From the Vault: Crushing

This is the best book promo I've seen in a while. It's for Allison Pearson's novel, I THINK I LOVE YOU, a story of the power of first crushes.

So...try to think back to the thirteen year old you. Who was your first big crush? Here's mine:

Oh yeah, I was hungry like the wolf...

Spill! Who did you have hanging up in your locker?

From the Vault

My husband and I had kind of a schizophrenic honeymoon: we (and by we, I mean our entire wedding party) went to Vegas for him, and San Fransisco (just the two of us) for me, so I could visit City Lights Bookstore (side note: I think this why we've been happily married for 13 years. IMHO, it's more important to find someone who respects your interests than someone who shares them.)

Visiting City Lights was a religious experience. And I don't mean that in a funny or ironic way. I'm not even sure how long I was there. Hours? Days? I do know the hub, after watching me wander the shelves in a semi-hypnotic state, retired to Vesuvio, the bar next door, where he sat on a barstool that could have once held Bukowski's butt, or even Kerouac's. After I sucked up as much of the atmosphere as possible in City Lights, I joined him...

...and capped one of the greatest days of my life by drinking Campari and soda, my newly purchased copy of HOWL on the bar next to me, my new husband on the other side.

It wasn't, however, my first copy of HOWL. I scored that one in the 80s. 50 cents at the Salvation Army. I devoured it, let the words invade my soul (c'mon, I was fifteen) just as I had with ON THE ROAD, a book that's had more influence on me than any other.

Shortly after reading it for the first time, I found out HOWL was the focus of a famous obscenity trial. Lawrence Ferlinghetti, owner of City Lights Bookstore, found himself on trial for daring to offer HOWL to his customers. If the prosecution had won the case, it would have been against the law for anyone to sell Ginsberg's masterpiece.

So what was it about HOWL that could damage my fifteen year old brain? Some sex, particularly references to homosexuality. Some drug references. Um...nothing I hadn't read about already.

What damage could have been done to my person had I not been allowed to read HOWL?

After finding out about the trial, I researched the political climate of the 1950s, independently and in far greater detail than the watered down Joe McCarthy lecture given by my high school poli sci teacher. I studied the House Un-American Activities Committee AND the American Civil Liberties Union (It supported Ferlinghetti.). I read. I learned. About history and art and human nature. This is what we want of our kids, is it not? Knowledge gained by the very desire to learn. To know.

I now teach a 20th Century survey course. We spend significant time on the Beats. I lecture on Ginsberg and Kerouac and Ferlinghetti and Snyder. I'm able to give my students a clear understanding of the time period because I understand it so well. And these kids, who are too young to identify the members of New Kids on the Block, well, they LOVE it.


And to think the book I owe so much to might have been kept from me...well, honestly, that makes me a little sick.

For more info on the HOWL trial, read the fantastic HOWL ON TRIAL: THE BATTLE FOR FREE EXPRESSION. Also, currently in theaters AND on cable (if you have On-Demand viewing) is a cinematic version of the Ginsberg/Ferlinghetti obscenity trial, starring (swoon) James Franco and (double-swoon) Jon Hamm. You can watch the trailer here.

From the Vault: Moms and Dads

I've seen a lot of discussion lately about the depiction of parents in YA literature. Most of the opinions I've read are basically complaints: the moms and dads we see (when they're not conveniently dead) are cartoonishly self-centered, and often absent until they're needed to help the plot along by providing a ridiculous obstacle.

The arguments against this either find examples of richly drawn parental figures (Hello, Zarr, Dessen, and Caletti!) or explain that in a YA novel we're seeing the world through a teen's eyes, which would, at the very least, keep the focus on the teenager, not the concerns of her parents.

As a YA writer, I've been giving a lot of thought to this issue. How do I present realistic parents without taking anything away from my teen protags?

