A Love Letter to Book and Movie Blog Reviewers

Dear book and movie review bloggers,

As previously mentioned, I hate book reviews. But I love books. And movies. I find myself searching out movie reviews after watching each random film Netflix or Amazon Prime or my parents' borrowed Comcast Xfinity sucks me into, an observer of conversations that took place long ago.  Some people seem to feel like there's a glut of opinions online, like Rotten Tomatoes' offering of "regular folks" opinions via blog is an unnecessary addition to the professional reviews which precede them. But. If you're watching a random movie from fifteen years ago, the regular media has dumped those links that promise reviews. It's nothing but 404 messages ad infinitum.  

Bloggers aren't constrained by the concerns of the regular media. Their reviews shine brightly years and years after they first appeared. So, by extension, I would like to extend my hand to book reviewers. Although not as subject to turnover as film, the splashing out of opinion about books is a gift to one who wants to listen to a conversation about a book she just finished at 2 a.m. 

What did I do before all this? As a child of the '90s, this constant access to information is something that has bricked over the past. I swim easily in the sea, forgetting how I used to do things. So what was different? I saw more movies with other people. Watching VHS or DVD releases was a thing. It's still a thing, and a much more accessible one, with Redboxes outside every WalMart. 

Bookish Public Service Announcement: Don't Reread

Danger! Danger! On their Books Blog, the Guardian recently asked "Which children's books should you avoid rereading as an adult?"

All of them! Don't do it! Rereading is like the popular conception of time travel: just being in the past will inevitably change things in unexpected ways. It's not that an adult reader can't get a lot out of a book that was a favorite in childhood. I think preserving those first memories is much more important than revisiting a book. As a child, you haven't accumulated hundreds of reading experiences, so any impression is stronger. Books take up emotional and mental space that isn't already cluttered.

When you layer the adult reading experience over the childhood one, inevitably the childhood one is retroactively altered. The first memory is harder to access, because you have to fight through the film of the most current read. The poignancy of the emotional response evoked by the book will never again be so sharp.

Here's my top five list of books I will never open again:

A Wrinkle in Time
Everything about this book was special. Meg's strength, her interesting little brother (I wasn't big on the idea that little brothers couldn't be interesting when I was a child) and the terrifying alternate universe they journey to were different from anything I'd ever read. I can't remember the names of people I met two hours ago, but I can remember almost every detail of this series.

Bridge to Terabithia
This book is special because it opened my eyes to issues of class for the first time. It's also special because it was the first book in which I saw my own tendency to create pretend kingdoms reflected back at me. Finally, the death was so unexpected and painful. I couldn't ever feel that punched-in-the-gut feeling again if I reread it. For some reason, I want to hold on to that.

Tuck Everlasting
I hated the fact that Winnie didn't choose immortality. I hated it so much I almost hated the book. But it forced me to confront the idea of mortality. Maybe that's not a memory one should want to hang on to, but it's a big part of who I am. I wouldn't want to change that.

Jane Eyre
Okay, this book is different because I've actually reread it multiple times. I still hold on to some of the feelings evoked by my first read. But I've lost the fear and loneliness evoked by the beginning, and the awe at the unique character whose brain I was inside. It's such a good book that I don't know how anyone could resist the temptation to reread. But I wish I did.

The Wolves of Willoughby Chase
My first experience of a Gothic thriller kicked off a lifelong obsession. The child heroines who beat the evil adults were pretty awesome too. I made the mistake of choosing this to read aloud to my resident Young Reader. I only got through about a paragraph, because the dense prose wasn't engaging to my listener. Honestly, I wasn't that impressed either. My surprise about not being swept away again is what I associate with the book now.

Of course, because I am perverse, all of the above books carry bittersweet memories strongly involving either death, sadness or fear. No happy frolicking adventures here! I think I'd extend this public service advice announcement against rereading to practically everything important of childhood that's been left left behind: schools, houses, friends, toys and foods. If you try to go back, you only experience a pale echo in the present.

YA Highway Road: Trip Wednesday #18

"Road  Trip  Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors  post a  weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be  answered.  In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination  and get  everybody's unique take on the topic." 

Today's question on the  YA  Highway Road Trip is:

What book brings back memories?

(Source)

The better question for me would be what book doesn't bring back a memory? Just like songs and smells, I associate books with the time and place in which I experienced them. Those connections accumulate with favorite books, as I form new associations every time I reread them. 

I suppose one of my favorite book memories is a little strange, because it's sad. I was about 8 or 9, and reading Little Women in our finished basement. Incidentally, it's starting to feel like I talk about Little Women every other post. Note to self: blog moratorium on Alcott.

