my best day

So, I just recently watched City Slickers.  They play a game in the movie, while on the cattle drive, called “Best Day.”  At least that’s what I’m calling it.  Each character talks about what his “best day” was.  I invite you all to play this with me, because I’ve discovered it’s rather hard. I have a huge list of best days.  Does this mean I am incredibly lucky?  Yes. 

My first special day with Grandma, when I got a pair of red shoes for kindergarten and an orange notebook with leaves on it. We had dinner at Marshall Fields, because it will always be Marshall Fields, and I’m pretty sure there was ice cream involved.

The day I got lost in Disney World when I was three.  Because yes, I remember it, and I remember being found. 

The day in high school when Veronica and I went to Navy Pier to see the Superman movie. Afterwards, we watched the lightning show up the Saturday night fireworks and danced in the rain forever.  

The day in seventh grade when I finally cut my hair. I called Meghan, my best friend, and told her what I’d done, and the first words out of her mouth were, “I’m coming over,” because she had to see for herself.  I looked cute.

 My surprise sixteenth birthday.  Honestly, one of the best days of my life, thanks to my cult of friends.  And specifically Margaret Nieto. 

The day in Croatia when Logan and I were traveling when we jumped off a cliff, played volleyball with Australians, then sat in the church’s courtyard singing Jason Mraz. 

My weekend in Edinburgh, Scotland with Martha and Elysia.  That entire weekend was just so incredibly perfect.  I think that was the most independent and relaxing weekend I’ve ever had.  And I got to see where Harry Potter started, so, that didn’t hurt.

The day I rode an elephant, swam in the river Kwai, crossed the bridge, and had a rave in the rain. 

The day in Montana this past year, when we went zip-lining, sliding down a mountain, and then to Bigfork to see a play.  So many good things in one day.  I don’t know if I’ve ever laughed more. 

The weekend my entire family went to Harry Potter Land.  My grandparents went on the big rides.  Yes, that’s right.  They’re badass.  Maybe I will combine this with the day that Logan, Katie, and I waited in the rain all day to see the entire cast of Harry Potter, and the day I spent at Universal Studios with Erin.

Anyways, there have been a lot of best days in my life.  What about yours?  Leave me a comment!  What was your best day?  And no “the day my kids were born.”  That’s cheating.  Because we all know the greatest day of both my parents’ lives is the day I was born. 

earthquakes of the soul

God I love my classes.  My crazy, make me stay up until 4 am almost every night, overload me with work, amazing classes.  Except ceramics.  But still.  3 out of 4 ain't bad.  In my creative writing seminar today, Mike went on one of his amazing rants.  I say amazing because honestly, I wish I had a tape recorder so I could just write down verbatim what he says.  I don't know how he does it, as I am becoming increasingly suspicious that I only think I sound intelligent, and am actually not.  But he has a way of making everything he says seem like the most obvious thing in the world.  True, it could be that I have simply just not been on my game of late, as, have you heard?  I have crazy classes that keep me up until about 4 am every night.  That and blogging. But really--this is what he was talking about in class today. (Get ready, this is gold.)

When writing a story, you must consider why your characters are doing what they are doing.  You cannot have them make a decision because you want them to.  There has to be a valid reason behind every decision.  And the reader has to know it.  There must be some awe-inspiring, life-validating, sense-making reason for every action. There must be at least one decision that is an earthquake of the soul.  Every story has a choice, as every character has a decision to make.  Harry has the choice to find and destroy Voldemort, or let it be and perhaps relocate to Russia.  Stanley Yelnats has the choice to carry Zero up the mountain, or let him die at the base of God's thumb with onion breath.  Bod has the choice to take control of his own path in life and rid the world of Jacks, or to simply live as one of the dead forever. Emmilina has the choice to run away with Charlotte, or sit in her bedroom and waste away as her parents look on.  These are all earthquakes of the soul.  They are life changing decisions. 

Now, on to other things. I have recently read The Cardturner, by Louis Sachar.  Now, if any of you know me (and if you are reading this, then chances are good), then you know that I absolutely adore Louis Sachar.  Holes and Wayside School is Falling Down, along with Someday Angeline and Dogs Don't Tell Jokes are some of my all time favorite books, predating even Harry Potter.  But, I'm not going to lie to you, The Cardturner was not Sachar's best work.

