Cirtisim of the Little Women Series

It seems like in some point in every little girl’s life, they read ‘Little Women’ by Louisa May Alcott. Whether it is given to them by their mother, an older sister, or required reading in school, it seems to fall into all of our hands in one way or another. As for me, I don’t remember how I got my copy, but I suspect my mother had something to do with it. I also don’t remember how old I was when I first read it, but it was probably sometime in elementary school.

I read it off and on for years until I was quite an adult. Up until that time, I had identified with all the characters in one way or another. Of course I was like the tomboyish Jo in our mutual love of acting and writing, I could relate to Beth’s love of music, I strove to be elegant like Amy, and I identified with Meg’s desire to be wealthy. Perhaps these were superficial ways of relating to the sisters, but it made it so that I was able to enjoy the book well into my adulthood.

One day, I was reading the book for the millionth time on my smartphone (ah, technology) when I realized there were actually two more, and it was in fact a series. This was perfect, and I quickly downloaded ‘Jo’s Boys’ and ‘Little Men’. I whipped through them in the course of a few days and I thought they were as good as ‘Little Women’. Maybe even better. For one thing, the conflicts were more severe, there were more characters, and everyone that I loved in the first book was back for an encore. There was nothing that they couldn’t do wrong.

Or so I thought.

I eventually became a twenty-something English major. I had learned to look beyond the words written on the page and think critically of the content. This of course did not mean that I picked apart everything that landed in my hands. It meant that I was able to see things in books that others didn’t. After a few years of schooling, I needed a break from slogging through my required reading for class. So I picked up my phone and looked for something light to relax my brain. I hadn’t read ‘Little Women’ or the following books in a few years, so why not? I was half way through ‘Little Men’ when I noticed something. Any conflicts were quickly cleared up without any long-lasting effects, unless they were positive. No one was ‘bad’ or ‘evil’ and if there were any characters that tried to be less than perfect, they were promptly done away with. It was almost as if Alcott couldn’t bear anything permanently damaging to happen to her characters. Each chapter seemed to be treated as an episode of a sitcom where any conflicts were resolved and everyone learns a lesson and becomes even more of a better person because of it. By the time I was done with ‘Jo’s Boys’, I was convinced.

Of course, anyone who’s read the books is going ‘Well what about Beth? She died! Can’t get any more permanent then that!’. You are very right, random shouting reader! But think about her character for a second. She was the epitome of perfection through dullness. She never got angry like Jo, was never discontented with her life like Meg, or wanted to be someone of importance like Amy. She was fine with who she was, and where she was in life. She had no motivation outside wanting to stay at home and do housework forever. Back then, that was fine for girls at a young age, but eventually they had to grow up and get married. In my opinion, Alcott killed her off before she could get to that stage in her life. Her sisters were all out of the house and it was only her parents left, two able-bodied persons who didn’t need their daughter to look after the housekeeping. And whether she intended to or not, Alcott rather made Beth into a martyr. Beth was Jo’s pet, so her death softened out Jo’s rough edges and makes her more determined to be considerate and caring of others. The other ‘imperfect’ sister, Amy, is away in Europe when Beth dies, but her death makes her care more about her family then she had in the past, since she cared more for her art and articles than anything else. In essence, Beth’s death gives Alcott an excuse to perfect her characters even more.

