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Guest Blogger: Author Sara Angelini

I’m pleased to welcome another guest blogger today. First, I had little children do my work, and now a published author. I could get used to this.

Sara Angelini is an attorney and writer living in the San Francisco area. She’s here to talk about her new book, The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy. Recognize that surname? You’ll have to read on to find out more. Sourcebooks is generously letting me give away 2 copies of this book. See details on how to enter below Sara’s post.

I’ll now sit back, have another piece of cake and give Sara the floor.—PCN

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Hellooooo.  *peeks head around door* Did I come at a bad time? No? Phew. What a relief. I’m pretty new to this whole blogomajigger, so when I was invited to do a little promotion for my book here, I was nervous. I mean, “Pop Culture Nerd” sounds so…well…cool. And I’m not cool. Not at all.

So please bear with me as I expose my unbearable dorkiness and try to wow you with reasons to read my book.

Oh yeah. The book. Maybe I should get around to telling you about that, hmmm? OK.  It’s called The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy, and it’s a modern adaptation of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. Why, you might ask, would one do a modern adaptation of Pride and Prejudice? Wasn’t the Regency version just fine?

The answer is because I love the characters in Pride and Prejudice and wondered what it would be like to hang out with them, only I have no idea what the Regency period is like. So rather than immersing myself in their world, which would involve lots of research and maybe wearing some funny clothes, I brought them into mine. They got over the culture shock pretty quickly.

I suspect Ms. Austen may be twirling like a dervish in her grave at what I’ve done to her stoic Darcy and her charming Elizabeth. A Darcy who sleeps with Caroline? An Elizabeth who drops the “f” bomb with alarming frequency? A Mrs. Hurst who is actually a gay man? Surely Austen’s beloved characters would never act so crass…or would they?

Modern culture has become extremely relaxed over the last two hundred years, and undoubtedly Austen’s characters would have evolved with the times. Regency spinsters are today’s working women. The landed gentry are today’s internet moguls.  Couples are waiting longer to get married and have kids, and serial unmarried monogamy is the norm.

With all this in mind, I set out to give Elizabeth Bennet a makeover, a literary What Not to Wear, if you will. She had solid basics: “fine eyes” and a “light and pleasing figure,” was educated, witty, and determined to marry for love even if it meant the ruin of her family. It was much the same with Mr. Darcy: He was tall, handsome, had too much money and not enough humility but was, at heart, a decent guy.

The real challenge was updating the plot, which I summarize thusly: Destitute spinster turns down marrying obscenely rich man because he’s a jerk and thinks her family is inferior, jerk learns his lesson and cleans up his manners, proves his love by sullying his hands to rescue spinster’s wicked, wicked sister, spinster realizes she does love him after all, and he’s got a *dope* house. Spinster and jerk get married, live happily ever after. Only Austen writes it so much better.

I started by scrapping the Mr. Wickham element. Who cares if Elizabeth’s sister eloped with a gambling soldier? The only purpose of Mr. Wickham was to prove that Darcy could overcome his proud distaste for him enough to become his brother–in-law. Plus he’s a pedophile. Ick.

Then I got rid of the whole your-family-is-rude-and-uncouth angle. Elizabeth’s family is just like the vast majority of middle-class America: sorta loud, kinda embarrassing at parties, but hey, they’re your family and you have to love them or you go to jail.

Next I gave them a conflict they could sink their teeth into: an ethical dilemma. By making Darcy a judge and Elizabeth an attorney, I created a situation that actually prohibits their involvement because it creates a conflict of interest. Somebody was going to have to sacrifice a career in order to make this relationship work.

Finally, I gave them modern sensibilities and humor. Nothing in Austen’s work implies that Darcy is dour, as is so commonly assumed. In fact Mr. Bingley seems to think Mr. Darcy is a real laugh riot when he’s with his friends. Nor is there anything to suggest that he is virginal, prim, or dainty. It seemed perfectly reasonable to me that he and Caroline would be friends “with benefits.”

As for Elizabeth, she has such a sparkle and wit in the original that it only wanted a little lipstick to make it modern. She’s vivacious, talented, and confident. No off-hand remark about not being “handsome” enough to tempt anyone is going to get her down.

For their interactions, I tried to hold to the spirit of Austen while plucking events from my own experience to give them life.  Contentious court confrontations? Check. Embarrassing gaffes? Check. Massages with friends? Check. Slow, smoldering, smokin’-hot sex in an elevator? Uh…no comment.

Some might say that I modernized Austen’s characters by superimposing myself onto them. I’m sure that’s true to some extent, since it’s impossible not to imprint onto them. But I also believe that Austen’s characters are so well written, so vivid yet generalized, that everyone can see a piece of themselves in them. We all want to be Lizzy, and we all want to marry Darcy.  It’s just a matter of figuring out exactly who Lizzy and Darcy are; and the answer is, they are us.

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Thanks so much, Sara! If you insist that we’re all smart, witty, handsome and rich, I shall not object.

Readers, are you intrigued? Want to get your hands on the book? Did I mention there’s lots of hot sex?

For a chance to win 1 of 2 copies, leave a comment explaining why you must have this book. Make like Lizzy and give me a really persuasive argument for your case. Unlike my other giveaways in which winners are randomly selected, I’m going to be the, ahem, judge on this one. The two people with the most passionate pleas win.

