My daughter told me to read this one. My expectations were not too high for The Cupcake Queen by Heather Hepler, but I found it to be a surprisingly well crafted, well written and entertaining young adult novel.
Page 28: I kept speeding up and then slowing down during the walk to school. I didn't want to be late, but I really didn't want to be too early, standing around and staring at my shoes while everyone else talks to one another and pretends not to see the new girl staring at her shoes.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Saturday, April 5, 2014
Wicked Autumn
Wicked Autumn is a quiet mystery story by G. M. Malliet.
Page 44: Thea, poised for her usual rapturous leap at the sight of the visitor, remembered her training just in time: she sat hard, tail wagging so thunderously that its hip-shaking momentum threatened to topple her over.
Page 112: They suddenly became to him what they were -- fallible, ordinary people all carrying stories to tell that they dared not tell anyone.
Page 191: He saw that she had missed a button on her cardigan, or perhaps a button was missing altogether. In anyone else, this would be a sign of mild forgetfulness. In the fastidious Miss Pitchford, it was a clear measure of her distress, bordering on incipient madness.
Page 237: Wanda's sense of her place in the village was her prize psychological possession.
Entertaining, though not overly captivating.
Page 44: Thea, poised for her usual rapturous leap at the sight of the visitor, remembered her training just in time: she sat hard, tail wagging so thunderously that its hip-shaking momentum threatened to topple her over.
Page 112: They suddenly became to him what they were -- fallible, ordinary people all carrying stories to tell that they dared not tell anyone.
Page 191: He saw that she had missed a button on her cardigan, or perhaps a button was missing altogether. In anyone else, this would be a sign of mild forgetfulness. In the fastidious Miss Pitchford, it was a clear measure of her distress, bordering on incipient madness.
Page 237: Wanda's sense of her place in the village was her prize psychological possession.
Entertaining, though not overly captivating.
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Divergent, Insurgent, Allegiant
Each book in Veronica Roth's series, Divergent, Insurgent, and Allegiant, is spellbinding. I read all three in five days. I enjoyed the complexity of the social and political systems - also the complexity of the characters. No one was pure good-guy or fully bad-guy.
Reading so fast, I only managed one quote on page 100 in Allegiant:
Take a person's memories, and you change who they are.
There were lots of interesting treatments on so many real world and complex issues. I wonder if my attention on memories is due somewhat to the last book I read.
Having the last book alternate in Tris' and Tobias' point of view through me at first, since it was different from the first two books. There had to be a reason. I sure was unhappy about that reason, but it made the author's decision make sense in the end.
I haven't seen the movie yet. How does it compare to the book?
Reading so fast, I only managed one quote on page 100 in Allegiant:
Take a person's memories, and you change who they are.
There were lots of interesting treatments on so many real world and complex issues. I wonder if my attention on memories is due somewhat to the last book I read.
Having the last book alternate in Tris' and Tobias' point of view through me at first, since it was different from the first two books. There had to be a reason. I sure was unhappy about that reason, but it made the author's decision make sense in the end.
I haven't seen the movie yet. How does it compare to the book?
Saturday, March 15, 2014
Memory Wall
When I started reading Memory Wall, by Anthony Doerr, I found myself recoiling a little. It was the content: the first story is about a woman with dementia who keeps notes to herself all over her wall. Too close to home perhaps; I hate it when I can't remember things. But I kept reading and I'm so glad I did! It took some surprising twists and was amazing and thought provoking. Every story in this collection of shorts is different and beautiful. I love the way memory or memories is dealt with in such different ways, often other-worldly.
From "Memory":
Page 2: Alma stands barefoot and wigless in the upstairs bedroom with a flashlight.
Page 42: "To say a person is a happy person or an unhappy person is ridiculous. We are a thousand different kinds of people every hour." (says Alma)
Page 70: What is memory anyway? How can it be such a frail, perishable thing?
From "Village 113":
Page 151: But perhaps, she thinks, there is no good and bad to it at all. Every memory everone has ever had will eventually be under water. Progress is a storm and the wings of everything are swept up in it.
From "The River Nemunas":
Page 175: I wonder about how the sky can be a huge, blue nothingness and at the same time it can also feel like a shelter.