Yes, he does a great job creating believable characters--Alton seemed like a very true to life high schooler.  It was also just a great little story about a relationship between a teenager and his aging uncle.  There was also a bit of a mysterious old family scandal that was fun to read about.  And I got to learn a lot about the game of bridge; something Sachar clearly knows a lot about.  To be fair (it is now about two weeks since I started writing this post, btw), he had an awesome blurb in the beginning, in which he basically tells us all what I had been suspecting all along--that he wrote about a game that he just knew a lot about.  This is what he says, in "A Note from the Author:"

"Imagine you were abducted by aliens and taken away to their home planet.  After living there awhile, you learn to speak their language, and then actually become a pretty well-known author.  You were a huge baseball fan back on Earth, so you decide to write a book about baseball.  You know that none of your alien readers have ever heard of baseball, but you think it will make a great story, and besides, you really love the game...
  As you attempt to write it, you quickly find yourself entangled in words with multiple meanings, like ball and run.  When you try to describe a triple play, you get so bogged down explaining the rules about force-outs that the excitement of the play itself is lost.
  That was the predicament I put myself into when I wrote The Cardturner.  It's not about baseball but about bridge, a card game that was once extremely popular but that, unfortunately, not too many people play anymore, especially not young people.  In fact, the people who do play bridge seem to live in their own alien world.
  My publisher, my editor, my wife, and my agent all said I was crazy.  'No one's going to want to read a book about bridge!' they told me on more than one occasion.
  Still, I really love the game..."

Which just goes to show: write about what you know and love.  What do I know and love?  Road trips down I-94 in a crowded car.  But anyways, I'm not saying it was a bad book because it was about bridge (which, as it turns out, is a very confusing game).  I thought that was very interesting.  And I'm not even saying it was a "bad book" per say.  It just left me with a weird taste in my mouth.  But before I get to that, here's what it did well.

Even though a significant portion of the book was dedicated to explaining the finer rules of the game of bridge, it worked.  This is for two reasons: first, it was being described in the voice of Alton, the sixteen year old main character.  Second, he added a picture of a whale.

Right, let me explain further.  Or rather, type you a small portion.  Imagine there is a picture of a whale.

"Do you see that picture of a whale?"  (Pretend you do.  It's there.  It's a whale.  I'm not scanning it.) "It's going to be our secret code. (Okay, maybe it's not so secret.)
  This past year I had to read Moby-Dick in my Language Arts / English class.  It seemed like a pretty good adventure story about a monster killer whale, but just when I started to get into it, the author, Herman Melville, stopped the story and went on page after page describing every time detail of a whaling ship.  I zoned out.  I never finished the book and had to bluff my way through the test. 
  The reason I'm telling you this is because I'm about to attempt to explain the basics of bridge.  My guess is that there's going to have to be more bridge in the book as well.
  I'm not trying to teach you how to play bridge.  There's not way I could do that.  I'll just try to explain enough of the basics that if you want, you might be able to understand some of the bridge stuff that happens.  ...
  So here's the deal.  Whenever you see the picture of the whale, it means I'm about to go into some detail about bridge.  If that makes you zone out, then just skip ahead to the summary box and I'll give you the short version" (43).

So you see?  He found a way to write about a very complicated game (in which we might as well be aliens--at least I might as well have been an alien), and still manage to have a compelling and easy to read story.  It was a pageturner.  (Oh, yes, I am witty.)  I love books that teach things while still telling a story--Rick Riordan's The Lightning Thief is another example of this, though admittedly Rick Riordan weaved Greek gods into his story much better.

Anyways, the bridge is not why it left a weird taste in my mouth.  Here is why:

The whole book, we follow Alton, a very realistic, down to earth, normal teenager through his experience in being his blind uncle's cardturner.  His uncle gives him money, he gets a car, there is a bit of a love triangle in which his best friend is dating his ex-girlfriend and is trying to cheat on said ex-girlfriend with Toni--the girl Alton likes and the other main character.  It's all a very normal game until his uncle dies, at which point he starts having paranormal otherworldly conversations with the dead.

Now... the problem I have with this is that we were not given any warning for the supernatural.  We were not even given any warning for the unnatural.  We were reading about bridge, and all of a sudden, his uncle is talking to him from beyond the grave.

Okay, you say, what about Holes?  There was magic in that!  What about the curse on the Yelnats family all because of Stanley's "no-good, dirty-rotten, pig-stealing, great, great grandfather?"  Well, in that situation, we are hearing the story of Madame Zeroni alongside the more realistic story of Stanley Yelnats.  We are allowed to suspect that some magic is at play here, that maybe the curse is real.  In this book we get none of that. We hear that Toni has headaches, but that's hardly supernatural.

So, moral of the story: it was a fascinating book, but not one of my favorites.  It changed genres in the middle. But, props to Louis Sachar for writing a book about a confusing game of cards that was incredibly interesting.

What was the earthquake of your soul?  Or in my case... where will this earthquake known as graduation leave me?  Make a life changing, world altering, lip smacking, eye opening, smile inducing decision today.  Every choice matters.

