BOOK REVIEW: Go Set a Watchman AND To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee

All right, my literary-minded friends, it's time. Not only am I about to throw down my thoughts on one of the most beloved American novels of all time, I'm also going to weigh in on what was probably the most anticipated literary release since the seventh installment of the Harry Potter series.

I'm about to review BOTH To Kill a Mockingbird AND Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee.

I'm going to start with the book that I and most others read first, To Kill a Mockingbird. But before I dive in I'd like to say a few words about what my review will and will NOT do:

(1) My review will discuss the singular and comparative literary merits of both of Lee's novels,
(2) My review will discuss the positions of both novels within the cultural and socio-political landscape of the U.S. in general and the South in particular,
(3) My review will not speculate about the sudden emergence of Harper Lee's first novel, Go Set a Watchman, and what that might mean. In my opinion, far too much has already been written about how and why this book has suddenly come to light. (This is the most recent article I've read on the subject. It's also the one I find the most interesting.) Many of the 1000+ reviews on the novel's Amazon page touch on the controversy.

I'm not here to talk about the controversy. I don't have anything meaningful to add to that argument, and, more importantly, I feel it is irrelevant. To Kill a Mockingbird is more than just a literary masterpiece: it is an important American cultural artifact. And Go Set a Watchman, in addition to its own merits, adds to Mockingbird's legacy.

Here we go!
I didn't read Mockingbird--ever, in my life--until earlier this month. According to my running list of Books I Read in 2015 I finished the novel on July 7, and if my memory serves it took me about three days to read it. 

Before you ask, yes I read it in advance of the July 14 release of Go Set a Watchman.

I feel I was probably one of the last--if not THE last--Americans over the age of 30 who had not read Mockingbird. Unlike many I wasn't required to read the book in high school, and though I have always been an avid reader it just never occurred to me to read Harper Lee's book.

 I grew up in Silicon Valley in California in the 80s and 90s completely unaware that racism continued (and continues) to be a reality. As a child I was surrounded by people of every hue and ethnicity, and every linguistic and religious background imaginable. To me, people were people and that was that. If there were divisions to be drawn (and I felt that was mostly unnecessary) than I would have put those dividing lines between the Haves and the Have Nots. I grew up poor and the older I got the more keenly I felt the differences between me and the children of means. Other than that, though, why categorize people at all?

For those (and other) reasons, I simply wasn't interested in a book I knew to be about Southern racism set in the 50s. Southern racism wasn't my or California's problem, especially since I believed it to be, like slavery, a thing of the past.
 

Gregory Peck depicts Atticus Finch in the film adaptation of To Kill a Mockingbird

Boy was I wrong! I moved to Pennsylvania in 1994 at the age of 18. I settled in State College, which is the home of Penn State's Nittany Lions and was also the site, the week before I arrived, of a cross burning at the home of a local black family. 

A cross burning. In 1994. At first, I was too shocked to be horrified or angry. I said to my friends: "That still happens? That's so old school!"

And then came the anonymous death threats to the president of Penn State's Black Student's Union, which said something to the effect of: "This is a white school in a white state in a white nation and by God it will stay that way."

My naive world view was shattered. Many years later I moved to Tennessee, and it was there I realized that although the institutions of slavery and Jim Crow are over, when it comes to race relations in America, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

I lived in Middle Tennessee for about twelve year, first in Nashville and later in Murfreesboro, which is about an hour's drive from Pulaski, the birthplace of the Ku Klux Klan. The football team of Middle Tennessee State University, where I received a BS in sociology and an MS in mass communication, is called the Blue Raiders and many buildings on campus are named after Nathan Bedford Forrest, celebrated confederate general and founding KKK member. 

In fact, there is an infamous statue of Forrest off I-65 outside Nashville that is surrounded by U.S., Tennessee, and confederate flags. 

I could go on and on. The fact of the matter is, though much of the nation views slavery, the Civil War, Reconstruction, and Jim Crow as issues of our distant past, they remain right at the forefront of Southern memory. (By way of example, read this news article from Memphis about contentions surrounding his gravesite and a different commemorative statue.) And for the first time in my life, I was learning that there are very real divisions between people in our country. And there are still a whole lot of otherwise normal, well-mannered people who don't view all people the same.

So I'm glad that I waited until now to read To Kill a Mockingbird. Because a lot of it would have been lost on me if I read it before living in the South.

As a piece of literature, Mockingbird is genius. Told from the point of view of a young girl (Scout is poised to start school at the beginning of the novel), the tone manages to capture the innocence of childhood and yet remain mature enough to be accessible to readers. Jean Louise "Scout" Finch, the narrator of the book, thinks like a kid and speaks like a kid (as the excerpt below will show) but somehow Lee manages to impart the grander points of the book anyway.

