Author Archives: Katy P.

About Katy P.

40ish mom who runs...after kids, after plotlines, after finish lines.

The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas – READ IT!

Ever pick up a book that has so many award stickers on it, your first thought is, “It can’t be THAT good?” And your follow up thought is, “If it won that many awards, there is no way I’m going to like it.”

Angie Thomas’ The Hate U Give is THAT good. And I liked it. A lot.

The Hate U Give tells the story of Starr Carter, a 16 year old black girl living in the ghetto who witnesses the shooting of a childhood friend by a white cop. The story is timely to say the least, but it’s not a 444 page political rant. Yes, it’s intense and violent and heartbreaking.  It’s also a story about a loving family who believes to make a change, you need to be brave but you don’t have to be brave alone.

Starr inhabits a world far away from my own. What I knew of her world before I opened the book was based on news reports on cop shootings and gun violence on TV, and that made me nervous. Who was I to read this and could I understand it? But it only took a few pages in for me to recognize what it was about this story that was going to connect me, a middle-aged white suburban woman, to Starr’s life in the hood – her family.

Starr has an amazing family. They love, they fight, they swear at each other, they’re real. Most of all, they support each other. Dad is an ex-con/ex-gang member, dedicated to bettering his neighborhood. He pushes Starr to think for herself, at the same time teaching her how to protect herself. Mom is a registered nurse, a fierce protector of her family, a forceful voice of no-nonsense common sense. She doesn’t mother her children, but instead draws a line in the sand between acceptable and unacceptable and enforces it so no one dare cross it. Most importantly, Starr’s parents are a team, and Starr knows it. Yes, they argue, but Starr spends a lot of time describing how “cute” they are, too, and how she looks at them as the example of what she wants.

Starr’s parents are only the beginning of the family which is messy and tangled, some blood relations, some not, but all looking out for each other. It’s a family that keeps opening its arms and hearts to whomever needs to be part of it, because as Starr and her Chinese friend Maya agree, “Minorities need to stick together.”

Obviously, racism is what the book is all about, but I didn’t feel like I, the reader, was being accused of being racist or being told I had to go out and protest because I should. Instead, through sometimes funny, sometimes sad, sometimes heartbreaking scenes, I felt I was being educated from multiple perspectives and asked to come to my own conclusions. Things aren’t always as they appear, and perhaps the thing I liked most about the book, was the feeling I was being urged to not just accept what is on the surface, but to look at things from all sides.

Yes, the book deserves all the award and accolades heaped on it. It’s about racism. It’s about gun violence and gangs. It’s about growing up, figuring out who you are and who you are going to be. It’s about the differences between black and white but also about how similar we can be as well. It’s about what it means to be a part of a family. And, it’s about how doing what is right sometimes means being brave even if it means being scared. That’s a lesson for all of us, no matter the color of our skin.

Read this one.

An Ember in the Ashes / A Torch Against the Night by Sabaa Tahir

An interesting trend I am beginning to notice in books I’m reading set in an alternative world / timeline, is the inability to read.  In Tracy Chee’s The Reader: Sea of Ink and Gold, all the books left in the world are stored in one library, guarded by magic because the books themselves are considered dangerous and magical.  The main character is in possession of a book that records history in the form of stories and she teaches herself to read and write.  While I liked how her simple act of writing names down gave a sense of permanence to other characters, I found myself a little bored with the story.

In Sabaa Tahir’s Ember in the Ashes and A Torch Against the Night, a tale set in a desert world ruled by a militaristic government, scholars were once the learned people but are now illiterate, looked down upon and enslaved.  I found the sandy, desert setting of book one a nice change and I really liked how well the characters were written.  They are complicated and human and smart.  Their dilemmas dragged me in as if I, too, was struggling with the same problems and situations.  The plot twists are unexpected (or at least I wasn’t looking for them) and sucked me in that much more.  The love story is a sweet, believable part of an engrossing story I recommend to anyone wanting a fantasy adventure.

What I liked:

  • An alternative universe where a militaristic government is in charge of the lower classes, including the Scholars, a group of people who used to be in charge of libraries but now for the most part are considered illiterate.
  • Elias is the son of the military school’s Commandant.  The first book starts with him wanting to escape the violent world he is part of, but he can’t. 
  • Raised by her grandparents who are killed by the military, Laia becomes a scholar slave in the Commandant’s household, spying for the rebels, in hopes of freeing her brother from prison.
  • I liked Elias’ change of fate.  I found it a fitting way to help him.  It will be interesting to see what this does, though, to his and Laia’s relationship.
  • I like how Laia grows / matures through the two books.  She commits to her purpose and learns how strong she really is.  Her realization of how the relationships she foster impact her life and her choices is a nice lesson for everyone.  We should all be with people who make us stronger.
  • The mysteries sprinkled throughout add to the story – exactly who or what is Laia?  Who is Elias’ father?
  • I enjoyed all the characters, especially Cook and Izzy – so much more there than meets the eye.  Helene is fascinating.  She is the ultimate woman warrior who has to make some tough, tough choices.  I didn’t like her much in book 1 (pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to) but loved her in book 2.  The Commandant is just evil. 