I'm suspicious that my little will be the next J.K. Rowling.  Oh, and I'm talking about Chloe, the one who's in fifth grade. She is brilliant, and I love her.

Oh, and speaking of J.K. Rowling, she's writing a new book for adults!

Jumping up and down with excitement,
L.R. Ogden

nobody

Neil Gaiman is a genius.  I mean really, he, like David Almond, has a way of writing that makes me hate him.  Not because I don't love the story--I absolutely love both their stories--but because I was not the one to write them.  Yes, alright, that's a stupid way to think... I should be thankful they set the bar so high and that I can learn from them... yada yada yada and a yoyo.  But look, I'm not the only who thinks this.  Take Hemingway.  Well, the Hemingway from the film Midnight in Paris, anyways. 

Gil: I would like you to read my novel and get your opinion.

Hemingway: I hate it. 

Gil: You haven’t even read it yet.

Hemingway: If it’s bad, I’ll hate it. If it’s good, then I’ll be envious and hate it even more. You don’t want the opinion of another writer.

So you see, I'm allowed to hate my favorite authors just a little bit.  Anyways, on with the business!  I read The Graveyard Book last year (good God) and absolutely loved it.  Why did I not write this?  Well, that's all okay, because I actually make an appearance in this book.  Yes indeedy.  

Why is this book so great, you ask?  What do you think about it Liza?  Please tell us your opinions.  

...

Well, alright, since you asked so nicely.

The Graveyard Book is one of those books that I am simply thankful exists.  It does one of the things that a lot of children's literature attempts to do (and is often unsuccessful): it helps kids work through and deal with one of the most difficult aspects of life.  And yes, obviously I mean death.  By creating a world of the dead that is not only accessible by the living, but protective of it, he allows children another form of reassurance and comfort.  No, I am not saying that children who have lost a loved one should retreat into fantasy land and go and try to live in a graveyard.  That would not be fun.  Or particularly safe.  (Though now that I think about it--graveyards should be relatively safe, right?  What is the crime rate in graveyards?  Everyone's already dead...) I am just saying, the overall message of The Graveyard Book, and stories like it, instill in children a feeling of hope and safety. It gives the feeling that those who love us never really leave us (not sure if I'm quoting Harry Potter or The Lion King, but probably the former).  Anyways, it is able to make a difficult situation seem light and joyful. 

Moving on.  Now, you all know how important I think names are.  Katniss Everdeen... horrible.  Just, just... blechk.  Milkman from Song of Solomon... urgh.  I know Toni Morrison is amazing and believe you me, I have so much respect for that woman because she is an amazing writer... but gross.  Milkman.  Oh, he's named that because his mother breastfed him until he was about ten. Yeah.  Blechk.  And now that I'm talking about names, let me let you in on a little secret: it's not just the way the name sounds--you can tell a lot about a person based on how they spell their name.  Yes, this is slightly (alright more than slightly) judgmental, but let me be.  Just watch.  Or read.  

There was once a girl named Ashley who loved to put on makeup every morning.  

So, when I read that line, I see a girl (specifically one of the Ashleys from Recess) putting on an appropriate amount of makeup.  Now:

There was once a girl named Ashlee who loved to put on makeup every morning.

And now she is wearing much to much makeup for her face.  And dear lord, I hope no one reading this is named Ashlee.  You see?  Judgmental.  But, when writing a story, never would I ever give a character a name that ends in two e's if I wanted her to be a protagonist. 

But on to my real point:  Neil Gaiman has some awesome names in The Graveyard Book.  First of all, his main character is Bod--short for Nobody.  Nobody Owens is the main character.  I like this for a few reasons: first, it is way clever and just plain awesome.  Second: the people of the graveyard could have named him anything under the sun--Shakespeare, Napoleon, Winston Churchill, Obama... Ryan Gosling... But no.  Nobody is the hero.  Which could be anybody.  It doesn't take a person with a great name to be the hero of the story.  Any old Mike, John, Sarah, Katie, or Rachel could have done it. The villain is also done extremely cleverly--his name is Jack, and he is one of many... Jacks of all trades.  Gaiman has an extraordinary amount of fun with the name Jack, though I won't say more here because I don't want to give anything away.

Plus, there is a character named Liza Hempstock, so obviously I approve. 

