"Orphan Train" by Christina Baker Kline

Set in Minnesota and Maine in the 1930s and 2011, respectively, Orphan Train weaves together the stories of two orphans, living in the same town, two generations apart. When Molly, a seventeen year old foster kid, steals a book from the local library she finds herself doing community service in an elderly woman's attic. Day after day Molly, and the 90-year-old Vivian sift through boxes of Vivian's things, purportedly to clean them out. In reality, the attic holds a Pandora's box of memories, memories that are not thrown out or donated, but neatly folded, boxed, and labeled while stories are told.

Vivian tells Molly of her journey from Ireland to New York City, her life in the tenements and the tragic night when she became an orphan. She was packed on an orphan train bound for Minnesota. In Minnesota she is at first taken in by a couple who forces her to work as a seamstress in the family business and sleep on a cot in the closet. When the Depression sinks their business, Vivian, then called Dorothy, becomes a "mother's helper," little more than a slave of the Grotes who are a poor and shiftless family living outside of town with too many kids. Her only solace is school and her teacher Miss Larsen. Miss Larsen ultimately saves her from an abusive situation and finds her a kind and upstanding family to take her in. Her name is changed to Vivian and she is gainfully employed at the couple's general store. She gradually builds the business into a thriving enterprise.

As Vivian tells her stories of loss, heartbreak, and ultimately, second-chances, she is at the same time offering a second-chance to Molly. Molly in turn, uses the internet to help Vivian track down and reconnect with long-lost family. In the process this unlikely friendship between a 90 year old woman and a teenager sporting the Goth look becomes a serendipitous chance at redemption for the both of them.

What I enjoyed about this book was its wholesome, neatly packaged conclusion. Every once in awhile you need a book like that to remind you that there is good in the world, that the quest for unconditional love and "family" can be found - even when that family is unconventional or unrelated. There is nothing quite so hopeful as the story of an unloved waif, taken from the streets to a warm and clean home where goodness and compassion gradually build into love.

"Looking for Alaska" by John Green

I'll have to admit, Looking for Alaska was a bit of a letdown after The Fault in our Stars. The characters seemed pretentious and the plot was rather cliche. Though it was a stimulating read, I was, all things considered, rather unimpressed.

The story had the air of a A Separate Peace, The Chocolate War and Dead Poet's Society. The book is not only set in a boarding school, but all the standard conflicts are present. The rich kids maintaining the status quo always antagonize the purer, deeper outcasts whose revolutionary thinking makes them the protagonists. Likewise, this boarding school novel features pilfered cigarettes, alcohol, and an annoying preoccupation with challenging the seemingly inept authority figures. (Maybe I feel this way because I'm a teacher and I don't like those who challenge my authority.) As in other stories, the boarding school is a pressure cooker of external and internal conflicts that drive one particular student to suicide. The main characters grapple with this death in their own ways and ultimately seek answers to the great existential questions facing humanity.

Looking for Alaska is, at its core, a novel of teenage angst. The four main characters are intelligent, yet underprivileged outcasts. Their otherness gives them a keen disdain for the wealthier boarders who retreat to their luxury homes at the end of classes each Friday. Their social group really centers around Alaska, a rebellious, moody, and promiscuous femme fatale who seems to exude an aura of "mystery" - at least according to the hopelessly enamored boy narrating the story. Though Alaska and I share a lot of the same thoughts on male dominance and a similar abhorrence for patriarchy, that's about where the similarities end. To me, Alaska seems like an overly emotional attention-whore who is obsessed with with breaking the rules simply for the sake of breaking the rules. There is really nothing mysterious or alluring about her.

In addition to being underwhelmed by the title character, I also felt like too much of the so-called plot simply centered around their ridiculous pranks and flagrant violation of rules. The conflicts that arose were all conflicts the teens themselves created through their own stupidity or narcissism. Though the characters' drunken rants were peppered with all sorts of philosophical quandaries and a somewhat odd preoccupation with famous last words, I didn't find any of it particularly pithy. Essentially, these kids needed to grow up and stop taking themselves so seriously. (That was not one of the conclusions reached by the end of the book, if indeed conclusions were reached.) In short, I felt that by writing a book about people who take themselves too seriously, John Green gave those types of people the time of day that they didn't deserve.

