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Luckily I live in New York City, which made it very easy to attend the concert and launch party for the release of The Broadway Lullaby Project on May 7th. Over a dozen of the 26 lullabies were performed, accompanied by their illustrations on the large screen behind the performers at the Stephen Sondheim Theater. And Edie Falco was the evening's host! It was a great night of celebration, and fun to be able to rub elbows with some big deal folks in the Broadway biz. Here's a little photo recap of the evening:

Please visit the website, and consider purchasing a CD or a hardcover book (or ebook!) to help fight breast cancer!

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Answers from Anya Tretyakova 30 Seconds to Mars, Hordern Pavilion, Sydney 30 July 2011   Almost five years following the release of their second album A Beautiful Lie, 30 Seconds to Mars delivered their third, highly anticipated album This Is War at the end of 2009. Promoting this ground-breaking musical transformation, the group delivers a concert which can only be described as a religious experience for the die-hard fan, and nothing short of an impressive show for the newly initiated. The awesome combination of rock, interwoven with progressive, symphonic composition made this album and this show – the last on the Australian leg of their worldwide tour – truly unforgettable.   It is apparent that the group adopted a more spiritual approach to their latest album and tour. Gone are the charmingly self-pitying lyrics and deliciously melodramatic guitar riffs, replaced with a sound that can only be described as a hybrid between a thousand voice ... Read the rest of this post

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We all play three roles in every moment of our lives. As actors we move, speak, push and pull, make decisions, and otherwise engage in any number of activities animated by our goals and desires. As receptors we use our senses to listen, smell, touch, get pushed and pulled, and react emotionally to other people. As witnesses we observe everything going on around us, analyzing, synthesizing, describing, explaining, and understanding the world in which we live.

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By Michelle Rafferty

When my friend sent me a link with the subject line: Carmel in WSJ! I clicked with trepidation. The last time my hometown made national news it involved a sodomy hazing incident and the high school basketball team. Phew. This time, it was only about a local dispute over an expensive new piece of suburban architecture:

This is the Palladium, a $126 million concert hall, whose controversial price tag is heating up this spring’s mayoral election. My first thought was: why, when Indianapolis theater and concert venues reside a mere 20 minutes south, did Carmel do this?* I asked our resident city expert Sharon Zukin for her opinion on the matter and she wrote:

…so Carmel, Indiana, has entered the global sweepstakes of destination culture!…every city copies every bigger, more famous, more glamorous city to build cultural attractions in the hope of attracting tourists and (hope against hope) They hire starchitects (usually Frank Gehry but in this case…the long-dead Andrea Palladio!) to design flagship buildings that will get media attention (the Guggenheim Bilbao effect). They sign up for the Cow Parade (see the website) if they have a low budget and for “The Gates” (Christo in Central Park, 2008) if they have a big budget and for the Olympics if they have a huge budget. All of which puts them on a treadmill of cultural competition.

And the ironic thing  is that the more cities compete, trying to differentiate themselves with “cultural attractions,” the more alike they become. As Zukin also told me:

…so many cities do the same thing that they ALL wind up building the same kind of attraction, so the uniqueness of any of these attractions is submerged in the wave of same-old same-old spectacles; the resulting standardization is called, thanks to the geographer Donald McNeil, McGuggenization.

Think of the Guggenheims, Times Squares, MOMA’s, and MOCA’s across the world. That’s McGuggenization. And your city could be next!

*In the Palladium’s defense, I spoke with my mom and she happened to like the center (they offered a free concert for the grand opening).  And she didn’t have much sympathy for the outcry about a potential raise in taxes due to Palladium expenses. Turns out Carmel has one of the cheapest tax brackets in the area, meaning the residents have gotten a lot of bang for their buck over their years. Like a brand new Arts & Design District. Safer roads. And Waterslides.

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Hands down the most epic hip hop show I'd ever been to. Snoop Dogg, Warren G, Rakim, Tribe, Wu-tang, Murs & 9th Wonder, KRS-One.... Yeaaaaaahhhhhh. My way of pre-partying?

