in which i finally talk about books.

Perhaps I should talk about books? I think the very fact that I posted about my laptop festering in cat poop is further proof of the non-existence of my brain these past few days. This has been the first cold I've ever had to escalate into an ear infection. Yes, including childhood. It's quite bizarre (now that it's no longer SO painful). Thanks to these ear drops, everything has two (annoyingly dissonant) pitches. It's fascinating to hear myself talk (ha!), but it's HORRIBLE for listening to music. Eek. [And here is where I pause to realize that, much like the cat poop, you guys probably don't actually want to know about this.]

Which is why I've decided to talk about books today. Ahem. So, back in the day (also known as: this past winter), I was all about reading lots of books and blogging about them. This was before I had really come to terms with wanting to blog about writing. It was also before the Hunger Games casting, before I started putting myself out there and actually making blogger friends (hi, friends!), and before I was even close to finishing that good ol' rough draft of yore. Thus, I have not blogged about my reading list in a long time.

Okay, so I talked about worlds on May 16. That sort-of counts. Yay me. Other than that, all I remember posting about is HOWL'S MOVING CASTLE. MmmMmmMmm. So, here are the books I've encounter since Howl (some which I've already mentioned, so bear with me), and a few sentences about them:

FALLEN by Lauren Kate. Not my cup of tea. The setting was the best part. There were definite merits, and I don't like to book-bash, knowing how hard it is to put everything together, but... sigh. Just... not my cup of tea. And that's okay! If the whole brooding fallen angel thing *is* your cup of tea, by all means. Don't let me stop you.

WITHER by Lauren DeStefano. Much more my cup of tea. This book is weird and twisted, dystopian without feeling dystopian, gothic romance without the romance you would expect. Not perfect (sort of lacking in the climax department), but heck, who's perfect? I really enjoyed this book. Thoroughly creepy.

THE TRUTH ABOUT UNICORNS by Bonnie Jones Reynolds. The only non-YA book I've read in a long time. Creepy and long and... kind of grown-up in parts, if you catch my drift, but ultimately a great read. But be warned... it's really weird.

RED GLOVE by Holly Black. Very good. I'm not really on the whole Better-than-White-Cat Bandwagon, but I did enjoy it. Middle books are hard, I'm told, but this one was brilliant. I will say, I was a teensy let down by some things, but not enough to boot this book out of favorite standings. The WORST part about this book is its cover, which makes absolutely no sense once you've read it. What were they thinking?

ORCHARDS by Holly Thompson. I wanted to read this book because of two things: it's written in verse, and it's set in Japan. Anyone read OUT OF THE DUST by Karen Hesse? I adore that book, and it was the first novel in verse I ever read. ORCHARDS was much simpler; it was almost an embarrassingly quick read. But there's lots of good stuff inside, about family, dealing with suicide, coming to terms with your heritage. What's not to appreciate?

THE CHAOS WALKING TRILOGY by Patrick Ness. Shoo. These books are amazing, exhausting, challenging. I was dazed by the end of it all. I still am. Can't find any more words. Still recovering.

PARANORMALCY by Kiersten White. I know. What took me so long, right? Meh, just me being stupid. I was pleasantly surprised, though. I loved Evie more than I thought I would. I loved her world. I even (gasp) loved Reth. Okay, not love loved, but I thought his character was great. All the Fey. Horrifying and totally cool. Lend was okay. Blasphemy! (Just kidding, I loved him, too... I guess.)

DIVERGENT by Veronica Roth. Ah. Now, this is a book I could talk about for days. Perhaps that's because it's so fresh on my mind. I really loved these characters. The factions are brilliant and scary. I would so have ended up in Candor, with my mouth. Or Amity. Or maybe Dauntless, were I insane. If you know much about me, you know that I tend to be picky with romance, and this is one that I really liked. The plot was stellar. Lots of twisting, but never beyond the reaches of what worked for the story. I loved Tris. I celebrated with her, grieved with her. Mm. Great stuff. Do read this one, if you haven't.



Okie dokie. Those are the books I've read since April. I'm halfway to my goal of 60, and, appropriately, just over halfway through the year (is that hard to believe or what?) (the year, not my reading progress). Tune in when I am no longer sick for something more interesting. Yippee!

a quick rant about worlds.

I see a lot of stuff out there about how a believable world makes the reader want to exist inside it. But is that really the case? Personally, I'm tempted to say, "no." A believable world is one that ties the story together, heck, maybe even makes the story possible. If a world is weak, the story will suffer, and vice versa. Thus, if the story is terrifying (due to the intrinsic nature of its location), I don't think that world--no matter how well-crafted--would offer much to my health and happiness. Here's a quick look into some books I've read recently that had rich, poignant worlds, in which I would never want to find myself.

Wither, by Lauren DeStefano. Oh, how I believed that world. I thought I wouldn't at first, but as the story went on, I really saw it take shape. Linden's mansion became one of the realest places I've ever read about. But would I want to live there? Not in a million years, at that cost.