"Eleanor and Park" by Rainbow Rowell

You know you've hit on a good book when you go through mourning once it's over. That's precisely where I am right now. Eleanor and Park didn't end. It just stopped. The story is going on somewhere and I'm not there. And I miss them. I want to turn the page, but there is no page to turn. Yes, it's a little pathetic when you're invested so totally in a book that the characters have become so real to you, that once they're ripped out of your life you walk around feeling depressed and alone. Maybe there is something pathologically wrong with me. Maybe I need more human friends. 

Eleanor and Park is set in Omaha, Nebraska in the 1980s. I'm not sure exactly why the author chose this decade, but I have a feeling that she's is fictionalizing some of her own life. Either way, it is a story of teenage puppy love in the old days - the days of walkmans, cassette tapes, landline phones, and a host of other things I only vaguely remember. The story's narration alternates between Eleanor and Park. Thus, the reader got a sense of how each character felt about the other, and how disillusioned they were about their own shortcomings. 

The story is so peppered with sappy love scenes that I almost feel guilty about becoming so attached to it. Yet, what drew me in was not the romance, so much as the fact that it was a romance between two smart, dorky, somewhat naive, and very self-conscious kids. It also spoke a lot about attraction and it challenged our culture's stereotype of beauty. It gave me faith in humanity and it reaffirmed my belief that there really are good guys out there (besides my husband of course), guys who aren't attracted to Barbie dolls. 

The story opens with Eleanor getting on the bus. She's the new girl. She has big red hair, a stocky build, and atrocious clothing. She looks like a loser in every sense of the word. Nobody wants to offer her a seat, but when the bus driver yells at her, a grouchy Asian kid reluctantly moves over and lets her sit down. Before they even get to school the kids in the back of the bus have invented a litany of unflattering nicknames for her. It doesn't get much better during the school day. She's smart, so she does well in her classes and gains respect and sympathy from her teachers, but she doesn't exactly make any friends among her peers. It's gym class that turns out to be the bane of her high school existence. The school bus bullies are in her gym class and they make her life a living hell. To make matters worse, she's forced to wear a revealing and too-tight gym suit that does nothing to flatter her full figure. Eleanor is miserable. She is the butt of all the jokes and she just wishes she could be invisible. 

If school is bad, home is worse. The only time she can breathe easily is when her step-dad Richie is away at work or drinking his earnings at the local bar. She learns how to avoid him as much as possible; she also learns to sleep through the fights and the beatings going on in the next room. She tries, as best as a big redheaded teenager possibly can, to make herself invisible. 

As you can imagine, Eleanor is very insecure, very reluctant to trust, very slow to let anyone in. Thus, the relationship between her and her seatmate develops slowly. The grouchy Asian kid, Park, actually feels bad for treating her so rudely on the first day, yet not bad enough to talk to her. He's in several of her honors classes, and he watches her closely. He begins to see that she is truly unique. Their relationship begins as they read comics together. At first, she surreptitiously reads over Park's shoulder, but he soon catches on. He lets her borrow some. Then he shares his music with her. It is not long before she's coming over to his house, meeting his family, and officially recognized as "Park's girlfriend." 

Over the next few months their relationship grows from simple camaraderie to being "in love," to tentatively experimenting with physicality, and in the process dealing with their own insecurities. Eleanor thinks she fat. The bullies make fun of her for it and her step-dad makes rude comments about her appearance, but somehow Park sees none of this. He thinks her unruly hair and mismatched clothing makes her like "like art." Park however, thinks he's too effeminate, he believes that Asian men are not attractive to white girls. Both of them view themselves through the lens of what the cruelest voices in society have been telling them, yet both Eleanor and Park see the other as beautiful. Here's the best quote, this is the part where I absolutely came to adore Park: 