Other eligibility requirements:

  • Must be a subscriber or Twitter follower
  • Must live in the U.S. or Canada (sorry, international readers, this is Sourcebooks’ request)

Contest ends on Sunday, October 4, 5 p.m. PST. Results will only be announced here and on Twitter; winners will NOT be e-mailed. If I don’t hear from winners within 48 hours, new ones will be chosen.

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National Book Festival Reports from My Junior Reporters

For as long as I can remember, I have loved books and owe this passion to my parents, who were always reading and encouraged us kids to do the same lest we grow up stupid. I don’t have children but my siblings have inspired this same love of literature in my nieces and nephews, two of whom attended the National Book Festival this past weekend in Washington, D.C. and turned in the following reports. Aline, 11, wrote the first article and her sister Mena, 8, submitted the second one. Aline also took the photos.

Hope you enjoy seeing the festival through their eyes. And yes, they really wrote these accounts.—PCN

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by Aline 

The National Book Festival took place on Saturday, September 26, 2009 on the National Mall, and I’d like to give you a full account of my time there, from the journey to the overpriced food. The time was well spent in my opinion, so here’s my diary of the hours I was there, covering both the “OMG!” moments and the “When will this be over?” ones.

Part 1: Riding on the Health Nightma—I mean, Metro

Every journey starts with small steps, and so here I go, documenting my time on the Metro with my mom and sister.

After narrowly squeezing in through the doors, we were met with the annoyances of public transit. The seating was cramped and the rest of the train had no space to breathe, but luckily we were holding the Mother-with-Children card and found seats next to a rude, seat-holding stranger. I sat next to a woman who did not acknowledge me in any way as she continued to read her newspaper.

The Metro had other traits that made me slightly squeamish besides the claustrophobia and impoliteness: it was basically a disease-breeding ground. Bodies were pressed up against each other with no personal space, all of the poles have probably been held by hundreds of different people, and we were all breathing each other’s air, which had a variety of body odors in it.

This phase became more annoying when fewer people streamed out of the train [at each stop] than in, squishing the crowd together like sardines. I thought myself lucky for my roomy seat next to the aloof woman.

When the Smithsonian stop finally came along, I knew that more walking and waiting in a crowded place awaited me, but enthusiastically got out of the packed train anyway, breathing in the underground air for about two seconds before the mob swept us along onto an escalator. We were pushed around in this way before I saw it: the first glimpse of natural light.

Part 2: Hurray for Walking and Personal Bubbles

Taking my first step on D.C. ground was incredibly refreshing. Cities are my favorite kind of place. People fanned out in all directions, giving us a comfortable berth as we eagerly made our way to our final destination: the book signing pavilions. We exited a ways from the Capitol, where the signings were, but we were determined after braving public transit and crowds to make it there. The long walk began.

Organizers graciously offered us free brochures that were thick and glossy, but I was too excited to peruse them. I was actually here, I hadn’t done anything memorable yet, but I was here.

But then I got annoyed when Mommy kept stopping at other tents.

I understand the concept of stopping to smell the roses very well, but this was a serious matter. Rick Riordan, an author who had gained an almost cult following among my grade and had converted me as a fan to the popular Percy Jackson & the Olympians series, was here, and I was going to get my copies signed and perhaps even get a few words in. I was convinced people were devoted enough to camp out at the signing tent overnight so I insisted we keep going instead of listening to Paula Deen, who is probably a wonderful person but I didn’t really care at the time.

“But the book signing isn’t supposed to start until 1:30!” Mommy said when I tugged her sleeve as an indicator to get moving.

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t understand. People camp out overnight for these opportunities.”

“We have time. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t you understand? This is a popular author! I’ll bet there are huge lines already!”

Photo © Aline Dolinh

Photo © Aline Dolinh

In the end, I convinced her and my sister to keep marching, and we finally found the billowy white book signing tents. I felt inclined to give a small “Hurray!” upon reaching another milestone in today’s journey.

“Ha! I told you!” I pointed out when we saw the lines for Rick Riordan, whose signing had not even started yet. There were six different lines already and we moved quickly to secure a spot in the seventh one. I surveyed the crowd of fans, feeling warm and fuzzy inside that these people and I shared a common love for the same book series.

Soon, my friends arrived and we formed a small Internet café under the shelter of an umbrella with our iPods and phones to pass the time.

This wait period of around an hour was highly uneventful. The first real event happened when the author apparently came out, but after a short wave of cheering, it died down and the line ceased to move. It moved a little over the next hour and we heard the occasional whine of “How long now?” But we knew it was worth it, so we waited.

And waited.

Part Three: The Interesting Stuff Actually Happens

Finally that fateful moment came when we were ushered up into the front row by organizers donning purple T-shirts. We were close enough to get pictures [of Riordan]. By now it was drizzling. I made sure to keep the camera safe and dry.

Photo © Aline Dolinh

Photo © Aline Dolinh

After snapping several pictures, one of which was actually good, it was my turn [to meet Riordan]. I was nearly hyperventilating as I passed my book over the table and a few words were exchanged.

“Oh, I love Percy Jackson!”

“I’m glad you like the books!”

And that was all. Two hours of waiting for a simple signature and a few seconds of conversation.