What I didn’t like:

  • Because of it being written in first person, you spend a lot of time in Laia’s head hearing about how badly she feels about running, believing she could have done more.

What I would like to know before I give this to my child:

  • It is violent.  Prisoners are tortured. Laia is given to Elias as a prize and it is expected for him to rape her.     

This is a good read!  Epic adventure, sweet love story, warrior women but not too girly a boy wouldn’t enjoy it  Grade 7/8 on up.

KCLS Reading Challenge – Listen to an Audio Book

I love audio books.  Read by the right person, audio books can truly make me miss my Interstate exit or sit in my car long after I’ve parked.  It’s like bedtime stories for your car (and I spend a lot of time in my car).  My first real brush with an awesome audio book was thanks to my kids.  We checked out Click Clack Moo read by Randy Travis.  His southern drawl, mooing cows were giggle inducing.  Next came Jim Dale’s readings of the Harry Potter series.  I painted bathrooms and bedrooms and even my laundry room to his Hagrid and Dumbledore. 

Not every audio book is a good one, though, and it’s easy to ding a perfectly good read based on the sound of an actor’s voice (Mary Pope Osborne’s readings of her book series The Magic Tree House comes to mind).  Sometimes, the voice in your head simply doesn’t match the one coming out of the speaker, either.  And I find, as a listener of YA audio books, sometimes it feels like I’ve been mucking around a teenagers brain for way too long and I find myself talking back to the recording telling it to just get on with it. 

All this being said, no matter how talented, a voice actor can’t save dry, lackluster material, either, but get the right people (Wil Wheaton reading Ready Player One or The True Meaning of Smekday read by Bahni Turpin), and the right story, and you, too, will find yourself transported to mystical places without having to remember where you left your reading glasses.

For the KCLS 10 to Try Reading Challenge, I listened to David Arnold’s Kids of Appetite, a tale of love, loss, and healing.  Wonderfully sad and sometimes very funny, this is a story of saying good-bye.  

What I liked:

  • While you learn everybody’s story, at its heart, this is Vic’s story.  His father has died and he’s on a mission to honor Dad’s last wishes. 
  • The main characters come from loving, imperfect families and they know it.  Vic comes from a long line of folks who like PDA and his father teaches him to see with his heart.  Mad’s family is complicated but she loves her Grandmother (Jama) and cherishes the memories of happier times with her mom and dad.  There is no blaming or excuses for actions that sometimes come from situations like this. 
  • This is a story of looking past what is on the surface.  Vic’s Mobius Syndrome has left his face paralyzed.  Mad’s shaved head reveals a scar, the result of the car crash that killed her parents.  Zeus does not speak, but Cocoa tells Vic if he listens, Zeus says a lot. 
  • The story is told in a series of flashbacks brought on by police interviews.  Mad and Vic are tasked with stalling until the plan has been carried out.  What the plan is isn’t revealed until the end. 
  • The idea of each person they help being a ‘chapter’ was cool.  Isn’t life like that?
  • Frank was well done.  Annoying in the beginning, the catalyst (along with his sons) for the whole story, and the good guy when Vic needed him.  I liked that.
  • I was surprised at how sad I found the end.  I knew what was going to happen and yet still, the impact hit hard – in a good way.  It showed Vic’s healing and reconnection with his mom and opened the door to the future. 
  • Baz’ prologue was perfect.  Funny, touching, a great way to end the book.

 What was annoying?

  • This is a bunch of very perceptive kids.  Too perceptive?  Maybe.  There were moments when I felt they were too mature for their ages, but they’ve been through a lot, so perhaps tough times made them grow up faster than normal?
  • OMG, Cocoa!  She had some of the best lines, but at the same time, she’s a little brat.
  • Super Racehorse got a little old.
  • The ending wrapped up fast – and maybe a bit too neatly. 

 What I’d want to know before handing this to my kid:

  • The story is about death.  All of the main characters have lost parents in tragic ways which is part of why they work as a group.  An affair is talked about.  Physical and mental abuse is suffered at the hands of Mad’s uncle. Stories of parents deaths are retold.  A character is murdered.   8th grade on up.

Much like David Arnold’s, Mosquitoland, Kids of Appetite is a story about kids growing up and growing better as a result of heartbreak.  It’s one of those books I like to think of as simply a really good story. 

2017 KCLS Reading Challenge – Read a Graphic Novel

Ah, comic books.  One of my best childhood memories involves a box of old comic books discovered in the closet of a bedroom in a lake cottage rental.  They were probably the loved stories of a child who belonged in the cottage at one point in time or maybe the cottage owners just had the foresight to know it rained every once in a while and kids needed something to do. Either way, the dragging out of the cardboard box, the ritual sneezing from the dust, and the rediscovery of the old titles (Casper the Friendly Ghost, Richie Rich, Archie) were a highlight of the summer, rain or shine. 

Several years ago, at the elementary school library where I was working, the librarian at the time did something radical.  She created a graphic novel section.  Her reasoning?  Reading is reading, and for kids who found chapters and paragraphs daunting or just plain boring, a little color, a little humor, a story line with a visual plot might be an excellent stepping stone to bigger things.

