I haven't been able to find anything about who started Lucky Penny Day, or why.

Which leads me to realize that creating these "national days" is a pretty serious free-for-all. CLEARLY WE NEED TO TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT AND COME UP WITH SOME NEW ONES.

Anyway, despite the dubious nature of this "holiday", I shall point you back to my old post about Jennifer L. Holm's Penny from Heaven anyway, because I'll use any old excuse to highlight a good book:

My affection for Holm's characters just sort of crept up on me—I hadn't realized how much I cared about them until Something Bad Happened and I found myself crying. 

The story itself starts off quiet and lightly comic: Penny tells the reader about her various family members and has some adventures with her cousin Frankie. She does mention the fact that her mother hardly ever talks about her father, and never talks about the circumstances of his death—that in itself was enough to alert me to the fact that there was Rough Stuff Ahead.

...I wrote about Aaron Hartzler's Rapture Practice:

Capital-b Belief is something that I have immense respect for, but I’ve never felt like I’ve succeeded in completely wrapping my mind around it. Maybe it’s one of those You Know It If You Feel It things? But this book, despite the vastly different life experience that it depicts—...when I say we believe that Jesus is coming back, I don’t mean metaphorically, like someday in the distant future when the lion lies down with the lamb and there is peace on earth. I mean literally, like glance out the car window and, “Oh, hey, there’s Jesus in the sky.” There will be a trumpet blast, an archangel will shout, and Jesus Christ will appear in the clouds.— has come the closest to helping me understand something that I’ve spent years trying to grasp.

Loved it.

...with BookMooch and PaperbackSwap (and some nice shout-outs to Flux and Orca, too) at Maine Crime Writers:

I’m still operating on the same material budget I had when I took on the job as Hartland Public librarian in 2006. I don’t need to tell anyone what inflation has done to book prices, etc. since then. One of the first things I discovered when looking for better ways to build a collection was online swapping sites.

I love it.

And suddenly, I am so excited to see this movie:

More here!

New hardbacks:

Avenger (Halflings Novel, A), by Heather Burch

Black Helicopters, by Blythe Woolston

Dear Life, You Suck, by Scott Blagden

Going Vintage, by Lindsey Leavitt

If You Find Me, by Emily Murdoch

Impostor, by Jill Hathaway

Period 8, by Chris Crutcher

Shadow on the Sun, by David Macinnis Gill

Wasteland (Wasteland - Trilogy), by Susan Kim and Laurence Klavan

Yaqui Delgado Wants to Kick Your Ass, by Meg Medina

You Know What You Have To Do, by Bonnie Shimko

New paperbacks (that I've read):

A Touch of Scarlet, by Eve Marie Mont:

Emma's narration never really gels into a consistent, believable voice. She ranges from snarky-casual to super-duper stiff and formal (with the occasional infodump), and there's a lot of telling rather than showing, especially when it comes to the interactions and relationships between the characters. Michelle's storyline (along with the student protest and the alternaprom and the end of Dr. Overbrook's arc) never completely integrates with the rest of the story, and so it feels at best, like it should have gotten its own book, and at worst, extraneous. (And, in terms of plotting, very afterschool-specially.)

The Immortal Rules (Blood of Eden), by Julie Kagawa:

Like so many Mysterious Vampire Heroes before him, [Kanin} is cold and aloof, but betrays his carefully hidden feelings through regular Eyebrow Quirks and Faint Smiles. He’s fond of long-winded exposition, tortured by a guilty past, doomed to forever obsess about righting the wrongs he’s done, says things like “My road must always be traveled alone,” and probably wears a lot of black silk shirts.

Masque of the Red Death, by Bethany Griffin:

While the atmosphere really is wonderfully done—Araby's narration fittingly shares that muffled, deadened quality—and I very much appreciated Griffin's writing, I can't say that Masque of the Red Death was an entirely enjoyable read. (Which isn't necessarily a necessity in a book, of course. But, you know. It's a factor in recommending it to other people.)

The Selection, by Kiera Cass:

America is infinitely slappable, as are BOTH love interests. (Duh. OF COURSE Maxon falls for her, so there's a love triangle!) The characters act more in keeping with what is convenient for the storyline—for instance, when America tries to warn Maxon about the super-duper bitchitude of one of the other contestants, he pulls the I'M ROYALTY AND YOU'RE NOT, THEREFORE YOU CAN'T TALK TO ME LIKE THAT routine, even though up until then, he'd sought out her opinion about stuff like that—than with their own personalities, and most of America's major decisions seem to be based more on who she's angry with at the time than in any sort of logic.

Over at BookRiot today, there's a post about personal reading rules:

When I started thinking about this piece, I thought about it as just a list of my (many!) seemingly arbitrary rules for reading. Once I got started, though, I discovered that those rules actually tell you so much about me that they double as personality traits. In fact, they say so much about me that I’m actually a little uncomfortable sharing them now, but I’m going to anyway because I’m done with the piece; this paragraph is actually, chronologically, the last one I’ve written, and who wants to waste all that effort?

Which (obviously) made me think about my own set of personal reading rules.

1. I'm a note taker. If I don't have pencil and paper at hand—or am too lazy to get up and go find pencil and paper—I will dog ear pages. Yes, that's right, I AM AN UNREPENTANT DOGEAR-ER.

1a. Since I realize that this confession will probably result in you all shunning me forevermore—you're totally going to cross the street to avoid me at BookExpo next week, aren't you?—I'm going to go ahead and ADMIT ALL: Yes, I even dogear library books. (I always un-dogear before I return them, though.)

1b. If it makes you feel any better, I dogear the BOTTOM of the page, not the top.