It was worth it, if I must say so myself. When my friends joined me, we were squealing like obsessive tweens at a Jonas Brothers concert. Except, you know, in a less weird way.

We shared our memorable experiences. “He said he liked my shirt!” said Emily, pulling out her Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. “I should have gotten a better picture!” I moaned, showing them my one good picture that was slightly out of focus.

But we lived in the moment and it was raining. We ducked inside a pavilion where Kate DiCamillo was speaking. Squeezing through a large crowd, we found spots on the grass and once again whipped out our cameras.

I got several good photos of her speaking, though I didn’t get any audio of her reading an excerpt from her new book. It was all a great experience, though, just to see her in person. The Tale of Despereaux, as much as they butchered the movie, is one of my favorite books.

We listened to several questions before she left the stage and Rick Riordan once again came up to roars and cheers. We snapped several more pictures. I felt lucky that my memory card wasn’t full.

He talked to us about the movie [Percy Jackson & the Olympians: The Lightning Thief, due in 2010] for a bit, which I rolled my eyes about. As a devoted fan, I had already looked up the whole cast and seen the trailer, which I was so afraid was going to be a disaster.

When he announced his new series about Egyptian gods, though, I stopped breathing. Please let me have memory left, I prayed frantically. I pulled out my camera one last time to record and pressed the button. To my surprise, it recorded the whole thing. Yes, I said to myself.

We decided to get out of the place now, as the rain seemed to have stopped, and we were all hungry. I knew the food would be overpriced to trap tourists, but I didn’t care. I was hungry. And the fries looked so good, I didn’t care if they were four bucks. We forked over money and ate ravenously.

Before I knew it, all was gone and we were heading home. The exhilaration I had felt earlier seemed so far away, though I felt good that I had brought home some memories of it.

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My First Book Festival

by Mena 

My name is Mena and I am eight. I am in 3rd grade GT and I have started reading longer books. My sister Aline and I both like Rick Riordan.

When my mom told me we would go to the National Book Festival in Washington D.C. to get our books signed by our favorite authors, I got really excited. I wanted to get my book The Titan’s Curse signed by Rick Riordan. I like his books because they are humorous and have lots of Greek mythology in them. My favorite story is how Hercules tricked the Cyclops. This story is actually in The Sea of Monsters.

Before I came across Rick Riordan, my favorite author was Kate DiCamillo. Actually, I still like her a lot. I love her first book Because of Winn-Dixie. I read it when I was 7.

Mom let us skip our Saturday piano lesson so we could take the train into Washington for the book festival.  My dad and my younger brother, Max, stayed home that day. My dad was sorta not feeling well and Max, well, he only gets excited about cars, computer games, and stuff. He said he was afraid that it would be long and boring. So it was a day trip for me, Mom, and Aline.

I like riding the Metro train and seeing all the cars whizzing by on the freeway from our train’s window. Mom said the train is not that fast, but there are no stop signs and no stop and go like you are in the car so it just seems faster. I think Mom wants to live closer to the city. She drives fast and she doesn’t like slow drivers. She wishes she has magic spells so she can make big slow cars turn into tiny toy cars and leave them way behind.

It was crowded in the Metro train. The worst thing was the squishy crowd. The best thing was sitting on Mommy’s lap. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to get out at our stop and one of us would be left inside the Metro.

Well, we finally met up with our friends and their mom on the Mall. I was happy to see my friend Helen. She is eight like me and she is the younger sister of Emily, Aline’s friend. Aline, Emily, and Dana can be silly when they get together. They kept wandering off without paying attention to where the adults were.

I did not mind that we waited nearly 2 hours to get our books signed by Rick Riordan. My most favorite thing was standing in line and playing with Aline’s iPod and watching iCarly on Emily’s mom’s phone under the umbrella. We sat on the ground under the umbrella because it was sort of raining and cold, but it was cozy underneath with all the girls.

After we got our books signed, we went into a tent where we listened to Kate DiCamilo and Rick Riordan read their books and talk to their fans. They had lots of adult fans, too, who did not want to leave their seats so we had to sit on the grass in the big white tent. The ground was wet so I got to sit on Mommy’s lap again. We met a woman who wore a black T-shirt with a pink pig. She told everyone she was E.B. White’s great niece.

Photo © Aline Dolinh

Photo © Aline Dolinh

When Kate DiCamillo came out she looked just like what I thought she would look because I saw her picture online when I did a paper on her last year for my Brownies troop, but in some way she looked different too. In her online photo she had more highlights mixed with dark brown hair. But I liked her when I saw her. I think she looked prettier in real life.

Kate told funny stories from the beginning to end, but Rick didn’t tell funny stories; it’s more like how he talks that’s funny. Kate DiCamillo told people she used to work at Disney World, where she wore a powder-blue spacesuit and told people to “watch their step.” She became a writer because she stunk at everything else.

She told people she wrote Because of Winn Dixie because she was in Minneapolis one winter and it was so cold she wanted to think of some place warm so she set the story in Florida, where she came from. She wanted a dog so bad in Minneapolis but she had no dog so she put him in the story. She also explained how she wrote [The Miraculous Journey of] Edward Tulane. One year she got a giant spooky rabbit as a present for Christmas. The rabbit was dressed really fancy, but one night she had a dream that it was completely naked and lying face down in the water.  She wanted to write about how the rabbit got there and it became Edward Tulane. But she said now she is not scared of that spooky rabbit any more because it helped her write the story.