This ‘perfecting’ of characters really takes off in ‘Little Men. For those of you who haven’t read it, all the sisters are settled down, and Jo has opened a home for wayward boys. Wanting to make today’s youth better? Awesome. The only problem is, the only character that never reforms is sent away. Some money goes missing, and the main ‘bad boy’ is blamed. It comes out a few chapters later that a secondary character was really the one who stole the money. He runs away back to his father, so he misses out on being helped correct his ways. Which rather defeats the purpose of the house. The aforementioned ‘bad boy’ runs away a few times, gets into irreparable trouble, and is eventually sent away. This struck me as rather lazy. I know it’s good story telling to make sure not everyone can be saved, but sending the characters away that are just too badly behaved seems a little defeatist. It would have been more interesting if there was actual conflict instead of throwing in the towel when things got too hard. This character’s story really comes to a head in ‘Jo’s Boys’ when he shows a history of being unwilling to settle down and be ‘good’ and Alcott kills him off. Of course, she can’t help but be sanctimonious to the last, and has him die defending those weaker then him. She also kills off two other minor characters that didn’t ‘turn out well’ because they are vain, lazy, and gluttonous. It gave me the impression that you had to be a perfect angel, or try your hardest to be so, otherwise you didn’t deserve to live in Alcott’s world. Of course, everyone who strives for perfection, lives happily ever after in unsatisfyingly vague endings.

This was not a preferred analysis. I would have been perfectly happy to think of the book the way I did when I first read it when I was a child. However, many years in the English department at Chico State studying literature has made it so I can never look at a novel with an uncritical eye again. Sometimes this works in my favor; it is fun to mock a book if it is truly terrible, and no one mocks books as well as English majors. But I would prefer to do it to books I disliked from the start, rather than books that were childhood favorites. Once you look into the abyss, there’s no going back.

Review of Josie Rourke's Coriolanus

(Yes, there are spoilers, but the text is four hundred years old, so deal with it.  Although if you're planning to see a screening of it, hold off for now, I do discuss specifics for the performance.)

I have had a bizarre combination of schooling in my life.  Theatre, film, back to theatre, English literature, and always, always, always Shakespeare.  Shakespeare is that which I live and breathe.  It flows through my blood as thick as the cells which sustain my life.  So when I heard that there would be a NatLive screening of Coriolanus, a part of me leapt at it.  A West End show, while living in Wales, for £11?  Not to mention it is most acutely known for its leading star, Tom Hiddleston.  Really this was a perfect storm to get me to spend money I said I wouldn’t spend.  There was only one real problem: I really didn’t like Coriolanus.

Okay, maybe that’s harsh.  Sorry, Will, its nothing personal, I could just never get into it.  I’ve tried on multiple occasions to read it, but it has never been a required text for any of my Shakespeare courses, and I’ve never had the wherewithal to manage it by myself.  Not to mention, there are almost never stagings of it, so I was confined to bookwork, which is, at least for me, the absolute worst way to fall into a Shakespeare play.  So hitherto, I’ve always harbored a secret dislike for Coriolanus. 

But eventually I kicked myself into going for it.  This play does combine everything I love: Shakespeare, modern revivals, and of course, Tom Hiddleston.

From the moment the lights rise at the beginning until that last strangling, gut wrenching ending, there is simply too much happening for me to go into a full plot synopsis, so here is what it says in the playbill, “When an old adversary threatens Rome, the city calls once more on her hero and defender: Coriolanus.  But when famine threatens the city, the citizens’ hunger swells to an appetite for change, and on returning from the field Coriolanus must confront the march of the realpolitik and the voice of an angry people.” 

This production was directed by Josie Rourke, the artistic director of the Donmar Warehouse where the play was performed.  You may know of her work in 2011 as the director of the much acclaimed Much Ado About Nothing staring Catherine Tate and David Tenant.  The gritty, raw approach that Rourke used not only applied a roughness, or possibly realness to it, but also leant it a certain connection.  It resonated.  Like a too-cold drink gone down just wrong so that you feel it for an hour in your chest, seeping cold fingers of emotion into your being.  All of this was only heightened by the design, done by Lucy Osborne, which combined a feeling of Old Rome, and war-torn Britain. 

To be honest, I don’t really know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it.  It was a bare stage, minimalist production with the actors seated in neutral position at the back of a thrust stage.  The set consisted of a collection of chairs and lines hand painted by the actors during the production on the floor to create a room and a plinth.  A single ladder rose from up right to the heavens.  The backdrop was painted brick with iron ladders half scaling the walls and semi-roman graffiti decorating it, declaring "Annis Plebeian".  It was visually astounding. 