I also am in love with this book because it is so understated.  It doesn't try to take control of the reader's imagination.  By this I mean we are not even sure what exactly Silas is.  Okay, yes, he is most likely a vampire, but I did not get that in my reading of the novel.  And I consider myself a fairly active and observant reader.  Somehow Neil Gaiman finds a way to combine beautiful descriptions with the ability to enchant the imagination.  By this I mean (okay, hold on to your hats) he does something J.K. Rowling does not.  He allows the reader to have more than one interpretation of a character or setting.  I say this because we are not even allowed to surmise the sexuality of one of the main characters or who each character ultimately marries in Harry Potter.  As cool as I think it is that Dumbledore is gay, or that Luna marries the grandson of Newt Scamander, there are some things better left to the imagination.  That Neville and Luna were madly in love, for example.   Rowling gave enough hints in her books to let everything lie... and not tell more tidbits of her story in various interviews.

AND not only is this book illustrated with gorgeous illustrations, but it is yet another book written by Neil Gaiman that made me almost picture the style of film used in Coraline and The Nightmare before Christmas.  Very cool.

And here's another (the last) reason I love this book: the writing is absolutely fantastic, and quite inspirational.  Check it:

When describing the place where ghouls live, Gaiman says this, "Even from the path below Ghulheim, even from miles away, Bod could see that all of the angles were wrong--that the walls sloped crazily, that it was every nightmare he had ever endured made into a place, like a huge mouth of jutting teeth.  It was a city that had been built just to be abandoned, in which all the gears and madnesses and revulsions of the creatures who built it were made into stone" (82).

A conversation between Bod and Silas regarding suicide:

"'Does it work? Are they happier dead?'

'Sometimes.  Mostly, no.  It's like the people who believe they'll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn't work that way.  Wherever you go, you take yourself with you.  If you see what I mean'" (104). 

A conversation between Bod and Silas after Bod comments he wouldn't mind being killed, as some of his "best friends are dead."

"Yes... They are.  And they are, for the most part, done with the world.  You are not.  You're alive, Bod.  That means you have infinite potential.  You can do anything. make anything dream anything.  If you change the world, the world will change.  Potential.  Once you're dead, it's gone.  Over.  You've made what you've made, dreamed your dream, written your name.  You may be buried here, you may even walk. But that potential is finished" (179). 

Bod, upon his final departure:

"'If I change my mind can I come back here?' And then he answered his own question.  'If I come back, it will be a place, but it won't be home any longer'" (304). 

The song that his adoptive parents sang to him as he grew up in the graveyard:

"Sleep my little babby-oh

Sleep until you waken

When you wake you'll see the world

If I'm not mistaken.

Kiss a lover

Dance a measure,

Find your name

And buried treasure.  

Face your life

Its pain, its pleasure,

Leave no path untaken" (306).

Go out and be happy you aren't dead.  I'm happy you're not dead.  Go and see a volcano, or a forest, or a little bit of grass that is growing through the sidewalk.  Or make a snow angel, depending on the weather.  

I think I just realized that my phobia of white space isn't a phobia at all... it's an itch created by a space of infinite potential that I need to fill.  Just like a blank page...

L.R. Ogden

the invisible artist

So now I'm back for real.  I should be posting regularly again, now that I have things to procrastinate for.  I think I've had a sort of writer's overload these last two months, and just needed to take a break and enjoy life instead of writing it.  Not writer's block, no... It was more of a exhaustion.  I mean let's be real--I'm 120 pages into my story... wouldn't you be tired?  Anyways, I'm not anymore and am back with a vengeance. 

First off, I am in love with my classes this semester.  Well, three out of the four.  And, of course, the only one I want to drop is in the only one I can't.  Of course.  Ceramics may kill me--if Kappa doesn't first.  The facts were these: I have been up until five am every night this week, and for once, procrastination had nothing to do with it.  I have been making artwork for kappa, creating ceramic figurines for ceramics, drawing nudes for four hours at a time, writing like my life depended on it, and reading about empowering girls.  So yes, most of these things are enjoyable.  But most of these things also take up a significant portion of my day.

Anyways, that's enough whining, yes? I think so.  On to what really matters: literature, life, art, and happiness. 

Here is what we talked about in my creative writing seminar today: In The Reign of Harad IV, by Steven Millhauser. We also listened to the podcast, which you can do by clicking here.  It's about thirty seven minutes long, so the alternative is to read the story yourself, and then listen to the discussion that Cynthia Oznick and Deborah Treisman (the fiction editor of The New Yorker) have at the end of the audio clip. 

Read it?  Listened to it?  Unless you are my mother, father, or possibly Logan, I don't think I believe you.  I wouldn't have either.  Here's a summary (you should read it at some point though, it's very good):

In a nutshell, this story is about a miniaturist's pursuit of creating progressively smaller objects.  In the end, he is creating objects that are invisible to everyone, even (eventually) himself.  On the surface level, it is about his own pursuit of perfection, but the understated message is to every artist.  And yes, I am calling myself, as a writer, an artist.  Can we ever reach perfection?  The Master, as the miniaturist is called in the story, does, but not even he can see his own work. Could we then say, that even though we cannot see it, that this miniature world is his greatest masterpiece? 