Enjoying a summer twilight with their neighbor Miss Maudie, Scout asked her about the reclusive Boo Radley:

"'Miss Maudie,' I said one evening, 'do you think Boo Radley's still alive?'
"'His name's Arthur and he's alive,' she said. She was rocking slowly in her big oak chair. 'Do you smell my mimosa?' It's like angels' breath in the evening.'
"'Yessum. How do you know?'
"'Know what, child?'
"'That B--Mr. Arthur's still alive?'
"'What a morbid question. But I suppose it's a morbid subject. I know he's alive, Jean Louise, because I haven't seen him carried out yet.'
"'Maybe he died and they stuffed him up the chimney.
"'Where did you get such a notion?'
"'That's what Jem said he thought they did.'
"'S-ss-ss. He gets more like Jack Finch every day.'"

Can't you picture that scene? Can't you feel the sultry summer heat and smell Miss Maudie's mimosas? It's simply elegant prose.

Scout, Atticus, and Jem Finch from the film adaptation

But I chose to recount this scene for another reason: Scout Finch, as I have said, is the narrator of Mockingbird, and her central preoccupation throughout the story is Boo Radley. It's not racism. But ask anyone who has read the book what it's about, and they'll say "Racism." They might say Tom Robinson or the trial or Atticus Finch. The name Boo Radley may even be mentioned, but no one would claim that the story is about HIM. That is the genius of this book: the grand points, the themes that your English teachers yammer on and on about, are woven throughout an innocent and seemingly unrelated narrative. So what you end up with is a complete novel that manages to be BOTH a slice of Americana AND a politically charged tale. Nothing is lost, nothing is sacrificed, and nothing is rammed down the reader's throat.

And that, friends and book lovers, is why To Kill a Mockingbird will forever be known as a far greater work than Go Set a Watchman.

Assuming this "new" novel's provenance is true (though not everyone does. the July 27 2015 issue of the New Yorker makes an interesting argument for why it may not be) Watchman is the first draft of the first novel young Harper Lee ever wrote. It's the rough material out of which Mockingbird was forged. Given that, her writing is DAMN GOOD. Anyone who has ever written anything knows how bad first drafts typically are. First drafts are GARBAGE. In one of my own first drafts I killed the same character TWICE. I've read some pretty mean things said about the literary quality of Watchman, but it's not typical-first-draft bad. It's not kill-the-same-character-twice bad. It's simply not as good as Mockingbird. 

But you know what? Nothing but Mockingbird is as good as Mockingbird. So calm down, angry literary critics.

Even so, much of Harper Lee's famously artful prose is evident in Watchman, particularly in the first half. The novel opens with Scout (now the adult Jean Louise) on the train back to Maycomb County from her new home in New York:

"She had told the conductor not to forget to let her off, and because the conductor was an elderly man, she anticipated his joke: he would rush at Maycomb Junction like a bat out off hell and stop the train a quarter of a mile past the little station, then when he bade her goodbye he would say he was sorry, he almost forgot. Trains changed; conductors never did. Being funny at flag stops with young ladies was a mark of the profession, and Atticus, who predict the actions of every conductor from New Orleans to Cincinnati, would be waiting accordingly not six steps away from her point of debarkation."

Except, this time, Atticus was not there to meet her. Instead Hank, her childhood friend and sometime suitor, was waiting a quarter mile back, on the platform at the train station, and had to run to meet her. 

And there's your foreshadowing.

While Mockingbird was a Great American Novel that had a lot to say about Southern Racism, Watchman is a "novel" that seeks to make a point about racism. I put the word "novel" in quotes not to deride Watchman, because I enjoyed it and find it a worthy read, but because it simply cannot stand on its own.

In a very real sense, in order to understand and care about the events and characters in Go Set a Watchman, you must have first read To Kill a Mockingbird. I will link again here to the New Yorker article because they explain this better than I ever could. Suffice it to say, with the exception of Hank, who didn't appear in Mockingbird, the main players in Watchman aren't actually introduced to the reader. Rather, the text reads and feels like a return to Maycomb, which serves to place the reader firmly in Scout's shoes.

That is the strength of Watchman. The reader experiences the same shock and betrayal that Scout does. As her Uncle Jack says, Scout had deified her father, and so had we. She needed to see him as a man, and so did we. Atticus Finch IS a man: good, but flawed.

In the decades since Mockingbird was published, Atticus Finch has grown to eclipse superstar literary status. As a character, he has always been more than a man, but as a cultural artifact, he has become more than a character. He is a symbol for equality, for justice, and for a sort of quiet, respectable fairness held in the face of defiant opposition. Recall the way in which Atticus quietly held his ground when confronted by the mob that sought to kill Tom Robinson before his trial. He didn't shout at the mob, and he didn't threaten them, though they threatened HIM. All he did was hold his ground and the mob eventually thought better of its plan.