Back to the basement. My zebra finches lived down there, and so did my plastic pony on a spring frame that almost seemed real when you rode it.  When I came to the part where Beth dies, I sobbed and sobbed. Crying over art was not a new experience, because I was a pretty weird little kid. I cried so hard at the end of E.T. that we were the last ones to leave the theater. My mom had to pry me from my seat. I also used to cry as a toddler when my parents told me sad nursery rhymes, like "Hush Little Baby." (The theme is deeply depressing, people!)

But I hadn't read a book that broke my heart until Little Women. A little bit later, Black Beauty would wreck me, but Little Women was the first book that hurt me. It was so heart-wrenching in part because Beth's death is drawn out for maximum effect. But she's also the epitome of female virtue, so it was like if Beth can die as a result of doing a good deed, the rest of us are screwed! I resolved to never do a good deed so that I would live forever. Okay, not really. But I'll never forget wiping my eyes on my sleeve, looking up from the book and feeling like the world had become a little more lonely.

Trash or Treasure: The Collector's Guide to Dollhouses and Dollhouse Miniatures

Confession time: I've been obsessed with dollhouses since I was a kid. It's the kind of interest you're supposed to outgrow, like candy necklaces or flicking your brother on the arm during car rides. But for a few adults, the allure of a miniaturized world persists. Marian Maeve O'Brien is one of my tribe.

I found the The Collector's Guide on the permanent sale shelves of a local library. It's the kind of book I would have looked at as a child. It has a certain familiarity, but I can't say whether that's because there are lots of similar books, or because I've seen this one before. What I would have loved as a child are the pictures. Though they're mostly black and white and not very sharp, they're of dollhouses! I'd devour them even if they were as bad as the pictures in Real Boys and Girls Go Birding.

As an adult, I actually read the book. The harrowing anecdotes about the author's personal dollhouses made me glad I bypassed the text as a kid. O'Brien says of her childhood dollhouse,"On the day I moved into a new house as a bride, I came home and found it in flames in the driveway." 

Her next dollhouse, a copy of her home complete with electricity and running water (my inner child is squealing with delight and envy) was destroyed by an angry child brought to an adults only party.

I sympathize with O'Brien's tales of dollhouse tragedy. My own beloved dollhouse was taken to the dump after 20 years of abuse by eager little fingers, but it was a dump where a shack was reserved for items to be given away. I fantasize that some child is currently playing with the miniature replica of my childhood home. At left is some of the flotsam and jetsam from my dollhouse that's survived.

Title: The Collector's Guide to Dollhouses and Dollhouse Miniatures

Author: Marian Maeve O'Brien

Date of Publication: 1974

Publisher: Hawthorn Books

                                                                                                                    ISBN: 0801514045

Pluses:

+ The book is extremely thorough in its coverage of all the various aspects of dollhouses and their contents. The dollhouses of various ladies are described in exhaustive detail.

+ There are a number of decent photographs.
+ The author offers suggestions for how the reader can make or acquire items similar to those described.

Minuses:

- The narrative is a bit dry. When you can't tell how the author feels about her husband lighting her dollhouse on fire, it's a pretty good indication that the book is lacking in verve and enthusiasm.

Final Verdict:

In a decision which I'm sure will surprise no one, I rate this book as Treasure. I'd probably rate any dollhouse book Treasure unless it was a expose on the dangers of the obsession. Like the other books featured thus far in Trash or Treasure, A Collector's Guide is widely available. Until next time, happy Trash or Treasure hunting!

YA Highway: Road Trip Wednesday #15

"Road  Trip  Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors  post a  weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be  answered.  In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination  and get  everybody's unique take on the topic." 

Today's question on the  YA  Highway Road Trip is:

 "It's almost prom season, and since we love to read and write about teenagers, we want to hear your prom stories!"

I have this theory that whether or not your high school cohort utilized the article in referring to this dance says a lot about the importance placed on it. If the dance we're talking about was referred to as "prom," it was a big deal. If you called it "the prom," it was not as major an event, as compared to the article-less. Anyone carry to weigh in?

As for my personal prom stories: I don't know that I have any that are fit for public consumption. My prom experiences were a mixture of illicit behavior and boredom, so they're probably best kept to myself. 

(Source)

 My high school did not have an over the top culture surrounding prom, but there was the standard dress/transportation/date/after party drama. Picking out the dress was the most complicated part of attending junior and senior prom for me.

 It was the first time I got to pick out a fairly expensive garment on my own, and it felt like a test. What I chose would mean something about who I was. I had to confront my feelings about my appearance and how weirded out I was by the stereotypical Pretty Prom Princess role that even Sassy (at right) assumed I wanted to play.

Now, I've never been accused of under-thinking things, so my reaction to picking out a dress was probably a little over the top. But if you can't be dramatic when you're a teenager, when can you be?

My senior prom picture (already shared here) is at left. If I could tell the girl in that picture one thing, it would be to go ahead and do all the things she was afraid of or thought she shouldn't. In the fifteen or so years since my first prom, the vast majority of things that I regret are the ones I didn't do.