I'm a reader, and I usually to search out my answers through reading, but I think a lot of my ideas regarding character development came from television. In the 70s and 80s YA pickings were slim in the library, but television was full of stories about young people AND their parents. I can think of five off the top of my head that focused on teen concerns without skimping on adult character development. And though my examples come from TVland where the characters had at least an entire season to develop, I think if you separated out one episode, you'd still see a rich and realistic depictions of parent-teen relationships. Here goes:

1. Family Ties: Ex-hippies Elyse and Steven Keaton deal with raising (gasp) an uptight Republican son and two daughters, a tween and a teen. The show never falls into the traps you'd think--it's not preachy or dogmatic, but instead richly explores issues still important to teens: sex and pregnancy, drugs, body image, and identity crisis.

2. Good Times: The Evans kids, J.J., Thelma, and Michael, try to manage growing up amidst the violence and economic instability of the Cabrini-Green housing projects. Their parents weren't consistently around, but their presence was always felt.

3. Little House on the Prairie: Half-pint's relationship with her Pa was the heart of this series.

4. Eight is Enough: Seven of the eight were teenagers. The focus was the kids' shenanigans, but Mr. Bradford always seemed like a real--if kind of harried--dad, and Abby, the stepmom, is hardly evil and earns her PhD over the course of the show. Seriously!

5. My So-Called Life...is from the 90s, but is the freaking gold standard for creating richly drawn adult characters in a teen driven series.



I missed a ton, I know. Care to add any to the list?

From the Vault: Netflix Extravaganza

I'm obsessed with coming-of-age stories. I write them, watch them, teach them. The 1950s offered the best literary coming of age; the 1960s gave us music to reflect that time in our lives. What the 1970s lacked in literary and musical offerings it made up for in cinema. Probably as a reaction to the 60s youth movement, there are a ton of great 70s movies about growing up. Here are some of my favorites:

1. Butterflies are Free (1972) An overprotected blind man moves into his first apartment and makes friends with his giggly, half-dressed hippie neighbor. Guess which role Goldie Hawn plays?

2. Next Stop, Greenwich Village (1976) Paul Mazursky's autobiographical film about a young man finding himself among the artsy, bohemian denizens of Greenwich Village. It's set in the 1950s, but is definitely informed by 70s cynicism.

3. Friends (1971) I've seen this described as Romeo and Juliet meet The Blue Lagoon, but it's so much more than that. Two teens falling into a childish love that has adult consequences.

4. Harold and Maude (1971): If you haven't already seen this there is something very wrong with you.

5. Carrie (1976): Greatest horror movie ever about female adolescence.

So, do you guys have any to add from the 80s? 90s? 00s?

From the Vault

My husband is going to see the poor man's Dead this weekend, otherwise known as Phish. Feel free to make fun of him in the comment box, as I haven't done nearly enough teasing the past few days.

I was a deadhead in college. Not totally. I mean, I still went to college, and pretty much stayed in one place, but I never cut my hair and wore too much tie-dye and stacked those colorful woven bracelets on my arms. I hung out in the parking lots before and after all the Chicago area shows, thankfully (miraculously) staying out of major trouble. I was at Jerry Garcia's final show in `95, and that was...it. I still listen to the music when I'm stressed, but that phase of my life was definitely for a younger me.

I started going to the shows in high school, when it had only been 20 years since Woodstock. I often wonder how those experiences shaped my teenage life. My parents were mega-strict, and hanging out with people whose goals for the day were making baba ghanoush and God's eyes felt pretty good. I didn't think about the future much, and, besides my super low paying job at a local bakery, my responsibilities were nil. I had the time to explore and think and daydream and yes, experiment.

The teens I know today would think I wasted my time. They get up at 5 am and head to football practice or yoga or band. They stay after school to squeeze in a weightlifting session or to tutor a struggling student. They come home and stay up until midnight completing their own homework. Weekends are spent playing organized sports, hanging out with their families, or attending an aggressively chaperoned school dance. Sometimes I feel like they are more mature than I am. I know they have better discipline.

What does this mean when it comes to writing about about these young adults? I haven't figured it out yet. I'm definitely mindful as I build my characters. This is definitely a more responsible generation, do you agree?

From the Vault

I'm totally living vicariously through Kody Keplinger, who recently blogged about her plans to spend the summer living and working in NYC. She'll be working hard, but I've already romanticized her experience, probably because I spent my summer after freshman year earning minimum wage in a dusty old film library in rural Illinois, lonely, poor, and BORED.