Cultural memory would have readers believe that it was the force of Atticus Finch's egalitarian personality that stopped the mob from killing Tom Robinson that night. But a re-read of Mockingbird will remind Atticus's apologists that the following morning he had this to say of an individual in the mob:

"'Mr. Cunningham's basically a good man,' he said, 'he just has his blind spots along with the rest of us.'
"Jem spoke. 'Don't call that a blind spot. He'da killed you last night when he first went there.'
"'He might have hurt me a little,' Atticus conceded, 'but son, you'll understand folks a little better when you're older. A mob's always made up of people, no matter what.'"

That scene curiously foreshadows an event in Watchman, when Scout discovers that he father and Hank have joined the Maycomb County Citizens' Council, a group composed of nearly every white man in Maycomb, and which existed entirely to oppose desegregation. Scout reeled when she discovered this, as did the rest of America upon the release of Watchman. (Read this People magazine article about the family who changed their infant son's name from Atticus to Luke after reading the book.)

Go Set a Watchman,  in my opinion, makes an even bigger and more nuanced point than To Kill a Mockingbird did. Where Mockingbird told Americans that racism exists and it's bad, Watchman asserts that racism not only exists--it's woven into the fabric of all of our lives. In Mockingbird, racism was something that existed outside of people who didn't agree with it. It could be fought against in court. In Watchman, racism is an integral part of the structure of our society. As Uncle Jack explains to an exasperated Scout, it has historical precedent in feudal England. It is foundational and cannot be changed without upsetting everything. 

When Scout argues that the time had come to do what's right by Negroes, Atticus counters that she doesn't know or mean what she says:

"'I mean every word of it.'
"'Then let's put this on a practical basis right now. Do you want Negroes by the carload in our schools and churches and theaters? Do you want them in our world?'
"'They're people aren't they? We were quite willing to import them when they made money for us.'"

I think that exchange is as good example as any to demonstrate that Watchman is a novel that exists to make a point. Harper Lee had something to say about Southern Racism, and she sort of wrapped a story around the thing. That's why Mockingbird is a better story.

But I'm glad that I read Watchman and I'm glad that it came out when it did. Within the literary universe of To Kill a Mockingbird and Go Set a Watchman, Jean Louise Finch had to grow up and realize that racism tainted every part of her life, her family, and her beloved Maycomb County. And within American culture, we all have had to grow up and realize that racism taints ALL of our history and ALL of our present. Whether or not individuals, like me, grew up naively assuming it was a thing of the past and Not Our Problems.

Atticus says something in Mockingbird that is curiously prescient. I read it in the breakroom of my workplace and cried out loud when I did. Decades after the book's publication, it could not be more relevant:

"Atticus was speaking so quietly his last word crashed on our ears. I looked up, and his face was vehement. 'There's nothing more sickening to me than a low-grade white man who'll take advantage of a Negro's ignorance. Don't fool yourselves--it's all adding up and one of these days we're going to pay the bill for it.'"

The Dog Days of Summer

"Calpurnia listened. 'I know it's February, Miss Eula May, but I know a mad dog when I see one. Please ma'am hurry!'"

-- To Kill a Mockingbird

A lot has been said, surmised, and written about the scene in Harper Lee's classic novel in which old Tim Johnson, beloved neighborhood dog, is found to have gone "mad" (rabid) and is shot dead by Atticus Finch in front of his shocked children. Atticus, once hailed as the best shot in the entire county, is not a gun owner and has never handled a firearm in front of his family. Atticus Finch is a gentleman.

Ahem. Well. That is a discussion for another time and place. Here we will focus on the interesting and unexplained insistence in the novel that dogs do not, as a rule, "go mad" in the winter time.

Having grown up in cities with generally well-funded animal control departments, I have been fortunate enough to have never seen a rabid dog. I do know that rabies is passed from one infected dog, bat, or human to another through contact with bodily fluids, usually via bites. So when I read this scene in Mockingbird my first thought was: "What the hell does the season have to do with the presence of a rabid dog?"

My second thought was: "Oh my God! Is the notion that dogs only go mad in the heat of the summer the meaning behind the phrase dog days of summer? If so, is To Kill a Mockingbird the origin of that phrase?"

Short answers: sort of, and no. According to Wikipedia, the phrase originated way before Harper Lee was even born and had more to do with astronomy than anything else. But the sentiment behind the saying remains the same, generations later. From an 1813 poem:

Dog Days were popularly believed to be an evil time "the Sea boiled, the Wine turned sour, Dogs grew mad...

Mad dogs just need to be loved.

John Corey: Two-Thirds Cop, One-Third Heartthrob

John Corey is a book character created by best-selling author Nelson DeMille. He stars in a series of books that begin with Plum Island and end with I'm not sure what, because I haven't gotten there yet. Hopefully they'll  never end. Hopefully Nelson DeMille will write John Corey novels until he dies.