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It's was a stretch for me. I'd never gone to a concert like The Monster Ball before. It was a birthday present for my hubby. And I was nervous. About what to wear. About how I'd look once I got there. About being a bit north of the demographic.

But the great message of the concert was to be yourself. No matter who that is. No matter what people have said to you. It's all up to you to make your life what you want. Simple, right?

The concert was set similar to a four act play [or opera] and we were all trying to get to The Monster's Ball. It delivered. Think nod-to-the-80s, techno Wizard of Oz thriller. With my favorite act set in an enchanted forest. Mad love. I've been to so many concerts over the years. And reviewed my fair share. But none of the concerts I'd been to before rocked as hard as this. It was an event.

At the end of the night, practically limping back to the hotel, we stopped for garlic fries and cheesecake. Clearly, I'd gotten the message.

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It’s concerts-in-the-park time here on the West Island! And, finally, one is actually IN the park!

I pedaled down to Beaconsfield’s Centennial Park last night to check out the music of The Centennial Band (put together for just this occasion). They played a string of 30′s and early 40′s hits of the Big Band era–String of Pearls, Sing! Sing! Sing!, In The Mood, etc. A 15-piece combo of local musicians who did a fantastic job on these songs. Well done, Beaconsfield!

Below: Me and my sketchbook. I was just getting started.

Below: The actual sketch. I was getting frustrated as things just wouldn’t translate as I wanted them to on the paper. Bah!

Below: A brief video to share. They sound good, hmmm? As you can see, it was a hot evening, what with the fans.

So I hope this encourages you to get out and enjoy the summer days/evenings! Do some sketching, picture taking–whatever helps you to document the moment!

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The sketch, below:

The above is a case where anything can become a story, I guess. It’s just a quickly done cartoon version of my yesterday evening. And, yes, I was wearing hot pink shorts. They are too comfortable to be worried about how they look. And I have no idea how to draw a hazy horizon, but I tried to capture the moment.

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Gordon Thompson is Professor of Music at Skidmore College. His book, Please Please Me: Sixties British Pop, Inside Out, offers an insider’s view of the British pop-music recording industry. In the post below he looks at May 1970 and the Beatles. Check out Thompson’s other posts here.

For Beatles fans, it was like watching mortality embrace a loved one. The spring of 1970 brought news of the dissolution of the Beatles and, with the release of Michael Lindsey-Hogg’s Let It Be in May, fans could see the disestablishment for themselves.

Lindsey-Hogg had established his reputation with musicians through his involvement with the British television show, Ready, Steady, Go! In 1968, Mick Jagger asked him to direct a concert staged specifically for the screen, perhaps in imitation of D. A. Pennebaker’s Monterey Pop, filmed in 1967 and released in 1968. Lindsey-Hogg re-imagined the concert as a circus and captured a number of compelling performances (notably by the Who), which unfortunately did not include the culminating appearance by the Rolling Stones who went on last after a very long night. Lindsey-Hogg filmed The Rolling Stones Rock and Roll Circus in December 1968; but Jagger and the others apparently decided against releasing it, disliking their performance.

One of those involved in the performances that night had been John Lennon, who had pulled together a band consisting of Eric Clapton (guitar), Keith Richards (bass), and Mitch Mitchell (drums) to accompany himself and Yoko Ono. The Beatles and Lindsey-Hogg had worked together on film shorts to accompany the release of the recordings “Paperback Writer,” “Rain,” “Hey Jude,” and “Revolution,” so his selection to film them preparing for a concert seemed natural.

In January of 1969, Lindsey-Hogg and his crew assembled in Twickenham, where the Beatles had worked on previous films. This time, however, without manager Brian Epstein’s attention to detail, the band found themselves in cold studios arguing with each other to the point where George Harrison walked out of the sessions. McCartney could only purchase Harrison’s return by dropping the idea of a major concert at the end of the sessions. The Beatles turned to the basement of their offices in Savile Row to continue rehearsing material and the concert devolved into a brief rooftop appearance.