“I miss you, Eleanor. I want to be with you all the time. You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, and the funniest, and everything you do surprises me. And I wish I could say that those are the reasons I like you, because that would make me sound like a really evolved human being …‘But I think it’s got as much to do with your hair being red and your hands being soft … and the fact that you smell like homemade birthday cake” 

I love that these two off-beat kids are in love. I liked that the skinny, semi-emo Asian kid has the hots for a fat, sarcastic, redhead. They are an unconventional couple and that's why I appreciate them, which is also why I was so fond of this book. Eleanor's dysfunctional family added drama and a bit of suspense, and in the end led Park to make a very hard decision. I can't say I was always impressed with Eleanor's choices, but she was wholeheartedly endearing. I understood her and empathized with her. 

This book has made it onto many bestseller lists, including NPR's "Best Books of 2013" (my #1 source for reading material). Dreamworks is making Eleanor and Park into a movie because, as Holly Bario, president of production, told Entertainment Magazine, 

“Every girl who has read it says, ‘That was me in high school, or that was me in 7th grade...It reminded all of us of our own sort of awkwardness, or family dysfunction.”

When I read that quote I was incensed. That was ME in high school. It wasn't "every other girl;" every other girl was skinnier, prettier (or so I believed), and getting picked before me in gym class. I was always the last kid standing when other students chose teams, always the one without a partner, always the kid who got picked on or yelled at (or both) for doing the wrong thing with the ball.  In fact, this book revived bullying memories as far back as kindergarten. I remember getting on the bus and finding there were no seats. I remember the "big kids" picking on me, and I remember standing in the aisle during the bus ride to school (fortunately I lived close, so it was quick). But gym class was truly the worst. For thirteen years I spent at least three hours a week feeling like the most worthless person in the world. 

I'm thankful these experiences generally ended by 3:15. Unlike Eleanor, I don't know much about family dysfunction. I'm only an expert on social awkwardness. As a teacher, I totally gravitate toward the kids like Eleanor and Park. The clubs I sponsor all tend to attract the nerds. They are my people. I suppose the jocks  all feel a little bit insecure too. But to say that Eleanor represents every girl really denigrates the experience of those of us who were legitimately bullied, who were legitimately overweight...and are legitimately redheaded.  And no, I don't identify or empathize with Eleanor in every aspect.  I had absolutely no family dysfunction, but those who did have a valid claim on her too.  But please, Holly Bario, don't say that Eleanor represents every high school girl. She does not. Rainbow Rowell did not write this book to mirror the experiences of the popular kids. She wrote it for the outliers. 

When Dreamworks makes this movie, I sure hope they don't cast Eleanor as some average-sized girl. I do hope that the actress is noticeably overweight and yet still beautiful (also, she must be a redhead, a real redhead). First, I don't want an average-sized actress because all too often these regular girls (like Mindy Kaling) go around calling themselves fat. I guess, compared to most Hollywood actresses they are larger, but Mindy is a size 8. A size 8 is a perfectly reasonable size, and one that many of us average women work very hard to fit into. By branding themselves as "fat" these actresses belittle those of us who are healthy, fit, and moderately curvy. Secondly, I hope Eleanor is overweight because I want beauty to be represented on-screen in all its forms. There are many beautiful people who are larger than a size 8. I'm not trying to promote an unhealthy lifestyle, but I believe we need to re-brand attractiveness.  "Beauty" is not synonymous with "skinny." It is also not the only route to attraction. Oftentimes, one's intellect, humor, and personality makes them beautiful in the eyes of another, even if society doesn't see that. This is something that has taken me years to just begin to accept. It is a concept that Eleanor could not grasp, even as the book came to a close. However, I firmly believe that girls like Eleanor - and girls like me - need to see themselves as Park sees Eleanor. They need to see themselves as "art." 

"Lost in a River of Grass" by Ginny Rorby

There are only a few places in the world where I do not want to travel. The Everglades is one. (The Amazon and Clyde Peelings Reptile Land are others) Even reading a book about the Everglades was a bit of a stretch for me. The reason? I'm utterly terrified of snakes.