John Corey is a retired NYC cop. He retired only reluctantly, after being gunned down in the street by a couple of toughs. He receives three-quarters disability pay but isn't ready to roll over yet, so is working a second career with the Anti-Terrorist Task Force. The ATTF is comprised of agents from both the FBI and CIA as well as contract agents from the NYPD, some retired, some not. The idea of the ATTF is cooperation and information sharing, although Corey will be the first to tell you that that doesn't always work in practice. Even his wife, FBI agent Kate Mayfield, has a higher security clearance and a broader "need-to-know" than he does.

John Corey isn't a hot young stud. He's middle-aged and cynical and sarcastic and more than a little misogynistic. When he meets a woman, he's more likely to notice her cup size than her intellect. But he's not interested in bombshell airheads. The women who turn him on are the ones who can match his quick wit.

Here's a sampling of John Corey-isms:

“Sometimes shit happens even if you have a shit shield” 

“…made me promise to cut down on the drinking and swearing, which I have. Unfortunately, this has left me dim-witted and nearly speechless.” 
― Nelson DeMille, The Lion

“Women need a reason to have sex; men need only a place.” 
― Nelson DeMille, Wild Fire

“Kate had never been married, so she had no way of knowing if I was a normal husband. This has been good for our marriage.” 
― Nelson DeMille, The Lion

“The air was so thick with testosterone that the wallpaper was getting soggy.” 
― Nelson DeMille, Plum Island

I love how Nelson DeMille doesn't give the reader too much information about John Corey's appearance. He tells us that he's middle-aged and physically fit, but that's really about it. We get far more of a feel for how John Corey thinks and speaks, which in the long run tells us more about what sort of person he is. I like to think of Corey as sort of a John McClane character: tough and foul-mouthed and world-weary. In the end, though, I think John Corey has more hope for the future. But maybe that's because he has a smart, take-no-shit wife beside him.

All that matters to me is that John Corey is the literary alpha male that has made me realize I can love literary alpha males. What sort of male characters do YOU like to read? Have you read any of DeMille's John  Corey books? Let me know! Leave a comment here or catch me on twitter. It's where I spend most of my time anyway. 

Check out Nelson DeMille's official website. 

Don't Diss the DREW! What Nancy Drew Did Right

What this post IS: A countdown of the Top Five things that the original Nancy Drew series did WELL in relation to presenting a woman-centered book series aimed at a young female audience.

What this post ISN'T: A space to air our (well-founded) grievances about the numerous ways in which the series fell short of its goal. Because we all know it did. We all know that the Nancy Drew mysteries were, in many ways, cheesy and paternalistic and sometimes surprisingly racist. But I don't want to get caught up in that, because to do so would be to ignore the HUGELY positive impact this book series and this feminist icon has had on generations of women. Besides, I intend to write up that post another day.

This summer I've made it a point to dive back into my large and growing collection of Nancy Drew mysteries. I have now acquired nearly ALL of the Yellow Cover hardbacks. Alas I've only found a couple of the original-original editions. I've also started to slowly gather some of the later, revamped Nancy Drew mysteries.

Titles I've Read This Summer

Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys Super Mystery: Terror on Tour*

The Ghost of Blackwood Hall

False Notes*

I'm nearly finished reading The Moonstone Castle Mystery

Next I'll read The Hidden Window Mystery

*Denotes a book from the later, revamped and modernized series of books.

I love Nancy Drew. Here are five reasons why.

What Nancy Drew Did Right

(5) Nancy knew how to prioritize. When Nancy worked a mystery she always stayed on top of it, and she never let her guard down. Yes, she was an amateur sleuth but she didn't behave like an amateur. On the other hand, she also didn't let the case completely overtake her life. Unlike many of her modern-day mystery-solving counterparts--I'm looking at you, Adrian Monk--Nancy Drew knew when it was time to take the afternoon or the evening off for a bit of relaxation. If Ned and his friends threw a soiree at their frat house, Nancy, Bess and George would never turn down their invitation. And frequently the change in scenery helped clear Nancy's head enough to allow her to see the mystery from a new angle.

(4) Nancy was always prepared. The Boy Scouts ain't got shit on Nancy Drew. Wherever her mysteries took the sleuth, Nancy always correctly predicted what tools she would need, and she never failed to bring them. In The Moonstone Castle Mystery, Ned joked that it was because of his girlfriend Nancy that he always carried a flashlight on him. Because you just never know when you'll need it.

(3) Nancy worked WITH the authorities, not AGAINST them. Again, I realize that Nancy Drew was just an amateur detective, but unlike many of her contemporaries in fiction and on TV, she never squared off against the local police or engaged in any type of one-ups-manship. Nancy's aim was always to get to the bottom of the mystery and bring whatever baddie she was chasing to justice, and whenever it seemed the best course of action was to either enlist the aid of the authorities or to turn a portion of the case over to them, she did just that. Nancy didn't have a fragile ego. It didn't hurt her to ask for help.

