“An evil librarian is taking over the school. He appears to be making my best friend his special evil library monitor.”
Come on. You HAVE to continue “An evil librarian is taking over the school. He appears to be making my best friend his special evil library monitor.”
Come on. You HAVE to continue reading after that, right? Especially if you are a book nerd with a penchant for hot librarians
Yes, this does have that Buffy feel to it. Sorta. But Cyn is no Buffy, not really. She is just an average girl who really really loves her best friend and would save her from becoming a demon child bride---who wouldn't do that for their BFF? Of course in this situation I would most likely be the BFF who would totally fall for the aforementioned evil librarian than the one doing all the ass kicking and I guess I'm okay with that. I'm kind of lazy.
What was also endearing was Cyn's crush on the high school musical star, Ryan.
“He said my name. He knows what my name is. He spoke it out loud and used it in a sentence.”
Oh, and yes... I have been there. I remember the loins calling out and the secret stalking and the wow. Especially the wow.
The story is clever in its writing but not earth shattering, it was a cute quick read and made me miss my Buffy days. Or, my Willow days because I was more like that (until she became that bad ass witch--hello??!! corsets!!!!).
I say give it a shot. GMBA gave it a finalist spot and they are usually pretty good at catching worthy YA reads.
"Everything popular is wrong” so writes Oscar Wilde, and why wouldn’t he? The snarky bastard. He was in a mood, of course. He wanted to be adored, rig "Everything popular is wrong” so writes Oscar Wilde, and why wouldn’t he? The snarky bastard. He was in a mood, of course. He wanted to be adored, right? Who doesn’t really? Isn’t that the angst of it all? Who hates me? Will I be the freak du jour today? Oh shit, the head cheerleader is talking to me, what the hell?
High school was not the best time for me… believe it or not. I was shy and therefore considered a bitch because I stared at the ground, hiding behind my 7 inch bangs and never making eye contact. I wore black, spoke softly and read a lot of books. I had a group of friends and we were the outcasts, listening to Joy Division and Minor Threat and The Smiths and The Dead Kennedys…our view was skewed, yes.. but after getting spit on at pep rallies or tripped in hallways we needed to be skewed… whatever.. it’s high school.. get over it. (I can say this 25 odd years later but now I have two kids in middle school and my stomach turns every day at the thought of what they have to endure… kids are fucking mean).
This book is no different than other coming of age stories. There is a protagonist who has to find out who he truly wants to be. There are peer pressure issues; there are judgments and misconstrued intentions. Except in this story it’s not Cinderelly getting her slipper on, it’s Charming wanting to be Quasimodo.
Liam is the son of Cindy Crawford and Bill Gates… or the fictionalized versions of them. He lives in Westchester… he looks like his mom… he grew up on Paris runways and New York Fashion weeks… We should hate him, right? He’s beautiful, he’s rich, he’s… beautiful and rich. Um… and popular. Yes, he is popular. But, remember…this book is called King of the Screwups… there’s some meat in here.
Liam considers himself the ultimate fuck up. He can’t say the right thing, he barely squeaks by in his classes, he is constantly finding himself in exactly the wrong spot (like lying on your father’s desk with the president of the national honor society half naked on top of you and being so drunk that you hurl all over his office). Yes, Liam is to blame.. he doesn’t get off that easy… he made these choices… he accepts that he’s a screw up and therefore he feels worthless.
I think that this is where we can all relate. Who doesn’t ever feel worthless? I mean how many of us are THAT well adjusted to say that they have never had that feeling? If you’ve listened to The Smiths, that automatically disqualifies you… put your hand down now.
Liam gets shipped off to live with his cross dressing Auncle Pete in a trailer park in buttfuck county. He feels lucky to be here, this or with his militant grandparents, well.. take the plastic flamingos any day, right? Here he decides that he will not screw up… He will be UNpopular. Yeah, that’s an insult to all us freaks, right? C’mon… like we haven’t already judged this hot, well coiffed rich boy..and now he wants to be LIKE U S? Riiiiight… keep walkin’ boy…
I would have thought that, except this kid is so damn SINCERE. I mean… there are times I just want to slap his perfectly sculpted cheekbones and un-tousle his bronze copper colored hair (yeah, that’s a 50 shades reference right there).
Liam tries so hard to be uncool… he wants to be considered studious and most of all he wants to impress his dad.. which is what the whole gist of this story is… the nature vs nurture argument… Liam is a product of his mother… he gets fashion, he gets how to get your point across by just looking a certain way. His dad thinks he is useless and doesn’t mince words telling him so. As we get to know Liam, we see that everything that drives this poor kid is only to please his bastard of a father.
