There are few young adult novels that have continued to be a necessity in my life since I stopped being a school librarian. I am currently basking in being able to read adult fiction, and dabbling increasingly in picture books for fun. But without the Geek Girl series, I fear my life would not be the same.
It is finally time for Harriet Manners to hit New York City. With a new baby sister in her life, Harriet's dad must go back to work, and his career choices lead the family to New York. Harriet and her best friend, Nat, dream of those high spires and infamous landmarks, of adventures through great museums and romantic walks through Central Park. It means a couple of months off school, where Harriet is excited to embark into sixth form, but perhaps she might get to see a little more of the handsome Lion Boy, Nick.
But the arrival of the Manners family in New York does not quite go according to Harriet's plan. Rather than living in a fancy appartment in Manhattan, they are a few hours out of town in Harriet's idea of suburban hell. She has no friends, no school, and her parents seem to be perminantly asleep or trying to sleep around baby Tabitha's naps.
In a tizzy of anger, Harriet decides to take matters into her own hands, and ventures into the city to see Nick and the magic of the Big Apple. But running away is not as easy as it seems, so Harriet manages to upset just about everyone around her. And, in classic Geek Girl style, she finds herself drawn into a world where people just seem to want to change her and trick her and ultimately (though mostly accidentally) ruin her life.
As a reader, it is very easy to get frustrated as Harriet plunges into foolish decisions, from simply running away from home to pretending to play it cool with Nick to make him more eager. But equally, it is very easy to relate to her confusion and desire to fit in - we have all been there.
Yesterday, I stumbled upon the next Geek Girl book in a book shop, and could hardly stop myself reading it. So I went straight home and ordered it from the library. I cannot wait.
Furniture Lorraine Mariner Okay, so I am a little late on the scene when it comes to Lorraine Mariner. Anyone who knows anything about contemporary poetry must already be familiar with her blunt commentaries on real life and her first lines that make you just want to go away and write. But I couldn't resist getting in on the conversation. This collection reads a little like the diary of a teenage girl, growing up, learning about the world around her. But it is also reflective and mature, looking back on the hopes and fears we all share, and those that are unique to each of us. This is what makes Mariner's poetry so inspiring - first lines that can lead you anywhere, taking you back into your own memories of being in school, falling in love, feeling jealous or angry or naive. Like Injured, which starts with a line about what you always fantastised about at school - Mariner's dream being that she would get injured and be propelled to the dizzy heights of in-school celebrity. Or My Beast, documenting a young girl's concern that her fairytale story would come unravelled by her own inabilities to play the part of princess properly; which led to some brilliant creations in one of our First Story sessions back at OSA. My love for Lorraine Mariner arises somewhere between Stanley, the witty first poem in the collection in which the author breaks up with her imaginary boyfriend, and Heart, which recounts that universal experience of losing your heart to someone who doesn't deserve it, accidentally "slipping it / into his pocket as he did up his overcoat". She explores those heartbreaking elements of growing up in a way that is so unique and yet seems so obvious - you will hate yourself for not thinking them up first. I borrowed this collection from the library, and have had a hard time bringing myself to take it back. Perhaps it is just one I am going to have to buy.
I needed this book as my holiday read - something light weight, uncomplicated and vaguely funny. I just wish it had been a little less predictable.
Lincoln is employed at a newspaper as the guy who checks the email filter for red flags. It's 1999, and everyone is paranoid about the millenium bug and about the potential evil of emailing, long before reading other people's emails became the job of the government. The emails of two friends, Beth and Jennifer, catch his attention and his imagination - he loves the way Beth writes, she makes him laugh. But before he realises, he knows too much about her to approach her; plus, she already has a rock star boyfriend.
Rainbow Rowell is a great writer - easy to read and very witty (though there is something odd about Lincoln falling for Beth over the way she writes, as if Rowell is celebrating her own amazing talent for words). I don't know what I had hoped for in terms of predictability, but as with any romantic comedy, the guy typically bags the girl, and a little bit of me had hoped that Lincoln's wishes wouldn't be fulfilled.