(2) Nancy was a consummate professional. Nancy was the picture of poise. She could handle herself in nearly any setting, and with nearly any adversary. She was polished, articulate, and tactful--but she was also firm and resolute. Nancy knew how to ask questions to get answers. BUT! She also knew when to shut up, and when to walk away. She was equally at home querying elderly spinsters, road-hardened thugs, and bank presidents.

AND! The NUMBER ONE thing Nancy Drew did right...

(1) Nancy Drew never sent a man to do a woman's job. Probably the thing that kept (and keeps) generations of young girls reading Nancy Drew is that, while she was grateful to have a well-connected father and a strong, understanding boyfriend, Nancy Drew was no wilting daisy. She recruited Carson Drew and Ned to help when she needed it, because she wasn't stupid, but she never ever ever felt the need to turn the dangerous jobs over to the men, even when her cousin Bess asked her to. Nancy was strong, fearless, and responsible. When she took on a mystery SHE meant to solve it. Herself. Whatever her detractors might say, Nancy Drew was a feminist.

I've reviewed a couple of Nancy Drew titles in more depth. You can read about them here and here. 

Reads of 2014...So Far...

I've read a lot of good books so far this year, and I'd like to share them with you.

(1) Dr. Sleep, Stephen King

(2) The Plot Against Hip Hop, Nelson George*

(3) The Basic Eight, Daniel Handler*

(4) The Silver Linings Playbook, Matthew Quick

(5) Twittering from the Circus of the Dead, Joe Hill

It probably needs to be said that this title is actually a short story. It also needs to be said that it's written entirely as a series of tweets. It MOST DEFINITELY needs to be said that the author, Joe Hill, does twitter better than probably everyone else on twitter. You should follow him. Even if you don't read horror. Even if you don't read. Even if you don't have eyes or opposable thumbs. 

(6) Hyperbole and a Half, Allie Brosh* 

(7) Truth in Advertising, John Kenney*

(8) Looking for Alaska, John Green* 

(9) The Cutie, Donald Westlake*

Yes, I chose this last book purely based on its cover. And it was a damned good book.

(10) 12 Years a Slave, Solomon Northup* 

(11) Somebody Owes Me Money, Donald Westlake

(12) An Abundance of Katherines, John Green

(13) Beyond Hades, Luke Romyn

(14) The Charm School, Nelson Demille*

(15) Paper Towns, John Green*

(16) The Bank Shot, Donald Westlake 

Currently I'm reading Word of Honor by Nelson Demille:

What does this list say about me? I read a lot of books by men. This year I've sort of been having literary love affairs with Donald Westlake and John Green. I like books in which murders take place. I love political intrigue. 

All books denoted with * are contenders for my end-of-the-year top ten list

 But this is subject to change! 

I love books!!

BOOK REVIEW: Paper Towns by John Green

Today I review Paper Towns by John Green.

Here's what I'm not doing:

1. I'm not reviewing The Fault in Our Stars
2. I'm not commenting on John Green as an individual
3. I'm not commenting on the so-called 'John Green Effect' in YA publishing (You can read about that here, among other places.)

Why am I not doing those things? Well, I'm not reviewing The Fault in Our Stars because I haven't read it. And to be honest, I haven't read it yet simply because everyone else in the world has. I discovered John Green through Looking for Alaska, and when I did I felt like I should give his other, not-fault-in-our-stars books some attention. Because they're probably jealous of how everyone dotes on that other book.

I'm not commenting on John Green either as an individual or as a force in publishing because, frankly, I feel like enough has already been said about how awesome/dangerous/well-meaning/privileged/white/male he is. And furthermore, although I love writers (I am one!) and I understand that books come from writers, it is my fervent belief that books should be judged on the basis of their own merits. A good book should never suffer because it was written by an asshole. On the same token, a horrible book should never be lauded just because the guy who wrote it is super cool and everyone's best friend. 

So, without further ado, here is my review of Paper Towns:

(Naturally, SPOILER ALERT)

Paper Towns might be one of the best books I have ever read. (Is that a fangirlish enough start to this review?) The plot is so simple: childhood friends and longtime neighbors Quentin and Margo enjoy a night of vengeful revelry in the last month of their senior year of high school and then Margo disappears and Quentin devotes the remainder of his high school career to finding her. That's really it. But it's also so not it. Because the story is about so much more than that. It's about:

• Margo's imagined relationship to her childhood memory of Quentin
• Quentin's imagined relationship to his childhood memory of Margo
• Margo and Quentin's actual relationship
• Margo's fractured relationship to her parents
• Margo's parents' idealized relationship to the daughter they wish they had
• Margo's relationship with her hometown of Orlando
• Quentin's relationships with his friends Ben and Radar
• Quentin's relationship with his parents, who are both therapists
• The image Quentin holds in his mind of Margo
• The image Quentin holds in his mind of himself
• The idea that how people imagine one another bears little resemblance to the way people actually are
• And so much more!!