The play itself can naturally be divided into two parts, pre and post interval, or as I think of them: Part one: in which a whole shit fuck ton happens, and Tom Hiddleston does weird things with his legs and makes awkward noises while in a random and possibly unnecessary shower.  And Part two: in which very little happens but that very little breaks you heart to the very fiber of your being, thus making you cry like a little baby whilst simultaneously experiencing a very confused lady-shame boner because Hiddleston has appeared wearing what can only be described as borderline obscene trousers, so the things that are happening are hard to understand because… because… no there is actually no direction he can turn in which my eyes aren’t glued to his… *ahem* actor.  Or blood pack, I'm pretty sure it was actually just a blood pack.  I hope it was a blood pack… I'm going to pretend it was a blood pack (it was definitely NOT just a blood pack.  Oh thank god, he’s turned away- no… no this direction is worse).

Anyway, back to the review of the actual show, and by show I mean performance, not the peepshow being seen from seats E11 and E12. 

During the fight scene, rubble fell from the “sky,” and the chairs acted as wall and horseback for the soldiers.  Hiddleston scaled that giant ladder in what can only be described as a somewhat bizarre and frightening interpretation of a spider- this being one of the weird things he was doing with his legs- and returned covered in blood.  And I mean, covered.  It was slightly gratuitous, though that admittedly was probably necessary.  It was quite frightening to behold, in fact.  He seemed to acquire new injuries each time he left the stage, though did an excellent job of making me sincerely worried for his well-being. 

Of course, then he gets a chance to wash the blood from him, via a stream of water that descends from the heavens (they were very fruitful heavens, they variously rained rubble, water, and rose petals).  I was quite pleased at first, because he was really covered in blood.  He pulled that shirt off and, goodness good gracious.  I'm not just referring to the actor named by MTV to be “the sexiest man alive” but the incredible makeup work done to make that sexiest man alive look to be on the verge of death.  And then he showered and the entire theatre began making noises of extreme discomfort.

I’ll admit: this is my one big grief with this show.  That shower scene was not really necessary; he could easy have left the stage and removed the blood off stage without making everyone incredibly uncomfortable.  I also can’t explain what was really uncomfortable about it, other than the analogy of the noises he made sounding a bit like someone having a quite aggressive… moment of self-gratification.  Tom Hiddleston, the man who makes you cry little a wee little baby when a tear falls down his cheek, maybe could work on making pain not sound quite so… sexual.  I’d like to think that it was just me, but my friend was hiding her face on one side of me, and the woman seated on my other side asked her husband, “exactly how long will this last?” only moments before the dear actor dog shook his head sending streams of bloody water everywhere and exited the stage. 

Okay, grief over, we can go on to discuss the rest of the amazing play. 

Because after that, we are introduced to the mother-son relationship between Coriolanus and Volumnia, played by the amazing Deborah Findlay who managed to play her as simultaneously loving, proud, obsessive, and touched.  We also see the natural chemistry that exists between Coriolanus and Virgilia, played by Birgitte Hjort Sørensen.  When those two greet each other upon their reunion, sparks flew and I wished, foolishly, romantically, that someone might someday look at me the way that they looked at each other.  Until I remembered that they were acting. 

And then there are the odious Sicinia and Brutus, the conniving tribunes who conspire to oppose Coriolanus as Consul and have him exiled from the city.  Sicinia, played by Helen Schlesinger, and Brutus played by Elliot Levey, win the award for best slime balls I’ve seen in awhile, as I hated them within thirty seconds of their introduction.  Chaos ensues their every move, leading to the eventual condemnation of Coriolanus.  Volumnia argues with her son about what he should do next which ends with a very whipped looking Coriolanus backing away from his mother (who, for the record, is a decent foot shorter than him), and promising to do her will in one of few truly comedic moments within the play.  A sad goodbye and we are onto the final moment pre-interval in which Tom Hiddleston stands upon a plinth- which is actually a box drawn on the stage in black paint- while being plastered with tomatoes from the Plebeians and looks like he is actually about to eat someone’s soul. 