White Cat and Red Glove by Holly Black. I mean, it's brilliant, right? You live in fear of everyone, always thinking, Are they? Is she? Which kind is he? Perfectly chilling and compelling for the books. But in real life? I would never want to live in that kind of uncertainty, or in a reality where a naked hand is not only a possible weapon, but also as private as an entire naked body. It makes me sad, which I think is part of the point.


The Knife of Never Letting Go by Patrick Ness. Um, yeah. This book is super-fresh on my mind, having just burned through the last half of it yesterday, and here's what  have to say. New World is simply horrifying. No place is safe, no place is entirely all-there, and home isn't even an option. Again, perfect for the story, and very well-written, but, oh my gosh. In a few centuries, when people start leaving Earth for other plants, JUST DON'T GO, OKAY?

And, hello, because there's no way I could leave this one out: does anyone really want to live in the world of The Hunger Games? Um, no. If you do, I think you missed the point, there.

So, what really makes a believable world? I don't think it's just a map and a list of clever, comforting foods (although I do like both of those). A real, honest world, is a vehicle. If the story's not pretty, the reality in which it exists probably won't be much fun, either. Of course, there are exceptions. For instance, Narnia. We're supposed to want to live in Narnia. Narnia, ultimately, is a place of joy and honor and growth and becoming the best version of yourself. Narnia is nothing like Panem, which tears down and destroys and murders. So, I'm not saying there aren't any well-thought-out, strongly written worlds in which I would like to find myself. There certainly are. I'm just getting it out there that, although I want to live in Narnia, but would rather get the ever-loving heck away from Panem, doesn't mean that both aren't brilliantly executed. You know?

Getting down off the soap box, now. Everybody having a nice Monday?

the first five books of 2011.

It's the 18th, and I've hit my book goal for the month.

But, shoo, what a selection.  I would have kept going with the Gregor books, as planned, but I was never able to get back to the library until today (hello, snowstorm), so I ended up going to the other library (the dinky Knox County one by the elementary school), and came out inundated with John Green.  By inundated, I mean I've read half his works now, and I'm a fan.  I think.  No, I know I'm a fan, I'm just not sure to whom I can recommend his books.

Julie, what are you doing reading books with teenagers having sex and engaging in mischief?  I thought that wasn't your scene?


I know, I know.  And it's true: non-marital sex (in movies, books, shows, and especially real life) makes me feel icky and squidgy and sad.  But something I have come to accept as a human being, a Christian, and a storyteller, is that I can appreciate--and often enjoy--anything, regardless of my personal convictions (most of the time--there is still a limit to this).  I MUST see the finished product for what it is.  I mean, look at Les Miserables.  It's my favorite musical of all time, and in the revival there is onstage "sex."  I could have done without it, but it doesn't make Les Mis any less my absolute favorite.


Looking For Alaska is ultimately not about sex, and if I had put the book down when it got uncomfortable for me, I would have missed all the wonderful things.  The good parts.  The big picture.  And the big picture of that book is that it's amazing, and it's one of my favorites.  Just don't go into it thinking, well, if Julie liked it, it must be tame, because, while it's not wild and downright filthy, it's not very tame, either.  Read at your own risk.

And think of me what you like.  I'm still counting it among the best I've read.

I think I intended for this post to be about all five books I've read so far in January, so here goes:

1.  Gregor The Overlander.  My goodness, Suzanne Colins, I adore the way you tell stories.  More, please?

2.  An Abundance of Katherines.  John Green.  Not as life-changing or gut wrenching as Alaska, but still fun and well written and highly enjoyable.  My only qualm:  it's supposed to be set in Middle Tennessee, but the girl went to high school in Milan, which, believe me, is in West Tennessee.  Also, the pronunciation of Milan (My-lan, instead of the "correct" Mi-lahn) is a gold mine.  Why didn't you go for that, John?  I would have laughed so hard.  Maybe that's because I'm the only person who would find it funny.

3.  Like a Thorn.  Clara Vidal.  This book caught me off guard.  I was attracted to the drawings on the cover, and the back sort of made it sound like a brief fairy tale, but it was ultimately misleading.  It's about a girl being driven to insanity by her equally unsound mother.  Kind of horrifying.  On a different note, it was written in third person present, which I actually enjoyed.  It was, strangely, a lot easier for me to read than first person present, which is always a challenge, even if I love the book.

4.  White Cat.  Holly Black.  Perfect example: Written in first person present, but I LOVED it (as much as one can "love" fiction, of course).  The world of this book is so bold and weird and scary.  It's like if "Heroes" had a magical mobster baby with "The Sopranos."  That's what this world is like.  I am so excited for the second book, Red Glove, which comes out in April.  Joshua laughed at me when I told him I wanted to buy it, but I don't care.  This is one for the bookshelf.

5.  Ah, Looking For Alaska.  Also John Green.  Sigh.  There may have been a few things that made me squirm, but who cares.  Ultimately, this book is so wonderful and true and important (albeit sad), that I can't hold anything against it.  It cracked me up (especially at the basketball games) and made me weep, and even made me cheer.  No wonder it won the Printz.  Excellent.  Excellent excellent.  Another one for the bookshelf.