1c. I don't write in books. Ever. I do use the Note feature on my Kindle a hella lot, though.

2. When Josh gets ready to read a new paperback, he preemptively breaks its spine, and I flinch every single time.

3. Halfway through any given hardback, the book jacket starts driving me bananas and I take it off and throw it behind the couch. I retrieve and replace when I'm done reading.

4. The only genre I seem to be capable of reading without going into Literary Analysis mode? Vaguely smutty historical romances.

5. I've said this before, but it should be included: I'm a really, REALLY visual reader. When I'm wrapped up in a book, it's like I stop seeing the words and have an actual movie playing in my head: therefore, I had to stop listening to audiobooks in the car because I kept running stop signs.

6. I'm a vocal supporter of Putting The Book Down If It Isn't Working For You, but I find that I rarely actively do that myself. More often, I realize months later that I set something down and never returned to it. 

7. I'm a one-book-at-a-time girl. And I always have at least two back-ups in my bag, JUST IN CASE.

So. YOUR TURN.

So many options here!

We could go with characters who LOVE Sherlock Holmes, like Ingrid from Peter Abrahams' Echo Falls books, or Christopher from The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time or Colin Fischer from er, Colin Fischer.

Or we could go with books in which Doyle appears/is mentioned, like Jenny Davidson's The Explosionist* or the one where he teams up with Oscar Wilde to solve a mystery (I haven't read it, but have been meaning to for ages), or the series where he works with Charles Dodgson to solve mysteries. (<--I have no idea if those are any good, but I totally just ordered the first one, because HELLO, HOW COULD I BE EXPECTED TO RESIST THAT TEAM?)

Or one of the versions of Young Sherlock Holmes, like the one with the Bieber hair or the Shane Peacock series (which I haven't tried yet... should I?). Or Old Sherlock Holmes, as in the fabulous Mary Russell books.

Or books his brother, Mycroft, appears in, like the Thursday Next books (LOVE the new cover on The Eyre Affair), or the Quinn Fawcett ones that I haven't tried. Or Nancy Springer's series about their pretend sister, Enola. 

BUT. As is probably evident by the image to the right, I'm going with Neil Gaiman's story 'A Study in Emerald', which appears in Fragile Things:

A Sherlock Holmes story set in the world of H. P. Lovecraft. Loved it so much I've been babbling about it to everyone who will listen regardless of whether they A) are interested or B) know who H. P. Lovecraft is. Loved it so much I immediately ILLed Shadows over Baker Street, the collection it originally appeared in. I'm waiting with bated breath. (Or I would be, if I wasn't busy obsessively playing Okami.)

WHEW.

So, I'm sure I missed your favorite: tell me all about it in the comments!

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*OH MY GOD I LOVE THAT BOOK SO MUCH HAVE YOU READ IT WHY NOT GO READ IT I'LL WAIT RIGHT HERE OH MY GOD DIDN'T YOU JUST LOVE IT SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!

As I always get a giggle out of Travis Jonker's One Star Review Guess Who posts, I figured I'd swipe the idea and post the occasional one-star Amazon review of a much-lauded YA title.

So, can you guess what book this disappointed reader is reviewing?:

Even though this book is written for a young adult audience, I would not recommend it to all teenagers. First of all, the book is quite wordy. The language is pretty sophisticated and the dialogue sounds more intellectual than an average teenager would use. Second, the students at the prep school use marijuana, drink beer, and smoke cigarettes, although [HEROINE], the main character does not. Third, the book's "humor" may not appeal to everyone. While some people may find [HEROINE]'s pranks "good clean fun," this would not be universally true. Personally, I didn't think it was funny when [HEROINE] spied on people, stole keys, snuck into places she wasn't allowed to go and pulled pranks against the school authorities. She may have been showing her rebellious side, which is a common teenage trait, but I think [HEROINE] went a little too far. The consequences for her actions, in my opinion, were not equal to the severity of the crime.

[View the story "Links, etc.: May 14-21." on Storify]

From the Irish Times:

The Ulster Unionist Party leader Mike Nesbitt complained at Stormont that the teaching guide for Bog Child was evidence of bias and the worst kind of “politicisation of the classroom” under Sinn Féin’s direction.

Mr Nesbitt called for the book by the late London-Irish author Siobhan Dowd and the teaching notes supplied by the North’s Council for the Curriculum, Examinations and Assessment (CCEA) to be removed.

In response, the CCEA did not directly criticise Mr Nesbitt but said the book was not on the curriculum. It said it was one of a list of suggested books that teachers could use in the classroom for 14-year-old students.

...

“Let me be clear, this is not an attack on the book,” said Mr Nesbitt. “I have not read Bog Child, so have no opinion on its value as a piece of literature. But I have read the teaching notes, as endorsed by the Department of Education and I am stunned by what I read,” he added.

Oh.

OH.

OH MY GOD, I LOVE THIS BOOK.

And I have no idea how to write about it.

Ten pages in, I was all, "HEY, COOL! THIS IS SO WICKER MAN-Y! I LIKE."

Then, I came to the end of the first part. And my eyes got all big and round and I was all (much more subdued, but no less blown away), "Oh, hey, this is VERY Wicker Man-y."

And then, partway through the second segment, I thought, "Wow. Hello, Cloud Atlas."

After that, I stopped thinking about anything except the story—stories—in front of me, and I read and read and read until there were no more pages to read. And I was crying.

I still feel dazed.

It's not going to be for everyone. I GUARANTEE that some readers are going to want to throw it at the wall. (Perhaps you have already done so?) But something about it resonated with me. It's not just that I'm impressed by the structure—I am—or that I love Sedgwick's writing and skillful atmosphere creation—I do—or that I was blown away by how each segment was so different, but how (even discounting the physical details: the names, the flowers, the hare) each one was also so clearly part of a larger whole.