Gut wrenching part two, in which I cried like a baby and Tom Hiddleston wore weirdly high trousers that highlighted everything beneath them a bit too well, was what brought it all together.  The convoluted pre-interval information sesh is over, leaving nothing but raw emotion and straightforward action.  Mark Gatiss broke my heart as Menenius being turned away from Coriolanus, Tom Hiddleston did his patent pretty crying (that man can cry so beautifully), and Deborah Findlay brought Volumnia to life as a mother imploring her son’s very being to stop this madness.  And how can he turn her down? As he is weeping down-left, the audience is dying, his wife is up-right sobbing, their son is bowed on the ground before them and those cold fingers of emotion I mentioned earlier are clutched around your heart, digging their nails into that part of you that is trying not to sob in the middle of a theatre.

He explains in as many words that though she has won a victory for Rome, she has condemned him to death, and in that moment your heart actually stops.  The elation of a moment ago, when he turned and accepted them into his arms, when he kissed his wife and held his son, has vanished to be replaced by that sudden gut wrenching fear and heartrending realization of what is to come.  They say their goodbyes for the second time and the sobs you were keeping down a moment ago are struggling to get out.

And then you blink, blink, and he’s being hoisted in the air by his ankles, a somewhat graphic death ensues in which more gratuitous blood douses the stage, hopefully from the blood packet that was hiding in those trousers, and it ends.  And you’re sitting there, stunned, shocked, because although you knew it was coming, it somehow still came out of left field.  Not to mention that lady-shame boner is happening again because dear lord the view from the back… those trousers ought to be against the rules.  While leaving the theatre with my friend, a sixty some-odd woman behind me announced for all to hear that “he looks just as good upside down as rightside up," showing that it isn't just the younger folks who appreciate a bit of Hiddleston booty. 

I'm sitting here now, two hours after the play finished, and still can’t get my thoughts in order on it.  It was astoundingly amazing, I am in awe, not just at the trousers, but at the sheer astonishing beauty that was everything in that play, even the awkward shower moment.  I even liked the plot and story.  It's interesting to discover that, when done with the right cast, the right direction, and the right concept, I can appreciate a play that I've never before been able to get through more than a few pages of. So I guess what I'm really saying here is that the cast, the crew, everyone involved, should be proud.  You wowed this theatergoer. 

What I Haven't Read (and should have read) (or just read) (and so on)

I read a lot of book blogs. I follow a lot of bookish Facebook pages. I just about do anything bookish related to the web. BookRiot, Flavorwire, Book columns on Buzzfeed, you name it, I'm on it!

And time and time again, I run into those books that I was "supposed" to read as a literature major and book lover. It's always the books that everyone claims to have read. Even still, when discussing said books with fellow lit lovers, I find myself curling into a quiet ball and not confessing the fact that I haven't read them.

Now, I should say this. My love story with books is different than others. I'm a bookish person, even more so than your average literature major. The picture below describes my life to a tee:

Something that tends to shock people is that I never read Pride and Prejudice until college and I honestly don't think it's a masterpiece by any means (okay, let the bashing begin). But I do love me some hilarious Austen memes.

Same with Catcher in the Rye. Hell, that wasn't even my first Salinger. I also didn't read The Scarlet Letter until college.

I've never read Moby Dick or Ulysses and I'm intimidated to read them (though I probably will when it comes time to getting my PhD). I don't even know if I feel like these ones are "should have reads," perhaps they are never to be read by me. The average English major wouldn't touch these books with a 10-foot-pole, but we are intrigued by the idea of their existence. 