She had something there.  This year’s Washington State Evergreen Teen Book Award includes the graphic novel Ms. Marvel, the story of a 16 year old Muslim girl living in New Jersey who is exposed to a chemical mist giving her superpowers.  And as any parent knows, with great power comes a whole lot of juggling real life with hero life – and Ms. Marvel does this really well – or not, but that’s what makes this a great read. 

What I liked:

  • Main character Kamala Kahn comes from a loving, immigrant family.  She has to juggle Muslim home life with American teenagerdom and it’s not easy.  Her mom is strict, understanding and lays down the boundaries like any good mom of a superhero would.   Her relationship with her brother is true to siblinghood, overbearing but loving.  These two want the best for each other and I found myself looking forward to their interactions.
  • Her superpowers are awkward and funny and just plain great!  There isn’t anything glamorous about them which makes them perfect for a teenager.
  • Kamala takes ownership of her town.  She doesn’t try to save the world, just Jersey City. 
  • Kamala makes mistakes, but she’s not too full of herself  to ask when she needs help.  This means, over the course of the series, the whole cast of Marvel heroes show up, but Iron Man’s role as mentor is my absolute favorite. 
  • The cats!  There is one series of pictures with cats that is worth careful study.

What I didn’t Like…

  • I have to wait for the next one…to be published…

 One funny note:  I had to re-teach myself how to read graphic novels!  It’s not just panel after panel anymore.  The artwork is fantastic but it sometimes means you have to take in the bigger picture or follow a circular path to get the story right.  Don’t give up though – it doesn’t take long to pick it up.

This is a series I gave to my 13 year old, superhero loving daughter to read.  She proceeded to take them to school and loan them out to friends.  I’d say that’s two thumbs up to a good read!

Life Lessons

The assignment:  Write a letter to your child.  Like Hamlet’s father, share your thoughts in writing with your own child as she/he prepares to leave home. Are there lessons you have learned in life that you wish to impart to them? In short, do you have advice to offer them?

….nothing like spending a week wondering if you’ve taught your kid anything of value over the past 17 years before you send him out into the big, bad world….

Kids do not come with owner’s manuals.  They don’t come one size fits all, either.  So as a parent, you make things up as you go, hoping against hope, what soaks in is all the good stuff, and all the screw ups are forgotten.  We teach by example, and Lord knows, none of us are perfect.  But we love our kids, and that makes up for a lot of mistakes.  Still, looking back on what wisdom I’ve passed down made me pause.  (A really long pause.)  And then I realized the wisdom I hope I’ve passed on is nothing new.

 

January 9, 2017

Dear Nate,

Your teacher has provided me the wonderful opportunity to review the life lessons I have passed on to you over the last 17 years, so I made a list.

  1. Hold your cuffs when you slide your arms into your winter coat so your sleeves don’t bunch up.
  2. Pie for breakfast is absolutely okay if you also have a glass of milk.
  3. Reddi-Whip straight out of the canister is one of the best things in life (just don’t do it in front of company).
  4. There is no such thing as too many books – just not enough bookshelves….

All good tips, yes.  But life lessons?  Eh….

So, I thought back to what life lessons my parents taught me.  If you ask Grandma Pearl, she’ll tell you she tried to instill the belief in all her children that ‘first impressions are the most important.’  Those six words were the bane of my childhood existence.  I swore I would never say them to you.  It’s not that there isn’t truth in them – there is.  First impressions are important.  It’s just that over the years, as I grew up, I came to the conclusion the statement is actually incomplete, and that’s where Papa Swanky’s life lesson comes into play.

As a kid, every time I brought home a report card, I had to sit down and go class by class, comment by comment, through the card with Papa.  Before he signed the card indicating he had seen it, Papa would look me straight in the eye and ask, “Did you do your best?”

Now, nothing stops a kid faster in her tracks than being pinned to the spot and asked to justify the results of a semester’s actions detailed on a report card.  A bit stunned (and scared – you know Papa!), of course, I stuttered out, “Y-yes.” Papa would then look back at the report card and back up at me and pause.  (It was a really long pause.) Finally, he would reply, “That’s all I ask.”

That is all my parents have ever asked of me, no matter what I have attempted.  As a student, I would walk away from those little conferences wondering if I lied.  Did I really do my best?  Was I proud of those grades?  Or could I have done better?  Could I do better?   Report card after report card went by and I found myself not waiting for Papa to ask the question after the fact.  I asked it to myself first, and what I discovered was when I did my best, I was proud to claim my work.  I wanted people to know I did that.  Yes, that was me!

But it took until I had kids of my own to realize Papa wasn’t asking if I did my best because he expected me to be number one or the best at whatever I did.  Papa was asking because he wanted to make sure I was happy, to make sure I felt fulfilled.  He wanted to make sure I felt I had a purpose – and I did because I was doing my best.

I want that for you.  I want you to be happy, to be proud of yourself, to want to write your name on your efforts so everyone will know it’s you.  No matter how big, I want you to know you have a purpose.