I like both Kate DiCamillo and Rick Riordan. They were both interesting. I would come back next year. It depends on which books I read next year that I like, then I will see the authors.

Foreground: Mena. Back row, from L: Aline, Dana, Emily, Helen

Foreground: Mena. Back row, from L: Aline, Dana, Emily, Helen

http://www.percyjacksonbooks.com/
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Winners of John Sanford's ROUGH COUNTRY

photo by Lydia @ Putnam

Random.org selected the following names as my 3 winners, who will each receive an ARC of John Sandford’s Rough Country.

  1. Sam Bradley
  2. Marcie
  3. Angela T.

Congratulations! Please click on “contact” in the upper right corner and send me your address. I’ll forward it to Putnam, who will send you the book directly.

Thank you to all who entered and shared your incredible stories. If you didn’t win but still want to read it, Rough Country conveniently comes out today. Also, keep checking back for more giveaways because I’ve got some exciting ones coming up, including the latest from Michael Connelly and Robert Crais!

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Book Review: Audrey Niffenegger's HER FEARFUL SYMMETRY

This review was really difficult for me to write because I desperately wanted to like this book. I’ve been waiting six years for it, squealed with joy when I received it, and approached it with as much affection as one can muster towards an inanimate object.

Unfortunately, I found Audrey Niffenegger‘s Her Fearful Symmetry to be a disappointment, and not because I was so in love with her debut novel, The Time Traveler’s Wife. In fact, I think it’d be unfair to compare this to that so I shall judge Symmetry strictly on its own merits.

The story begins with Elspeth dying from leukemia in London and bequeathing her flat to her nieces, Julia and Valentina Poole, twins who live in America with Edie, Elspeth’s own twin. The girls come to London and immediately get tangled in the lives of Elspeth’s neighbors, including Martin, a shut-in who suffers from OCD; and Robert, who had been Elspeth’s younger lover. They also share their space with Elspeth’s ghost, whom only Valentina can see.

As they explore their newfound independence and adulthood, Valentina starts longing for a life separate from her sister, who insists they must do everything together. Valentina gets extra impetus when she falls for Robert and senses her sister’s resentment of the situation. Valentina’s plan for escape from Julia has disturbing results with an O. Henryesque twist at the end.

One of my struggles with this book was to get past the first 300 pages or so, where not much happens while the twins get acclimated to London and acquainted with their new neighbors. They tour Highgate Cemetery, go to museums and look at jars of organs and dodo skeletons, learn how to use the tube, etc. Note the following samples from the book:

Days went by and nothing much happened.

Exactly. And this:

I’m bored, Julia decided. It was no fun to be bored alone. Julia looked around, but found nothing worth looking at or thinking about.

Me, neither. This is from p. 287.

But then Valentina puts in motion her plot to escape and things get really complicated in the last 100 pages. Niffenegger deserves credit for coming up with a wildly imaginative idea but I couldn’t understand why Valentina wouldn’t choose a much easier way out. I’m all for paranormal and dark and twisted but it has to make some sense.

The end results would be really tragic if it weren’t for my other big problem with the book: I didn’t really care about the characters. I couldn’t find an adequate guide to take me through this fantastical story. Robert, mourning Elspeth and unable to complete his thesis, is stuck in a rut with no real plan to get out of it. Likewise the obsessive-compulsive Martin. Though I’m sympathetic towards OCD sufferers because I’m very close to a few people who have it, scenes about Martin repeatedly scrubbing his floors and hoarding newspapers don’t make gripping fiction.

Because we never get a full glimpse of the relationship between Robert and Elspeth before she died, her yearning for him as a ghost feels superficial, stemming more from a desire for physical contact than deep romantic love. As for the twins, Julia is bossy and Valentina is weak, in spirit and body (she’s asthmatic). Their exclusive twin-ness and otherwordly vibe—with their almost-white hair and propensity to dress all in white—keep them at arm’s length from other characters and the reader.

The one good thing I got from Symmetry was a comforting vision of the afterlife. I recently lost a friend to cancer so this is no small gift. Niffenegger posits that the soul lives on after death and if we open our minds to this possibility, we can visit and co-exist with our departed loved ones in a non-spooky way. Yes, being a ghost can be lonely but the ending suggests that rapture can also be found.

Nerd verdict: Fearful disappoints but has moments of grace

NOTE: Head over to Niffenegger’s website to see her striking artwork and photos of Highgate Cemetery, where she worked as a tour guide.

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Who Wants Free Books?

Since you’re reading this, I’m assuming you do so it’s a good thing I’m doing another giveaway!

Lydia from Putnam has generously offered me three advance reading copies of Rough Country, the latest by John Sandford, bestselling author of the Prey series with Lucas Davenport. The lead character in Country, though, is Virgil Flowers, an investigator with the Minnesota Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. This is the third Flowers adventure, with the following synopsis from Sandford’s website:

Virgil’s always been known for having a somewhat active, er, social life, but he’s probably not going to be getting too many opportunities for that during his new case. While competing in a fishing tournament in a remote area of northern Minnesota, he gets a call from Lucas Davenport to investigate a murder at a nearby resort, where a woman has been shot while kayaking. The resort is for women only, a place to relax, get fit, recover from plastic surgery, commune with nature, and while it didn’t start out to be a place mostly for those with Sapphic inclinations, that’s pretty much what it is today.