What Lindsey-Hogg does manage to capture is a creeping alienation and disaffection brought about by a number of factors, not the least of which was the maturation and individualization of the Beatles. They had long ceased to be the Fab Four. The world had grown darker and their vision more serrated.

The Rolling Stones for their part engaged in their own disaster film, Gimme Shelter, directed by Albert and David Maysles with Charlotte Zwerin, which begins with their 1969 Madison Square Gardens performances and ends with the tragedy of the Altamont Speedway concert. The Stones had dropped

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Though it’s officially summer, you wouldn’t know it by the cool and wet weather we’ve been having since summer began. It’s caused outdoor activities to head indoors, such as the concert-in-the-park I went to see last night. Normally I don’t go to these when they’re forced to be held indoors, but a friend asked me [...]

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NOTE TO SELF: CHANUKAH CONCERT TAUGHT ME THAT ALL CANDLES CAN CAST A GLOW

BY ELEANOR TYLBOR

As a youngster, Christmas was somewhat of a demoralizing time of the year. Since our family was of the Jewish faith, we celebrated the holiday of Chanukah, which didn't seem to me to be half as exciting as the furor that went along with trimming a tree.

On occasion Chanukah fell during the same period as Christmas and somehow I couldn't work up as much enthusiasm for lighting a candle even if it was colored, as my friends seemed to experience placing ornaments on the branches of their trees.

Even though my parents explained time and time again that Jewish people don't celebrate Christmas, which meant that a tree even a miniature one was out of the question, it was difficult for me to accept. In spite of protestations that we could call it a Chanukah bush, it was obvious that there was no way a fir tree would be part of our celebrations.

Traditionally at Chanukah, children receive gifts of gelt or money and light small colored candles in a menorah (candelabra), one per night for the eight days of the holiday. While that was nice, in my mind it didn't measure up to all the excitement connected to the "other" holiday.

At Hebrew school we always celebrated the various holidays, big and small, and Chanukah was a particular favorite especially since our class, being the eldest students, entertained the residents of a seniors home. Each year the teacher would select eight students to sing and perform as Chanukah candles and competition was fierce for the part of lead candle.

Since I wasn't blessed with a good singing voice – I could barely carry a tune – I knew that my chances were slim at best to play any candle, never mind the lead candle. My biggest rival was Zelig, who had the voice and promise of a future opera singer. Not only did he have the best singing voice, he was also the top student scholastically. Plus he was also the teacher's pet. Whenever games were played for prizes during the holidays, Zelig won everything, which didn't exactly ingratiate him with the other students. Actually, we were all jealous and would have liked nothing better than for his voice to change in the middle of a concert.

Class auditions for candle parts were held a few weeks before the onset of the holiday and the best I could hope for was a minor part and even then, only if the rest of the students had an off day or laryngitis. Each student auditioned for the teacher and as expected, Zelig got the lead role, which irritated me no end.

My resentment was eased somewhat by being assigned the role of a minor candle, probably out of pity more than anything else. Those students not chosen became part of the chorus singing "tra-la-las" at the appropriate time.

Excitement was at a fever pitch when we arrived at the seniors' home, ready to perform for a live audience who were, for the most part, in wheelchairs. They were brought into the auditorium where we were lined up on stage, anxious to perform.

Glancing around the room, many of the seniors appeared half asleep.

"You will be entertained today!" their nurses might have insisted as they wheeled them into the room.

The first students opened the concert and sang well and those who followed performed admirably. Finally, it was my turn. My voice didn't fail me and I felt very proud of my accomplishment.

Zelig opened his mouth and it was like a chorus of angels had entered the room. His voice was strong and melodic and suddenly the seniors perked up, smiles on their faces in obvious appreciation of what they heard. When the last notes of his solo faded away, they all clapped appreciatively.

The musical recital was over and we performed a variety of Israeli dances, moving off the stage to mingle among our audience. Although Israeli dancing was a passion, I was consumed with the memory of the applause and accolades bestowed upon Zelig.