So, do your best, Nateman.  When you go to bed, if you look back on your day, on what you accomplished, on what you put your name on, and you think, ‘I did my best,’ you have succeeded.  If you look back on your day and think, ‘I can do better,’ and go back the next day and do just that, you have succeeded.  Yes, sometimes you will fail spectacularly.  In that failure, there will be pain and embarrassment and second guessing, but if you are open to it, you will learn more about yourself than you can ever imagine.  And when all is said and done, if you can say, ‘I failed, but I did my best,’ you have succeeded.  Because doing your best doesn’t mean being number one or winning the blue ribbon.  It means being true to yourself.

So yes, Grandma Pearl was right.  First impressions are important, but it’s the lasting impression that people will remember, the part of you that sticks around long after you are gone.  If you do your best, you will make a lasting impression to be proud of, and that is the most important impression of all.

And it’s all I ask.

Love you,

Mom

 

 

 

Dear Mom

thDear Mom,

Here I am at home, hundreds of miles from you, waiting for a few more days to pass until I board a plane to come help.  “Help.”  I put that in quotes because I don’t know if I will be “help.”  I will be bossy.  I will be blunt.  We’ll argue.  We’ll cry.  But I have faith we’ll get through this.  Because that’s who you are.  Not who I am.  Who you are.

At various times when my husband has been thinking of job searching in other parts of the country, he comes to the dinner table and says something along the lines of, “But I know you don’t want to move.”  I tell him no, I could move tomorrow.  Pack up and go.  Because that’s how I was raised.  He doesn’t believe me, but I’ve asked friends who grew up in the military or with similar stories and they agree.  We’re homeless.

At some point in time, a therapist asked me when I stopped making friends.  Without a moment’s pause, I said, “Sixth grade.”  It was said matter-of-factly, without blame, because by that time I had children.  I understood my childhood better because I was a parent. 

Our childhood taught us to be glass half full people.  I never understood being left behind until I had lived somewhere long enough to know neighbors who then moved away.  Being left behind hurts in a whole different way, but it still hurts. 

We were taught first impressions were the most important and I will never tell my children that.  It’s true, don’t get me wrong.  It’s very true.  But growing up, being told that meant once again, I was the new kid.  It got old.  It got painful. 

Moving teaches you to look forward, always forward.  Glass half-full, you know.  Things went to ‘storage’ or were given away and promised to be replaced.  By the time you were somewhere new, they were forgotten.  Until they weren’t.  I still miss my Big Wheel.  I know.  I was 4.  But still.

And while it teaches you to look forward, looking forward too far seems silly.  Where will you be in ten years?  I don’t know.  Wherever I am.  Do I have the right to dream that far?  That concretely?  It drives my poor husband nuts that I struggle with this.  I’m trying to get better. 

There’s a bestselling book out there about purging a house.  You look at an item and ask if it gives you joy.  “Do you give me joy?” you ask a vase, a blanket, a pair of shoes.  If it does, you keep it.  If it doesn’t, you get rid of it.  If it’s something that did once, but doesn’t any longer, you take a picture of it, thank it and get rid of it.  This obviously doesn’t apply to teenagers.  Those you keep, no matter what.

So, Mom, you’ve moved again.  And we’re at this point because Dad isn’t quite Dad anymore.  He still gives us joy so we get to keep him, but he’s not quite himself.  That’s where I come in, with all the life lessons you’ve taught me.

We will look forward, not backward.

We will celebrate the items that give you joy and ask ourselves if the other things still do, or did once.  We will then ask, then, if there is room.

We will forget first impressions.  We will instead try to embrace practicality.

Most of all, I will do my best to honor the strength you showed us, taught us, impressed upon us. 

In the movie “Inside Out” there is a scene where Riley, the 11 year old daughter returns home after running away.  Her family has just moved to San Francisco, a place vastly different from her home in Minnesota, and far, far away from her friends, her life, her comfort.  Worried beyond belief, her parents open the door to find runaway Riley on the doorstep.  Their daughter is distraught, heartbroken, and hurting.  They kneel down and hug her.  They listen, they share, they comfort, but never do they apologize or say they made a mistake.  Because they didn’t.  Riley’s parents did what you, Mom and Dad, did.  You moved us because it meant a better future.  It meant you could provide for us.  You could give us a good life.  Give us amazing experiences.  You moved us because you loved us.

It took me having kids to understand that you also moved yourself, too.  And when you moved us, you put aside your hurt to start us all over again and again and again.

Therein lies strength.  Great, powerful, impressive, inspiring strength.

I often think I channel too much of Grandma Schollett.  But I’m sorry, Mom.  You are to blame for a lot of this, too. 

So I get on a plane on Wednesday to come help however I can.  And I will do my best to remember what it was like to be that girl, the new girl, scared, sad, hurting, lost, because I think that might be a little bit where you are.  Or where we all are.  This is new.  This is scary.  This is hard.  But we will dip into the strength that kept us going and together – your strength – and I will tell you that first impressions are crap but family is everything and we’d be nothing without you. 

