captivating thursday

By the time this is posted it'll be nearly friday. But it's be so long (too long) since I did a CT.

Captivating Thursday is a meme hosted by me that showcases beautiful things--whether it be photos, quotes, poetry, music, videos, or anything else that I happen upon.

Love Devendra Banhart. Not posting the official vid of Foolin' cause it's just too weird, haha.

A STEP AWAY FROM THEM by Frank O'Hara (courtesy of www.frankohara.org)

It's my lunch hour, so I go
for a walk among the hum-colored
cabs. First, down the sidewalk
where laborers feed their dirty
glistening torsos sandwiches
and Coca-Cola, with yellow helmets
on. They protect them from falling
bricks, I guess. Then onto the
avenue where skirts are flipping
above heels and blow up over
grates. The sun is hot, but the
cabs stir up the air. I look
at bargains in wristwatches. There
are cats playing in sawdust.
On
to Times Square, where the sign
blows smoke over my head, and higher
the waterfall pours lightly. A
Negro stands in a doorway with a
toothpick, languorously agitating.
A blonde chorus girl clicks: he
smiles and rubs his chin. Everything
suddenly honks: it is 12:40 of
a Thursday.
Neon in daylight is a
great pleasure, as Edwin Denby would
write, as are light bulbs in daylight.
I stop for a cheeseburger at JULIET'S
CORNER. Giulietta Masina, wife of
Federico Fellini, è bell' attrice.
And chocolate malted. A lady in
foxes on such a day puts her poodle
in a cab.
There are several Puerto
Ricans on the avenue today, which
makes it beautiful and warm. First
Bunny died, then John Latouche,
then Jackson Pollock. But is the
earth as full as life was full, of them?
And one has eaten and one walks,
past the magazines with nudes
and the posters for BULLFIGHT and
the Manhattan Storage Warehouse,
which they'll soon tear down. I
used to think they had the Armory
Show there.
A glass of papaya juice
and back to work. My heart is in my
pocket, it is Poems by Pierre Reverdy.

source

"Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt."
-Kurt Vonnegut

source

"Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat on your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby."

-Langston Hughes

source

"The library is inhabited by spirits that come out of the pages at night."

-Isabel Allende

source

I HAVE TO TELL YOU by Dorothea Grossman (courtesy of poetryfoundation.com)

I have to tell you,
there are times when
the sun strikes me
like a gong,
and I remember everything,
even your ears.

comfort books

Sometimes I just want to curl up with a good book for a whole day and let my brain turn to goo as I immerse myself in a story.

I think it's the hecticness of everyday life that allows for purely escapist books--books designed only to entertain and to let the reader just be transported to an entirely different world for a while. I mean, it's not everyday that someone can go and read War & Peace--it takes a particular frame of mind to read a classic.

On the other hand--there are those beloved, dogeared books that I can sink into at any time, and at any moment, and I'm guaranteed to enjoy myself.

Somehow, I always turn to middle grade fantasy--it's so light and carefree and there's always hope in between the pages--a happy ending--and there's just this whimsical take on life that I adore.

My ultimate comfort book is Charmed Life; my comfort author--Diana Wynne Jones. I can't tell you how many times I've read her books and just let everything sink away--it's a good distraction from worrying about homework due the next day and friends and everything in between.

Her books are like chocolate--they make you feel better and they're delicious and you're always yearning for them, even when you don't know you're yearning.

As a matter of fact, comfort books = chocolate literature.

What types are books are your comfort reads? Any particular book/author? (Not gonna lie, I need some more comfort books to dive into.)

10 YA CONTEMPORARY BOOKS YOU SHOULD READ

Here's a list. Some of these books have been reviewed, some haven't been yet. I tried to keep it brief and sum up why I love these books in a sentence--just know that if you pick a single book off this list to read, you can't go wrong.

Links are to Goodreads and/or to my past reviews.

