Book #72: "Close to Famous"

When I lived in Utah, I had two friends who were both named Mike, whose last names also started with the same letter, who were assigned to be roommates when they came to college. Mike #1 once told me this story about meeting Mike #2:

"So he came into the room, and we introduced ourselves the way you do: last names, hometowns, majors. When he found out I was an English major, he said, 'English, huh? Like...books and stuff?' I said yes. He said, 'So...do you think maybe sometime you could read to me?' I said, '...sure?' Then he said, 'I never learned to read.' Which he didn't tell me was a joke until several hours later."

It is much funnier if you know the two Mikes, and it is even funnier than that if you hear Mike #1 tell it. But I tell it here because, as I said in the beginning, I think I was born knowing how to read. I have absolutely no recollection of a time before I knew how to do that, and thus no frame of reference for someone who struggles with it.

But something I do understand is loving to cook, and also wanting to succeed at something you are not very good at. (And also pretending I am on TV, though usually I am giving my Oscar acceptance speech, not hosting my own cooking show. What? Like you've never practiced that.) And for that reason I love this character and this book.

Author: Joan Bauer

Potentially objectionable content: An abusive Elvis impersonator.

Book #71: "Backwater"

Confession: I have never been especially interested in genealogy. (I know, I know. I'm a disappointment to my people.) But honestly, the way most people go at it, it's all about the names and dates and it's not like I don't understand the point, it's just that it's so...dry. Bereft of intrigue. Boring, even.

But for Ivy Breedlove, genealogy is all about the people and their stories. And given that a fairly large percentage of my sentences start with some variation of "Boy, do I have a story for you!"...well, I may be a convert to the cause.

Author: Joan Bauer

Potentially objectionable content: Not...really? There's a bit of mildly harrowing action toward the end/

Book #70: "Almost Home"

This weekend I made a new friend, which is something I don't do easily. I used to think of myself as shy. As an adult, I've come to realize that word isn't accurate but is certainly more succinct than the actual issue, which is twofold: 1) I am a solitary person by nature and 2) I am somewhat socially awkward. So things like parties and dances are not my favorite unless I know enough people (a somewhat fluid concept, but probably defined as "between two and ten, depending on the size of the crowd.")

This was compounded, growing up, by the unshakable conviction that everyone merely tolerated my presence. Junior high was the worst-by high school, I had developed some coping mechanisms and a supportive group of friends; in my twenties, I gradually discovered that there was nothing wrong with preferring solitude, that the majority of people actually found me delightful, but (and most importantly), it didn't matter what other people thought of me. (That was a major breakthrough in my life. Major breakthroughs get bold fonts.)

So while I certainly have friends, I don't really feel the need to look for others. Sometimes, as John Lennon taught us, the universe has other plans for us. And occasionally those plans manifest themselves as a friend of a friend of a friend needing a place to stay for the weekend. And given my proclivities, my preferred method of entertaining visitors is to show them the books.

I am always hoping for shock and awe when I do this, and boy, did she deliver! Not only was she suitably impressed, but she wanted to talk about how I acquired them, and my method for organizing them, and which ones were my favorites. I found that when discussing my favorites, I tend to talk about authors more than specific titles. And in any list of my favorite authors, Joan Bauer would have to be near the top.

Bauer basically has two audiences for her books: the majority are teen, but in the last several years she has written a few for what bookstores would call young readers, approximately eight to eleven years old. And interestingly, those books tend to have much more intense subject matter than the teen novels. This is probably my favorite of the young reader group, though occasionally heartrending.

Author: Joan Bauer

Potentially objectionable content: Some elements could be difficult for precociously skilled but not emotionally mature readers.