and gone, this aching in my wrists, where I need to bend them and roll them, almost stretch them. Same with my arms and fingers. I'm sure I look ridiculous flexing and bending my knuckles, but I have to. Is this arthritis? Or simply aging?

Books I've Read Lately 
A Good Hard Look by Ann Napolitano. This is a novel about Flannery O'Connor, the celebrated Southern writer. I've only read her nonfiction, oddly, since she's best known for her fiction, but I loved this book. By the end of it, I was thinking that we would have gotten along well if I'd lived back then.

Memoirs of an Imaginary Friend by Matthew Dicks. This book comes out in August, and is told from the viewpoint of a 5-year old imaginary friend of an 8-year old. The 8 year old sounds like he is autistic, and eventually, he is faced with danger and only his imaginary friend can save him. Wonderful book that really was whimsical and well-written. I think it'll appeal to readers of all ages - older readers will get more out of it.

In my pile: Faery Tale by Signe Pike, A Million Little Pieces by James Frey (yes, THAT book), A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass....and tons of others. Definitely using this summer time to cram as much as I can into my head, book-wise.

Listening to: The Decemberists, Birdy, Eisley, Neko Case

neverending writer's block.

It's almost mid-way through summer (actually, for me, more than midway), and I have to admit I have been suffering from the worst fucking case of writer's block. Aside from the medical writing for work, I have not really written anything new since classes ended. I wrote 6 pages of complete and utter shit. That's about it. When I go to Starbucks to "write," I pull out my Moleskine (yes, I am that cliche) and pen, write some sentences, scribble them out, chew on my pen cap, stare into space while listening to my iPod, write something more, then cross it out again. I end up closing my notebook and opening up a book instead. So I guess there's a slight upside to all this: I've been reading a lot. Faulkner still remains unfinished, as does Adrian's novel, aaaaand Cloud Atlas.....I admit, I've been reading a lot of YA. Sigh. I don't know. My concentration isn't as good as I'd like it to be right now.

And, ever since going back to gluten-free, pizza is like crack. Everyday, I'm tempted to go on PizzaHut.com and get a thin and crispy pizza with breadsticks. A few times, I've fallen off the wagon, and like any addict, felt sick and remorseful the day after, vowing never to do that again. But it's sooooo good. I actually imagine how the pizza will taste. And smell. It's a bit ridiculous.

Here's to hoping it gets better.