And then there is the issue of things I've never read that I should have read. And things I've lied about reading. Or things I say I've read because I've read them in class, but really I just skimmed them and listened to the teachers tall about them. The other day, I messaged my friend (and co-blogger), Natalie, frantically telling her I had a confession - I've never read To Kill A Mockingbird. I remember reading a little bit of it, listening to all the lectures, and spark noting it enough to get an A in high school literature, but I've never read the book straight through. And it led me to think of all the books I should have read that I haven't. So, my top 10 I should have reads:

10) To Kill a Mockingbird

9) Frankenstein

8) Sense and Sensibility

7) Animal Farm

6) Go Ask Alice

5) The Sun Also Rises

4) Vanity Fair

3) The Age of Innocence

2) Don Quixote

1) We

There are some books I am finally getting around to reading. I'm on a children's fairytale kick right now that's pulling me away from my 50 states challenge, but if can't let that bug me. Life's too short to not read what you want in the moment.

I just reread The Series of Unfortunate Events. I am reading the Peter Pan books. And I fully intend on reading some Alice in Wonderland next.

I even just got around to reading The Giver, which, to be fair, I tried to read it as a kid, but I think I tried at far too early of an age. But, as an adult, what an amazing book!

Anyway, before I go fold myself into the pages of a JM Barrie book, I will leave you with a message to take with you. If you didn't get anything else from this shoddy, middle-of-the-night blog post of mine, remember this:

Re-reading Old Favorites and the Desire to Know More About Characters

I go through stages where all I could do is re-read old favorites. Nothing new will satisfy me and I just need the comforting words of some of my favorite authors/characters/people to comfort me.

Today, I re-read the David Levithan book The Lover's Dictionary. I cannot express how much I love this book or how closely I relate to the characters or any such matter.

It led me to an interesting thought. How much does the reader actually have to know about the characters in order to love them? The main character in the book is so easy to relate to and I don't even know their name or what they do. I think they are male. And their lover? Are they male? Are they pregnant? Still, the pain the main character feels from his romantic partner is so real and, yet, the book is a puzzle of out-of-order experiences that don't even have a main plot. And yet, at the end of the book, I'm okay with not knowing things. I'm usually much more curious to know more and in this case I'm okay with letting it be.

But it did get me thinking about characters I want to know more about. Here are my top five:

5) Roger Chillingworth - The Scarlet Letter - Nathaniel Hawthorne. I get that Roger is extremely unlikeable, but we are still left with such little knowledge about him. Why did Hester leave him to go to America? Why did she cheat on him? Had he been a good husband before? Why had she married him in the first place? 

4) Nurse - Romeo and Juliet - William Shakespeare. We know that she was not only the maid of Juliet, but of Lady Capulet as well. Still, who is she? Where did she come from? Was she born into being a servant? Is she just in the play to provide comic relief and be one of the only supporters of Juliet and Romeo? What exactly is her purpose.

3) Eleanor Savage - This Side of Paradise - F. Scott Fitzgerald. She is the most intriguing woman in this novel, even more so than Rosalind. I wanted to know more about her. Why she was such a fleeting interest of Amory's, but still enough of one to be a good chunk of the book... Why she was such a guarded person... Why he loved Rosalind more than her... There are a lot of unanswered questions about the women in this book, but I always fid myself wondering about Eleanor. 

2) Lane Coutell - Franny and Zooey - J.D. Salinger. I get it. I get that he bores Franny. I get that she wants more intrigue and a more exciting, less cookie-cutter life, but why? What exactly is wrong with Lane? Readers don't get a chance to find out why he is boring and why she doesn't like him and I always thought the Glass children were just mean to him. The picture I got of Lane was that of a perfectly acceptable man. If Franny didn't want to be with him, she could have just been nice about it.

1) Clarissa McClellan - Farenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury. If you don't want to know more about Clarissa, I don't get you. I think that's all I can say about this one. 

Are there any characters that you found yourself wanting to know more about?

Also, The Lover's Dictionary fulfilled my New York requirement - though I still fully intend to read Donna Tartt's The Goldfinch ASAP. Today, I just needed the comfort of a quick favorite.

Partaking in a 50 States Challenge

Yesterday, while writing a blog post about my life as a teacher, I went on a book rant and decided how much I liked to bitch about books. So I started this blog.