I could go on for days about the intricate and hugely meaningful ideas that form the foundation for the story behind Paper Towns. I'm convinced that it is the simplicity of the plot that allows room for the rich character development in this novel. Paper Towns is the kind of book that I believe would make a horrible movie. Because not a whole hell of a lot happens. After Margo and Quentin's all-night life-changing vandalism spree there's just not a ton of action. But please don't confuse that lack of action with tedium, because if you did you would be so wrong.

Paper Towns is witty. Early in the book I came across this line: 

Both my parents are therapists, which means that I am really goddamned well adjusted. 

And I knew I was in for a treat. 

Here's the set-up:

The protaganist, Quentin, is the only child of therapists. He's not exactly a social outcast, but he is the kind of non-band-geek who only hangs out with band geeks. He grew up next to Margo Roth Spiegelman in a sprawling Orlando suburb that was mostly indistinguishable from all the other sprawling Orlando suburbs. And, Margo, well...I should let John Green tell you about Margo. Because whatever lame summary I come up with couldn't do her justice.

...She was the only legend who lived next door to me. Margo Roth Spiegelman, whose six-syllable name was often spoken in its entirety with a kind of quiet reverence. Margo Roth Spiegelman, whose stories of epic adventures would blow through school like a summer storm: an old guy living in Hot Coffee, Mississippi, taught Margo how to play the guitar. Margo Roth Spiegelman, who spent three days traveling with the circus--they thought she had potential on the trapeze. Margo Roth Spiegelman, who drank a cup f herbal tea with The Mallionaires backstage after a concert in St. Louis while they drank whiskey. Margo Roth Spiegelman, who got into that concert by telling the bouncer that she was the bassist's girlfriend, and didn't they recognize her, and come on guys seriously, my name is Margo Roth Spiegelman and if you go back there and ask the bassist to take one look at me, he will tell you that I either am his girlfriend or he wishes I was, and then the bouncer did so, and then the bassist said "yeah that's my girlfriend let her in the show," and then later the bassist wanted to hook up with her and she rejected the bassist from The Mallionaires.

The stories, when they were shared, inevitably ended with, I mean, can you believe it? We often could not, but they always proved true. 

Quiet Quentin, practical Quentin, smart Quentin, grew up in awe of Margo Roth Spiegelman. And he loved her in a sort of hero-worshipping way. But Margo always traveled in cooler circles. That is, until the day she found out her boyfriend had been cheating on her. Then Margo Roth Spiegelman had to have revenge, and she needed Quentin to help her exact that revenge. As she told her confused friend: "I have to do eleven things tonight, and at least five of them involve a getaway man."

There I go quoting the book again. But that's the problem with books that are as amazing and quotable as Paper Towns. When you read them they fill you with such evangelical excitement that all you want to do is quote their lyrical lines to everyone you know so they, too, can be filled with the same excitement.

Margo and Quentin's epic Night of Eleven Probably-Illegal Tasks was a wild success. And of course, when Quentin went to school the next day he harbored unspoken hopes that his relationship with Margo was changed. Maybe now they'd be more than neighbors and sometime-friends. Maybe she would actually talk to him in public, maybe in front of the cool kids. Maybe she would even kiss him. But that wouldn't happen, because Margo was gone. It wasn't the first time she had disappeared. But it would be the last, because Margo Roth Spiegelman wasn't coming back, and in the space that was created by her absence, everyone and everything changed.

About halfway through their Night of Revenge, Margo Took Quentin to what she said was one of her favorite places in town: the Sun Trust bank building downtown. Quentin thought it a weird choice, but of course followed her all the way up to the conference room on the top floor, from which they had a view of all of Orlando through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one wall. Quentin called the view beautiful, but Margo scoffed:

"Here's what's not beautiful about it: from here, you can't see the rust or the cracked paint or whatever, but you can tell what the place really is. You see how fake it all is...It's a paper town. I mean look at it, Q: look at all those cul-de-sacs...all those houses that were built to fall apart. All those paper people living in their paper houses, burning the future to stay warm. All the paper kids drinking beer some bum bought for them at the paper convenience store. Everyone demented with the mania of owning things. All the things paper-thin and paper-frail...I've lived here for eighteen years and I have never once in my life come across anyone who cares about anything that matters."

In the days following her disappearance, Quentin thought about this and other statements Margo made that night. They suggested a level of unhappiness within her that he would once have thought impossible. But now he was confronted with the truth of it and he took it upon himself to save her.