PRETTY AMY & Worst Prom Photo Contest

Today's a personal blogging milestone: my first cover reveal! Across the blog-o-sphere, readers are now viewing the cover of debut author Lisa Burstein's PRETTY AMY for the first time. Ta da!  

Entangled Publishing says, "We will be hosting a Worst Prom Photo contest in the weeks leading up to AMY's release on May 15. So make sure to dust off your old prom photos—the more tulle, bows, and big hair the better!—and watch Lisa's site, http://www.lisaburstein.com, for details on how to submit/enter to win a beauty package."

Here's the book blurb: "Amy is fine living in the shadows of beautiful Lila and uber-cool Cassie, because at least she’s somewhat beautiful and uber-cool by association. But when their dates stand them up for prom, and the girls take matters into their own hands—earning them a night in jail outfitted in satin, stilettos, and Spanx—Amy discovers even a prom spent in handcuffs might be better than the humiliating “rehabilitation techniques” now filling up her summer. 

Worse, with Lila and Cassie parentally banned, Amy feels like she has nothing--like she nothing. . .Bringing readers along on an often hilarious journey, Amy finds that maybe getting a life only happens when you think your life is over."

Looking at the cover, I'm mesmerized by the poofy layers and the girl's shoes.  I think maybe there are two types of high school girls in the world--those who wear heels to the prom, and those who don't.  You can see in the photo below which camp I fell into.

Actually, the grass is pretty high, so maybe you can't see that I was wearing flats, third from the left. Why my dress wasn't five inches longer, I will never know. 

Moving, Magazines, and the Male Gaze

(Oh-so-personally-metaphorical image courtesy of Lance Anderson)

I moved a few months ago to the awesomeness that is the Pioneer Valley, but I am still putting things in their permanent places. Yes, I am the kind of shamefully messy person who takes eons to finally unpack everything, because once I unpack the essentials, other things in my life take priority.

In further unpacking the other day, I came across this stack of magazines from the ‘90s that I bought about a year ago. I thought the project I was working on—that morphed into “The Rule of Three”—would be set in the ‘90s. It wasn’t, and isn’t. But I still have all these cool magazines around, like a copy of Sassy. I loved Sassy as a teenager, and wanted to buy a bunch, but they can be slightly expensive, so I settled on just one.

Looking through this old Sassy made me think of the Tavi Gevinson/Jane Pratt online magazine project, Rookie, which is being deemed the new Sassy. The New York Times has an interesting piece about the site.

Since I had a copy of Sassy on hand, I decided to read through it, and check out Rookie’s content of the day, to see how the two compared.

 Reading through my October ’94 copy of Sassy was a spooky trip down memory lane, simply because it reminded me there are so many things I’ve forgotten even existed, like the Columbia House music club. Did anybody ever join that? I wanted to, but my parents wouldn’t let me. I’m pretty sure it was a scam, because how many teenagers diligently remember to send back the cassette tapes (cassette tapes!) that they don’t want?

The models were bigger. I don’t to say “normal” sized, because I think it contributes to the whole idea that there’s one acceptable body type. But I will say that the models look like someone I can imagine walking down the street. The models in today’s magazines don’t. It’s shocking to see how much the acceptable body of a model has changed in 17 years. It’s shocking that I have internalized so thoroughly what a model looks like today.

There was the “Sassy Music Hotline,” where you could listen to music mentioned in the magazine. I called the hotline, but Verizon told me, unsurprisingly, that my call could not be completed as dialed. I had a moment of crazy hope that somehow, the hotline that would let me listen to tracks from Whip-Smart would still exist out there in the ether.

There were ads for stuff like the “Youth Problem Line,” that for only $2.49 a minute (?!) you could get advice about your boyfriend. As expected, your call to the “Youth Problem Line” can no longer be connected.

Next: The Contender 

Oregon Trail & Thirteenth Child

I have great memories of playing Oregon Trail, back in the late 80s, when the game looked something like this:

Now, Oregon Trail looks something like this:

Something to keep in mind if you’re considering playing the updated version with a young child who will name the people in the wagon after best friends, family members, and pets, only to see them rapidly die, followed by overwrought burial scenes.

In a giant leap of free association, playing Oregon Trail reminded me of this YA book I read a few years back: Thirteenth Child, by Patricia Wrede.  It’s the first book of the Frontier Magic series, and apparently the second book, Across the Great Divide, came out at the beginning of August.  I wanted to like this book so much, but it felt like the novel was perpetuating stereotypes and rigid gender norms, rather than exploring or exploding them.   I’ll have to check out the second book to see if this problem gets worse or better. 

Even though I was disappointed by the book, I'm positive that if you spliced spliced together Oregon Trail and Thirteenth Child, it would be one awesome, child-unfriendly game.