Which makes things all the more complicated for Virgil, because as he begins investigating, he finds a web of connections between the people at the resort, the victim, and some local women, notably a talented country singer, and the more he digs, the move he discovers the arrows of suspicion that point in many directions, encompassing a multitude of motivations: jealousy, blackmail, greed, anger, fear. And then he discovers that this is not the first murder, that there was a second, seemingly unrelated one, the year before. And that there’s about to be a third, definitely related one, any time now. And as for the fourth… well, Virgil better hope he can catch the killer before that happens.

Because it could be his own.

To enter the random drawing, leave me a comment answering this question: What’s the roughest territory or environment you’ve ever been in?

For me, it was Viet Nam during the early ’70s where, if my family wanted to eat chicken, we had to grab a live one and kill it ourselves. Ain’t no KFC there.

Your experience didn’t have to take place in another country, and “environment” could just mean a setting, like a family reunion or the prom. Let’s hear your survival stories!

To be eligible, you also have to:

  • be a subscriber or follower on Twitter
  • be a resident of the U.S. or Canada

If you’re on Twitter, you can get two extra entries by tweeting about this (my handle is @popculturenerd) but that’s completely optional. Entries will be accepted until 9 p.m. PST, Monday, September 28. Remember, I’m giving away THREE copies so you have a good chance of snagging one!

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Review: Allison Hoover Bartlett's THE MAN WHO LOVED BOOKS TOO MUCH

Though Allison Hoover Bartlett‘s reporting skills can’t be faulted—she’s more than thorough with her facts and even has footnotes—this true story of John Gilkey, the man in the title, is a frustrating one. Gilkey is an unrepentant book thief who steals rare first editions and Ken Sanders is the “bibliodick” who chases him. We learn much about the rare-book trade and there are some intriguing elements of a police procedural as Sanders tracks his prey, but ultimately this is a story without an ending.

The tale begins when a friend of Bartlett’s comes across an edition of a Kreuterbuch, or plant book of botanical medicine. Its publication is traced back to 1630 Germany and Bartlett suspects it was stolen. In researching its history, she finds the theft of rare books is rampant, with thieves seldom caught or punished. Many of the Internet accounts she reads refer to Sanders, a rare book dealer turned amateur detective to catch Gilkey. Once Bartlett hears about Gilkey, she knows she must get his story.

And get it she does. Despite Gilkey being an elusive character, Bartlett impressively manages in-person interviews with him and even gets the chance to accompany him on a scouting expedition when he goes to a store to peruse books he wants to acquire (he never actually commits any crimes in her presence). He also arranges for her to visit his mother and look around his bedroom, where Bartlett finds a stash of books in his closet, possibly stolen.

The story is fascinating when it educates me about book collecting and how to identify a rare edition. The first edition of Dr. Seuss’s The Cat in the Hat would have a matte cover instead of a shiny one. A pamphlet of poetry Edgar Allan Poe wrote when he was 14 that was printed in 1827 without his name on the cover (he was simply identified as “a Bostonian”) was bought for $15 by a sharp-eyed collector and sold for $198,000.

Man is also engrossing when it details how Sanders worked with law enforcement to track and trap Gilkey. But the book thief remains a frustrating enigma. He seems intelligent enough to know about rare books and fool many dealers but can’t seem to grasp how his actions hurt others. He believes booksellers deserve to be ripped off since they’re mostly dishonest people who put such high price tags on rare editions that someone of moderate income would have to steal them.

As a former reporter, I understand how Bartlett wanted continuing access to Gilkey so she remained more or less neutral when he spouted these ridiculous claims, but I really wanted Gilkey to be asked harder questions such as, “How would you feel if someone stole one of your books? Why do you think the world owes you anything?” I don’t have to like the main character of a story to enjoy it but I do want to understand him and it’s not clear why Gilkey feels so entitled.

Because he is a sociopath, I wanted justice and it doesn’t happen. Bartlett fully explains why it’s hard to punish someone for this kind of crime and of course she can’t invent an ending to a nonfiction tale, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting one that’s more satisfying. I think all stories, whether true or not, needs an ending (which is different from closure), unless the door is left open for a sequel. That doesn’t seem to be Bartlett’s intention so this intriguing tale unfortunately feels unfinished.

Nerd verdict: Excellent reporting, though Man remains elusive

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Winners of THE THIRD-GRADE KIND

Congrats to le0pard13, Nancye Davis and Ybnormal, who were randomly selected as winners of Phillip Done’s Close Encounters of the Third-Grade Kind. Please e-mail me your address by clicking on “contact” in the upper right corner of this page and I’ll forward it to Hachette Book Group, who will send you the books.

Thanks to all for telling me about your most memorable teachers. Your stories were incredibly inspiring. If you didn’t win, keep your eyes peeled for another exciting giveaway very soon!

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My Life as a Book

I based the following on something I saw at Reactions to Reading. The idea is to finish the following sentences using only titles of books I read this year. Considering I read mostly crime fiction with “death” in the title, this was difficult to do without sounding like I’m a creepy person or badly in need of Prozac.