I'd like to take a break here, to share a few words not only about Margo Roth Spiegelman, but also Alaska from Looking for Alaska, and the eponymous Katherine from An Abundance of Katherines.

I won't lie. I have a full-on awkward teenage crush on ALL of the troubled heroines I have encountered in John Green novels. My crush started with Alaska Young, continued with the final Katherine in An Abundance of Katherines, and reached a climax when I was introduced to Margo Roth Spiegelman in Paper Towns. When I read John Green's selfish, reckless, devil-may-care heroines I become a goose-pimply, heart-fluttery, stammering teenager. I wrote a love letter to them. Read it here. 

So Margo disappeared, and partly because he couldn't imagine life without her, and partly because he didn't want to, and partly because of the sad-and-enigmatic things she had said during their night together, Quentin vowed to save her. And in so doing, Quentin grew beyond himself. He grew more into the person Margo had always imagined him to be. And in the end, he did find her, but he also found that she didn't need to be saved. Moreover, Quentin discovered that Margo Roth Spiegelman was both MORE and LESS than the image of her he had carried in his heart. 

At the end of Paper Towns, Quentin and Margo Roth Spiegelman say goodbye to each other and also to the paper images they had created of one another. And they prepared to go out into the Great Beyond that awaits after childhood's end.

I truly cherished this book, and I highly recommend it. Have you read it? Share your thoughts with me in the comments!

My Love Letter to The Troubled Heroines of John Green Novels

Dear Katherine, Alaska, and especially Margo Roth Spiegelman:

I love you. I love your cleverly-disguised awkwardness. I love the masks you wear to hide your self-consciousness. I love how you curse and quote books above your reading level to express the feelings you can barely stand. I love how you lie. I love that you smoke, and drink, and lead impressionable boys on. I love that you find the future--and all life outside your borders--at once terrifying and impossible to resist. I love that you flirt with running away as easily as you flirt with suicide. I love that you treat philosophy as seriously as most girls your age treat college applications. I love that you scoff at such mundane things as college applications. I love how you collect ideas the way others collect stuffed animals and make-up. I love your daring. I love your recklessness. I love your careless disregard for other's feelings.

I. Love. You.

My Top Ten Reads of 2013

If you couldn't tell by this blog's name, I'm a literary sort of gal. I'm a reading and writing fool. Now that I'm a grown-up and bound by such inane grown-up responsibilities as working and paying bills, I don't read as much as I used to when I was a carefree child. Back in "the day" I'd read 2 to 3 books a week regularly and had a wallet full of the library cards of all the cities I'd lived in. Now I read at breakfast (when I'm not writing my own fiction, that is) and on my lunch break and in bed at night and...sadly that's about it. I carry my kindle on me at all times, though, for stolen moments of literary pleasure. I don't devour books like I used to, that's for sure. But reading will always be one of my main pleasures.

I read a bunch of books in 2013. Some were traditionally published and some were self-published. Some were new and some were even older than me. Some were written by big names and others by authors you should know but probably don't. Most were good, some were not-so-good. A select few were AMAZING. Here are the top ten!

This Grrrl's Top Ten Reads of 2013

Number 10: Transfection by David Gaughran

Transfection is a science fiction short, available only for the kindle (click here for a copy of your own!). I don't always read science fiction, but when I do I like it to be topical, socially relevant, and to pull no punches. Transfection delivers on all fronts. It deals with the hot-button issue of genetically modified food and, well...I don't really want to say much more for fear of spoiling the shocking ending for you. Just read it. It costs 99 cents and delivers MUCH MORE than the price tag would suggest.

Number 9: The Clue of the Tapping Heels by Carolyn Keene

In 2013 I rediscovered my childhood love of Nancy Drew mysteries and began collecting them. In doing so, I discovered something that was totally new to me: at one point the series had been rewritten and "modernized." Some of the titles, though, have been reprinted in their original form. I've found a couple of these. The Clue of the Tapping Heels was the first. I reviewed it back in June of last year. (Read my review here). 

It may seem silly to include such a juvenile book on my top ten list, but the original version of The Clue of the Tapping Heels allowed me to read a beloved classic like it was the first time. How many of us get such a chance? If you can do it, go for it!

Number 8: The ABACUS Protocol: Sanity Vacuum by Thea Gregory

Funny that earlier I said "I don't always read science fiction" because here's another scifi title. Ha-ha. Life is funny like that. Anyhow...

This is another book that I reviewed on its own, you can read the review here. This book was one of those I read last year that I would say are AMAZING. It's classic space opera but more subtle than most others I have encountered in this genre. And the author has a knack of creating very nuanced characters. Give it a read!

Number 7: John Dies at the End by David Wong

This book was weird. 