JELLICOE ROAD by Melina Marchetta:

Beautifully written, infinitely layered--this book builds momentum so that the ending has the story coming together in a truly breathtaking way.

Goodreads



PAPER TOWNS by John Green

This is John Green at his absolute best--and there are bursts of mystery, yearning, hilarity and quirkiness mixed in.

Goodreads



THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE DIARY OF A PART TIME INDIAN by Sherman Alexie

This is the sort of book that will make you laugh and cry at the same time--and features one of the most endearing main characters I've ever come across.

My Review/ Goodreads



WINTERGIRLS by Laurie Halse Anderson

One of the most lyrical YA books I've ever read--a haunting depiction of anorexia by the acclaimed author of Speak.

Goodreads


I AM THE MESSENGER by Markus Zusak

The coming-of-age themes in this book are particularly strong--as is the arresting writing and humor.

Goodreads




CRACKED UP TO BE by Courtney Summers

One of the best protragonists I've ever come across--and a whole lot of snark and wonderful dialogue to go along.

My Review/ Goodreads



THE SKY IS EVERYWHERE by Jandy Nelson

Beautifully written, and heartbreaking, the poignancy of the book will stay with you long after you've read it.

My Review/ Goodreads



THE YEAR OF SECRET ASSIGNMENTS by Jacklyn Moriarty

Reading this book will be some of the best fun you've ever had--you'll laughing hysterically and be treated to a wonderful story at the same time.

My Review/ Goodreads



IF I STAY by Gayle Foreman

A bittersweet journey narrated in a nonlinear way, If I Stay will both capture your heart and break it too.

My Review/ Goodreads



HOLD STILL by Nina LaCour

The language throughout this book is what sets it apart--gorgeous sentence fragments in tune to the halting way the main character gets over the death of a loved one.

My Review/ Goodreads


I hope you'll at least try out one of these books on this list--they're truly some of my favorite YA books.

But are any of your favorite YA contempoary books on this list? Did I miss mentioning a book that was particularly earth-shattering?

waiting on wednesday

Before scientists found the cure, people thought love was a good thing. They didn’t understand that once love -the deliria- blooms in your blood, th...more Before scientists found the cure, people thought love was a good thing. They didn’t understand that once love -the deliria- blooms in your blood, there is no escaping its hold. Things are different now. Scientists are able to eradicate love, and the governments demands that all citizens receive the cure upon turning eighteen. Lena Holway has always looked forward to the day when she’ll be cured. A life without love is a life without pain: safe, measured, predictable, and happy.

But with ninety-five days left until her treatment, Lena does the unthinkable: She falls in love.

(summary courtesy of Goodreads)

***

The first word that comes to mind--perhaps because of the Delirium title--is delicious. Yes, I think this book is going to be positively scrumptious. *

Not only is it dystopian, but it's by Lauren Oliver, who wrote that very famous book Before I Fall. Really, I'm just looking forward to this book to see if Oliver continues with the flowy writing that I can't puzzle out because it's so purposely unobtrusive. And also, the premise definitely hooked me in.

Release Date: February 1st 2011

*so maybe I'm hungry--but for good books! And psst, chocolate.

on reading the great gastby

I am currently rereading The Great Gatsby.

I'm revisiting the old haunts: Nick's bungalow in West Egg, Gatsby's lavish parties at night, Daisy's exuberance.

And then, there are the words.

Fitzgerald writes like no one else. I encountered further proof of this earlier last month when I read Tender is the Night--which, while a good book-- doesn't hold a candle to The Great Gatsby. But through all of Fitzgerald's work, there's one thing that can be expected: meticulously crafted, breathtaking prose.

Listen. I reread The Great Gatsby religiously. And it's not just because I love the glamor of the Jazz Age or the love affair between Gatsby and Daisy or the tragic ending. I read it mainly for the words.

But what do I mean, exactly?

For me at least, this book holds a sort of magnetism--which is sort of perfect, considering Gatsby's personality. It draws me in. I can't help but revisit on summer days and winter nights, luxuriating in the sentences.