See you soon.  Love, Katy

Dear Mom

thDear Mom,

Here I am at home, hundreds of miles from you, waiting for a few more days to pass until I board a plane to come help.  “Help.”  I put that in quotes because I don’t know if I will be “help.”  I will be bossy.  I will be blunt.  We’ll argue.  We’ll cry.  But I have faith we’ll get through this.  Because that’s who you are.  Not who I am.  Who you are.

At various times when my husband has been thinking of job searching in other parts of the country, he comes to the dinner table and says something along the lines of, “But I know you don’t want to move.”  I tell him no, I could move tomorrow.  Pack up and go.  Because that’s how I was raised.  He doesn’t believe me, but I’ve asked friends who grew up in the military or with similar stories and they agree.  We’re homeless.

At some point in time, a therapist asked me when I stopped making friends.  Without a moment’s pause, I said, “Sixth grade.”  It was said matter-of-factly, without blame, because by that time I had children.  I understood my childhood better because I was a parent. 

Our childhood taught us to be glass half full people.  I never understood being left behind until I had lived somewhere long enough to know neighbors who then moved away.  Being left behind hurts in a whole different way, but it still hurts. 

We were taught first impressions were the most important and I will never tell my children that.  It’s true, don’t get me wrong.  It’s very true.  But growing up, being told that meant once again, I was the new kid.  It got old.  It got painful. 

Moving teaches you to look forward, always forward.  Glass half-full, you know.  Things went to ‘storage’ or were given away and promised to be replaced.  By the time you were somewhere new, they were forgotten.  Until they weren’t.  I still miss my Big Wheel.  I know.  I was 4.  But still.

And while it teaches you to look forward, looking forward too far seems silly.  Where will you be in ten years?  I don’t know.  Wherever I am.  Do I have the right to dream that far?  That concretely?  It drives my poor husband nuts that I struggle with this.  I’m trying to get better. 

There’s a bestselling book out there about purging a house.  You look at an item and ask if it gives you joy.  “Do you give me joy?” you ask a vase, a blanket, a pair of shoes.  If it does, you keep it.  If it doesn’t, you get rid of it.  If it’s something that did once, but doesn’t any longer, you take a picture of it, thank it and get rid of it.  This obviously doesn’t apply to teenagers.  Those you keep, no matter what.

So, Mom, you’ve moved again.  And we’re at this point because Dad isn’t quite Dad anymore.  He still gives us joy so we get to keep him, but he’s not quite himself.  That’s where I come in, with all the life lessons you’ve taught me.

We will look forward, not backward.

We will celebrate the items that give you joy and ask ourselves if the other things still do, or did once.  We will then ask, then, if there is room.

We will forget first impressions.  We will instead try to embrace practicality.

Most of all, I will do my best to honor the strength you showed us, taught us, impressed upon us. 

In the movie “Inside Out” there is a scene where Riley, the 11 year old daughter returns home after running away.  Her family has just moved to San Francisco, a place vastly different from her home in Minnesota, and far, far away from her friends, her life, her comfort.  Worried beyond belief, her parents open the door to find runaway Riley on the doorstep.  Their daughter is distraught, heartbroken, and hurting.  They kneel down and hug her.  They listen, they share, they comfort, but never do they apologize or say they made a mistake.  Because they didn’t.  Riley’s parents did what you, Mom and Dad, did.  You moved us because it meant a better future.  It meant you could provide for us.  You could give us a good life.  Give us amazing experiences.  You moved us because you loved us.

It took me having kids to understand that you also moved yourself, too.  And when you moved us, you put aside your hurt to start us all over again and again and again.

Therein lies strength.  Great, powerful, impressive, inspiring strength.

I often think I channel too much of Grandma Schollett.  But I’m sorry, Mom.  You are to blame for a lot of this, too. 

So I get on a plane on Wednesday to come help however I can.  And I will do my best to remember what it was like to be that girl, the new girl, scared, sad, hurting, lost, because I think that might be a little bit where you are.  Or where we all are.  This is new.  This is scary.  This is hard.  But we will dip into the strength that kept us going and together – your strength – and I will tell you that first impressions are crap but family is everything and we’d be nothing without you. 

See you soon.  Love, Katy

The 5th Wave Audio Book – Alien Invasions Make Good Stories!

518giEwrodL._SL600_Audio books can be works of art.  Anyone who wants to argue with me will be pointed directly to Jim Dale’s reading of all seven Harry Potter books.  Or John Ritter reading Jerry Spinnelli’s Stargirl.  Or The True Meaning of Smekday read by Bahni Turpin or even Randy Travis’ reading of Click, Clack, Moo.  Given the right material, the right hands and good talent, an audio book can transport you into a world all in your mind while you make your way through a rainy rush hour drive.  I am happy to say, too, Rick Yancy’s The 5th Wave, read by Brandon Espinoza and Phoebe Strole, was an audio trip I’d take again.

The 5th Wave tells the tale of an alien invasion from the points of view of 16-year-old Cassie and her high school crush, Ben Parish.  It’s a great story full of interesting characters, snappy writing, a love story and even a couple of cockroaches dropping out of the ceiling.