I reworded some sentences, skipped a couple I had absolutely no relevant answer for, and added one of my own. It turned out kinda interesting.

Note: Authors’ names are in parentheses and if a title is underlined, click on it to see my review or author interview.

I am: The Girl Who Played with Fire (Stieg Larsson)

I feel like: Twenties Girl (Sophie Kinsella)

I live in: This Wicked World (Richard Lange)

If I could go anywhere, I would go to: The Four Corners of the Sky (Michael Malone)

My friends and I are: The Renegades (T. Jefferson Parker)

What life is to me: Hothouse Flower and the 9 Plants of Desire (Margot Berwin)

I fear: The Face of Betrayal (Lis Wiehl and April Henry)

I know: The Way Home (George Pelecanos)

Best advice I can give: Trust No One (Gregg Hurwitz)

Thought for the Day: Beat the Reaper (Josh Bazell)

How I would like to die: Nothing But a Smile (Steve Amick)

My soul’s present condition: Awakening (S.J. Bolton)

Are you up to the challenge? How many sentences can you complete with only book titles you read this year?

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Winner of GIRLy Giveaway

Using Random.org to make the selection, I have a winner: Reader#9! You get a hardcover copy of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl Who Played with Fire and dragon tattoos. Send me your details, please (click on “Contact” in upper right corner).

But wait—there’s a twist! (Can’t have a mystery without one, right?) Due to the number of entrants, I felt bad I could have only one winner so I decided to give away my softcover ARC, too. This was no easy decision since I love this book so much. But, like the cheesy saying goes, I love it enough to let it go, because it needs to go out into the world and be read by as many as possible.

So, I went back to random.org and had it pick out another winner for me. And the second winner is: Eddy! If you don’t mind getting an ARC (it’s quite close to the finished version), e-mail me your addy and I’ll get this out to you.

Thanks to all for entering and telling me about great foreign titles I need to check out. Keep your eyes peeled for more giveaways soon!

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Giveaway: Stieg Larsson's THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE Plus Dragon Tattoos!

If you’re a regular reader here, you know I love the Millenium books about Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist. Stieg Larsson originally wrote them in Swedish and they’ve been translated into more than 30 languages.

The good people at Knopf have sent me a hardcover copy of the latest entry, The Girl Who Played with Fire (read my review here) and a bunch of temporary dragon tattoos (referencing the first book in the trilogy, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) to give away to one of my readers. I tried the tats out on myself; all the neighborhood kids wanted them!

To enter, you just have to:

  • Be a subscriber or follower on Twitter
  • Leave a comment answering the following question: What’s the best book you’ve read that wasn’t originally written in English?
  • Be a resident of the U.S. or Canada (apologies to Shelley P, Poncho, Julien and other international readers!)

I’ll take entrees until Sunday, 8/30/09, midnight PST.  Good luck!

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Nerd Chat: Interview with Sophie Littlefield, Author of A BAD DAY FOR SORRY

Before I introduce you to author Sophie Littlefield, let me introduce you to the heroine of her debut novel, A Bad Day for Sorry.

Stella is a 50-year-old vigilante who, Peter Finch-like, got mad as hell after years of abuse by her husband and decided she wasn’t going to take it anymore. When the story begins, she’s gotten rid of hubby and is running an underground business helping other women stand up to their loser boyfriends/spouses, using whatever method necessary (including S&M restraints).

The prologue below describes a day on the job:

Whuppin’ ass wasn’t so hard, Stella Hardesty thought as she took aim with the little Raven .25 she took off a cheating son-of-a-bitch in Kansas City last month.

What was hard was making sure it stayed whupped.

Especially on a day when it hit a hundred degrees before noon. And you were having hot flashes. And today’s quote on your Calendar For Women Who Do Too Much read Find serenity in unexpected places.

“Fuck serenity,” Stella said. And she shot the trailer.

You wanna read more, don’t you? You’ll have to pick up the book! It’s an intense, crazy ride that involves Stella taking on a client whose husband has disappeared with her baby. Stella is tenacious and blunt like a female House but without the limp, so she’ll not only verbally assault a bad guy, she can kick his ass, too. If you’ve ever had revenge fantasies about the people who have done you wrong, you can avoid jail time by living them out through Stella.

For FAQs about Sophie, the book and her tour, click here. But first, enjoy our Nerd Chat as Sophie talks about sex toys, zombies, cussing in front of church friends and finding the silver lining in rejection.

PCN: You wrote nine unpublished novels before this one. What was the first thing you did when you heard Bad Day was going to make it into bookstores?

Sophie Littlefield: I screamed and screamed. I was at my son’s high school lacrosse game when I got the news, so no one really minded. I also spun around in circles for a while and thanked the Big Guy (God as Stella/I understand Him) about a hundred times.

PCN: You’ve gotten glowing reviews from Kirkus, Publishers Weekly, Booklist, Entertainment Weekly, to name a few. Anything you want to say to all the people who rejected you?

SL: That would take a very long time, because I swear I was rejected by every literary agent in America in the course of a decade of submissions. You may think I’m exaggerating, but when I come across an agent who didn’t reject me, I want to go “Where have you been hiding yourself, Cupcake?” and buy them a drink.