It's hard to explain, unless you've read this book. And this book is relatively thin--175 pages or so, the elegaic blue cover that's lasted through the ages gracing the front. Inside though, there's enough room for genius. I'm amazed and my mind is blown every single time *and sometimes I'm speechless, and then just amazed, again. Because if you really look at Fitzgerald's prose: if you realize that the flow is incomparable to any author out there and it's as if you know what word is going to come next--this book goes from great to nothing short of titanic. It's really the rhythm of Fitzgerald's sentences-- dictating what precise but beautiful word most come right now and right here--that makes it feel like you are immersed in a beautiful dream.

I also like to think it's similar to observing a work of art. Fitzgerald is like Monet: if his words were encased in a museum, in painting form, they'd shine out with this sort of vivid, enchanting quality. They're colorful and rich. There's layers to them. Every time you look at them, there's something new to be found. Even the most elementary sentence serves some higher purpose.

I can't wrap my mind around just how very good Fitzgerald had to be to write something like this.

I set out to write this post with the intention of convincing the hordes (you guys) to read this book, if you haven't already. I haven't said much of plot: there's Nick, the removed narrator that watches as Daisy and Gatsby--to put in simple terms, have a fling. Daisy is married, of course, and rich and superficial, but she's got this flimsy prettiness--she glides through the pages, fluttering everywhere. Then there's Gatsby: hopelessly in love with Daisy, pining after her, but enigmatic and charismatic. This book is really about them, and about the excess of the 20's.

Consequently, there are a lot of parties and a lot of mansions.

I don't know what else I can say to convince anyone. Maybe that, in my opinion--Fitzgerald is the best writer of prose. Usually I hesitate to make blanket statements--how can I know, since I haven't read every author out there? It's just--I don't mean that other authors don't have better plot or characters--but Fitzgerald, the best sentences of all time? The best prose?

For my reading tastes, yes. He's my soul-author.

And here are some quotes from The Great Gatsby that will show you why:

The wind had blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cast wavered across the moonlight, and turning my head to watch it, I saw that I was not alone--fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbor's mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars.

There was music from my neighbor's house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the champagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motor-boats slit the waters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam.

The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain. I had to follo0w the sound of it for a moment, up and down, with my ear alone, before any words came through. A damp streak of hair lay like a dash of blue paint across her cheek, and her hand was wet with glistening drops as I took it to help her from the car.

Fitzegerald writes of love gone wrong and old men with owl-glasses, ash valleys with clouds of gray particles and owners of ostentatious cars. Most of all, light flutters through his story. And his words: they leave me with an impression of white dresses ghosting through jazz music, guests tipsy with bootleg gin on blueblack nights.

Please, read this book. And then please love it.

new look, old blog

So finally I've taken a step back from my compulsive layout-fiddling. It's been several days, and my blog has gone through several possible layouts. (I should've taken screenshots. I went a little nuts, and would spend a few hours configuring a layout, and then decide I hated it, and then toss it. Yeah, I'm productive like that. )

So you can understand the process. At one point I banged my head against the keyboard repeatedly. You see, I'd set the bar high. I wanted something minimalist and pretty and something that I had a significant part in designing myself.

Er, that didn't really happen. The template you see here was altered only slightly a bit--mostly colors and such. It's minimalist, but not exactly pretty. There are still some minor changes I want to make.

Through this process, though, I have learned two things:

1. Never, never install intense debate (a commenting system)on your blog if you want to have future template flexibility. I fell in love with this template:But when I installed it, unfortunately it wasn't intense-debate compatible. I (unsuccessfully) tried to build a similar looking one from scratch, but yeah, didn't work. My CSS skills aren't really existent.

DARN YOU, INTENSE DEBATE!

Ahem.