Been there, tried that. Except, my dad was nowhere near anything that should be impressible. I was a fool and Liam is too. He is scarred by this overwhelming need to be something he’s not. Man, that sucks. I feel for the kid.
“You can’t create love, you just have to take it where you can find it.”
It’s 7:55am. I’m at the light at Susie Wilson Road. (Local folklore states that Susie Wilson was the town Madam. Bit of trivia for you there…) I woke It’s 7:55am. I’m at the light at Susie Wilson Road. (Local folklore states that Susie Wilson was the town Madam. Bit of trivia for you there…) I woke up 10 minutes ago, showered, dropped my kid off at school and here I wait. I hate this light. I hate driving. Most of all, I hate vanity plates. ‘GOTHAM1’ is in front of me. A blue mid 2000s Durango. I’m sure that Batman would be honored. I wonder if other superhero fans nod or finger pistol the driver like there is some sort of unspoken clubhouse sign that shows solidarity. You know, like when bus drivers or bikers wave to each other? Maybe he has the bat symbol on his headlights or a set of wonder twin rings in the glove box. ‘GOTHAM1’ is not like its namesake. It takes a good 20 seconds for it to ease up on the gas at the light. I wonder if there is a ‘GOTHAM2’ somewhere and if their avatars bunk together.
I chastise myself for being so hackneyed in my reveries. Who am I to judge? I read vampire books and watch the CW (on occasion).
Still… I was never a full out geek. When I say ‘geek’, I’m talking physics geeks, mathematics geeks, engineering geeks, sci-fi geeks, computer geeks, various science geeks, movie and film geeks (cinephile), comic book geeks, theater geeks, music geeks (including band geeks), art geeks, philosophy geeks, literature geeks, historical reenactment geeks, video game geeks, roleplay geeks. Whovians, cyberpunk geeks, steampunk geeks, Trekkies, Jedis, D&D, BSG, TMNT, HPRP, LARP, MMORPG, GED/J d-- s:++>: a--C++(++++) ULU++ P+ L++E---- W+(-) N+++ o+ K+++ w--- O-M+ V--PS++>$ PE++>$Y++ PGP++ t-5+++ X++ R+++>$tv+ b+ DI+++ D+++ G+++++ e++ h r--y++**,LOTR, Buffys, Wesleys, RHPS, "bright young man (or woman) turned inward, poorly socialized, who felt so little kinship with his(her) own planet that he (she) routinely traveled to the ones invented by his(her) favorite authors, who thought of that secret, dreamy place his(her)computer took him (her) to as cyberspace—somewhere exciting, a place more real than his(her) own life, a land he(she) could conquer, not a drab teenager's room in his(her)parents' house." (as defined by Julie Smith (not sure if they meant the soft core porn actress or the mystery novelist)).
Okay, now that I’ve offended a great deal of people who are furiously hunting down my IP address and inserting many a virus to my account, I will get to the point. (yes, there is one)
I am a booknerd. A proud one. I haven’t given into the ‘man’ yet and bought a Kindle or a Nook or Ipad or whatever. I still haul around 2-3 books and notebooks everywhere I go. I juggle coffee and hardcovers on shuttle buses and never (NEVER) pass a bookshop without checking it out. I feel a kinship with the geeks. (“Ohhh. Great warrior. Wars not make one great.”) I really do.
Geektastic is the neutral zone for booknerds and geeks (yes, there are many that are one in the same and kudos to you if you are, you will long rule middle earth or something.) 15 stories about teen angst written in the geek narrative. There is the classic Romeo and Juliet (Jedi Apprentice and Klingon-respectively)tale where ComiCon is the new Verona.
There is a raver of a Role Playing party hosted by a polyamorous middle aged Xena at her lakeside condo where Catherine Earnshaw hopes to meet Heathcliff but instead falls for Mr. Kool-Aid who really turns out to be Heathcliff without all the asshole traits (Cyrano De Bergerac)
There is the Buffy Sing Along (ala Rocky Horror) where our hero, Dawn, stands up to all the Buffys and speaks for all the ‘previously unknown, never-mentioned, pseudo-sibling who appears suddenly out of nowhere’ gaining the admiration of her peers (sort of) (Cinderella?)
There is the online relationship twist where a young girl (Enchantress Magic Eightball) travels to New York to meet her first love (the master thief Boggle) and to tell him that she is really just a 15 year old girl from Keokuk, Illinois and hopes that his 34yr old non-profit tech self won’t really mind. (‘To Catch A Predator’??)
