Things Left Unsaid by Stephanie Hemphill

When I finished this book, I was sitting on the steps at a park. After closing the book, I simply sat. I feared getting up, scared that my motion would somehow cement the fact that it was over.

Sarah snuck up on me, and I wasn't prepared for her character to mark me with such an impact. Drawn into the starkness of her story, I was wrapped up in this 16 year-olds' story for one reason...

This is the story of Sarah.

The story of a "normal" 16-year-old girl.

A story of change.

A story of acceptance.

A story of struggle.

A story of friendship.

An everyman story, if you will.

It sounds so trite. The story is ordinary, really. It couldn't be more cliche, actually-these complexities mired in simplicity. Or is it the other way around? Are our pedestrian everyday interactions so easy that we forget how profound they can be?

This book didn't grab me from the outset, but it crept up on me in the quickest of ways. Seemingly an angsty young adult book (told in verse, which adds to the effect), I stopped dead at page 47, as I realized the obvious. This story is much bigger than that of a high school girl navigating the pitfalls and victories of figuring out one's self.

Frighteningly familiar, these exchanges are seen with an unfortunate regularity- along with those moments of relief veiled in effrontery. Weather it's my 4th grade students in the hallways, the senior girls I mentor confessing over lunch, or my own friends casually assaulting one another in a joking manner, females are given (and give in) to this tension.

This book made me both think critically and feel intensely. That's all I hope for when I pick up a book. Given that it was my first official read of the "summer," it set the bar high, and still may qualify as my favorite of the season.

The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo by Stieg Larsson

Let's be honest: I don't usually read thrillers. There are really only 2 reasons that I ever do: Michelle Hall recommends it, or it's lying around one of my families' houses and I need to be completely escapist, not thinking about anything (even the book i'm reading). It is rare that I admire an author who writes purely mystery. Much like musical theatre, it's an art form that I can appreciate, but I certainly don't admire. Purely entertainment. (Maggie, if you're reading this: YES, I know how pompous that sounds.)

Essentially, this book didn't stand a chance from the beginning. Skeptical would be an understatement. It was "highly regarded" and received mainstream media attention. I was perplexed by the fact that NPR reviewed it favorably. That didn't sit with my initial judgements. I bought it, it sat for a long time. Then an old Chicago friend prompted that "it's worth it" and that the first 200 pages are the backstory that you need to get to the meat of the series. [INSERT RANT HERE. oh, okay...i will actually insert it. dag blain if i shouldn't have trusted my gut on this. since when can i justify reading for more than 15 minutes if it's inane blather? poorly written at that. geezalou does that get my goat. if the second book is so spectacular, then why isn't the first? and do i really have to read it? anger.]

I will admit that there was a point when I was hooked. Excited, even, to read the last 150 pages into the wee hours of the morning. That lasted for approximately 20 pages. Then it turned to shite again. Upon finishing it, I was not satisfied and my opinion has not changed. Mostly I want to make fun of the ridiculous translation and the notion that, apparently, if your novel is published posthumously you don't get an editor. At least not one worth a paycheck.

"What she had realised was that love was that moment when your heart was about to burst." -p 584 (That's so deep and well spoken, it makes The DaVinci Code seem intimate.)