All of those things are a part of why I loved it, but there was something... BIGGER, yet less tangible beyond that. I think it was that even though the premise doesn't jive with my own personal, in real life worldview—I'm one of those who can't wrap my mind around anything beyond conceived/born/live/die/dead*—that the idea of these two people finding each other over and over again was genuinely, heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

Even though [SPOILER] it was a tragedy almost every time.

But, compared to the love that began—and ultimately ended—their story, the tragedy that followed them felt inconsequential. [/SPOILER]

Or something.

As the footnote below explains, I have a hard time with the metaphysical.

It's just a gorgeous, gorgeous book.

So good that it has apparently made my brain implode.

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*Which reminds me of a conversation I had years ago:

Family Friend Who Is Way Into Astrology: And so since you have so much Libra in your chart, that means that etc., etc....

Me: I dunno. I just have a hard time buying the idea that I am who I am because of where the planets were when I was born.

FFWIWIA: Oh, that's just because you're a Gemini. You're all about the intellectually concrete.

Me: So I don't believe in astrology because... I'm a Gemini?

FFWIWIA: Yes.

Me: But...

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Author page.

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Amazon.

Publisher.

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Book source: ILLed through my library.

Noel Fielding, in case you're tragically unaware of who he is, is one of the Mighty Boosh guys.

I adore him, both in his Vince Noir persona on The Mighty Boosh and as himself as a team captain on Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Whenever we re-watch the Boosh—or any episode of Buzzcocks in which he appears—I swoon all over the living room. Whilst giggling maniacally, of course.

And Josh doesn't even mind, because A) how can you get jealous over Random Dude on TV and B) he has a bit of a mancrush on him, too.

ANYWAY. So, the first season of The Mighty Boosh is set in a zoo, so I'm going to point you back to Cecil Castellucci's Queen of Cool, in which the title character signs up for an internship at the Los Angeles Zoo, and it turns out to be a life-changing experience:

I ESPECIALLY loved it that Libby's transformation took TIME. She doesn't work a day at the zoo and all of a sudden miraculously appreciate Tina and Sheldon and the others (including Sid, who I loved). It was a slow process, and I got the feeling that Libby was aware it was happening, though A) she didn't want to admit it was happening and B) she fought it. All that complexity and yet, light enough for beach reading. Way impressive.

I was going to embed a Noel Fielding clip, but then I fell into the Youtube vortex and just lost, like, an hour. I LOST AN HOUR WATCHING CLIPS I'VE ALREADY WATCHED A ZILLION TIMES BEFORE.

My brain, I weep for it.

Sixteen-year-old Ash Fisher is the son of a vampire and a human, and as far as he knows, the only twin-blood in Black City. Because of his human blood he's allowed by law to live in the city proper, rather than behind the wall in the Darkling ghetto. He lives with his human father, making ends meet by selling his venom to human Haze addicts, and worries every single day, that this will be the day that the Trackers discover that he and his father are harboring a Darkling... a crime punishable by death. But how could they refuse? She's Ash's mother, and she's dying.

Sixteen-year-old Natalie Buchanan, meanwhile, is the daughter of Black City's Emissary: the woman in charge. The Buchanans have just returned back to the city after months in the capitol, a move precipitated by the savage murder of her father by a Wrath-crazed Darkling. 

Full-blooded Darklings are barely second-class citizens; the few that live in the city are defanged and work as servants, and all of them—Ash included, despite his human blood—are required to wear ID bracelets at all times. ID bracelets that mark them as property of their human 'owner'. Not wearing the bracelets is punishable by death.

Any action judged a 'grievous crime against the state' is punishable by death, regardless of species.

Romantic relationships between humans and Darklings are punishable by death, regardless of species.

You've probably already guessed where the story is headed, and you aren't wrong: but that's not to say that there aren't some twists along the way. Since the prose stylings are neither squee-inducing nor remotely offensive, it'll be the plotting, the characters, and the world-building that attract or repel readers: and as Black City has a lot in common with other recent bestsellers, it should be pretty easy to figure out whether or not you should pick it up.

If you enjoyed the format of Marie Lu's Legend, then Black City might work for you: in this one, as in the Lu, the main characters alternate narration duties. And, as in Legend, the heroine is associated with the dictitorial government while the hero is, well, not part of the resistance, but certainly not held in any sort of esteem by the ruling class. Also, despite the vampires, I'd slot this one firmly in the science fiction arena.

If you like vampire apocalypse stories a la Emily McKay's The Farm or Julie Kagawa's The Immortal Rules and The Eternity Cure, then Black City might work for you: unlike both of those examples, in this case, the vampires are the subjugated class, but along with the action and the romance and whatnot, it deals with similar themes of racism and xenophobia. Black City actually takes that aspect of the story further, and makes some direct parallels to WWII with the aforementioned ghettos, with concentration camps, and with the ongoing experimental vivisection (i.e. torture) carried out in the name of research.

Like so many paranormal romances—though, as I said, this is more science fiction than fantasy—our characters do experience instalove, which I well know is definitely a dealbreaker for many. It, like Stephenie Meyers' 'imprinting' also turns out to be the sort of instalove that removes agency from the characters, which is another problematic element for some readers. In Richards' defense, she threw a hella-great twist into the mix of that plotline: even with the clues she dropped, I only saw HALF of it coming. 

LONG STORY SHORT: WILL YOU LIKE IT? IT DEPENDS.