There is the story of Dino Girl, a freshman who has only ever had eyes for the Jurassic type..always ‘a Compsognathus among Carcharodontosaurs’ until she meets Jamie Terravozza. The junior baseball player in her science class and suddenly hormones make the scene and the cropolite hits the fan. (Any teen movie in the last 25 years)
What I’m saying is that you need not be a geek to enjoy these stories. Yes, I haven’t done them justice with my flip little paragraphs, but they are as precious as Eärendil. Some of my favorite YA authors contributed to this anthology, Barry Lyga, Wendy Mass, M.T. Anderson, Garth Nix, John Green and so on...Pure ‘Please, Captain, not in front of the Klingons’ young adult nirvana. This may be the best book that I’ve read this year. ...more
Colin Singleton is not a vampire or a werewolf or a sorcerer or a punning Austin zombie. He doesn’t live in a dystopian society, he hasn’t slept with Colin Singleton is not a vampire or a werewolf or a sorcerer or a punning Austin zombie. He doesn’t live in a dystopian society, he hasn’t slept with his teacher. He doesn’t do drugs, his parents aren’t divorced, and he’s suffered no traumas unless you count being dumped by a slew (okay, nineteen) of girls named Katherine.
So, why am I reading this? I have been programmed to only care about supernatural cute boys. I call this my mid life crisis. If I give in and self analyze, I would say that I’m avoiding real life. I’m letting myself get caught up in situations that I would have daydreamed about at maybe age 12. Being the ‘damsel in distress’, being unconditionally loved for qualities that I have not yet discovered in myself. Feeling safe, always protected by really cute guys… the bad guys always get caught, and everyone lives happily ever after.
What I’m avoiding is that memory of that… drive… that happens somewhere around age 16... Where you feel like you have the ability to change the world. That you will go off and do amazing things and that your whole life is waiting for you. It’s a rush. I remember sitting in the Boston Commons on summer night in 1988, I was 17, freshly graduated waiting to start college… we had just moved into an apartment in East Boston and Jimmy Cliff was playing a concert in the park. I didn’t have to tell anyone where I was going or when I would be back. I remember sitting on this hill, staring at the sky through the trees, listening to that reggae beat and thinking ‘I am free. I am young and I can do anything.’
THAT is what I’m running from. So, when I finished AAOK, I almost resented Green for reminding me of that. Then, I had this selfless epiphany. This is not for me. This was written for that generation. Those kids that are getting ready to change the world. They want to ‘matter’, they want to be remembered. I really envy them. Not in that self piteous way… just in that youthful energetic way. I get this way each fall when I watch the kids slumping off to UVM. They look so hopeful and serious. Why does that have to fade?
This is a road trip book. I’ve seen it listed as such. I would expand on that ‘road trip’ theme and make it not just a literal one. Colin wants to get away from being the dumpee of all girls named Katherine. But, it’s than that. Colin has always been considered a ‘child prodigy’ and he’s thinking that maybe that isn’t enough to ‘matter’ or to make a mark on the world. After all, a prodigy isn’t a genius… A prodigy regurgitates. A genius creates. Colin’s road trip is much more mental than led on.
I like that Colin doesn’t sparkle or have telling scars. I picture him as a cooler Napoleon Dynamite. He has a sidekick. A pudgy Horatio. He has a talent for anagramming. And he likes math. Okay, I was all for it except for the math part. Ugh. I admit, I skimmed a lot of the theorems and graphs and algebraic equations. Lost me there.
But, anagramming… swoon I am an anagramming nerd. (Regard naming man, Drain Merman Gang, Ragged Man Arm Inn)
Colin and his Horatio, Hassan, end up leaving Chicago and turning up in Gutshot, Tennessee. THAT is a horror story --‘dead end’ turn-- of events. I went all Ned Beatty and shuddered and almost stopped reading. But, I’m learning to fight my biases… it’s one of those mid life crisis goals. The south is NOT scary… not always. (Gutshot? Really? That was hard to swallow, I’m sure there are towns named that and all, but I’m taking baby steps here) Colin has many Eureka moments in Gutshot and each one makes me love him more. He’s a sweet kid who just wants to be loved, to not be left behind. Who can fault that?
Colin quotes Democritus “Everywhere man blames nature and fate, yet his fate is mostly but the echo of his character and passions, his mistakes and weaknesses.”
What a great quote to pass on to Generation Z or whatever they are now. I wish that I had that when I was young. I might not have set myself up for failure… I hope that these kids carry this with them because I feel a kinship with them. I was a Reagan kid, they are Bush 34 kids… we know…
This book really does give hope if not understanding the need for hope. (if that makes sense) I hear that there is a movie in the works. I’m sure they’ll pretty up Colin and make him seem quirky and all that, but I hope that they delve into that next level and give props to that insecurity, because that’s what we need. To see that it’s okay if you only matter to yourself. Ned Vizzini’s It's Kind of a Funny Story had that same sort of message and I am saddened that that movie didn’t do well, that teens care more about zombies or jackasses.