From "Afterworld":
Page 192: She sits up too quickly and her eyesight flees in long streaks.
From "Memory":
Page 2: Alma stands barefoot and wigless in the upstairs bedroom with a flashlight.
Page 42: "To say a person is a happy person or an unhappy person is ridiculous. We are a thousand different kinds of people every hour." (says Alma)
Page 70: What is memory anyway? How can it be such a frail, perishable thing?
From "Village 113":
Page 151: But perhaps, she thinks, there is no good and bad to it at all. Every memory everone has ever had will eventually be under water. Progress is a storm and the wings of everything are swept up in it.
From "The River Nemunas":
Page 175: I wonder about how the sky can be a huge, blue nothingness and at the same time it can also feel like a shelter.
From "Afterworld":
Page 192: She sits up too quickly and her eyesight flees in long streaks.
Tuesday, March 4, 2014
Boy's Life
Another book I picked up from subbing high school English: Robert McCammon's Boy's Life. The story drew me in and carried me along; a quick read in over 600 pages. It's all about keeping the magic. I'm gonna make my kids read it - I don't think it will take much convincing.
Page 2: We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out and combed out.
Page 8: My blue jeans had patches on the knees, like badges of courage marking encounters with barbed wire and gravel.
Page 16-17: Underwater, he fought the lake's muscles. The car fell away beneath him, and as his legs thrashed for a hold in the liquid tomb, more bubbles rushed up and broke him loose and he climbed up their silver staircase toward the attic of air.
Page 23: If his nose had been any larger, he would've made a dandy weathervane.
Page 64: The place looked and felt like a hothouse where exotic hats had bloomed.
Page 177: I swallowed my rage like a bitter seed, not knowing that it would bear fruit.
Page 332: Everything seemed to be gleaming and glinting, and our feet were cushioned by gardens of Oriental weave.
Page 486: It seemed to me, as I walked in the presence of all those stilled voices that would never be heard again, that we were a wasteful breed. We had thrown away the past and our future was impoverished for it.
Ah, yes. You must read this book.
Page 2: We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out and combed out.
Page 8: My blue jeans had patches on the knees, like badges of courage marking encounters with barbed wire and gravel.
Page 16-17: Underwater, he fought the lake's muscles. The car fell away beneath him, and as his legs thrashed for a hold in the liquid tomb, more bubbles rushed up and broke him loose and he climbed up their silver staircase toward the attic of air.
Page 23: If his nose had been any larger, he would've made a dandy weathervane.
Page 64: The place looked and felt like a hothouse where exotic hats had bloomed.
Page 177: I swallowed my rage like a bitter seed, not knowing that it would bear fruit.
Page 332: Everything seemed to be gleaming and glinting, and our feet were cushioned by gardens of Oriental weave.
Page 486: It seemed to me, as I walked in the presence of all those stilled voices that would never be heard again, that we were a wasteful breed. We had thrown away the past and our future was impoverished for it.
Ah, yes. You must read this book.
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
The Book Thief
A story so well wordsmithed, The Book Thief is delicious to read. Markus Zusak has crafted a masterpiece. I loved the personification of everything, even the narrator, Death. The words enter your soul and you feel the eternity of it.
Page 7: The abhorrence on his cheeks were growing thicker by the moment.
Page 9: The plane was still coughing. Smoke was leaking from both its lungs.
Page 10: I walked in, loosened his soul, and carried it gently away.
Page 12: The streets were ruptured veins. Blood streamed til it was dried on the road, and the bodies were stuck there, like driftwood after the flood.
Page 24: A final, soaking farewell was let go of, and they turned and left the cemetery, looking back several times.
Page 27: ... empty hat-stand trees ...
Page 42: A bathrobe answered the door.
Page 48: Insane or not, Rudy was always destined to be Liesel's best friend. A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
Page 65: The soft-spoken words fell off the side of the bed, emptying to the floor like powder.
Page 84: Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.
Page 109: I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is in their capacity to escalate.
Page 112: Burning words were torn from their sentences.
Page 250: Standing above him at all moments of awakeness was the hand of time, and it didn't hesitate to wring him out, it smiled and squeezed and let him live. What great malice there could be in allowing something to live.