Lincoln is praised across social media as one of the greatest boyfriends of all time - and he truly is dreamy: clever, sensitive and apparently rather handsome - but his modesty and lack of self-belief seemed too put on, as if Rowell was trying just a little too hard to write the dream man.
Nevertheless, I cannot help but confess that I enjoyed reading this - if you are looking for a holiday read that is a little more high brow than the norm, try Attachment.
I had almost neglected to write this review, seeing as it has been so over-reviewed already, but when I saw a friend reading it and laughing all the way through, I felt the need to offer my thoughts.
All those who know Caitlin Moran know her story by now - a clever girl raised on a council estate who lands a teenage writing prize and goes on to blag a column in The Times. Moran insists that How to Build a Girl is fiction, but it is hard to distance this novel from her own reality.
But it is not the plot of this novel that I want to celebrate, rather the little snippets of hilarity that are simultaneously completely familiar and obsurely unique. The teenage self-consiousness that convinces Johanna Morrigan she is singularly responsible for her family's poverty. The misreading of social convention that makes dressing solely in black seem like the best idea, and her mother's concern that she is acting like a dark crow that has decended upon the household. The naivety that allows her to have so much sex and so few orgasims.
Whether or not you like that fact that Moran seems to only write about one thing, you cannot deny the fact that she is honest, realistic and frankly hilarious.
Yes Please Amy Poehler My sister and I share a love for Amy Poehler like no other shared love (except maybe that felt towards our parents and brother... maybe). I stumbled upon Parks and Recreations as 30 Rock neared it's final series, as I searched for a surrogate for my nerdy affections. Somehow, I managed to convince my sister to watch it, and now we constantly quote lines and recall clips at each other. Yes Please is Amy Poehler's biography. She recounts the giggliness of her youth, the excitement of her early career, and the complexity of trying to have it all. I have known for some time that I like the way Poehler writes, but this engages with a different literary form. In her biography, Poehler is honest and witty and generous towards her reader. Her style is that of a reluctant talker - she clearly prefers to make believe as Leslie Knope than to open up about herself. Every sentence raises more questions than it answers, revealing little snippets of her life but masking her darkest secrets. Throughout the book, she discusses how difficult she found the process of writing, praising her friends who have helped her along the way. She also jumps between trains of thought - you embark on a chapter about her school days only to be led on a tangent towards an incident involving her beloved improvisation troupe, the Upright Citizen's Brigade. Leslie Knope and Amy Poehler are both completely inspiring and amazing individuals, but this biography reveals just how talented an actor Poehler is - she is not as similar to Knope as I had expected, and I love that about her. I find myself reassured by the fact that she suffers from anxiety, and inspired by her attempts to be the best version of herself. If you find yourself looking for something to read, read this.
The Manifesto on How to Be Interesting Holly Bourne London, Usborne, 2014, 448p It has taken me a little time to come to terms with my thoughts on this book due to the sensitivity of the content. The Manifesto on How to be Interesting is a novel I want to recommend, but it is loaded with issues that should be approached with caution. Bree is an academic, creative student. She is a writer. But when she presents her manuscript to her favourite teacher, his reaction disappoints. So Bree decides to embark on a mission to become popular, in the hope that a more interesting life will produce more interesting literature. The process is relatively easy for Bree - her parents are wealthy, and her father works with a make up manufacturer, meaning she has instant access to treats to share with her new, popular friends. All it takes is some more fashionable clothes to make everyone realise Bree is fairly attractive, and she has the personality to match. Along the way, her relationship with her best friend suffers; but soon, her crush is taking more of an interest and people around school talk about her in a different way. Bourne's novel is a little bit Mean Girls, but with added complexity. For one, Bree's crush is directed towards her English teacher; and secondly, Bree self-harms. Such issues are not easy to tackle in young adult literature - the fantasy element of fiction means many characters who self-harm are blessed with a moment of epiphany when they turn their lives around; many real girls are not so lucky. The underlying message of the book is to encourage the reader to be happy in who they are, and to acknowledge that we all suffer from lapses in confidence, even the most popular kids in school. But the challenge that I am left with is how to talk about these matters with my students - not every life has such a happy ending.