My next Eureka moment: to pass this lesson on to my kids.
Post Script: Oh, and I want to mention that there are footnotes in this book. And it’s okay. It’s more like the DFW type footnotes where you feel like you have an extra character that you can turn to and say ‘I know, right?’… It’s all good. ...more
He did it again. That M***F***ker did it to me again. (I’m being nice because it’s the first line of a Young Adult book review, don’t think that I’m n
He did it again. That M***F***ker did it to me again. (I’m being nice because it’s the first line of a Young Adult book review, don’t think that I’m not ranting and raving like Christian Bale ala Terminator)
I’m 40 years old. Yes, 40 years old (go on, snicker… point… do your best) and I’m all waxing nostalgic for those last few days of High School. WTF? (<--- See? I’m completely regressing here…) I hate mid life crisises.
John Green has this thing. This.. Way about Him. His writing… his characters… damn, I’m so jealous I could spit. I’m also angry… because my memory of high school… my personal ‘window’ of what occurred is garbled. I remember hating most of the kids… I remember having a handful of people that I could trust… I remember counting days until I could be free of that narrow minded, juvenile, asinine lifestyle.
What Green does is make me remember the nightly trips that a few of us would make to Nubble Light in Maine. It was about an hour away and the last few months of high school we’d spend HOURS there talking about what we would become. It was that kind of conversation that you can only really have at that time in your life… when you’re about to leave childhood behind. We’d sit on the rocks and the waves would soak our jeans and we’d talk about Milan Kundera and Joe Jackson and Philip Glass and know when I think back I’m a bit embarrassed by how pretentious we sounded and also a lot sad that I’ve lost that ability.
Green’s characters are bright, clever, endearing. Everything you want in a friend. They are profound and almost unbelievable if you weren’t lucky enough to know people like this. I am blessed in believing that I am.
Paper Towns are fictitious towns that are added to maps by cartographers. “Copyright traps (also known as key traps, paper streets and paper towns) have been featured in mapmaking for centuries. Cartographers create fictional landmarks, streets, and municipalities and place them obscurely into their maps. If the fictional entry is found on another cartographers map, it becomes clear a map has been plagiarized.”
Green led me to believe that he was speaking of Orlando (the city in which this book is based) as a Paper Town. Full of paper people, people with no depth, people who could easily be duplicated like paper dolls. He uses the metaphor so well. “ Before I had a chance to say anything, her eyes went back to the view and she started talking. “Here’s what’s not beautiful about it: from here, you can’t see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You see how fake it all is. It’s not even hard enough to be made out of plastic. It’s a paper town. I mean look at it, Q; look at all those cul-de-sacs, those streets that turn in on themselves, all the houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning thing. All the thing paper-thin and paper-frail. And all the people, too.”
It’s literal, it’s functional, it’s like a fairy tale. His characters are average high school seniors…except that they’re not. (I know, that’s a cheap way out… sorry, read the book)
Quentin (Q) is our hero. Margo is our heroine. They have known each other since they were two. The girl and boy next door. They started off as best friends but as it often happens, labels are created and they are separated by the personas that they’ve taken on. Margo is popular, Quentin is a band geek. Until one night when Margo shows up at Quentin’s window and leads on a night of breakings and entering and revenge filled debauchery. Then, she disappears.
Quentin is convinced that Margo has left clues for him to find her. He finds a copy of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass that she has mucked up and it leads him on this journey… a methodical and allegorical journey. He becomes obsessed with finding her. Which, of course, means finding himself. This could easily be an Afterschool Special type book, but we are spared that. Because Green is that good of a writer.
And, that’s why I am so friggin’ mad at him. He makes me miss that time. He makes me remember what it felt like. He makes me feel like a voyeur, like I’m cheating…. I had this time already, this is for the young… he fooled me before in AAOK and he did it again.
“It is so hard to leave--until you leave. And then it is the easiest goddamned thing in the world.”
I wish I could afford that thought. I wish there were no ramifications attached.
I wish I could afford to tear apart Whitman line by line and discover something about myself. I wish I weren’t so tired and uninspired to not do it. “I bequeath myself to the dirt to grow from the grass I love, If you want me again look for me under your bootsoles.
You will hardly know who I am or what I mean, But I shall be good health to you nevertheless And filter and fibre your blood.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another. I stop some where waiting for you.”
So, grudgingly, I thank you, once again, Mr. Green. I laughed, I cried, I missed Nubble Light with all of my being.
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