After our presentation and some refreshments, an elderly woman wheeled over to talk to me. She smiled, her trembling hand gently covering mine.

"Thank you," she uttered weakly and breathlessly. "You were all wonderful. How special you are to visit us!"

There was the sudden realization that it wasn't important who the lead candle was or who had the best voice. It was significant to our audience that we had taken the time to come at all.

It wasn't long after our successful performance that Zelig's voice finally broke and he never knew whether he would sing soprano or alto. Tough luck for him. My voice on the other hand, never changed and could always be depended on to sing off-key.


http://holidays.net/chanukah/


For some good Chanukah recipes and recipes for all year round, surf on down here:

http://www.gourmania.com/recipesmlym/mlnym_nofrylatkes.htm

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I know this is unrelated to writing for children, but there were children in the audience as well as every other age group. And, this was such a great concert I had to write about it.

The concert was at the Arena at Harbor Yard in Bridgeport, CT and is was spectacular.
The show opened with both dynamic and powerful singers on stage performing, and without any breaks they sang for two hours straight. At the finale, they took a couple of minutes to change their outfits and came back out in black pants and black tops for another three songs.

The two sang an array of each others' songs and with two of the best singing voices in the business, it was an electrifying experience. Even during their solos, the other singer sang backup on stage. They were both dressed simply in jeans and sleeveless tops. It was truly all about the music.

I went especially to see Reba McEntire and it was my very first Reba concert - the added bonus was that it was with Kelly Clarkson. The two gave 110% and it showed. They make an unstoppable duo.

If they are ever in my neck of the woods again, I will definitely go to see them. I highly recommend their concerts to any and all - you will not be disappointed.

I am a huge Reba fan and now I am a Kelly Clarkson fan also.

Karen

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Tonight I am planning on attending the New York Philharmonic’s performance in Central Park, presented by Didi and Oscar Schafer. I’m not a classical music buff but I have clearly heard of Tchaikovsky and Beethoven the first two composer’s on the bill. The third though, Sibelius gave me pause. So I turned to the new Oxford Music Online gateway which led me to The Oxford Companion to Music’s biography of Jean Sibelius, which I have excerpted below. Enjoy- and if you are in New York come listen tonight!

Sibelius, Jean (Julius Christian) [Johan Julius Christian Sibelius] (b Hämeenlinna, 8 Dec. 1865; d Järvenpää, 20 Sept. 1957).

Finnish composer. He was unquestionably the greatest composer Finland has ever produced and the most powerful symphonist to have emerged in Scandinavia. His father was a doctor in Hämeenlinna, a provincial garrison town in south-central Finland. Until he was about eight years old Sibelius spoke no Finnish. However, when he was 11 his mother enrolled him in the first grammar school in the country to use Finnish as the teaching language instead of Swedish and Latin. Contact with Finnish opened up to him the whole repertory of national mythology embodied in the Kalevala. His imagination was fired by this, as it was by the great Swedish lyric poets J. L. Runeberg and Viktor Rydberg and, above all, by the Finnish landscape with its forests and lakes.

In his youth Sibelius showed considerable aptitude on the violin and composed chamber music for his family and friends to play. There were few opportunities to hear orchestral music: even Helsinki did not have a permanent symphony orchestra until Robert Kajanus, later one of his staunchest champions, founded the City Orchestra in 1882. At first Sibelius studied law, but he soon abandoned it for music, becoming a pupil of Martin Wegelius. At about that time he decided to ‘internationalize’ his name (following the example of an uncle who had Gallicized his name, Johan, to Jean during his travels). It was not until he left Finland to study in Berlin and Vienna that he measured himself for the first time against an orchestral canvas.