What I liked about it:

  • Yes, the  actors are excellent – and to be honest, I don’t want to see the movie because I’m afraid Cassie won’t sound like Cassie and Ben won’t sound like Ben.
  • Written inside Cassie and Ben’s heads, told from their point of views, I really felt the urgency, the fear, the anger.
  • That bear.  That awesome talisman bear.  I hope that bear makes it through all three books.
  • The pop culture references were fun but some of them dated the author a bit.  What 16-year-old would describe a guy as, “The Bounty paper towel man?”
  • I liked Evan’s description of what the Others are.  The Vulcan mind meld though, yeah, that had me rolling my eyes.
  • Ohio?  Why in the world did they pick Ohio?
  • Knowing how many Others there were, gave a sense of hope to the human survivors – as in, you actually think they have a chance!
  • The reveal, while predictable (for a middle-aged mom), was satisfying and believable.
  • Those trackers – from the beginning I knew they weren’t good, and it took a while to get to the bottom of them.
  • Dr. Pam and Cassie’s finale – that made me smile.
  • I loved that both Ben and Cassie were pledged to go back to save Sammy.
  • As the story went on, both Cassie and Ben were forced to change in order to survive.  The kids they were are not the kids they are when they meet.  It put them on equal footing and I liked that.
  • Ben and Cassie’s meeting was well done – it kept them true to their characters from high school.  Does Ben remember her?  No, and he doesn’t pretend to and that rings true.

What got to me:

  • 12 hours of teenage angst.  ‘nuff said.
  • I once had a writing partner who dinged me for using ‘chocolate’ to describe the color of a character’s eyes.  I now DING YOU Rick Yancy!
  • The hair washing scene, the wet nightgown, the borrowed shirt…it had me asking, “Seriously?”
  • I’m not sure Cassie ever used, “You shot me!” as an arguing point as to why she shouldn’t trust Evan and I think that’s a big one.
  • The chapter endings got a little predictable after a while from the line delivered.
  • Seen through Cassie’s eyes, Evan was a bit predictable and sometimes too perfect.

What I’d like to know before I let my kid listen to this:  7 Billion people die via electrical outage, natural disaster, bird spread disease, drone assassination and ultimately by deception and brainwashing humans to kill other humans.  Cassie’s mother dies from the pestilence, her father executed before her eyes, her brother abducted.  Ben and Sam are tricked into killing other humans.  Cassie is shot by someone she falls in love with.  Children are trained to be killers, some liking it.  Cassie and Evan sleep together (just sleep).  Descriptions about washing hair and wet t-shirt clinging, general teenage level attraction, but nothing more than kissing occurs.  Grade 7 on up.

Bottom line, this was a great book to listen to in audio book form.  The teenage angst and the chocolate eye reference might have been a little easier to take had I read the paper version, but the story kept my attention to the point I’m considering checking out #2 from the library.  Give it a listen – you’ll enjoy it!

Queens, Princesses and Fangirls

I generally don’t make New Year’s Resolutions – I have a list of things I should be doing running through my head on a continuous loop all year long – but counting the number of books on my nightstand,  I feel it’s time to make one.  So here goes:

In 2016, I will write the book review the day I finish the book.  Or the next day.  Just within the same week, at least.  Seriously!

In a very apologetic effort to get caught up to the newest title I’m reading, I’m going to attempt a quick synopsis of the four books I have read in the last four months, all four of which I’d recommend!

Queen of tearling24961232Erika Johansen’s The Queen of Tearling and its sequel The Invasion of the Tearling.

What’s they’re about:  A young princess takes the throne of Tearling, a small country being oppressed by the Red Queen.  Book one centers on Kelsea’s decision to not bow down to the demands of the neighboring lands and instead declare independence.  Book two tells of the growing conflict between the two nations and Kelsea’s growing magical powers.

What I liked about Book One:

  • In a nutshell, Kelsea.  She is a strong, independent young woman who has known from day one she is to be queen.  Hidden away in the forest as a young child, she has been brought up by foster parents whose role was to teach her how to be queen.  This wasn’t something just sprung on her.  She was raised to do this.
  • She comes to power with an understanding of the politics and history behind the conflict between Tearling and the surrounding lands.
  • She doesn’t always make the right decision, but her decisions are based on knowledge as well as a gut instinct for right versus wrong.  She cares for her people and she wants to protect them.
  • Watching the Queen’s Guard come to accept and respect her is enjoyable.  She earns it.

What I liked about Book Two:

  • When I fist started reading book two, the first ‘modern day-historical’ flashback had me wondering if my book was put together wrong.  But it wasn’t.  And these flashbacks are a fantastic, compelling story all their own.
  • Kelsea’s powers are growing, and with most magic, there is a dark side and she’s not immune. Every wise ruler – and compelling fictional character – needs temptation and Kelsea is faced with it.
  • As the flashbacks interweave with the present story, the timeline of then and now becomes clearer and I enjoyed putting the pieces together.