2. I need to learn when to stop. Haha. Really. I wasted so much time on layouts I didn't even write posts. Heh. Heh. *wrenches self away from "Edit HTML" button*

Anyhow, love you guys for sticking around at my old little blog, even when I've been so flaky the last few months. But now it's practically the weekend, so I will soon be burrowing my nose into several books and reporting back to you on them.

Just wanted to say that this is one of the times where I wish I was either 1) Absolved of library fines 2) Insanely, filthily rich so I could get my hands on a huge stack of books. I don't know about you, but don't you just love seeing book piles around your room? It's exciting--I don't know if I'm going to fall completely in love with one of those unread books.

Rambles aside, I'm curious. What have been some of your template/layout/design frustrations?

pardon my mess + hinty hinty blogoversary month upcoming!

I'll be tinkering with some design elements in the next few days, so pardon any mess you might come across. The blog is not usually so hideous, I promise. My room, on the other hand...

ANYHOW, I think the layout will look lots better when I'm done. There will definitely be a different header and maybe one less column than usual and definitely different color schematics. I can't say more than that because more than that, I don't know.

And.

It came to my attention that my blogoversary (am I really that old? Is this blog really that old?) is approaching. This blog here will be exactly one years old in August.

So, maybe that calls for a little celebration? A hey, how-the-heck-did-this-blog-stay-alive-post? Maybe, a....contest?

Keep you eyes peeled, I'll be figuring out details soon :)

a (late) waiting on wednesday fangirl fest

It is late and I am already half asleep and time has run away as it so often does these days. But I need to write this Waiting on Wednesday post.

You see, I'd planned it to be about a certain book.

A book called BRIDGE OF CLAY.

As of now, there's only a snippet of a blurb:

It's about a boy.
His name is Clay.
He's building a bridge.
And he wants that bridge to be something truly great and miraculous.

And there isn't a cover yet. It's coming out (supposedly) in half a year. February 3rd, 2011. I'm marking that day on my calendar. It's got a big heart around it. I know my reading mind will be blown on that day--

because--ladies and gentlemen--

that's when the latest Markus Zusak book comes out.

Most of you know him from authoring the famous, the wonderful, the amazing, THE BOOK THIEF. Maybe you've read I AM THE MESSENGER too. Maybe you're a crazy fangirl/ fanboy too. I've probably squealed with you together about Zusak before--he seems to come up so often and whenever he does I have to join in and say my part--

that his words are so beautiful. That they changed my life. That I like to pick up his books in misplaced minutes of the day and spend a few breaths fingering the smooth pages. Reading them over again.

Zusak is one of the reasons--one of the authors--that are the reason I love to read.

And his new book?

That I've been so eagerly awaiting? Even when they changed the release date from September 2009 to 2010 and now to February 2011?

The book that I've been burrowing my nosy nose into the interwebs to find details about? (I found relatively little: that Zusak has been wanting to write this book for something like ten years. That he wants it to be better than The Book Thief. That he spends a painstaking amount of time making sure his drafts are as perfect as can be.)

I don't know anything about it. I have a title and a small blurb, but there's something to be said when you know nothing about a book, but already know you'll love it just because of who's writing it.

I'm excited and hoping and wishing that I had BRIDGE OF CLAY in my hands right now. 2011 can't come fast enough.

review: hold still

An arresting story about starting over after a friend’s suicide, from a breakthrough new voice in YA fiction.

dear caitlin, there are so many things

...more Summary:
An arresting story about starting over after a friend’s suicide, from a breakthrough new voice in YA fiction.

dear caitlin, there are so many things that i want so badly to tell you but i just can’t.

Devastating, hopeful, hopeless, playful . . . in words and illustrations, Ingrid left behind a painful farewell in her journal for Caitlin. Now Caitlin is left alone, by loss and by choice, struggling to find renewed hope in the wake of her best friend’s suicide. With the help of family and newfound friends, Caitlin will encounter first love, broaden her horizons, and start to realize that true friendship didn’t die with Ingrid. And the journal which once seemed only to chronicle Ingrid’s descent into depression, becomes the tool by which Caitlin once again reaches out to all those who loved Ingrid—and Caitlin herself.