WHAT DID I THINK? Aside from a few issues—I found it bothersome that Natalie kept going on and on about how a Darkling killed her father, when she KNEW VERY WELL that that wasn't the entire story, because, you know, SHE WITNESSED THE WHOLE THING GO DOWN; the pacing got bogged down in the middle with all the 'DOES HE LIKE ME?' 'OH GOD SHE LOOKED AT ME AND I'D BE BLUSHING IF I COULD BLUSH' 'LET'S MAKE OUT' 'OH GOD WE JUST MADE OUT' 'IS OUR LOVE WORTH THE RISK?' and so on; there was some of that 'HE'S SO DANGEROUS BUT I LOVE HIM' that skeeves me out; the ex-boyfriend is such a complete d-bag that he comes off as a moustache-twirler—I approved of the plentiful gore and the creative vampire mythos (multiple species, various cultural traditions).

I'll be reading Phoenix to see where it all goes.

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Author page.

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Amazon.

Publisher.

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Book source: Finished copy from the publisher.

...have been announced.

The Andre Norton Award for Young Adult Science Fiction and Fantasy Book went to: 

Fair Coin, by E.C. Myers!

See this post for the rest of the shortlist and this post for the rest of the winners.

...I wrote about M.M. Vaughan's The Ability, which wasn't a perfect match for me, but will very likely please younger fans of Roald Dahl.

In Out of the Easy, Ruta Sepetys had me at hello. It begins:

My mother's a prostitute. Not the filthy, streetwalking kind. She's actually quite pretty, fairly well spoken, and has lovely clothes. But she sleeps with men for money or gifts, and according to the dictionary, that makes her a prostitute.

Seventeen-year-old Josie Moraine doesn't want to follow in her mother's footsteps. She's known that for years, and even though she still works at the same brothel as her mother—cleaning rooms, mind you—and even though she's on good terms with Willie Woodley, the woman who owns it, she's independent enough that she's kept her own apartment since she was eleven years old.

She works part-time at the bookstore below it, and she dreams of going to college. But when Josie dreams, she dreams big: she wants out of New Orleans, to start over somewhere up North, somewhere where she can reinvent herself—where no one knows who she is or what her mother does.

LOVE: THE DIALOGUE. Out of the Easy is set in 1950, and Sepetys' characters sling slang without sounding phony or overblown, and the dialogue zings back-and-forth like in an old movie. The characters speak in distinctive voices, and unlike in Strands of Bronze and Gold, those differences in vocabulary, rhythm, and diction are affected by economic class, vocation, and education, rather than being purely dictated by the color of one's skin.

LOVE: JOSIE. Her narration has a touch of the noir hero: deadpan, world-weary, and with an understanding of ironic humor. Unlike a noir hero, though, she is open about being emotionally affected by... things that are emotionally affecting. She's smart, she's canny, and rather than blushing and wanting to melt into the ground in embarrassing situations, she treats them as opportunities—I cheered out loud when she turned one around by becoming an impromptu blackmailer, and I swooned during another when she threw herself into a cute boy's lap to save herself (and him, to a degree) from some catty mean girls. 

LOVE: HER MOTHER. Well, no, actually, I loathed her mother. But I loved that she wasn't the Pretty-Woman-hooker-with-a-heart-of-gold, I loved that she wasn't secretly sympathetic, or selfless or particularly smart. She was completely self-absorbed, and while her behavior makes her come off as rotten and somewhat stupid, it's important to remember who's telling the story: Josie isn't exactly an objective party. The other women who work for Willie are a mixed bag of funny/serious/witty/quiet/ruthless/rude/mothering/mean/sensitive and everything in between, and it's easy to imagine that if another person had told the story, Louise would have come off as more human. Maybe. Then again, SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST TERRIBLE.

LOVE: THE BOOKS. Josie works in a bookstore, and she and her best friend Patrick have an ongoing game where they predict what sort of book customers will want. There are references to Dickens and Keats, Capote and even L'Engle. And, tangentially, Poe: Josie ends up with a dead man's watch—THAT'S RIGHT, ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE, SHE INVESTIGATES A MURDER—under her floorboards, and she swears she can hear it ticking, ticking, ticking. Which, of course, evokes The Tell-Tale Heart.

LOVE: EVERYTHING ELSE. Sepetys is true to the era and her characters in how Patrick's story plays out; the romance is sweet and heartfelt; the details about 1950s life and culture work themselves in fluidly; Josie wants what she wants so badly that I was never quite sure about how far she'd go to get it; and while the ending certainly has some fairy-tale elements, there's enough bitter in the sweet to keep cynics (like me) from getting all up on their high horses.

Oh, I loved this book. As it's got the same combination of fantastically-rendered historical atmosphere—the dialogue is TO DIE FOR—and mystery elements, I highly, HIGHLY recommend it to fans of Judy Blundell's What I Saw and How I Lied.

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Author page.

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Amazon.

Publisher.

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Book source: Review copy from the publisher.

And now we come to the end of my re-read of Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War.

Previous installments are here, here, here, and here.

This is, hands down, the most bizarre cover I've come across. Is that a girl? Dancing? With a sock puppet? I don't even. THERE AREN'T EVEN ANY MAJOR FEMALE CHARACTERS IN THE BOOK.

Chapter Twenty-nine: The sale turns around.

• Thanks to the Vigils, selling chocolate is suddenly cool. Carter hands wads and wads of money over to Brian Cochran and then tells him who to credit the sales to: it takes Cochran a few days before he realizes that Carter is distributing the sales to make it look as if EVERYONE is participating in the sale—not counting Jerry, of course—even though it's really only a few students doing all of the selling.
• Boys cheer when Cochran updates the sales roster, and it makes him feel like a football hero... which is ironic, as it's actually Jerry who's the football player.

Chapter Thirty: Brother Leon is now enjoying homeroom IMMENSELY.