That almost seems like a "duh" statement, doesn't it? But it's also the truest statement I could come up with. John Dies at the End is weird. It also lies, a lot. Or changes its mind. Or whatever. For example, John doesn't die at the end. He dies about one-third of the way through. But he remains an active character throughout. So is he really dead? I don't know. I read the whole damned book, and I'm just not sure. The only thing I am sure about is that I enjoyed the book. It gives me a headache to think about it, but it's worth it!

Number 6: Chronic Fear by Scott Nicholson

This book is a follow-up to Nicholson's break-away hit Liquid Fear, which I also loved. The story deals with unethical scientists, deadly drug trials and unscrupulous politicians who aren't hesitant to dope the masses. What's not to like? The novels suck you right in and keep you turning pages 'til the end. I highly recommend them. 

Number 5: Gasher Creek by J. Birch

I downloaded my kindle copy of this book when the author had a free promotion going on. I do that a lot as a poor reader. And if you're a poor reader, too, I suggest you do the same. How else are we to be expected to feed our habits?

But after I read it I wished I hadn't. I wished I had paid the author for his efforts because Gasher Creek was just so good. I feel like I somehow cheated by getting a free copy. Last April I reviewed the book. You can read the review here. 

Do you like Westerns? Read Gasher Creek. Do you hate Westerns but love 3-dimensional characters and settings so real you forget where you are while you're reading? Read Gasher Creek. Trust me on this.

Number 4: The Long Walk by Richard Bachman

The first of you who says "Hey wasn't that really written by Stephen King?" please refer to my original review of this book (right here) and then either shut up or go away.

Thank you.

I'm a HUGE Stephen King fan. But sometimes, when I'm in certain moods, I'm an almost bigger Richard Bachman fan. Richard Bachman's books are nearly obsessed with the darker aspects of the human psyche. You can see it in The Running Man, and in Rage, but I think it's especially present in The Long Walk. They're cynical stories. And while you're reading them, you can forget sometimes that we generally expect the good guy to win in the end. Because why would he? 

The world that Richard Bachman writes about is harsh. And it's one that we recognize. You don't read Richard Bachman to escape. You read Richard Bachman to find a friend who can laugh at the darkness with you.

Number 3: I Am the Messenger by Markus Zusak

I am just going to have to be honest. When I read this, I had already read The Book Thief and I'd already fallen in love with Markus Zusak. So I'm more than a little biased.

No, not I'm-gonna-move-to-Australia-and-become-his-stalker love. But definitely I'm-gonna-read-everything-this-brilliant-author-ever-writes love. Without a doubt. Here, see what other fans have said about I Am the Messenger on amazon: comments! 

Because I feel like the only thing I can possibly contribute to this discussion is fangirly squealing. READ MARKUS ZUSAK! READ MARKUS ZUSAK!

Number 2: The Collection by Bentley Little

I might sort of be cheating with the number 2 and number 1 spots on my list but I don't care.

The Collection by Bentley Little is exactly that: a collection of short stories. I thought at first I should try to find just one or two stories from it to include on this list but I can't. There are just too many good ones to pick from. 

I found this book in my boyfriend Brandon's personal library. (You think I'm exaggerating? I'm not. The man owns thousands of books!) Brandon has a lot of Little's titles, but the author has written many more that he doesn't have. I had never heard of Little before, which surprised me. I like to consider myself well-read and horror is one of my favorite genres. Not sure how he escaped my notice all my life but I'm glad that's over now. The Collection made me a fan.

Stand-out shorts include:

The Sanctuary

The Washingtonians

Roommates

Full  Moon on Death Row

Confessions of a Corporate Man

The Murmurous Haunt of Flies

Number 1: The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins

Do you see now how I cheated with the number 2 and number 1 spots?

Number 2 was an entire collection and number 1 is a trilogy, so there are well over 10 titles on my top ten reads of 2013 list.

Oh well! If you can't cheat on your own list, whose can you cheat on?

My daughter (who is 17) read the Hunger Games trilogy years ago, as they were being published. And she loved them. My boyfriend, Brandon, read them last year in a weekend. And loved them. I've been meaning to get to them forever it seems, and just kept putting it off. As soon as I started the first book of the trilogy I couldn't believe I had waited for so long. And when I finished the third book, less than a month later (fast for me!), I sobbed like a baby.

Seriously. The last book to make me cry that hard was Push by Sapphire. 

Do I need to tell you what The Hunger Games is about? I doubt it. The books are smash hits, the movies maybe even more so. But I do want to tell you that exciting as the plot is, that wouldn't be enough to land this trilogy on the top spot of my list. What made The Hunger Games my number one read of 2013 was its brutal beauty. Katniss Everdeen, the heroine of the tale, is no Pollyanna. She's selfish. She's not even that nice to the people who love her the most. But she's so real everyone will identify with her. 

And kudos to the author, Suzanne Collins! She managed to write young adult novels that cover such adult themes as political revolution, genocide, and sex slavery with a tactful finesse that was astonishing to behold. Bravo!