Or course, so was Sarah at the beginning of the book. As the book opens, fourteen year-old Sarah had just begun attending the Glades Academy, a private school where she'd been accepted on a swimming scholarship. However, she quickly realizes that she is the girl from the "other side of the tracks." When she finds herself miserably traipsing through the Everglades on a weekend field trip, it doesn't take much convincing for her to ditch her classmates and join a nice local boy named Andy on a rather sketchy airboat ride. He promises her they'll be back before lunch.

Well, if they had returned before lunch, there would not have been much to write about.  The sketchy airboat sinks in a very remote part of the Everglades. Sarah and Andy realize that they have to trudge back to civilization on their own, sharing a can of Spam and a bottle of Gatorade between them. However, to provide a bit of comic relief throughout the ordeal, the author causes the two teens to cross paths with an orphaned baby duck. This of course spurs a bit of tension between the two. Andy who wants to abandon the duck and let nature take its course, has no hope of prevailing against a determined Sarah who quickly adopts the duck and names her Teapot.

I have read survival books in the past, but this is the first one that I truly believe might give me nightmares. There were a lot of mosquitoes, alligators, and of course, SNAKES! Every shape, size, and color of snake was represented in this book. (At least it seemed that way to me.) There was even a particularly disturbing scene where a Burmese python consumed an alligator. If this is ever made into a movie I will not be able to watch it.

Now I don't want you to think that I hated the book or regretted reading it. Despite my terror, I felt like Rorby conveyed a valuable message to those of us who struggle with our own internal phobias and insecurities. Throughout the story Sarah's fear of nature slowly turns into respect and admiration. The two teens realize that they need to learn from one another. They begin to eschew personal pride in favor of mutual dependence. As Sarah overcomes her fear of snakes, and of nature in general, she develops into a confident and strong young lady.  No longer does she need to seek out the constant approval of classmates. Sarah realizes that the obstacles in her life have indeed made her unique - but she is proud of accomplishments, and she has learned to appreciate her own distinctiveness.

That being said, I'm happy to let my experience with the Everglades end there. I'm resigned to the fact that I'll always be afraid of snakes. Getting over a phobia often means being exposed to it. I'm quite content to keep my phobia and stay away from all snake habitats.

"Awaken" by Katie Kacvinsky

Now here is a futuristic dystopian society that I actually like. Kacvinsky's Awaken probably does not have its intended effect on those of us who are homebodies. Kacvinsky creates a society in which fear and technology have evolved to form a world where people rarely leave the house. All shopping is done online, and "going to the movies" with a friend means that both individuals are watching in the same movie, at the same time, in separate places. Coffee houses are virtually nonexistent. Having coffee with a friend means making coffee at home and chatting together online. I've got to admit, none of this sounds all that bad to me. Granted, I'd much rather go running outside than have a simulator creating a virtual beach around my treadmill - but then again - that would be a very cool treadmill.  Other than the fake trees and faux grass, I'm pretty much completely on board with this dystopian society!

This is the story of a teenage girl named Maddie, whose father is the wealthy head of the virtual schooling program that has been mandated nationwide. Parents, afraid of the growing violence in society, have chosen to sequester their children at home. All socialization occurs virtually, away from the threat of school shooters, drug dealers, and rapists. In the confines of their homes, students build multiple online profiles. They form relationships on various levels, carefully maintain their chosen personas, and never, ever get a scratch or a scar.

Maddie tried, and failed, to fight against her cloistered existence years ago. Despite her hacking prowess, she was not able to escape her father's clutches and the omniscience of computers. Maddie's first attempts to take down Digital School were found out, and rather than getting sent to a reeducation facility, Maddie was put on a sort of internet probation. Certain sites are blocked and her activities are closely monitored - at least those that are online.