• As in previous homeroom scenes, we get this from Goober's perspective: Goober, by the way, has stopped selling chocolates to stand in solidarity with Jerry. He hasn't gone so far as tell anyone—not even Jerry—but nonetheless, he did stop.
• Meanwhile, now that selling chocolates is cool, many of the other students have turned on Jerry. Which Brother Leon loves. Apparently everyone—including Brother Leon—has forgotten about that whole Nazi lesson back in Chapter Six.
• Later, Goober is dismayed to discover that his sales numbers have been updated: according to the roster, he's sold 50 boxes, rather than the 27 that he actually did sell: Out in the corridor, The Goober's breath came fast. But otherwise he felt nothing. He willed himself to feel nothing. He didn't feel rotten. He didn't feel like a traitor. He didn't feel small and cowardly. And if he didn't feel all these things, then why was he crying all the way to his locker? Again and again, Cormier highlights the feelings of shame that the victim feels: Jerry felt it when his locker was vandalized, and Goober feels it now. In each case, the wronged party is the one who feels guilty.

Chapter Thirty-one: The return of Janza.

• Janza accosts Jerry and tries to goad him into starting a fight by calling him gay. Which literally almost makes Jerry vomit. (I'd like to say that everything about that situation is another example of dated material in the book, but... sadly, not so much.)
• Rather than beating Jerry personally, though, Janza does him one worse and hires a bunch of LITTLE KIDS to do it. I hate Janza.

Chapter Thirty-two: But, oh no, beating the crap out of him isn't enough.

• Jerry drags himself home and into bed, but the phone calls continue. And now they're staking out his apartment building, cat-calling and stage-whispering "Jerry, come out to PLAAAAYYYYYY" and the like. Which, of course, made me think of this bit from The Warriors. (Twin Peaks fans: NOTE THAT THAT IS A YOUNG JERRY HORNE. Always crazy, is our David Patrick Kelly.)

Chapter Thirty-three: Janza and Archie.

• As if anyone had any doubt, it was Archie who put Janza into beating up Jerry. (Using the kids, though, was Janza's own brilliant idea, and Archie isn't happy about it: not only because he likes being completely in control, but because strategically, the less people involved, the less possible problems.)
• Archie also suggests to Janza that there might not actually be a blackmail photo: a statement that makes Janza feel both relieved and angry.

Chapter Thirty-four: Jerry's day of invisibility.

• Everyone ignores Jerry. They don't just ignore him, they look through him. EVEN THE TEACHERS. His locker has been emptied and scrubbed clean, like he's been erased. Goober isn't in school that day, so he has no anchor.
• But then, something snaps, the period of invisibility is over, and someone tries to push him down a flight of stairs.
• Meanwhile, the final tally has been done, and, according to the numbers, every single box of chocolates has been sold. Well, every box except for Jerry's 50. Brian Cochran briefly starts wondering about Jerry, about this one stubborn kid standing against the Vigils, against Brother Leon, against Trinity itself, and he has a moment of almost-compassion. But then he figures, oh, whatever, who cares, I'm out of here at the end of the year.
• Archie informs Obie that there's going to be a school-wide, students-only assembly the next night, and it will involve Jerry Renault, the last fifty boxes of chocolates, and a raffle.

Chapter Thirty-five: If Archie Costello promised you anything "fair and square", would you believe him?

• Archie promises to give Jerry a chance, "fair and square" at revenge, and Jerry goes along with it. So, now he and Janza are standing in a boxing ring, stripped to the waist, and waiting for the raffle tickets to be sold. 

Chapter Thirty-six: And what, exactly, is the deal with those raffle tickets?

• Well, I'll tell you: on each raffle ticket, the purchaser writes down a boxer's name—Renault or Janza—the move said boxer is to execute, and then the purchaser's own name.
• If you think that many students are going to allow Jerry to throw any punches, you're going to be sorely disappointed: Archie might be a sociopath, but he's got a decent-if-pessimistic understanding of human nature: "You see, Carter, people are two things: greedy and cruel. so we have a perfect set-up here. The greed part—a kid pays a buck for a chance to win a hundred. Plus fifty boxes of chocolates. The cruel part—watching two guys hitting each other, maybe hurting each other, while they're safe in the bleachers. That's why it works, Carter, because we're all bastards." 
• That explanation leaves Carter—who apparently has always thought of himself as "one of the good guys"�feeling understandably uncomfortable and guilty. But, you know: he doesn't do anything about it.
• Obie—along with, it turns out, Carter—makes an attempt to take Archie down by bringing out the box of marbles. In the Hollywood version of this story, Archie would draw a black one. But not in Cormier's world: Archie is forced to draw two marbles, one for Jerry, one for Janza, and his luck holds both times.
• HA. On a hunch, I just looked it up, and SURPRISE, SURPRISE, they changed this scene in the movie: Archie pulls a black marble and has to take Janza's place in the boxing match. Also, crazily enough, ADAM BALDWIN PLAYS CARTER.

Chapter Thirty-seven: The fight.

• It's just as awful as I remembered it being.
• And, of course, Brother Leon stood there and silently watched the whole thing happen.

Chapter Thirty-eight: The aftermath.

• Goober holds Jerry's broken body in his arms as he and a few stragglers wait for an ambulance. And Jerry tries to tell Goober what he's learned from all of this, but there's "something wrong with his mouth, his teeth, his face" and so the words won't come out right. But this is what he wants to say: They tell you to do your thing but they don't mean it. They don't want you to do your thing, not unless it happens to be their thing. It's a laugh, Goober, a fake. Don't disturb the universe, Goober, no matter what the posters say." Not one for sugar-coating things, was Cormier.
• Archie and Brother Leon, meanwhile, get away with everything, their power and reputations intact: Beautiful. Leon and The Vigils and Archie. What a great year it was going to be.