It was in Vienna that the first ideas of the Kullervo symphony came to him, and it was this work, first performed in 1892, that put Sibelius on the musical map in his own country. The music that followed in its immediate wake is strongly national in feeling: the Karelia Suite, written for a pageant in Viipuri in 1893, has obvious patriotic overtones. So too has the music he wrote six years later for another pageant portraying the history of Finland which became a rallying-point for national sentiment at a time when Russia was tightening its grip on the country. One of its numbers, Finlandia, was to make him a household name; its importance for Finnish national self-awareness was immeasurable. From the time of Finlandia onwards, Sibelius was undoubtedly the best-known representative of his country, and many who would never otherwise have become aware of Finland’s national aspirations did so because of his music. (His birthday was a national event each year, and in 1935 his 70th culminated in a banquet at which were present not only all the past presidents of Finland but the prime ministers of Norway, Denmark, and Sweden.)

If the 1890s had seen the consolidation of Sibelius’s position as Finland’s leading composer, the next decade was to witness the growth of his international reputation. In 1898 he acquired a German publisher, Breitkopf & Härtel. (He later sold Valse triste to the firm on derisory terms, a decision he regretted to his dying day.) But his fame was not confined to Germany: Henry Wood included the King Christian II Suite at a Promenade Concert as early as 1901, and during the first years of the century his works were conducted by Hans Richter, Weingartner, Toscanini, and—in the case of the Violin Concerto—by no less a figure than his contemporary Richard Strauss. The Violin Concerto was very much a labour of love, as one would expect from a violinist manqué who had nursed youthful ambitions as a soloist.

Sibelius’s early compositions show the influence of the Viennese Classics, Grieg, and Tchaikovsky, and by the middle of the first decade of the 20th century, when Sibelius entered his 40s, his star had steadily risen. The Third Symphony (1907), however, brought a change in direction and showed Sibelius as out of step with the times. While others pursued more lavish orchestral means and more vivid colourings, his palette became more classical, more disciplined and economical. It was while he was in London working on his only mature string quartet, Voces intimae, that Sibelius first felt pains in his throat, and in 1909 he underwent specialist treatment in Helsinki and Berlin for suspected cancer. For a number of years he was forced to give up the wine and cigars he so enjoyed, and the bleak possibilities opened up by the illness served to contribute to the austerity, depth, and focus of such works as the Fourth Symphony (1911) and The Bard (1913). For tautness and concentration the Fourth Symphony surpasses all that had gone before. It baffled its first audiences and was declared ultra-modern; in Sweden it was actually hissed.

Although each of the symphonies shows a continuing search for new formal means, in none is that search more thorough or prolonged than in the Fifth (1915). Sibelius was a highly self-critical composer who subjected his music to the keenest scrutiny. In the early years of the 20th century En saga and the Violin Concerto were completely overhauled, and the Lemminkäinen Suite (1895) was revised twice, in 1897 and 1939. The Fifth Symphony gave him the most trouble of all: in its original form it was in four movements, and was first performed on his 50th birthday. It was turned into a three-movement work in the following year and entirely rewritten in 1919.

After World War I Sibelius’s music struck ever stronger resonances in England and the USA, and (perhaps because of that) fewer in Germany and the Latin countries. None of the symphonies is more radically different from the music of its time than the Sixth (1923), especially when compared with the music composed in the same year by Bartók, Stravinsky, Schoenberg, Hindemith, and the members of Les Six. The one-movement Seventh Symphony (1924), which can be seen as the culmination of a search for organic unity, demonstrates the truth of the assertion that Sibelius never approached the symphonic problem in the same way. Tapiola (1926) crowns his creative achievement, evoking the awesome power of nature with terrifying grandeur. Of all his works this is the one that makes the most astonishingly original use of the orchestra.

Sibelius’s inner world was dominated by his love of the northern landscape, and of the rich repertory of myth embodied in the Kalevala. The classical severity and concentration of his later works was not in keeping with the spirit of the times, and after World War I he felt an increasing isolation. As he himself put it, ‘while others mix cocktails of various hues, I offer pure spring water’. For more than 30 years after the completion of his four last great works—the Sixth and Seventh Symphonies, the music for The Tempest, and Tapiola—Sibelius lived in retirement at Järvenpää, maintaining a virtually unbroken silence until his death in 1957. Although rumours of an Eighth Symphony persisted for many years, and its publication was promised after his death, nothing survives apart from the sketch of the first three bars. Near completion in 1933, it fell victim to his increasingly destructive self-criticism during World War II, probably in 1943.