The first post comes directly from my regular blog: www.britravels.blogspot.com.

I am taking on the challenge of reading a book set in each of the fifty states this year. I will occasionally be updating my readers with what I am reading and such, but for now I am going to go on a book rant about the books/states I have read so far.

1) Vermont - Dead Poet's Society (novelization by N.H. Kleinbaum (small tree, small tree!)). I must preface this with OMGILOVETHISMOVIESOMUCHANDCANWATCHITAMILLIONTIMES and not just because I think Robert Sean Leonard is a DREAM. And I knew it was a novelization of the film going in so I was already expecting it to be kind of crappy. But it was overly crappy. Overly. And the characterization was SOOOOO BAD! Especially the characterization of Todd Anderson. 

But then I watched the movie, so I will give you this meme:

which led me to this:

I whole-heartedly agree with Oh Captain, My Captain's quote as well as with the quote below. I think they can tie-in together. Or maybe I'm just easily wooed by words.

Also, in reading books set in each state, I am doing research about the states as well. So, an interesting Vermont fact: Rudyard Kipling lived in Vermont. 

2) Indiana - The Fault in Our Stars - John Green - "My thoughts are stars I cannot fathom into constellations." Minus the fact that I think that is one of the most brilliant sentences ever written (although, I have a notebook full of the most brilliant sentences ever written and a Donna Tartt tattoo to show my love of brilliant sentences), this book didn't do much for me. Maybe I went into it with too high expectations. This is one of those "everyone is talking about it" books and, really, it just didn't do much. Don't get me wrong, I'm not a heartless person and it did tug at my heartstrings a bit, but it was just predictable and a bit too idealistic for a book about cancer. Ya, I know the ending was sad and yada yada, but I found it oddly idealistic and optimistic. And no 17-year-old boy, even one who has been humbled by cancer, is that romantic. 

I do think John Green is an absolutely brilliant writer, perhaps the best YA writer next to David Levithan and Markus Zusak and Tim Tharp, but I don't think this book deserves the credit it does. Book after book, John Green displays excellent characterization and unique ways of expressing thigs, and this book was no exception, but I just don't feel like it was up to par with, let's say, Looking for Alaska.

Also, I am curious to see the movie adaptation of the book. I think Shailene Woodley is a fantastic, underrated star who has an interesting year ahead of her. And the preview looked surprisingly good.

And they make such a cute couple!! Although I have to say, I pictured Augustus to be a lot more outwarldy handsome. Ansel Elgert is soo adorable in an adorable way, not an Augustus Waters way.

Interesting Indiana Fact: There are none.

Just kidding, Scott and all my Indianian fans.

The Saturday Evening Post is published in Indiana.

Interesting Shailene Woodley fact: She attended the same high school as my ex-boyfriend. Also, we're soul sisters or something - both of us had to experience part of teenage life in a backbrace.

3) Louisiana - Dead Until Dark - Charlaine Harris - Exactly what you would expect from the novel that inspired True Blood, but with less sex. And written very modestly. Definitely entertaining, but the entire True Blood, Sookie Stackhouse, Southern Vampire Mysteries Franchise seems to be epically entertaining. I plan on reading more of these books after I finish all of my other states. Not necessarily intelligent reading, but fun reading.

Also, I'm pretty sure that Stephanie Meyer stole a lot of ideas from Charlaine Harris and used them for powers of evil. I'm so sorry, Charlaine.

While we are on Sookie Stackhouse, I think Anna Paquin is pretty kickass. While I'm saying this, I want to go on an X-Men tangent. But, don't worry, I won't. I will say that Paquin was an awesome Rogue, especially given the fact that she had to work with an utterly botched story line in The Last Stand.

Also, it's pretty adorable that her and Steven Moyer play each other's love interest on the show and they ended up together in real life, don't ya think?

Interesting Louisiana Fact: Pirates used to hide out in Jean Lafitte. Pirates. 

4) Oklahoma - The Spectacular Now - Tim Tharp - This is the second time I've read this book and I cannot say enough about how much I am in love with this book. Scratch that - how obsessed I am with this book.