They bring up an interesting point in their discussion on the podcast.  It is generally considered that James Joyce's masterpiece is Ulysses, and not Finnegan's Wake.  Which is albeit understandable as there are some words even in the wikipedia ariticle about Finnegan's Wake that I don't understand. The question they then pose is: Is Finnegan's Wake just too invisible for the average human to see?  We accept it as a difficult book, too difficult to be considered as great, and focus on his (also difficult) Ulysses.  We think that Ulysses is his masterpiece, but who knew what James Joyce thought?  Is art still art if there is no one there to see it? 

If I just create my novel and shove it in the vacuum of my bottom drawer (or my bedroom floor, as that's where everything else is at the moment...), is it still a work of art?  We are all searching for perfection in some field or another, but it seems like even if we reach it, there will be no one left to realize it.  No one could see his art, and there is no one really who has found the true beauty and perfection in Finnegan's Wake.  Perfection is a lonely man. 

And scene. WHOA that was a lot of philosophical things for one day.  I'm just saying, you should all read this short story, and let me know what you think about it.  It is fantabulastic.  Anyways, that's it for today, I'm sure I'll post again soon as I have much to write about.  Coming up: The Graveyard Book, The Giver, Wonderstruck, and more. 

Create something even if there isn't anyone to see it.  Be selfish.  Do it for you.  Don't worry so much about perfection.

I nearly melted when Neal Caffrey read part of Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty" in the most recent episode of White Collar.  To listen, visit my tumblr.

-L.R. Ogden

a little bit of salt

So.  I don't know if any of you ever watch Man vs. Food (I don't either), but he has a tactic.  Oh, I've seen one episode where he ate about ten pounds of pancakes.  His tactic is this: when he's about halfway through and doesn't think he'll make it, he'll order a little bacon.  Something salty, just so his stomach doesn't reject so much pancake at once.  Well, I think my brain is about to start rejecting so much Toni Morrison at once.  I feel like I'm going to explode with nonsense.  I hate analytical papers, I really do.  I put more BS in them than in anything else ever.  Don't get me wrong--I sound smart as hell (really, I get As), but I just sometimes write without my brain.  Like right now.  So.  I need some bacon.

I have read a bunch of books since we last met, blogosphere.  A bunch.  In this bunch o' books was: The Graveyard Book, Room, Beloved (as I realized the day before yesterday I never actually read anything but the sparknotes... damn.  You know, I fool even myself sometimes), and a bunch of stories from The Chronicles of Harris Burdick.

But right now, I feel like talking about Room (because secretly, I have to write a paper about craft on it, so this will actually be sneaky productive).  Now, I loved this book.  Absolutely loved it.  True, the premise is a little disturbing, but when you've watched as much Law and Order: SVU as I have (and unless you've seen every episode, trust me, you haven't), things like that tend to be a little less rough to read about.  But even if you aren't used to reading about rape and women being kept in boxes for years on end, this book is a great read. 

Okay, so let's be real.  I wrote this roundabouts two months ago, and then never posted it.  I would like to say that writing about a paper I needed to write made me stop and think, huh, maybe I should actually write the paper instead of writing about writing it.  But, more likely than not, that didn't happen. Probably I watched an episode of Modern Family or something, and then stayed up until three in the morning doing other more productive things.  I am still going to post it, however, because I think it's hilarious.  I also think I'm going to finish my thoughts about Room, for those of you who are interested, as I did end up writing a paper about it. 

Things I liked:
I absolutely loved that it was told from the perspective of Jack--the five year old son of the mother and her rapist. Honestly, if it were not for this fact, I would not have been at all interested in reading it.  Indeed, it made the creepy premise a little easier to digest and far more intriguing than if his mother told it.  My creative writing advisor is always telling me that characters don't have to know shit, but the readers have to know everything.  In other words, the readers need to feel like they know more than the characters.  Obviously, Emma Donoghue does a great job with this, due to the simple fact that Jack knows only what is in Room.  For example, he sleeps in Wardrobe and counts the squeaks of mattress as he falls asleep.  While for him, this is like counting sheep, we as readers know full well that it is far more sinister and much more illegal. 

Sorry that was a creepy example.  He also received a toy truck from Old Nick (as he refers to his mother's rapist), and cannot understand why his mother doesn't want him to play with it.  He just likes it because it's a toy, but we as readers know that his mother is uncomfortable with the idea that Jack might like Old Nick.  She doesn't want him to have a relationship with her rapist, but Jack can't understand that.  Especially because he thinks he can communicate with Dora the Explorer by writing on pieces of toilet paper and flushing it down the toilet.  It was also interesting to discover half way through the novel what he meant by "getting some."  Let me give you a hint: sometimes he gets some from the right, and sometimes he gets some from the left, and we as readers understand how... well. How socially unacceptable that is.