Littlefield & Barbara Poelle

Sophie & Barbara

As far as what I’d say to all the others? I would say “Thank you.” Because they made it possible for me to end up with Barbara Poelle. Here are just ten random reasons why Barbara is the perfect agent for me:

  1. She doesn’t mind if I cuss
  2. She doesn’t mind if my characters cuss
  3. She never told me to make my characters prettier or skinnier
  4. She finds my social gaffes amusing
  5. She breaks into song inexplicably; so do I (though I’m a little shy about it)
  6. If you tell her a sappy story about anyone, it could be the guy who did your taxes or even a Republican, she always goes “awwww”
  7. You can’t gross her out when describing the gory scenes you plan for your imaginary horror novel
  8. She likes the right people, the ones who are cool on the inside, where it counts
  9. She never, ever tells me to slow down or calm down or take a break
  10. She loves her job as much as I love mine

PCN: Wow, I want her to be my agent and I don’t even need one. When’s the last time someone did something that made you want to go all Stella on them? Are family and friends a little more afraid of you now knowing what you, er, Stella can do?

SL: Sadly, people are not quaking in fear. I think it’s because I’m deceptively friendly-ish. The other day a person of my acquaintance pissed me off extremely and I don’t think he ever knew it, because on the outside I had that well-brought-up-Midwestern-gal-grimace/grin going on.

But as soon as he sauntered off, I did this thing that my daughter taught me. You take your thumb and forefinger and place them in front of your face, then close one eye so it looks like you are holding the person’s head delicately in your fingertips…and then you squeeze, imagining their skull being crushed like a grape. Oh, is that ever satisfying.

So what did this guy do, you’re wondering?

PCN: Well, yes.

SL: He told me how to do my job. My writing job, the thing that is born in my soul and flows in my veins. Yes, ma’am, in the name of “career advice” (that I had not asked for) he had the nerve to tell me I was doing thing A wrong and needed to do more of thing B and stop doing thing C. And I was like, Oh yeah, remind me again when I’m waving at you from the top of the New York Fucking Times Best-Seller List, buddy. Well, I was all like that on the inside, anyway. On the outside I think I said “I’ll have another beer.”

PCN: What was his job?

SL: He is another writer, and a very, very gifted one. Which just goes to show you that smarts ain’t everything.

PCN: Hmm, you’ll have to tell me who it is, off the record. But enough about him; let’s talk sex toys. How much research did you do on those gizmos in the book to make sure they’d work as effective restraints for bad guys?

SL: Hee hee hee.  Well, that’s kind of funny, actually. I didn’t start out planning to write about gizmos. In fact, I was kind of woefully short of gizmo knowledge. All I wanted to find out was the name of those plastic disposable handcuffs the law folks are using these days, and I Googled “restraints.”

Ahem.

Some of Stella's tools

Some of Stella's tools

Turns out the bondage community is super creative and imaginative and resourceful…The first website I landed on was an eye-opener, I’ll tell you that. I just couldn’t look away.

And then it hit me: all those gags and collars and spreader bars would make excellent tools for an out-of-shape middle-aged lady to keep a fellow where she wanted him, no matter what she intended to get up to with him. So that became my excuse.

I’ll be honest…it’s fascinating. You think you’ve seen it all, and then some creative person comes up with something new! God bless the irrepressible human spirit, is what I say.

PCN: Stella gets into some wild scrapes. Any interesting scenes that didn’t make it into the final edit?

SL: Yes indeedy. In the early draft of the Stella story, she just flat-out killed all the abusers she encountered. I’d come up with all kinds of methods of death-dealing and places to stash the bodies. I was even keeping a list to use in future books in the series.

Then my editor, Toni, gently explained that a murderous Stella wouldn’t fly with readers—she had to leave her “parolees” alive. At first I was disappointed. But now I think Toni was right—Stella’s convictions don’t allow her to kill unless it’s in self-defense. It’s made her a stronger character.

PCN: You’re currently on your first book tour. Any interesting experiences so far?

Sophie, scared, at Book Passage

A nervous Sophie at Book Passage signing

SL: I’ve only done a few events so far and the sound of my own heart pounding in my throat, and the feeling that I’m about to hurl, have cut down on my noticing skills. (I get nervous. I’m naturally shy and awkward.)

I will say it was “interesting” to read my prologue—which contains the words “ass,” “bitch,” and “fuck” in the first couple of paragraphs—out loud to a hometown crowd that included my kids’ elementary school teachers, librarian, and principal. And some friends from church. And my friend Adrienne’s darling parents.

PCN: Nice. Did anyone say anything to you afterwards?

SL: To my amazement, every single one gave me a compliment or encouragement or, in one case, a fierce hug with a wink and a whispered “keep kickin’ ass.”

Before the event I had considered toning myself down, perhaps censoring the passages or substituting “bleeps” for the cuss words. But then I thought, if I can’t start being myself now, at the age of 46, then when??? I don’t want to save up all my zest and vitriol only to unleash it in a fevered deathbed torrent. I think that would be confusing for everyone, don’t you?

PCN: Very! I’m glad you’re letting some of it out now through Stella. I think she’d make a great cinematic character. Has Hollywood come calling?

SL: Ha ha, well, there’s been some fun moments where I thought, “Oh goody, this is where I get my ass in US magazine!” So far, no follow-through, though. My experienced author friends tell me this is how it goes; Hollywood’s just an ongoing tease.