Chapter Thirty-nine: Obie and Archie, back in the bleachers.

• Judging by their conversation—much of which mirrors their first conversation in the book—not much of anything appears to have changed: if Jerry overheard it, he'd be likely to assume that his attempt to disturb the universe had no affect whatsoever. But Goober will be forever changed by it, and possibly even Carter. And someone informed Brother Jacques about what was happening. So, on the surface, no. Nothing was disturbed. But underneath? Maybe.

Ag. Now I'm all emotionally drained and busted. I need a nap. And maybe some ice cream.

Links!

Kelly: Inspired by -- and Read Alikes to -- The Chocolate War

Liz: The Chocolate War Wrap Up

I'm going to finish up my re-read of Robert Cormier's The Chocolate War with TWO BIG POSTS.

Previous installments are here, here and here.

Okay, settle in!

Chapter Eighteen: In which Jerry has a long dark night of the soul.

• It turns out that Jerry didn't mean to continue to refuse to sell the chocolates. He'd been looking forward to the ordeal being over: the tension with Leon, the shunning by the other students, being watched by the Vigils. But that 'No' just popped out of his mouth.
• He lies there in bed, these thoughts going round and round in his head, and even thinking of the girl he saw downtown in a sweater that "bulged beautifully" (<--gross) doesn't help to distract him.

Chapter Nineteen: In which Jerry fully commits to his stance.

• Before homeroom, Jerry is approached separately by three other students: two upperclassmen and The Goober. The upperclassmen praise Jerry; The Goober pleads with him to back down, because "Brother Leon won't let you get away with it."
• A poster in Jerry's locker with a T.S. Eliot quote—Do I dare disturb the universe?—is described in detail, as it's one of those images that always comes to me when I think of the book (like the eyes on the billboard in The Great Gatsby), I was surprised that its appearance came so late in the story.
• And the chapter ends with this: He was swept with sadness, a sadness deep and penetrating, leaving him desolate like someone washed up on a beach, a lone survivor in a world full of strangers. The imagery ties back to the poster, of course, but I especially love the mix of emotions that it suggests, some of them conflicting: he's both abandoned and been abandoned by everyone else; he has gained an understanding of the world (even if it's a vague feeling that he can't fully articulate) that no one else seems to share; he's sad for everyone and everything.

Chapter Twenty: In which we see that Obie really is sick and tired of Archie.

• And who could blame him, really? Everyone knows that Archie is the true leader of the Vigils, and so he gets all of the glory for every stunt that they pull off... but who's the one who has to deal with the real pressure, who has to be sure that all of the stunts run smoothly? Obie, that's who. Archie doesn't respect him, doesn't appreciate him.
• The prank described in this chapter—every time a certain teacher uses the word 'environment', the students all jump up and dance around like crazy for a minute—is brilliant and hilarious. (Though, like many of the others, it creates an undercurrent of fear and apprehension, too.) But it's also a great example of Archie, once again, playing puppetmaster with EVERYONE: he has no loyalty to anyone but himself, and once he's bored with the teacher's discomfort, he turns the tables and makes the students the victims.

Chapter Twenty-one: Jerry's insurrection is a spark that threatens to become a conflagration.

• Students are talking; Jerry's outward show of defiance has made him somewhat of a symbol/inspiration to his peers—even though he certainly never meant for it to, and even though he'd rather for it to have never happened. Which actually makes me think of another unwitting/unwilling person-turned-symbol: Katniss in The Hunger Games. One of the major differences being, of course, that Katniss has A) a support network, and B) a clear-cut enemy to rebel against. Jerry isn't rebelling against an obvious authoritarian regime—though obviously the school administration and the Vigils are both authorities that bring pressure to bear—he's rebelling (again, though, not completely consciously) against his perception of WHAT LIFE IS. Ag. Poor Jerry. I do feel for him.
• This chapter is a great example of the portrayal of the objectification/dehumanization of women that plays out in The Chocolate War: in the first vignette, we have Kevin Chartier's take on his mother—...trying to ignore his mother who stood near the phone making sounds at him. Kevin had learned long ago to translate whatever she was saying into gibberish. She could talk her head off now and the words reached his ears without meaning.—and then we have Richy Rondell, who stands around outside the drugstore 'feast[ing] himself' on the girls who walk by by committing 'rape by eyeball'.
• Meanwhile, in an effort to discomfit Archie, Obie—who, even though he pretty much brings about our innocent hero's downfall, is one of the more likable characters in the book—tells him that Jerry has A) defied the Vigils by continuing to refuse to sell chocolates, and B) reminds Archie that he promised Brother Leon that the Vigils would support the sale.

Chapter Twenty-two: Sales numbers are down; Brother Leon is taking it hard.

• Sales haven't just slowed, they've virtually come to a halt. And Brother Leon—who sees Jerry Renault as just as much of a symbol as the students do, but a symbol that needs to be crushed—forces Brian Cochran to read every single name and number on the list aloud. It's a creepy scene, and suggests that Leon has gone round the bend.

Chapter Twenty-Three: The Goober refuses to play ball.

• The Goober is tired of Trinity. The Vigils are a part of it, but only a part. He feels like there's something 'rotten' and 'evil' there, and he doesn't want to give any more of himself to Trinity than he already has: so he's quitting football, and he's not going out for track in the spring.
• He never says it, but it seems likely that the 'rotten' feeling he's picking up on has to do with the fact that he seems to be the only one who feels any amount of sympathy for Brother Eugene, or guilt for his part in his nervous breakdown.
• Jerry, meanwhile, is in love with Ellen Barrett, a girl at their bus stop. I could be wrong, but she might be the only named female character in the entire book.