Sibelius’s achievement in Finland is all the more remarkable in the absence of any vital indigenous musical tradition. Each of his symphonies is entirely fresh in its approach to structure, and it is impossible to foresee from the vantage point of any one the character of the next. His musical personality is the most powerful to have emerged in any of the Scandinavian countries: he is able to establish within a few seconds a sound world that is entirely his own. As in the music of Berlioz, his thematic inspiration and its harmonic clothing were conceived directly in terms of orchestral sound, the substance and the sonority being indivisible one from the other. Above all he possessed a flair for form rare in the 20th century; in him the capacity to allow his material to evolve organically (what one might call ‘continuous creation’, to adapt an image from astronomy) is so highly developed that it has few parallels. His mature symphonies show a continuing refinement of formal resource that (to quote the French critic Marc Vignal) makes him ‘the aristocrat of symphonists’. Vignal was referring to the sophistication of his symphonic means, but late Sibelius is also aristocratic in his unconcern with playing to the gallery and in his concentration on the musical and spiritual vision.

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(VENICE, ITALY) Sir Elton John's performance in Piazza San Marco on Wednesday night, July 9th, makes you understand why he was knighted. He played with a quiet nobility that radiated enormous power. He was not flamboyant. He let his music do the talking, and when he spoke, his words were simple and dignified.

Napoleon is often credited with calling Piazza San Marco "the drawing room of Europe," but Wikipedia informs us that perhaps it should be attributed to Alfred de Musset (and you know how nitpicky those Wikipedia people can be:). In any event, whoever said it, the atmosphere was exactly like that: as if we were in a grand drawing room, and Sir Elton John was entertaining his guests.

The show was sold out, and to be honest, I didn't make any effort to go, but a friend called and offered a pass at the last moment. So, of course, I went! The pass allowed me to wander everywhere, and I found myself fortunate enough to land in about the tenth row, with an unobstructed view, sitting next to Carl Pagan, from the Casino di Venezia -- which happens to be the oldest casino in the world, and accounts for about 40% of Venice's income. So, of course, during the show, in the pauses between songs, I harangued Carlo about various problems around town. Poor Carlo! Just when he thinks he can relax during an Elton John concert, he finds himself sitting next to Cat Bauer!

To his credit, he hung in there and listened. So, who knows what the future many bring:)

Elton sang hit after hit after hit. It seems impossible for one human being to have so many hits, but he has them. We have grown up with Elton; Elton is always there. We have suffered with him. We have rejoiced with him. We have tried to kill him, but he did not die. The Queen has knighted him for his grand endurance and now we embrace him and ask him to do charity shows.

Elton performed this concert on behalf of SMS, which is a clever acronym for "San Marco Square" and "Short Message System." Elton raised money to fix up San Marco Square. Now, we can be sure that Elton does not have to do this. So, why would he? Well, he lives here. And I will judge by the few words he used to introduce the last song, "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me," that he cares.

He said, "This is dedicated to everyone who likes to live in Venice," or something to that effect. But it was weary, serious, profound. We are all very tired these days over here in the Magic Kingdom, as are most people with souls throughout the world. And then he sang, "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me." If you have ever had the Sun go down on you, and most of us have, you will understand. I think Bernie Taupin is one of our greatest lyricists. Elton would not be Elton without Bernie's words:

I can't light no more of your darkness
All my pictures seem to fade to black and white
I'm growing tired and time stands still before me
Frozen here on the ladder of my life

Too late to save myself from falling
I took a chance and changed your way of life
But you misread my meaning when I met you
Closed the door and left me blinded by the light

Don't let the sun go down on me
Although I search myself, it's always someone else I see
I'd just allow a fragment of your life to wander free
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me