What I would like to know before I handed this to my kid:  Book one is a pretty straight forward fantasy story suitable for grade 6/7 on up.  Book two, however, becomes dark and complicated.  A husband abuses his wife physically and emotionally, including rape.  Kelsea learns to magically cut her self.  Kelsea seeks out birth control but is discouraged about obtaining it because rulers are supposed to have children, married or not.  Kelsea has sex with her guard.  Grade 8/9 on up.

635616865883334429-Winter-3-10-15

Marissa Meyer’s Winter is the fourth and final book in the Lunar Chronicles and tells the story of Princess Winter (Snow White), Lunar’s evil queen Levana’s step-daughter.  Winter refuses to use her gift that allows her to glamour (mentally disguise) herself to others and take control of other people’s bodies.  As a result, Winter is mentally unstable and experiences hallucinations (which have a touch of prophecy about them).  Her Prince Charming and protector is her guard Jacin.

What I liked about Winter:

  • It was awesome.  🙂  Okay, seriously, as a book to wrap up the tale of Cinder, Scarlett and Cress, this book had a big job and it did it very, very well.
  • Each of the four books in the series is a re-telling of a fairy tale, and each of these women are strong in their way, independent, determined and definitely not perfect which made them all very likeable.
  • Being the retelling of princess fairy tales, each tale had a Prince Charming of sorts.  Kai might be closest thing to a real prince, but despite that, each love story was sweet and genuine and believable.
  • Pairing Winter with Scarlett was genius.
  • Again, another story where the kingdom’s best programmer is a girl.  Cool.
  • Throughout the series, each character stayed true to who she was.  Even as (spoiler) queen of Lunar, Cinder was, at heart, a mechanic, who wasn’t perfect – which made her relatable and lovely.

What I would like to know before I had this to a kid:  The Lunar army is made of genetically mutated soldiers, part wolf, part man.  Grade 6 on up.

 

FANGIRL_CoverDec2012My neighbor has been nagging me for a good year (ever since I handed her Eleanor & Park and she read it in a day) to read Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell.  As part of my 2016 Reading Challenge where I had to read a book given to me by a BFF (she qualifies!), I finally picked it up.  And at the end really kicked myself for not picking it up sooner!

Fangirl tells the story of Cather, a freshman in college, who writes one of the most popular fan fictions on the web based on a Harry Potter type story.  With her identical twin sister opting to room with someone else, Cather starts college determined to remain an uninvolved hermit in her dorm room.

What I liked about this book:

  • First, I know a thing or two about fan fiction so I immediately understood Cather’s world, her dedication to her fans and her stories, and how important they were to her and her self-image.
  • As a sister, I understood Cather’s disbelief, her confusion, her anger and ultimately her acceptance, support and understanding of her sister’s choices.
  • Cather’s mom left when the twins were 9.  Her father struggles with emotional and mental issues but is there for his girls and loves them.
  • Reagan, Cather’s roommate, is awesome.  Totally reminded me of a roommate I had once who favored leather and dog collars and dyed black hair but kept the stash of harlequin romance novels her mom sent her every month under her bed.
  • Reagan and Levi take Cather under their wings and sort of bully her into college life.  They don’t belittle her for her choices, either, just doggedly keep at her until she begins to come out of her shell and willingly join in.
  • Levi.  He’s the boyfriend we all wanted and the first love you hope your daughter finds.

What I didn’t like about the story:

  • Cather was hard to like in the beginning (on purpose, I’m sure) which almost had me putting the book down, but I’m glad I didn’t because when she comes into her own, I was totally rooting for her.

What I would consider before handing this to my kid: 

  • It’s college.  While everything is handled delicately and not described in detail, sex and alcohol play a role.  Twin sister Wren parties hard to the point of alcohol poisoning.  Sex is discussed between the sisters and implied between Cather and Levi.  8th Grade on up.

 

Bottom line, I loved all these books and have no problem recommending any of them.  Happy Reading!

Confessions of a Cowbell Ringer

cowbell-maroon-400x400Hi.  My name is Katy.  I ring cowbells.  And, as a cowbell ringer, I get asked two questions on a pretty regular basis.

Question number 1:  Where in the world do you buy cowbells? 

Answer:  My current set came from the dollar bins at Target, plus one that came from cheering my brother on at the Boston Marathon and another came from my Grandma.  There’s also a couple of bear bells in my bag just in case.

Question number 2:  Why?  Why do you ring cowbells?

Answer:  Because I have to.

You see, I come from a long line of cowbell ringers.  We didn’t always ring cowbells.  It started with air horns, those obnoxious, loud danger-alerting canisters with a button and a bull horn designed to call attention to sinking ships.  We used those at my brother’s junior league football games.  My family adopted cowbells when my brother turned in his football helmet for bike cleats and we realized blasting a cacophonous honk 12 inches from a passing triathlete was not a good idea.  Or welcomed.    At all.

In the past four decades, I have rung cowbells at 5ks, 10ks, half-marathons, marathons, triathlons and two Ironmans.  So when my son came home in third grade and announced he wanted to join the cross country team, my mom asking, “Do you want me to send the cowbells?” made perfect sense.