Chapter Twenty-four: Brother Leon and Archie throw down.

• There are a lot of references to obscene phone calls in this book—in this chapter specifically, Brother Leon's heavy breathing is likened to one—and that, along with the hippie, is one of the few things that date the book. (Because that's not really still a thing, is it? Obscene phone calls? Now that we have caller ID and *69 and all that?)
• Archie and Leon are both starting to lose their grasp on authority: Leon out-and-out orders Archie to use the Vigils to deal with the failing chocolate sale, which A) means that he's admitting that the situation is out of his control and B) that Archie and the Vigils have legitimate power, but C) not so much power that he can't order them around. I feel that there are approximately one billion possible term papers in this book.

Chapter Twenty-five: Jerry is summoned to appear before the Vigils.

• It doesn't go particularly well: Archie asks Jerry to start selling chocolates. He doesn't manipulate him into offering, he doesn't even order him. He asks. It's a scene that makes it even more evident that Archie is losing his grasp on power: he knows it, Obie knows it, and Carter—remember him? the supposed President of the Vigils?—knows it.

Chapter Twenty-six: Jerry calls Ellen Barrett.

• It doesn't go well.
• Also, she uses the word 'crap', which 'destroys all illusion' about her. Which is yet another great example of the Women As Non-Human thread in the book.
• Despite crashing and burning on the phone, Jerry's proud of himself for taking the plunge. And he has a moment—a moment—of pride about standing firm about the chocolates.

Chapter Twenty-seven: The Vigils REALLY begin to implode.

• Archie missteps by bringing in Frankie Rollo in for an assignment. Rollo, a junior already known for being trouble, mocks the proceedings (and the Vigils, and Archie) until Carter steps in and punches him.
• Which changes everything, because to keep the power dynamic intact, Archie has to let it ride, and in doing so, endorses physical violence as an option.
• But even after all of Archie's strategizing, Carter makes his move, and puts Archie on 'probation' until the Jerry Renault situation is handled and the Vigils are once more feared and respected on the Trinity campus.
• Archie is DISPLEASED.

Chapter Twenty-eight: Things start to get bad for Jerry.

• Someone assaults him on the football field, he gets prank phone calls at home at all hours, his locker is vandalized—the poster gets especially trashed—and one of his school assignments is stolen.
• In the midst of all this, he suddenly understands the poster: ...the solitary man on the beach standing upright and alone and unafraid, poised at the moment of making himself heard and known in the world, the universe.

Links!

Kelly: The Chocolate War: A Cover Retrospective, Foreign Editions and The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier

Liz: The Chocolate War: Read A Long Part 4 and Review: The Chocolate War

Just tinkering.

I just found out that there's a third book in Maggie Stiefvater's Books of Faerie series due out later this year.

Pardon me WHILE I HYPERVENTILATE!

SO. EXCITED!

Because, you know, I TOTALLY NEED YET ANOTHER SHOW TO GET HOOKED ON:

However! It'll be a bit different this year:

MotherReader has decided to take a well-deserved break from hosting duties, so Ms. Yingling and Abby the Librarian have waded into the fray and TAKEN CHARGE.

Regardless! Start organizing your TBR pile, because June 7th will be here BEFORE YOU KNOW IT.

I'd better remind Joshua that he'll need to find something to do that weekend that DOESN'T involve standing in front of me and chanting, "PAY ATTENTION TO ME, PAY ATTENTION TO ME, PAY ATTENTION TO MEEEEEEEEEE!"

Huh. In retrospect, I realize that I should have hidden The 5th Wave from him until that weekend: then he could have participated, too! (He's LOVING it, by the way. Judging purely by his reaction to it—he's been going to bed EARLY every night so he can start reading SOONER—I'm really looking forward to my turn with it.)

While there are loads and loads of Hollywood-themed YA books—most recently, I especially enjoyed Rachel Shukert's Starstruck—I'm going to point you back to Cecil Castellucci's first book, Boy Proof.

Which, many years and many books later, is still my favorite Castellucci.

It's about Victoria—call her Egg—the daughter of a has-been actress and a Oscar-winning special effects artist: 

She is extremely bright, and likes people to be aware of that fact. She likes routine and she likes to be in control. She likes to be seen as a loner. Although she's a photographer for the school newspaper and is a member of the sci-fi club, she avoids much interaction with her fellow students. She isn't (that) rude—she will talk to them if asked a direct question, but she doesn't generally initiate conversation. She's comfortable with the way things are.   

I fell for this book immediately. Ron Koertge called it "compulsively readable", and I agree. I read half of it last night, then tossed and turned for ages before I finally gave up on sleep and got up to finish it.

Love.

Other favorite Hollywood books?

Spoilers about Belles are a necessity!

OKAY. SO.

After long-lost cousins Isabelle Scott (from the Wrong Side of the Tracks, basically the North Carolina version of Chino) and Mirabelle Monroe (from Emerald Cove, basically the North Carolina version of the O.C.) found out that they were ACTUALLY SISTERS, life for both of them changed YET AGAIN.

Only actually not that much. Yes, they have to do a bunch of press stuff so as to save their father's political career, but mostly it's just more of the same: dealing with mean girls at school and trying to save Izzy's beloved community center and misunderstandings and boy troubles and so on.

And never fear, O.C. fans, this installment continues to channel the show: WINTER WHITE IS (in part) ABOUT COTILLION.

The only thing missing is Tate Donovan getting punched in the face.