I can't find, oh the right romantic line
But see me once and see the way I feel
Don't discard me just because you think I mean you harm
But these cuts I have they need love to help them heal

I wish I had some photos, but I always have to depend upon photographers, and they do not always come through, and there are, surprisingly, slim pickings on the net (none of the photos I am using are from the actual show). The last camera I had was destroyed during Carnevale two years ago by Red Wine within a week after purchase. The shop where I bought it in Venice sent it back to the dealer in Milano, without a reason, and the Milano shop wrote back: WE HAVE EXAMINED THIS CAMERA, AND IT WAS DESTROYED BY RED WINE. THEREFORE, WE DO NOT UPHOLD OUR WARRANTY. And, they were right! It WAS destroyed by Red Wine, but not by drunkenness -- it was because I dropped my shopping bag, and the camera was in the bag with the red wine -- there are witnesses! The Venice shop told the Milan shop, "Well, after all, it IS Carnevale."

If you can understand that story, you will understand part of the reason why Venice is sad -- so many people from Milano (and other places) have bought apartments here for profit, caring only about the money, and nothing about the Soul of Venice. If someone from Milano sent a camera back to Venice destroyed by Red Wine, the Venetians would laugh and say, "Well, THAT'S a good reason! It's Carnevale, after all. Give them another!"

Here is a video of Elton singing "Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me" -- from long ago, not from the other night, but you get the picture (YouTube wouldn't let me take anything else). His voice is battle-worn now, and his hair is grey, but his scars become him. He looks better than ever. How amazing one song can be! It united us all! There were lighters lit, and we All Became One. When the people chanted his name, it sounded like this: "Eel-ton! Eel-ton!"

Thank you, Elton, for adding your great voice to the song of Venice.

Ciao from Venice,
Cat

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www.echesketch.com

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So, maybe it's just girl detective week here at Biblio File. (Well, probably not, as I think I'm out of girl detective books.)

Anyway, I was going to say some other things not book related, but they all sound cool in my head and then really dumb when typed out. Ah well.

Today's song is one of my favorites. Erin McKeown's Float

Anyway, regular readers may well be aware that Kirsten Miller's Kiki Strike: Inside the Shadow City was one of my favorite books last year. (And, I'd like to give a huge shout out to Ms. Miller, who read my blog and my plea for a t-shirt and hooked me up.)

Well, Miller has completely outdone herself with Kiki Strike: The Empress's Tomb.

Not to completely take myself back to 3rd grade, but I feel I need point out one of the main lessons of this book:

Secrets secrets are no fun
Secrets secrets hurt someone

You'd think that, after what happened last time, the girls would know that they have to be honest and open with each other. You'd think they know they have to trust each other.

But, because of some very big, explosive secrets, everyone assumes Oona has gone over to the dark side and won't give her the benefit of the doubt. And something's wrong with Kiki, but she's not telling.

But who has time to worry? Giant squirrels are mugging innocent New Yorkers, there's a hungry ghost on the loose, the Irregulars keep finding kidnapped Taiwanese children, and psychologists are just weird. And, on top of it all, Ananka's grounded and about to sent off to boarding school.

There are some very bad things going down in New York, and there's only one band of renegade girl scouts up to the job. But they might just have to save themselves first.

This is even better than the first (who thought that was possible?!) The stakes are higher, the twists are um... twistier... the secrets are bigger, deeper, and will keep you guessing. Plus, it has a hungry ghost, and you know how much I love hungry ghosts. If I had to have one complaint, I was surprised Ananka didn't already know about hungry ghosts. She knows everything! Especially about ghosts!

Now, when I finished the last one, I said that couldn't tell if it was a series, but I hoped it was. The last sentence of this one? Definitely another book coming, and now I really, really can't wait. And my buddy icon hasn't changed.

But, if you haven't read Kiki Strike yet, get thee to a library or book store. Get both books now. Check out the website. (I can't wait until the store is up!) You'll thank me.

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