But when Maddie ventures out from the online realm she's able to live for the first time. She meets - and falls in love with - the leader of an organization seeking to take down Digital School and stop the technological brainwashing. For the first time she makes real, face-to-face friendships. Society has become so dependent on monitoring what people do online that it doesn't know how to handle plots that are devised offline. These social misfits meet in underground coffeehouses and dance clubs.  They eschew the belief that technology can improve our lives. Sure, it keeps us safe, but at what cost? When Maddie's new round of rebellious behavior is found out, she is once again in danger of being sent to a reeducation facility. But the world has become so dependent on technology that when she ventures off the grid she cannot be tracked. She is indeed awakened. She is awakened to the camaraderie of friends, to the salty sea air of a real beach, to the blazing warmth of a bonfire. She receives her first scars - both physical and emotional. She gets her first broken heart - and her first mended one. She finds that real life begins when we switch off the devices and actually choose to look at one another.

Despite my earlier comments about being a homebody, I do understand what this author is trying to communicate. I enjoy that technology allows me to shop from home, keep up with dear friends miles away, and get information instantaneously. However, for many of us, it can be a crutch used to replace meaningful interaction. Technology is a way for us to mask our insecurities and to create a persona who is - at least in part- a fictional one. And technology responds in kind. Amazon knows what I like, Facebook knows what's on my mind, and Google always reads my email. It's safe to say that my internet browser knows me better than many of my friends do.

I think in realizing my initial positive response to this futuristic society, I've realized a flaw in my own character. Where other fictional dystopias  have repulsed and scared me, I find myself hunkered down in the midst of a snowy winter, wishing I lived in Katie Kacvinsky's world. In the warmer months I do enjoy being outside - taking my dog for long walks, picking berries at our local CSA, and running miles in the early mornings. But even these things are generally solitary activities for me. I rarely socialize outside of work. Of course, I'm not always running to technology. Oftentimes I'd just prefer to be home with a book. I'm more comfortable with fictional companions that real ones. I'm never disappointed when plans are cancelled or when the weather gets in the way of a social gathering. I go to parties rather begrudgingly. While reading this book, a snowstorm enabled me to stay sequestered in my house for five days straight. Not once in that block of time did I crave human outside contact. I was quite content with my husband and my dog. I don't know if it's safety that keeps me at home as much as comfort. I really like my house and I have everything I need here.

I'll never stop being an introvert, and I don't think Kacvinsky's book is really intending to make us all extroverts. But it is cause for reflection. Technology allows my introversion to thrive - to an unhealthy level. I believe it can be detrimental for extroverts too. Extroverts seem to get a whole lot more text messages than I do, (I get 2-3 a week and usually from my mom) but they also seem to to be juggling several conversations at once, and trying to keep up their personas in each one. So, rather you are an extrovert or an introvert, a homebody or a partygoer, I think this book does give us reason to pause. To think. To perhaps intentionally change our relationship with the Internet - or at least to be conscious of how it's changing us.

"The Fault in Our Stars" by John Green

I'll be honest, I wasn't sure how this book was going to go. I mean, John Green writing about kids with cancer??? John Green, by his very nature, is supposed to make me laugh, not cry! (If you have not been exposed to the brilliance that is John Green, please stop reading this immediately, go to Youtube and type in his name. Indulge yourself for no less than 30 minutes before coming back to this post.) So I picked up the book with some trepidation, and though I'm not generally a gambler I decided to give it a go and take a risk with the next few hours of my life.

Before long, I found myself pleasantly surprised with how such an utterly depressing plot could still be so "John Greenesque." Basically, The Fault in Our Stars is the story of two kids with cancer who fall in love. I know, sounds rather cliche and sappy doesn't it? But the beauty of the story is that it is not. The main characters are these brilliantly precocious teens named Hazel Grace Lancaster and Augustus Waters. They are intelligent, sarcastic, witty, and unique among teenagers in their penchant to not take themselves too seriously. This attitude is in part due to a book they've read entitled an An Imperial Affliction written by an author who is, to quote Hazel and Augustus, quite a bit of a "douchebag." Their love for this book and for one another catapults them into a rather intense existential crisis that takes them all the way to Holland and back. In the process, they deal with the prospects of their own deaths and the fact that separation will come sooner that they would like. Somehow, in the midst of this ridiculously sad book about kids with cancer you find yourself actually laughing. It's not like a "haha, cancer is fun" kind of laughter, but more of a dark humor that pervades the story through the incredibly well-developed characterization of Hazel and Augustus. As a high school teacher, I must admit that I find the main characters a little hard to believe. I mean, my kids are funny every so often, but never as eloquently sardonic as these two! Clearly, John Green is behind this. But then again, it's not totally unbelievable. I suppose if you were a fairly intelligent teenager who'd been staring death in the face for the last five years you'd have to develop a satirical sense of humor as well. 