Except I had never been to a cross country meet before, let alone rung cowbells at one.  Cross country always struck me as a golf volume sport not a football volume sport.  But maybe I was wrong.  In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized this new territory, possibly a whole new world of bell ringing needed investigating.  No dedicated cowbell ringer ever passed up the opportunity to ring!

I emailed the PE teacher.  Could I ring?  She gave my proposal two thumbs up with one condition:  Ring for one, ring for all.  Well, of course!  “No problem, I can do that!” I told her.  And thus, unwittingly, I signed up for my own version of an endurance sport.  You see, in elementary school cross country meets, runners are split not only by grade, but by sex.  6th grade girls run first, 6th grade boys next, then 5th grade girls, 5th grade boys, and so on until last, but not least, the 3rd grade boys run.  Ring for one, ring for all.  And I did.

I’d like to think I started a trend of sorts.  That first year, I was the only cowbell ringer on the course.  Actually, on any course.  I got weird looks, confused looks, wrinkled brows, scrunched up noses, and a few fingers in ears from spectators and runners alike.  But I didn’t care, because I discovered another look, the best look of the lot.  This one was from the runners who, after traveling longer than their elementary school legs had ever gone before, rounded the last corner and heard me first, then saw me standing there, ringing like the madwoman I am, and they smiled because they couldn’t help themselves.

Over the year, many of them, upon crossing the finish line, would come stand by me for the younger grades, asking if they too could ring.  Many a meet, I’d find myself cowbell-less, having given them all out to student runners who wanted to take up the call.  Ring for one, ring for all, I’d tell them.  And they did.

Why do I ring?  Because I run – slowly.

Yesterday was my daughter’s first junior high cross country meet.  Anna didn’t run.  She sprained her ankle on Monday and was still recovering.  Dressed in a bright orange volunteer vest, she headed out somewhere on the course to direct traffic.  I took up my post at the top of the hill, bells out, ready to ring and direct kids around the cone to the finish line.  Girls lined up first, mixed 7th and 8th graders, the whistle blew, and I started ringing.  I’m pretty sure a few parents jumped.  The whistle they expected.  The loud, discord clanging and “Woohoo”-ing from the crazy lady by the orange pylon, not so much.  As the girls disappeared around the school and into the woods, I stopped and waited.  At the first sign of lead runner again, I rang again – and kept ringing until the last runner came out and ran by me.

There are several differences between elementary school and junior high cross country meets.  For starters, the course is 2 miles, not a ½.  Secondly, all the girls run at once, then all the boys, pitting stronger, taller, more athletic older kids against younger.  Lastly, there is a time keeper keeping track of just how fast or just how slow you run, and everybody is looking at you and everybody knows.  Success is awesome, but failure on the junior high stage can be devastatingly public.

Around mile 2 of my first marathon, my brother who was running it with me, turned to me and said, “You know, Katy, you only have to run one marathon to call yourself a marathoner.”  Marathoners have a certain understanding of what it takes to commit to running 26.2 miles, much like runners attempting their first 5K or half or dealing with a pulled IT band or frustration of a sprained ankle.  Running is an odd sport.  It’s one of those things that when you talk to a fellow runner, they are genuinely thrilled you run.  Who cares how fast?  Who cares how long?  You run!  You’re a runner!  High Five!  But this isn’t something you necessarily understand at the age of 12 or 13, and that can make being the last kid out of the woods hard.

I ring for all.  I ring for the kids who come in first, who breeze by me and don’t even look like they’re breathing hard.  They have a spring in their step, as if they aren’t so much running as bouncing toward the end.  These kids were born to run and beautiful to watch.

I ring for the kids in the middle of the pack.  These kids are strong, steady, determined.  These are the kids who will be lifelong runners because they love this sport.  Some run to get in shape for other sports; some are meant for longer distances and 2 miles is just too short to show off what they’re capable of.  But they run because they can.

But, in all honesty, I ring more for the kids in the back, the ones with the red faces, breathing hard, determined, stubborn.  These are the focused kids, the ones who know exactly how long they’ve run and how much farther they have to go and still, they keep going.  These are the kids who have mantras running through their heads.  One more step.  One more step.  Run to the tree.  Run to the next tree.  These are my peeps, and I ring because when I run, I want people to ring for me.

Yesterday, I stood next to a mom who borrowed one of my cowbells and very gamely rang right along with me.  As we rang, I noticed the spectators cheering, clapping.  I saw teammates who had finished go back to run alongside those who were still on the course.  I heard the daughter of the mom next to me come up and exclaim, “I cut 8 minutes off my time, Mom!  8 minutes!”

This is running.  It’s a sport for the fast, for the slow, for everyone in between.  I ring because that bell makes people smile.  It’s beacon calls to runners, ‘This way.  Way to go.  One more lap, one more step, one more.  You can do it!  I’m ringing for you.’

I ring for all the kids who toe the line and have the courage to keep going until they cross it.   No one leads them to that point except themselves.  They may not know it now, but that strength, that determination is what will help them lead and ultimately succeed one step at a time.  They are runners.  And I ring for them all.