My Opinion:

Hold Still is the latest YA book that I've fallen in love with. And to be honest, I don't fall in love with books that often. I think it's mostly because of the beautiful writing--LaCour's prose can only be described as lyrical and breathtaking. And as you might know by now, I'm a sucker for gorgeous novels.

Hold Still tells the story of Caitlin, but also of Ingrid, her best friend. Ingrid--a talented photographer with a future, a girl that seems happy before she kills herself. Her suicide devastates Caitlin, who doesn't know how to carry on in the year following Ingrid's death--and the halting and painful interactions she has with others only complicates her sense of loss. The combination of unwanted sympathy and morbid curiosity from her classmates leaves Caitlin feeling isolated at school. Her parents are convinced that her grief needs an outlet--they're worried that she's depressed. Her once friendly photography teacher won't even talk to her. On the other hand, Taylor, a skater-boy who's far too nice, keeps trying to talk to her.

Caitlin dwells on memories of Ingrid; remembrances of her best friend seem to materialize everywhere. Under her bed, Caitlin finds Ingrid's journal, and she knows she's meant to read it. The short journal entries, including Ingrid's confessions and sketches, appear periodically throughout Hold Still. They illuminate Ingrid's state of mind--one minute agonizing over her crush, the other confessing that she "can't stop crying." These excerpts are heartfelt and earnest--and quite touching. Other elements of the book--Caitlin's projects, involving photography and woodwork; and the fact that her lesbian friend Dylan's sexuality is a non-issue-- are also captured well.

It's really not the premise of Hold Still that caught my attention (YA already has it's fair share of girl-getting-over-death-of-loved-one)--but the execution. I did a little happy dance inside after reading the first pages of Hold Still--right away, I knew this would be one of the rare times I had to buy a book. So I did. And I'm really glad I did. It's by the grace of LaCour's language that Hold Still is able to hold it's own against the multitude of grief books already out there. To me, it's what allows the book to stand out.

The lyricism of the writing, the sentence fragments, and the setup of the book--the chapters are fragmented, brief vignettes of scenes from Caitlin's life-- all combined to make this one of the best YA books I've read in the last few months. Through the space of 200-something pages, readers are taken along a journey with Caitlin. A heartbreaking, poignant journey of grief that still manages to resonate with beauty.

My Rating: I give it a 9/10. I haven't given out a 9/10 FOR TWO MONTHS, peeps. AKA this means you really should pick up a copy ASAP. Really.

my trip to strand bookstore

While gallivanting around NYC, we were too stingy to hire a cab, or too smart*. But by late afternoon, I was dragging my feet across Lower Manhattan after walking what must have been literally ten miles. I was waiting at the crosswalk when I looked up and--there it was--the red signage of Strand Bookstore. A crowd clustered around book bargain shelves outside. I could see the promising outlines of books from where I was standing. I felt this little jab in my chest, because Strand had just appeared out of no where, and this bookstore that I'd wanted to visit for ages was suddenly smack-dab in front of me.

It was like something out of a dream.

I'd heard of Strand before--mostly on the blogosphere--and I knew what a huge reputation it had. So when I saw the steady crowd entering and leaving--I knew this wasn't a chance I could miss. I'd be lucky if I made it to NYC again in the next ten years. So I ran inside before my Mom could stop me. The air conditioning** was like the icing on a cake.

Inside there was a whole lot of wood, and a whole lot of books. A crowd milled; the checkout line snaking from the cashiers to the beginning of the bookshelves. I'd honestly never been in such a crowded bookstore--except, in NYC-- everything's crowded. The first level was fiction--I took a quick glance before vaulting up stairs, passing an mezzanine to arrive on the second floor. I hadn't a clue where the YA section was, but at this point I was just trying to burrow my way as far into the interior of this bookstore, and hope I'd never be found. I felt like I could spend a week in there, buried in books, and be completely content.