Page 367: Her nerves licked her palms.
Page 392: Stars of David were plastered to their shirts, and misery was attached to them as if assigned. "Don't forget your misery..." In some cases, it grew on them like vines.
Page 7: The abhorrence on his cheeks were growing thicker by the moment.
Page 9: The plane was still coughing. Smoke was leaking from both its lungs.
Page 10: I walked in, loosened his soul, and carried it gently away.
Page 12: The streets were ruptured veins. Blood streamed til it was dried on the road, and the bodies were stuck there, like driftwood after the flood.
Page 24: A final, soaking farewell was let go of, and they turned and left the cemetery, looking back several times.
Page 27: ... empty hat-stand trees ...
Page 42: A bathrobe answered the door.
Page 48: Insane or not, Rudy was always destined to be Liesel's best friend. A snowball in the face is surely the perfect beginning to a lasting friendship.
Page 65: The soft-spoken words fell off the side of the bed, emptying to the floor like powder.
Page 84: Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.
Page 109: I guess humans like to watch a little destruction. Sand castles, houses of cards, that's where they begin. Their great skill is in their capacity to escalate.
Page 112: Burning words were torn from their sentences.
Page 250: Standing above him at all moments of awakeness was the hand of time, and it didn't hesitate to wring him out, it smiled and squeezed and let him live. What great malice there could be in allowing something to live.
Page 367: Her nerves licked her palms.
Page 392: Stars of David were plastered to their shirts, and misery was attached to them as if assigned. "Don't forget your misery..." In some cases, it grew on them like vines.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
The Forest Laird and also The Devil and Tom Walker
Just shy of 500 pages, The Forest Laird by Jack Whyte is a tome. I did enjoy the story and all the details of life in the late 1200s, even though, having seen the movie Braveheart years ago, I knew how tragic William Wallace's life was. The vernacular and old-speak in the story was great, like using "ken" instead of the word "know", but I didn't glean any quotes from it.
I subbed for an English teacher today and one of my classes read Irving Washington's The Devil and Tom Walker (out of the Adventures in American Literature textbook.) Written in early the 1800's, this cautionary tale is set in 1727.
Vivid descriptions of the warring couple:
He had a wife as miserly as himself: they were so miserly that they even conspired to cheat each other.
This quote is less about a lovely turn of phrase and more about its interesting attitude toward slavery, given the era it was written in:
He [the devil] insisted that the money found through his means should be employed in his service. He proposed, therefore, that Tom should employ it in the black traffic; that is to say that he should fit out a slave ship. This, however, Tom resolutely refused: he was bad enough in all conscience; but the devil himself could not tempt him to turn slave trader.
And who hasn't met a self-righteous s.o.b. like this:
Tom was as rigid in religious as money matters; he was a stern supervisor and censurer of his neighbor, and seemed to think every sin entered up to their account became a credit on his own side of the page.
Ah, me. Fun in a high school English Lit class.
I started the book that another of my classes from today is reading. By page 18 I was hooked.
Here's a quote from the preface: We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out and combed out.
Can you guess what this novel is that I am reading now?
I subbed for an English teacher today and one of my classes read Irving Washington's The Devil and Tom Walker (out of the Adventures in American Literature textbook.) Written in early the 1800's, this cautionary tale is set in 1727.
Vivid descriptions of the warring couple:
He had a wife as miserly as himself: they were so miserly that they even conspired to cheat each other.
This quote is less about a lovely turn of phrase and more about its interesting attitude toward slavery, given the era it was written in:
He [the devil] insisted that the money found through his means should be employed in his service. He proposed, therefore, that Tom should employ it in the black traffic; that is to say that he should fit out a slave ship. This, however, Tom resolutely refused: he was bad enough in all conscience; but the devil himself could not tempt him to turn slave trader.
And who hasn't met a self-righteous s.o.b. like this:
Tom was as rigid in religious as money matters; he was a stern supervisor and censurer of his neighbor, and seemed to think every sin entered up to their account became a credit on his own side of the page.
Ah, me. Fun in a high school English Lit class.
I started the book that another of my classes from today is reading. By page 18 I was hooked.
Here's a quote from the preface: We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out and combed out.
Can you guess what this novel is that I am reading now?
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