Not That Kind of Girl Lena Dunham London, Fourth Estate, 2014, 265p When I found myself painfully jealous of a friend who was reading this book that I realised I had to get a copy. Lena Dunham's biography has caused some controversy already, and although I am not a religious watcher of 'Girls', I must confess I am intrigued by her. Not That Kind of Girl is a funny, intelligent and sometimes disturbing account of Dunham's life so far. She talks about health, family and romance, and everything in between. She tells the reader she is a girl with a "keen interest in having it all", and this book is her story from "the front line of that struggle". Dunham's youth is uniquely peculiar to me. She was born to artistic, liberal parents in New York, and her eccentricity and individuality have always been encouraged. In places, it sounds like she has low self-esteem (for example, when she discusses the common plight of the young woman who settles for a non-relationship with a guy who is clearly not good enough); and at other points, she explodes with self-assurance and good advice. I had been warned that this biography is far from uplifting, but it was darker than I had expected, with confessions about her reliance on her therapist and descriptions of rubbish relationships. But within those moments that make your heart break, there are episodes that make you laugh out loud. Mostly, I simply admire her honesty. I am conscious I am going through a phase of reading biographies of this kind - those of young, successful, strong women in comedy (see my recent review of Mindy Kaling's book). And I cannot wait to read Amy Poehler's recent release! With each of these women, I find some things to relate to and some things with which I disagree, but what my readings are demonstrating is that the female experience is varied and unique to each person - how can anyone stereotype about women when we are all so different? Thanks to Jay for inspiration.
Apple and Rain Sarah Crossan London, Bloomsbury, 2014, 329p
This is such an incredibly and irresistibly heart-warming book, it was a joy to read. Apple has vague memories of her mother leaving, late one night around Christmas, leaving her with her Nana. And every year, Apple dreams that her mother will come back and claim her again. Nana is loving and well-meaning, and Dad is distantly present, popping up at important holidays; but it is her mother that Apple wants back. But when her mother eventually does come home, things aren't quite like Apple expected. She moves away from her Nana, but her mother isn't around much anyway, and Apple has unexpected company in her mother's flat. Apple tries to find comfort at school - she loves her new poetry teacher, but is scared about opening up with the truth; and meanwhile, her best friend is moving on. As her mum's absence increasingly becomes a social welfare issue, Apple does all she can to protect her mother from a potential visit from the police. Apple is forced to grow up far quicker than any young girl should have to, and as you read you long for her to be returned to her Nana's guardianship. Despite all the badness happening around her, Apple is a patient, contentious young lady. She doesn't get mad at her mother when she is away for days; she is far from the typical teenager. Throughout the Apple and Rain, Crossan treats the reader to snippets of Apple's creativity, inspired by great poets and universal themes. At points, it seems like poetry is the only good and true thing in Apple's life. I love the infectiousness of her love for the written word, and I am sure many young readers (and writers) share Apple's fear of sharing her most honest feelings with her teachers and classmates. It is amazing that a novel that explores a young girl's confused feelings about her absent mother can be so uplifting and enlightening.
Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? (And Other Concerns) Mindy Kaling New York, Ebury, 2013, 223p
I hugely enjoyed my time with Mindy Kaling. Part of me wants to call her my guilty pleasure, but I have nothing to be ashamed of - I love her writing and acting; if I was a girly girl, I would want to be like her: self assured, embarrassed by nothing, beautiful. Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? is Kaling's hilarious biography. She recounts her school days, her wild ambition coupled with boring jobs, and her eventual success when she joined the writers of The Office. Her book combines extended lists with long prose accounts, and carries the air of someone trying not to give advice(and sort of failing). Kaling possesses a ridiculous amount of passion and knowledge about comedy, listing her favourite comedy moments and recounting friendships that just didn't work out because the other person wasn't as in to it as she is. Since writing this book, Kaling has created her own sitcom, The Mindy Project, and I would have loved this book to contain more of her crazy confessions about this. A few days after having finished this book, I am still laughing as I recall little snippets of her humour. In particular, I have adopted Kaling's approach to jogging, which is to fantastise about imaginary revenge scenarios. Despite initially finding this idea hilarious, in practice it has proven to really occupy the mind and distract from the pain of running. Kaling is open and honest with her reader, telling her most awkward moments and biggest celebrity crushes. But throughout, she is explicitly happy with who she is - she is unapologetic and doesn't really care what anyone thinks, despite confessing to a fascinating with fashion and dieting, interests conventionally possessed by those who care too much what other people thinks. In this way, she has even challenged some of the subconscious presumptions I had about women. She doesn't try and claim that her experiences are the same as any other woman's experiences, and that is what I love most.
Slated Teri Terry London, Orchard, 2012, 439p I am concerned that I am going through a reluctant reader phase. By this, I mean that I am struggling to engage with many books - I only seem to be satisfied reading poetry and a little adult fiction - so I apologise that my blog has not had much variety recently. In an attempt to get out of this funk, I started Slated before the weekend. Kyla's memory has been wiped. She lives in a society where individuals who conflict with the law have their memories removed, and are given a second chance. Kyla is only sixteen, but the government claims she was a terrorist. She struggles to relearn the basics, like tying shoe laces and crossing the road. But she loves art, and through her drawing, she can put her nightmares on paper and hopefully find some answers. This book has sat on my dresser for several days, and I have made little progress. It takes a lot to make me give up on a book, but the pace of Slated was too slow for my liking, especially as there are two sequels. Like many dystopian novels, I like the concept - the idea that nothing is what as it seems, and Kyla must struggle to uncover the truth. Unfortunately, I think there have been so many novels of this vein recently that I can probably predict exactly what is going to happen - the lack of intrigue meant I eventually had to concede defeat and try something new, in the hope of moving on from this rut of being unable to read any teen or YA fiction.
Oh Dear Silvia Dawn French London, Penguin, 2013, 432p Whilst on holiday for half term, having finished Gone Girl far more quickly than I had anticipated, panic began to set in that I would not have enough books to last me the week. Luckily, the wonderful hostel I was in - Ani & Haakien in Rotterdam - had a book swap, so after skimming through a few, I swapped Gillian Flynn for Dawn French, and found a story that had an uncanny number of similarities to it's predecessor. Silvia is in a coma. It appears she fell from her balcony, and she is visited regularly by her friend, sister, ex-husband and nurse. Each visit brings with it a one sided conversation - Ed talks about their separation, his resulting depression, and his eventual recovery through his love of nature. Jo, the eccentric older sister, causes mayhem through the ward with her non-traditional methods to try and bring Silvia back to consciousness. And Winnie watches over Silvia every day, trying to offer comfort and nurse her back to health. It would appear that Silvia has changed greatly in recent years, and there is some resentment held by her family towards her new friend, Cat. Silvia has aggressively distanced herself from her family, leaving her son, daughter and granddaughter feeling angry and confused. Cassie struggles to find the confidence to visit her mother, whilst Jamie remains in Afghanistan, refusing to come home. But as the story unfolds, it becomes clear that this change was the result of a minor, regrettable incident, in which Silvia irreparably ruined her chances of a normal family life. This makes the novel sound far darker than it actually is. Oh Dear Silvia is an easy read, and has an optimistic tone. And yet it explores some complex ideas about family and relationships, especially around forgiveness. I was impressed by Dawn French's accessibility and the fullness of her story - what a great transformation from comedian to novelist.