What I am iffy about:

It's hard to say where the climax of the novel is. It seems to me that it is when they escape from Old Nick, but that comes at about the halfway point.  The rest of the novel is falling action and focuses on their assimilation into normal life again.  While that is still interesting, it felt almost as if the book were uneven.  She also brings up a lot of issues in the second half of the novel, and I feel like they could have been delved into much farther.  Maybe what I'm saying is that they could have been two books--one about the escape, and then one about how they, and especially Jack, dealt with the real world after being imprisoned for so long.  It almost felt like it was too easy for Jack to accept the real world.  And yes, I realize I am contradicting myself a bit here, but you know, that's just how it goes. 

All in all, I hope they don't make this into a movie.  Although I would probably still go see it, even though it would be creeptastic. 

Stay tuned for post number two!

Go out and explore the amazing gobsmacking wondrous glorious gigantic world!  Don't enclose yourself in the room called Chicago or home or America.  Explore!  Adventure! Discover! Find the beauty in every little thing!

I once rapped "I Like Big Bucks and I Cannot Lie" for a seventh grade speech when running for treasurer. 

-L.R. Ogden

how the hell am i going to do that?

Yesterday, I went to the last of Denison's Beck Lecture series, which are a series of talks given by writers from different genres and all walks of life.  What made this lecture so much more important is that it was given by Peter Grandbois, my fiction writing professor from last fall (and a creative writing professor in general).  He just wrote a new book called Nahoonkara, which sounds amazing.  He talked about how he has written fiction, creative non-fiction, flash fiction, novellas, and stage plays.  It was he who said, "If I don't think, 'Now how the hell am I going to do that?' before I start writing, I just don't have any fun."  And currently, I ask myself that question everyday.

Anyway--on to more critiques.  In the past few weeks, I have finished the last two books in the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins, The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman, and Chasing Redbird by Sharon Creech.  I recommend all of these.  But let's start with Mockingjay.

I know I have said in previous postings that these are not my favorite books.  They aren't.  But I couldn't put them down.  I read the last one in a day.  What does that mean then?  Well, I have decided it means two things.

1.  My devotion to Harry Potter leaves very little room in my heart for a new series.
1.5.  It is not as good as Harry Potter.
2.  My writer self is getting in the way of my reading self. In other words, reading like a writer is getting in the way of reading like a kid.

So, here are my issues, now that I've finished.  Also, beware there are MAJOR SPOILERS.  STOP READING LOGAN!!!

1. The first book was by far the best one.  It had the best plot, believable twists, and great tension.  The second book... well.  All that happened was they escaped.  They didn't go back into the arena until over halfway through the book and then they were saved rather quickly and without much drama.  And calm down--yes I realize there was a lot of drama in that they were trying to kill each other, but I mean relatively speaking.  They didn't have any problems with the Capital, which I find to be a little hard to believe.  They should have had to fight off some other people.  Making her pass out is a bit of a cop out.

2.  I was more upset for the cat than I was for Prim.  Here is what I think happened--all of this is tied back to the Gale/Peeta issue.  Instead of giving Katniss a decision to make, Collins needed to make it for her.  She made Gale into a heartless war monster who created weapons.  Weapons that most likely destroyed her sister.  Which, again, I am annoyed by, because there should be no debate between Team Peeta and Team Gale.  She tried to do it, but then chickened out.  She didn't want to break his heart.  At least in Twilight, it was Bella's decision.  (And you know I'm super annoyed when a sentence starts "at least in Twilight... I hate those books.)  So, to get her character out of a sticky situation that would actually give more insight into her developed sense of self, she has Gale ruthlessly take down a mountain and trap people inside. Not to mention he is the one that devised the weapon that destroyed her sister.  At the end, there is no possible way she could be with Gale.  Team Gale no longer exists.  It never should have existed in the first place.  But back to my first sentence.  Well, I'll make this another point.

3.  I don't give a flying monkey's ass about Prim.  Don't care about her one iota.  Why?  Because apart from hearing about her from Katniss, we hardly see her.  She is just the mother's helper in the second book.  She has one scene in the third where we get to know more about her.   I understand that killing her off was necessary for Katniss' anger problems to continue, but I really had no other emotion than, "Oh Lord, Katniss is going to lose it."  There was never even any mention of, "But I did it all for her... It all seems pointless now."  Cause that would be a logical reaction.  But no, she had to die so that Katniss could never stay with Gale. Also, I think Collins knew the readers wouldn't care, because what does she do?  She introduces the cat into the picture.  As I said, I'm more sad when the cat is lonely at the end than when Prim dies.  The poor cat.  Not the poor Prim.  The cat is a device.