Brilliant writing.

Brilliant characters.

Brilliant story.

I'm in love.

First of all, Sutter's philosophy on life is "embrace the weird," which I've contemplated getting tattooed (don't worry Mom, I don't have new tattoos. I do, however, have one less piercing, which I bet makes you happy!) because it's something you just have to do in life.

Plus Ricky spews this fantastic quote (it's in my Facebook favorites for the curious of you) about our need to experience the magic of new things. That quote made me feel incredibly sad about the fact that I grew up.

The first time I read this book, I found myself totally relating to Sutter Keely. This time around, I felt myself relating to Aimee Finnecky. Weird, I know. I guess people do feel differently at different circumstances in their life.

Also, if we take away the very end of the film, they actually did a pretty good job with the adaptation. I said it before, I think Shailene Woodley is fantastic. And even more fantastic, MILES TELLER. After this movie, Rabbit Hole, and Footloose, I think I love him. Okay, yes, I have a Hollywood crush on Miles Teller and I would say a good majority of the world either don't know him or know him as the guy in that crappy Zac Efrom movie (that I sadly want to see because of Miles Teller).

She looks different here than in the other picture, but they make an equally adorable couple. 

And given that they are both in Divergent, I kind of hope something actually happens between these two stars. Although, they cast Miles as Peter, which makes me hesitant to see it. It might ruin my romance with Mr. Teller.

Interesting Oklahoma fact: They disagree with the rest of the world. Their state motto is Labor Omnia Vincit - Labor Conquers All.

5) Nebraska - Eleanor and Park - Rainbow Rowell - Hmm. I can't decide. Did I love it? Did I hate it? Did I like the very last sentence of the book? Is the end different than what I think it is? Did I think Eleanor was a complete bitch throughout the book? Or was I just overly protective about my innocent Park?

I have a lot of mixed-and-undecided feelings about this book. I think I just find it to be unrealistic. Maybe I was too jaded as a teenager, but love isn't like that. Holding hands with someone isn't like that. Kissing someone isn't like that. Hmm, maybe I was just too angsty to really get the feelings like others did, but I found the characters here completely unrelatable (for my ideas on first loves, experiences and such, please read the aforementioned The Spectacular Now and remind yourself that I am usually the non-alcoholic version of Sutter in relationships). Maybe that's it. They were unrelatable. 

I really wanted things in the book to be expanded on too, but oddly, at the end of the book, the biggest question in my mind wasn't what happened to the main characters or anything about them left untied, but rather, I wanted to know more about Steven and Tina, who didn't make up too much of the book. More importantly, I wanted to know about Tina's stepfather and (spoiler alert) how that made her relate to Eleanor and why Steven became accepting of Eleanor after he found out about her stepdad. (end spoiler alert).

Also, I usually have so many highlights in my books of quotes I want to remember or ideas I want to remember or things I need to look up later and here I only had a few, my favorite being "He didn't have bookmark like feelings for her." Although, I love bookmarks. Especially the handmade ones my students make me. And I can't say I have ever received a bookmark from one of my love interests, but I don't think it would upset me.

It is one of the most beautiful, yet simple covers I have ever seen. But my obsession with ampersands might make me a bit biased.

I do have to say, all of the music references, comic references and other references were such a joy and so fantastic. I love nerding out over nerdy things. Also, I liked this quote about the great Stan Lee's X-Men "They're a metaphor for acceptance; they've sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them." Thanks, fictional Park for that one. I can go on and on about how I wanted to be an X-Men as a teenage because of I thought I was different and all that jazz. I was one of those. 

And I have to admit, I nerded out a bit when I found out that having blue eyes is actually a genetic mutation. I'm pretty sure I ran up and down halls screaming "I'm a mutant!"

Interesting Nebraska fact: the author, Rainbow Rowell, is from Nebraska.

Alright, 'til next time!

Thanks 50states.com for most of my interesting facts.