I turned left and spotted a banner that read "Children & Young Adults." I'm sure I half-fell, half-sprinted in my eagerness to get there. The bookshelves were extraordinarily tall, reaching up to the ceiling--the top shelves only accessible to eight-foot-tall giants. So I craned my neck up, and craned my neck down, and knelt on the floor and craned my neck every which way to get a good look at the titles.

Once I'd spent maybe a minute there, I knew this was the best bookstore for YA I'd ever been in. It probably had ten times the selection of my local bookstore. And to top it off, the prices were all at discounts--cheaper the Amazon, cheaper than almost anywhere I'd been. I saw so many titles I recognized, but a whole bunch I didn't, and it was honestly quite overwhelming. Add in the fact that I knew my parents would find me any minute and tell me we had to leave, like RIGHT NOW, and I was sort of jumping back and forth in between shelves and raking through them in a crazed manner. I took a quick glance at the children's section--stared longingly at the sign that proclaimed that rare children's books could be found a level or so up--and vaulted back downstairs in search of lost parents.

But lo and behold--parents were miraculously engrossed in books of their own! So I frantically raced back up the stairs and started looking more at the YA section. I think at this point I knew I was in trouble--THIS WAS A SERIOUS DECISION, here. I had to buy something, but I didn't know what to buy.

Indecision is a terrible thing.

I looked for books I'd been wanting to read, looked for ARCs (as I heard the Strand was rumored to carry some). But sadly, there weren't copies of the books I'd been looking for a long time and hadn't been able to find--like Fighting Reuben Wolfe by Markus Zusak. Still, there was an ample amount of selection. Just as I was about to grab a title, my Dad appeared.

"Your Mom's already checking out."

Darnit. Darnit. Darnit.

So I leapt back down the stairs. The thing about the Strand was, that even though the lines were really, impressively long--they moved fast. By the time I got there my Mom was halfway through the line. I spent a few precious minutes sizing up the Strand bookstore bags they had, and then the very awesome t-shirts styled after book covers (They had ones for Catcher in the Rye, Lolita, and Slaughter-House Five, to name a few.)

Then I went billowing down the first floor again, and snatched up a copy of Italo Calvino's If On a Winter's Night, which has come up before on this blog (wahoo!) and that I wanted to read because it'd been sort of chasing after me for a while (blog mention, several real-life mentions.)

I got back and it was my Mom's turn.

Bespectacled Mom: "Are you getting the bag?"

Me: "Err. Um. *claws at price tag* It's only twelve dollars!"

BM: "It's a nice bag. You should get it. "

Me: "Urm. Um. Still...*stinginess overrides buyer's compulsion* Ummmmmmmm. *vacillates* I'll just get the book."

So my dad's book--The Next 100 Years: A Forecast for the 21st Century--was scanned. Mine was scanned. The worker slid the two books into a frightening shade of yellow bag.

And just like that, we were officially proud costumers of Strand Bookstore. I was grinning ear to ear as I stepped back into the sweltering heat and into the mob-crowd populating NYC.

All in all, my Strand experience was a little panicky, and quite a bit rushed. I think that maybe we were in there for fifteen minutes. To be fair, my Mom would have stayed longer if there were any chairs, which there didn't seem to be, and fifteen minutes of standing after walking nonstop the whole day was pretty painful.

I don't know how I'll make it back to the Strand, but next time I think I need to set aside a few days so I can spend some quality time in there, haha. And I'll actually buy books--I had to keep my load light, since we had a ways to go until we got to the train station. :)

And now, the end result...

TA-DA!


1 abbreviated Strand experience = 2 books + 1 strand bag + 1 overexcited blogger.

* traffic in the Big Apple quite honestly scares the crap out of me. It's like you're battling for your life at every moment, haha.
** It was about 100 degrees outside. *dies*