4.  At the end, when all of the surviving victors are sitting around the table with Coin, Katniss says she wants there to be a last Hunger Games with the powerful people's children.  I honestly do not understand.  She was fighting to get rid of the games.  You don't believe me?  Well, looky here:

"Was it like this then?  Seventy-five years or so ago?  Did a group of people sit around and cast their votes on initiating the Hunger Games?  Was there dissent? Did someone make a case for mercy that was beaten down by the calls for the deaths of the districts' children?  Then scent of Snow's rose curls up into my nose, down into my throat, squeezing it tight with despair.  All those people I loved, dead, and we are discussing the next Hugner Games in an attmept to avoid wasting life.  Nothing has changed.  Nothing will ever change now.
    I weigh my options carefully, think everything through.  Keeping my eyes on the rose, I say, 'I vote yes... for Prim'" (370).

Okay... So.  Here is what I think.  A) It was not a necessary plot twist.  B) It makes zero sense.  It just goes to show that she has learned absolutely nothing from everything that has happened.  I don't care if she wanted revenge and is depressed.  She would NEVER want this revenge on children. Her kid sister just died--why would she want more of that? She's known capital people who she's liked.  She would not want revenge on the children.  For Prim, she'd just want revenge on Snow.  She would not want revenge on children. Of course, she gets revenge on both Snow and Coin.  But she would not have said yes. I would actually LOVE to hear other people's interpretations of why she would want another hunger games, because it actually makes no sense to me.  SHE WOULD NOT WANT REVENGE ON CHILDREN!!

5.  This entire book, Katniss doesn't actually do anything.  And by saying that, I mean that she makes nothing happen.  Sure, she is on TV rallying the troops, but let's be honest--they would have won the war at the exact same time if she were taken out of the story.  Even her fake mission is fruitless, as the real rebels come in and win it without any of their help.  I'm serious.  Re read it.  She does nothing except go on a stupid photoshoot which leads to a fake mission which gets Finnick killed. What?  AND she for some reason is then really blood thirsty and kills a random woman in her home. What?  Let me also point out that she hadn't really done much killing at all.  In the second book, I'm pretty sure she killed no one.  She killed a few in the first book, but it nearly killed her to do that. So how does she all of a sudden shoot a woman in the heart and not feel the slightest amount of guilt or pain?  I will give her that she kills Coin.  That is the one thing that, without her, would not have happened.  I think that Collins spent too much time on the "propos" and not enough time on having her main character drive the narrative of the novel.

6.  Why do they let her off for killing Coin?  Why not have her take the stand and be present for the trial?  Why not give her something to do?  Again, she is just a pawn in the plot, instead of actively defending what she did.  

So those are my major issues.  But, all that said, I couldn't put them down.  They are good books with a strong female protagonist.  Which you all know I like.  And frankly, I cannot wait for the movie--let's be honest, I'm going to like looking at Gale and Peeta, and who knows?  I may even end up on team Gale.  Although it's likely that I'll be on Team High King Peter the Magnificent forever. 

All those books I've read in the past two weeks have something in common.  Death.
Read a book, and death will bring you to life.
Well, look at that.  That was quite profound. Maybe I should write a book.  Now, how the hell am I going to do that?

LR Ogden

my suspicions have been confirmed

The suspicions I am referring to are, of course, that all my favorite children's literature authors not only know each other, but get together for tea parties on a regular basis. It's true. It really must be, as I am excited beyond belief to receive an invitation for said tea party. I would also enjoy going to a British tea party with all my favorite British authors as well, but that is neither here nor there. What is here is The Chronicles of Harris Burdick, a book that my dad bought for me when we went for a very yummy dinner at Easton. (The Northstar Cafe, if you must know, where they give you a free wine tasting as you are waiting in line. A nice effect, as I didn't really want to pay the 14$ a glass for my favorite wine. I got a free taste. Perfect.)

So, if you know me, there is usually an author's name following the name of a book. There is a suspicious lack of author name up there, if you'll notice. This is because this book is a collection of short children's stories by SO MANY GREAT AUTHORS. I will list them for you here, and help you out with what they've written, cause you all probably are not as in sync with the children's literature circle as I am. And no, I am not counting you, mother.

The Chronicles of Harris Burdick is by

Sherman Alexie, who wrote The Absolute True Story of a Part Time Indian, and the movie Smoke Signals (which was adapted from one of his short stories).