PCN: If it does happen, who would you like to play your kick-ass mama? I think Stella’s guns weigh more than most of the well-known 50ish actresses working today.

Wynonna Judd

Wynonna Judd

SL: Ain’t that the truth? I had a hard time coming up with actresses to play either Stella or [her client] Chrissy, since they’re both a little plump (putting them squarely in line with the average American woman, I might add). What do you think about Wynonna Judd?

PCN: Can she act?

SL: I don’t know if she can, but I think she’d make a great Stella, even if she’s a little young. She looks like she has attitude to spare. If she’d be willing to bulk up a bit, I think Felicity Huffman would be aces.

Geena Davis

Geena Davis

PCN: How about Geena Davis? She’s about the right age and we know she can do the outlaw-with-a-gun thing from Thelma & Louise.

SL: Oh, Geena’s pure genius!  She’s going to have to eat a few cheeseburgers and frump up a little, but she’s perfect. And you know what, I bet she and I end up being BFFs once they start shooting. We’ll probably go shopping together and stuff, maybe double-date for the Oscars.

edharris

Ed Harris

PCN: And Sheriff Jones?

SL: There’s only one man for the job: that devilishly handsome Ed Harris. Sigh.

PCN: That’s even better than I imagined! Switching gears for a bit, you have a YA book coming out next year called Banished. What’s harder: writing as a 50-year-old woman, 16-year-old girl or a zombie?

SL: Okay here’s a giant secret—writing them was easy because they’re both me.  Stella’s me in a few years if someone unwisely pushes me just a little too hard. And Hailey, the heroine of my young adult series, is me at sixteen: gawky, insecure, angsty, and sensitive.

As for zombies…come on, they’re zombies! Aren’t you insanely jealous I get to write about them and get paid for my efforts?

Me & Sophie

Me & Sophie

PCN: Oh, I’m one itch away from shoving you down the stairs (it’s a compliment; see explanation here) so let’s wrap this up, for your sake. Final question: If you had a Calendar for Women Who Do Too Much like Stella’s, what would be the quote for this year?

SL: Oh, you’re good, Elyse. Hmmm. (Thinks hard.) “Careful what you wish for, sister, because once you get out of your own way you’re going to get more of it than you ever bargained for.”

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Review: Josh Neufeld's A.D.: NEW ORLEANS AFTER THE DELUGE

This review was written by contributing writer, Thuy Dinh, my resident expert on graphic novels.—PCN

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In A.D.: New Orleans After the Deluge, Josh Neufeld presents a graphic journalistic account of six survivors’ real-life experiences after Hurricane Katrina. Neufeld based his stories on first-person interviews, photos and other on-location research he conducted while volunteering with the Red Cross. Though he has a sure hand with the visual medium, his reluctance to subject his own views on the matter somehow dilutes its emotional resonance.

His visual style is poetic and powerful in rendering the horrors of Katrina: the gigantic mushroom-shaped storm rising from the New Orleans skyline like a vision of latter-day Hiroshima; the Biblical water full of rats after the levee broke; a non-functional public bathroom at the Convention Center filled with trash, human waste and broken stalls that signifies a complete breakdown of the social order. But he’s at his most eloquent when he renders his panels in virtual silence; the symbolic effects of Katrina are most deeply felt when there is little or no intrusion of verbal caption.

Before A.D was reformatted and expanded into book form (the book has 25% more story and art than its online version), it first appeared in 2007 on the SMITH magazine website (still available here). The characters—Doc Brobson, a well-off white male; Denise, a financially strapped black female; Abbas, immigrant entrepreneur; Gen-Xers Leo and Michelle; and Kwame, a middle-class high school student—were chosen to represent a cross section of the wider populace affected by the storm.

In its current form, most of Neufeld’s characters don’t quite register. To make sure Denise, an African-American social worker, can tell her own story without racial and gender bias, it seems Neufeld gave her script approval. While his need to respect Denise’s suffering is understandable, his cautious treatment of her anger and self-loathing distances us from her plight. I wish Neufeld had explored with Denise the “many things that FEMA didn’t understand” about struggling, unmarried, professional black women living in untraditional households who feel they were grossly under-compensated in the aftermath of Katrina.

Neufeld seems much more comfortable in portraying Leo, twenty-something comic book collector and publisher of the New Orleans music webzine Antigravity. In treating Leo’s loss of his valuable comic book collection as a symbol for all the random losses in his life, Neufeld captures in Leo’s story what he couldn’t do in Denise’s case—the sense that Katrina represents the sheer mystery of destruction, a godless force that irretrievably deletes one’s recorded existence.

If Neufeld had explored his connection with Leo as a way to bring in his own subjective viewpoint, it would have helped A.D. pack a bigger emotional punch. In a March 2007 interview published in Antigravity, Neufeld, a Brooklyn resident who called himself a “helpless observer” of the 9/11 attacks, said that while 9/11 had national and international impact, its physical effects were largely limited to Ground Zero. Katrina, on the other hand, as “a toxic combination of nature and government incompetence, directly affected far more families than 9/11.”

This perspective, had it been included in A.D., would have shown how poverty and apathy are both more banal and yet insidious than any planned terrorist attack. Neufeld would have brought home the dire message that in this day and age, our citizens are still living in an Old Testament world, waiting Godot-like for the coming of  progress.

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