Picture Perfect
Holly Smale
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.
Attachment
Rainbow Rowell
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.
How to Build a Girl
Caitlin Moran
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.
Howl, Kaddish, and other poems
Allen Ginsberg
Andrew McMillan is the reason for me reading Allen Ginsberg - I am just ashamed that it has taken me so long!
Reading this so soon after finishing Kerouac has slightly messed with my brain - I am starting to feel like part of the Beat Generation, like a young, disillusioned man, endlessly searching for truth and honesty and beauty.
Even now, Ginsberg's style seems unconventional - it must have shocked and awed when first published - with it's long, winding sentences, peculiar line breaks, and complete disregard for standard meter.
But all this adds to Ginsberg's power. He is angry and passionate and contemporary, though some of his words resonate with society today.
The images in Ginsberg's poetry are vivid and mesmerising. I can picture him sitting in a coach station on "great wooden shelves and stanchions posts and beams assembled floor to roof jumbled with baggage"; I see Ginsberg bent over his typewriter, wondering if his audience of the future "will [...] eat my poems or read them".
As I read 'Kaddish', I was gripped by Ginsberg's depth, his love for his mother and his battle between the guilt and the responsibility he feels. My heart broke for his strength through such adversity.
But the poem I loved most was 'Sunflower Sutra', an account of a day spent with his friend, Jack Kerouac, mulling over the beauty of the tiny details in the world around them; finishing in a loud, uplifting call to arms:
"we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside."
The Forward Book of Poetry 2010
London, Forward, 2010
The 2010 collection is larger than any other Forward Book of Poetry - it contains some of the longest poems I have read in all the anthologies. But it also consists of a wide variety of subjects and forms, and every poems has memorable images and lines.
I am starting to see familiar names recurring in the collections I have been reading - the more you read, the more you know. I was delighted to see Hugo Williams in the 2010 collection - his 'Poems to My Mother' are warm and honest, consistent with his work I have read elsewhere.
Family is a theme that repeatedly comes up in poetry, but none more so than in this collection. It was presented in so many forms - from admiration to anger, tragedy to humour. Many seemed to be saying good bye, such as Christopher James' heart-breaking thoughts on his father. The words portray the individual poet's battles with their relationships; in particular, the darkness of Brian Henry's 'Quarantine' still haunts me.
War and terror seemed to frequently be explored - even ten years after 9/11, the images of this tragedy remain on the minds of the writers. Clive James' ability to find a dark sort of humour in this subject demonstrates the zanity with which terrorism is thought.
Alongside these are reflections on opportunities missed and lives not fulfilled. Roger McGough, a writer I normally associate with humour, declares, "We didn't make our beds, but we lie in them." And Kevin Hart muses over what life could have been like had he taken a different path.
Many different styles were on show in this collection - from structure, rhyming poems to those without punctuation and correct grammar. In places, words seemed to be thrown at random upon the page, until closer reading revealed love or hope or longing.
The ones I loved the most, as per usual, were those written by women, typically about relationships. The 2010 collection gave me a great selection to choose from, including Lorraine Mariner and Selima Hill, aforementioned favourites. But this collection iintroduced me to Tamsin Kendrick, whose weighing up of 'Peter Pan vs Captain Hook' forces you to reflect on your ideal man; especially when paired with Katy Evans-Bush's 'To My Next Lover', which immediately made me go away and write.
What more can you ask of a collection of poetry?
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.
The Forward Book of Poetry 1995
London, Forward, 1995
I love the idea of an impromptu poetry reading from Carol Ann Duffy, Jean Binta Breeze and William Sieghart. Apparently, this is what happened during the meeting of the judging panel for the 1995 Forward Prizes.
As Cressida Connely notes in her foreword, this collection consists of such an incredible variety of poetry, though much of it is rather longer than my usual preference. There are poems about music, from Marvin Gaye to Joe Meek; poems about love and family and loss; and even poems about poems.
Peter Sansom's 'Today We Are Shooting Poets' is a funny, clever piece of writing, in contrast to Ann Sansom's celebration of variety in voices.
There are also brilliantly strong women in this collection, possibly a reflection of Carol Ann Duffy's presence on the selection panel. Helen Dunmore's 'Three Ways of Recovering a Body' is simultaneously tragic and uplifting, but packs a punch alongside the words of Jackie Kay and Louise Hudson.
And there are poems in here I want to read again and again, and that I think might lead me to writing my own response; particularly Peter Didsbury's 'A Malediction', which just oozes inspiration in it's structure, form and subject. Time to get writing, I guess...
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.
The Forward Book of Poetry 2007
London, Forward, 2006
2007 appears to have been the year of the incredibly long poem, and yet this collection is surprisingly short. As John Burnside notes in his foreword, the judges of 2007 selected six finalists for each category, instead of the usual five. But the selection of Highly Commended Poems is shorter than usual, and this is where I found the real gems.
This collection covers as wide a range of themes as any of the Forward Arts Foundation books, but there seems to be a heavier leaning towards poems about the labouring classes than usual, from forestry to mining and beyond.
Then, there are brilliant accounts of fantasy like Tim Wells' 'On Being Expelled from Eton for Shagging Tallulah Bankhead', which imagines a world in which a working class boy could go to an establishment school.
Although many of these poems are rather longer than I typically prefer, there are some excellent examples of experimentation with form, including Allan Crosbie's 'Manifesto', the power of which is so difficult to articulate - you will simply have to read it yourself to believe it.
But I think my favourite is 'Bird' by Clare Shaw - somewhat unexpectedly, as I am not the kind of person who likes stories about animals; I have always responded better to human pain and success. But 'Bird' is so beautifully written, so delicate and innocent, that I could not help but love it.