M.T. Anderson, who wrote The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing, Traitor to the Nation, volumes I & II, among others. I haven't read these, but I really want to. Here is a link to his website, which is actually pretty cool.

Kate DiCamillo, who wrote Because of Winn-Dixie, The Tale of Despereaux, and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. I know I love Because of Winn-Dixie, and The Tale of Despereaux was just turned into a movie. It's on my list of books to read immediately.

Corey Doctorow, who has written nothing I've heard of, but I'm sure he's great.

Jules Feiffer, who 1) is a man, and 2) illustrated The Phantom Tollboth by Norton Juster. Plus, he wrote a book called A Room with a Zoo. Awesome.

Stephen King, who is Stephen King.

Tabitha King, Stephen King's wife. That's right, they're both writers. Damn. How cool would it be to live in their house? Although it may be a tad creepy... Stephen King's novels are a little frightening at times... But still. I bet their bookshrine is awesome.

Lois Lowry, who wrote The Giver, which is one of my favorite books of all time. If you've not read it, READ IT NOW so as to prevent further wreckage of your childhood that is almost over. It's not over yet, you see, if you haven't read this book. Also, I have found out two things: one, they are making a movie of The Giver, which should be pretty cool, and two, there is a third book in The Giver trilogy that I haven't read--WHOA did I just get excited for this. (The second is called Gathering Blue and was published in 2000, seven years after The Giver.) She also wrote the Anastasia Krupnik series.

Gregory Maguire, who's name I'm not sure how to spell because all the letters are always capitalized. How annoying. He is most famous for Wicked. The book that the musical was based on.

Walter Dean Myers, who wrote a bagillion books, but none of which I recognize. But he was mentioned in one of Sharon Creech's novella's, as an author a boy admires. (Sharon Creech wrote Walk Two Moons and Chasing Redbird. We like her.)

Linda Sue Park, who wrote A Single Shard. 

Louis Sachar, who was my favorite author growing up--before even J.K. Rowling. He wrote Wayside School is Falling Down, Sideways Stories from Wayside School, and more importantly, Someday Angeline, Dogs Don't Tell Jokes, and Holes. All amazing books. If you haven't read these--what are you doing? Why are reading my blog??? Go read those books instead. Complete your childhood.

Jon Scieszka, who wrote The Stinky Cheese Man and other Stupid Tales, and The True Story of the Three Little Pigs with Lane Smith. Which, if you remember Logan and Mira, were some of our favorite picture books growing up. At least they were some of my favorite.

And, last but not least, Chris Van Allsburg. He is an author and an illustrator, made famous by little books like, Jumanji, or The Polar Express, or Zathura. And not to mention The Mysteries of Harris Burdick. 

So basically, A LOT of the authors I loved as a child are in this book. Oh, and Lemony Snicket wrote the introduction.

Anyways, on to why this is awesome. This is metafiction, baby. This book is set up with the story presented in The Mysteries of Harris Burdick, which is just a series of images and captions, along with an introduction saying that Harris Burdick dropped these off to an editor, and that he would be back the next day with the complete stories and more pictures. Only he never came back, so all the editor had were these pictures. So what Lemony Snicket presents in his introduction (posted below) is the idea that Harris Burdick has, in fact, been hiding amongst his cohorts and has given his writings to various authors in children's literature to publish as their own. AWESOME.

Why is this awesome? Because Harris Burdick is a fictional character. The drawings are Chris Van Allsburg's (and they are quite beautiful, actually). What this book does is present a mystery in the fictional world that the reader cannot immediately distinguish from the real world. I even had to do some research before I was sure it was all made up. But here's the greatest part: it is a massive conspiracy amongst my favorite authors. I mean, WOW. Seriously, just watch this video--it is amazing.



Also, I have to say, I'm really loving reading short stories for children. You don't see that very often. Generally, children's books are either picture books or chapter books. This is a nice break. I may have to try a few of my own.

Anyways, try and pick up a copy of this book--I've only read three chapters so far (look forward to another blog post once I finish), but I absolutely love it. It's rather interesting to read new work by some of my favorite authors. And it's especially interesting now that I'm 21 and rather critical. I'm telling you--stay posted for my thoughts. Also, I only posted what I think is the most well known of each of the above author's works.  They have all written much, much more.  Google them all, I say!

If I could create my own tea party with anybody I wanted, I would invite J.K Rowling, Marishka Hargitay, Louis Sachar, Lois Lowry, Philip Pullman, Brian Selznick, Eoin Colfer, and hey, why not--High King Peter the Magnificent.

I can't wait for my invitation. I will be invited to the literary teas, and the children's books picnics, and the Young Adult stories brunches.  Just you wait.

L.R. Ogden