Gone Girl Gillian Flynn London, Phoenix, 2013, 496p Another one of those contemporary novels I have been meaning to read for a while, I finally found a few days on my half term holiday to be drawn into the dark, haunting world of Nick and Amy Dunne. And all I needed was a few days (my flight was delayed, I was stuck in an airport for three hours longer than expected), despite this being a 500 page novel. Gone Girl is the story of a missing woman and her husband, who suddenly finds himself accused of her abduction and possible murder. Their relationship was on the rocks, and the police find significant evidence that places Nick at the scene of various unsavoury disturbances. And despite having the support of his sister and Amy's parents, Nick finds himself hurled into a media storm determined to drag his name through the mud. The novel is narrated through both Nick and Amy - Nick's narrative explains what happens following the disappearance, whilst Amy's diary recounts their past: how they met, their marriage, their move to the suburbs, and their slow deterioration. Nick is clearly not the perfect husband, and Amy's diaries increasingly cast light on a growing fear she felt around him. But the narrative is not as honest as it may seem, and in the second half of the novel, a whole new level of psychotic drama unfolds. It is so difficult to write about this novel without ruining the plot, though I am sure most people have a vague idea of what happens (especially since the movie adaptation was recently released). But I will say that it is a haunting novel about the darker side of relationships. As the story unfolds, it is not just Nick who is revealed to be a dishonest character, but Amy's true colours begin to show. These are not individuals that you root for or support - neither are 'in the right' - but you are gripped as you watch them destroy themselves and the world they have built together.
Why Be Happy When You Can Be Normal? Jeanette Winterson London, Vintage, 2011, 230p
I have been rationing words on these last few days of my half term holiday. That is because I didn't want to rely on book swaps in hostels, since my luck with them proved to be limited. So over the last weekend of my adventure, I read and reread the Forward Book of Poetry 1994 (review coming soon), and I took my time enjoying Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? Jeanette Winterson, author of Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit, is a clever and sharp writer, both of fiction and non fiction. I always find myself seeking out her commentaries in The Guardian and elsewhere, and everything I read leaves me feeling reassured that I am not alone, that life is a mad experience for all of us. Why Be Happy? is the sister book of the semi-autobiographical Oranges: Winterson confesses that her 1985 novel brushed over some of the harsher realities of her upbringing, including the creation of Elsie, the saviour of Oranges who makes Jeanette's harsh upbringing slightly softer. In reality, there was no Elsie. Winterson's childhood was full of explicitly repressive religious doctrine and nights locked out of the house, camped on the doorstep, as punishment for some odd crime, like reading. Despite only having six books in her house growing up, Winterson could not help but fall in love with words. She hid books under her mattress and learned stories by rote, just so she could indulge in the magic of literature and poetry. Her love for language is infectious, and by the end of the memoir I had a long list of things I wanted to read or return to. She also explores the challenges of suffering from depression, and explains the reality of finding her birth mother - a muddle of difficult administrative procedures resulting in a reunion she feels is rather less dramatic than typical reunion stories. What touched me most was Winterson's process of coming to understand her approach to love and relationships. Her feelings towards her adopted mother are impressively positive; she finds herself coming to the defense of Mrs Winterson whilst it is clear that her child-raising techniques were somewhat unconventional. And this has had an interesting effect on Winterson's adult life - in particular, the feeling that she is not wanted and does not deserve to be loved in the way many others think of being loved. This is the first book I have read more than once in years (other than Persuasion), and definitely the first book I have ever read when I started from the beginning again as soon as I had finished. It added something to the reading process that I have never experienced before - a feeling of familiarity, as I read words and scenes I had already stored in my memory, but some scenes shifted and altered as I read them a second time. And I think this made me love Jeanette Winterson's writing even more - she could make me laugh when I already knew the punch line; she made me put the book down and think about what I had just read; and when I knew what was coming later, I could see elements of her future being shaped in her youth. There was so much going on in this memoir, I do not have the space to explore it all in this blog, but it goes without saying that I think everyone should read this. Winterson's story makes it okay to be who you are, and I think we all need to be reminded of that every now and then.