Be ready for some clunky exposition—Cotillion! How could Mira have forgotten about her favorite tradition in Emerald Cove? Making her formal debut into society was something she had dreamed about since she was in pre-K. She'd spent the last three years preparing for the sophomore girl tradition—taking etiquette classes, going to Saturday morning dance lessons, and doing approved Junior League charity work—and somehow she had let all this drama with her dad make her completely forget the most important event of the year!—but wait, there's more!—Cotillion pledging. Rush. Debutante initiation. Whatever you wanted to call it, Mira had forgotten about this secret tradition, too.—and then the narrator goes on to explain it all in detail, but I'm sure you get the point, so I'll spare you. 

And I was disappointed that Calonita [SPOILER] apparently fed the same exact criteria into the Random Villain Generator, because JEEZ LOUISE, AN UP-AND-COMING POLITICAL FAMILY JUST CAN'T GET RELIABLE HELP THESE DAYS. [/SPOILER]

Perfect? No. Literary pyrotechnics? Double no.

But I love how Izzy and Mira have become a team—much like Seth Cohen and Ryan Atwood, of course—and if you go in for this sort of thing (as I do), as long as you're prepared to overlook some rough spots, it's fun stuff. I'll be reading book three soon-ish.

____________________________

Author page.

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Amazon.

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Book source: ILLed through my library.

My re-read of The Chocolate War continues!

Previous installments are here and here.

Chapter Twelve: In which Jerry has his last perfect moment in a long, long time.

• Jerry's at football practice, and his frustration about—and this is my interpretation, as he hasn't actually articulated the feeling—being rudderless and acted UPON rather than being the ACTOR in his own life, as well as being dismissed as insignificant and a nonentity by all of the forces who use him continues: What infuriated Jerry was that Carter toppled him gently, lowering him to the ground almost tenderly as if to prove his superiority. I don't have to murder you, kid, it's easy enough this way, Carter seemed to be saying. Long-windedness cut short: FORESHADOWING.
• Then the next pay is successful, and Jerry has a moment of "absolute bliss"... but then he goes inside to change, he finds a letter from the Vigils taped to his locker.

Chapter Thirteen: The first day of the chocolate sale.

• The Room Nineteen prank isn't sitting well with The Goober. At first, he felt like a folk hero and he enjoyed the butt-patting popularity, but there are rumors that Brother Leon is carrying on an investigation and that Brother Eugene has had a nervous breakdown. Also, there's this: The room would never be the same again, of course. The furniture creaked weirdly, as if it would collapse again without warning. The various teachers who used the room were uneasy—you could tell they were apprehensive. Once in a while, some guy would drop a book just to see the teacher flinch or leap in panic. So. Things that are broken—like, completely, utterly destroyed—and then mended... are never quite the same again. UNSETTLING THOUGHT, INDEED. By which I mean: FORESHADOWING.
• And then Brother Leon does role call, and asks each boy if he will participate in the chocolate sale, and every boy in the room says yes... except Jerry. And, as you might expect, even though this sale is supposedly entirely voluntary, refusing does not go over well: "You may pick up your chocolates in the gym, gentlemen," Brother Leon said, his eyes bright—wet bright. "Those of you who are true sons of Trinity, that is. I pity anyone who is not." That terrible smile remained on his face. "Class dismissed," Leon called although the bell had not sounded.

Chapter Fourteen: Time passes. Boys sell chocolates. 

• I love the structure of this chapter: Cormier shows the passage of time with brief vignettes of random students selling chocolates interspersed with scenes of the daily battle of wills between Brother Leon and Jerry in homeroom. His ability to create three-dimensional, believable characters with just a few paragraphs is lovely, as is his trust in his audience to be able to keep up with the rapid pace of the scene changes. 
• Using The Goober as our window to those homeroom scenes is another great choice on Cormier's part: he's already been shown to be more sensitive to and aware of tension and conflict than many of the other students, so his view of the situation is especially perceptive.
• Meanwhile, the kid who was appointed Candy Treasurer is pretty sure that Brother Leon is cooking the books...

Chapter Fifteen: In which we find out what Archie is holding over Janza's head.

• And, in a word, is is nothing: he's just PRETENDING to have a photo of Janza masturbating in a school bathroom. I don't even. (If it'd been a different character, this situation never would have worked, but as Janza is, as Willow Rosenberg would say, ID BOY, it makes complete sense to me that he would wander into a bathroom and think, "Hmmm, broken lock, no real privacy, well, now's as good a time as any.")
• The Archie/Janza scenes are always interesting; Janza acts like he thinks he's Archie's equal, but clearly knows that he isn't—he craves acceptance, but would never ever admit it; Archie very definitely looks down on Janza, but respects the fact that his unpredictability and inherent brutality makes him dangerous.
• I just noticed, too, that Archie and Jerry are the only two characters who are regularly referred to by their first names. Oh, wait, Obie, too.

Chapter Sixteen: In which a random student has a devastating flash of insight.

• Brother Leon holds a bad grade over David Caroni's head to find out what the deal is with Jerry Renault: Were teachers like everyone else, then? Were teachers as corrupt as the villains you read about in books or saw in movies and television? He'd always worshipped his teachers, had though of becoming a teacher himself if he could overcome his shyness.
• Which, of course, makes me think of River Phoenix's monologue in Stand By Me about stealing the milk money. Like I said, devastating.
• Anyway, now Brother Leon knows that Jerry's Vigil assignment ends tomorrow, and that he will say 'yes', start selling chocolates, and all will be right with the world.

Chapter Seventeen: In which Jerry does the unthinkable.

• He says no.

Links!

Kelly: Guest Post: Why The Chocolate War Matters by Angie Manfredi

Liz: The Chocolate War Read A Long Part Three