So in short, this is not a Jodi Piccoult or a Nicolas Sparks kind of book. And it won't be a Lifetime movie. It is truly John Greenian. It makes you laugh, but it'll also make you think. It is not about two perfect, sweet cancer kids fighting courageously in the face of death. There are moments of smashing basketball trophies, taking advantage of "cancer perks,"  fighting with parents, and crying tears of frustration and hopelessness. They make fun of Disneyworld, other kids with cancer, their nurses, and their depression counselor. There is some egging of cars, a whole lot of eye rolling, and even a bit of "scoodlypooping" as John Green is apt to say. Essentially it's a book about  kids who realize that they've lost the lottery. Cancer is not the problem. Dying is the problem. They are just a "side effect." In a world infected by Death, cancer is just one of the many side effects. 

For a young adult novel, I found this book pleasantly challenging and delightfully philosophical. At some points I had to reread certain conversations just to fully process the weight of their thoughts: What is our purpose here? Are we here to change the universe, or just to observe and leave it undisturbed? Does our existence make the world a better place, or does it just produce scars when we die? And are those scars worth it? Are the scars of loss worth the joy that preceded it? 

These are all questions that are not easily answerable and certainly cannot be fully dissected in a 300 page young adult novel. I didn't really come away with any new understandings about life or existence, but I did come away with a deeper appreciation for the art of humor. Some use humor is used rather unartistically and for no purpose but to disgust and entertain (i.e. Daniel Tosh). That is cheap humor. Others, like John Green, Stephan Colbert, and John Oliver, know how to use humor appropriately and intellectually. That is a talent and an art that I can truly admire. 

"Dirty Little Secrets" by CJ Omolulu

So I have this weird fascination with hoarders. I really don't understand it; I've watched those shows on a few occasions and I am just so enthralled by them. Maybe it's because my psychological disorders tend to shift in the other direction (my husband will attest to this as he often comes home to find much of his stuff "missing" when it's actually just been put away) or maybe it's just because hoarder shows appeal to that natural human penchant of self-righteousness. We watch them because we feel better about ourselves in the end. I don't know what it is, but Dirty Little Secrets drew me into the story of Lucy, a girl trying to hide her mother's hoarding tendencies by remaining aloof and secretive with those closest to her.

This is the story of a teen girl who lives a normal life on the outside, but never lets anyone on the inside - both literally and figuratively. The last time a repair man was at the house he refused to do the work because he could not get through the piles of stuff. As a result, Lucy and her mother live without hot water and with no working kitchen appliances. Lucy routinely showers at the local gym and spends as much time as she possibly can at her best friend's house.

As far as teen books go, this was filled with your typical plot points - boys, friends, school, etc. However, the hoarding element was something new. Lucy hates her mother's lifestyle and is pained by her mother's deteriorating health, which is exacerbated by the conditions in the home. Lucy tries desperately to clean up the house at times, but to no avail. Her mother won't stand for it; everything in the home is a "treasure." When Lucy finally makes a best friend and begins to make some progress with a boy she likes, you, the reader desperately hopes that she will come clean (pun fully intended). All you want is for Lucy to tell someone, to give her friends a little credit and trust them to stick with her despite the mess.

While I will not reveal the ending of the book, I will tell you that it left me extremely dissatisfied. Thankfully, a student informed me that there was on additional chapter on the author's website. This did help to bring the sense of closure that I needed; although in truth, I must wonder, is there ever total closure when one's childhood is shaped by a hoarding parent?

Ok, now I need to go vacuum something.