I wanted to be a writer, but didn't know how to go about actually becoming one. The whole "butt-in-seat" concept was a little beyond me, so instead of writing I decided to do some reading. Our university's library reflected its strong drama department and housed rows and rows of plays. My plan was this: I'd choose a letter of the alphabet and read every playwright in it. I wanted to learn to write good dialogue, and figured this was the best way.

I randomly selected the letter S. Perfect, I thought. Shakespeare, Strindberg...uh...Simon. Yeah, I started my great reading experience with Simon, Neil. I read 15 of his plays that summer, and never got to Macbeth or Miss Julie.

From those plays, not-so-funny me learned how to be funny on the page. I learned rhythm. I learned timing. I learned so much about language and how to make words do what you want them to. It was an education, and Neil Simon taught me more than any professor in my subsequent creative writing courses.

I loved every play that man wrote, but I did have my favorites. They were:

1. Barefoot in the Park (Recently on Broadway starring Amanda Peet.)

2. The Odd Couple

3. Simon's autobiographical trilogy: Brighton Beach Memoirs, Biloxi Blues, Lost in Yonkers

Check out your local theater--chances are you'll find one of Neil Simon's plays being produced. Or add the film versions to your netflix queue. Not only are Robert Redford and Jane Fonda hilarious in Barefoot in the Park, but the fashions are to die for! Enjoy!

From the Vault

Most of us know Buddy Holly from that Weezer song (Oooh-weee-Oooh, I look just like Buddy Holly...) or as the inspiration for The Day the Music Died, the end-of-the-night song college bars played when they wanted us to get the hell out. My mom works for a store that sells costumes at Halloween and Buddy Holly glasses are filed under "nerdwear." Here's a shot of Buddy without his glasses:

This doesn't scream nerdy to me. And neither does his music. Listen to some. It's sexy and modern and lyrically perfect. Try Well...All Right, an ode to the dawning confidence of the young. Or the tale of a woman who can't walk away (or the man whose ego can't imagine she will), That'll Be the Day . How about listening to a snippet of Maybe, Baby--hear something familiar? According to Paul McCartney, Holly was the primary influence on the Beatles during the early years. In fact, besides being a play on words (beat-less), "The Beatles" was a slightly amended version of "The Crickets," the name of Buddy Holly's band. Click here to watch Paul sing his version of Peggy Sue. Now tell me Holly's music isn't sexy.

Buddy Holly died in a plane crash in 1959 at twenty-freaking-two. Yep, 22. Just six months before his death, he fell in love with a record company receptionist. Buddy proposed to Maria Elena the day they met, married her two months later, and composed this song to celebrate, recorded in her presence. Enjoy.

From the Vault

(OK, in an effort to give this blog a little rhythm and consistency, I've decided every Tuesday will be a "From the Vault" day, that is, a short essay on a movie, book, song, etc., from the past that has continuing influence. Some of the stuff will be pretty old, as in, before most of us found our way to this planet.)




I learned yesterday that Lynn Redgrave* died. She wasn't as famous as some of the other people in her family, or as outspoken, but Lynn's work was wonderful, particularly in Georgy Girl (1966).





Plain, sloppily dressed Georgy is what my mom would rather impolitely refer to as big-boned. She lives in a flat in swinging London, which actually is still working class drab, though you do kind of expect John, Paul, George, and Ringo to careen around a corner with a pack of girls in hot pursuit. Her roommate is the stylish Meredith, who happens to be pregnant by her boyfriend, Jos.

Georgy is the perpetual third wheel who suddenly gets the boy, then finds she really doesn't need the boy, thank you very much. And whether you read this as early feminism or Georgy's inability to form a relationship, it's interesting, and mildly shocking, and definitely stays with you.


Check out this trailer for the movie to get a feel for what Georgy is all about.


I love that there are book clubs popping up all over, but I think movie clubs are just as fun. Georgy Girl is one of those films you could talk to your girlfriends about for hours. Check it out!






*Lynn lost her job on the television series House Calls because, a breast-feeding mom at the time, she was fired when she brought her child to the set. Lynn sued and lost, but this makes her instantly cool in my book.