Rincey is really the best. She’s hosting a book giveaway and in order to enter you have to show that you’ve donated to an agency to help those affected by the typhoons in the Philippines. Watch the video to find out the particulars about entering!
If you aren’t aware by now because you had no Internet/television connection, J. K. Rowling has written a book under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith, called The Cuckoo’s Call. It was released in April and has been comfirmed recently as Rowling’s work. It’s been all the buzz of late and really left me wanting to discuss pseudonyms in general.
First, there was God or gods or nothing, then synthesis, space, the expanse, explosions, implosions, particles, objects, combustion, and fusion. Out of the chaos came order. Stars were born and shone and died. Planets rolled across their galaxies on invisible ellipses and the elements combined and became.
Life evolved or was created. Cells trembled and divided and gasped and found dry land. Soon they grew legs and fins and hands and antennae and mouths and ears and wings and eyes — eyes that opened wide to take all of it in: the creeping, growing, soaring, swimming, crawling, stampeding universe. Eyes opened and closed and opened again; we called it blinking.
Above us shone a star that we called the Sun and we called the ground the Earth. So we named everything, including ourselves. We were man and woman, and when we got lonely we figured out a way to make more of us. We called it sex and most people enjoyed it.
We fell in love. We talked about God and banged stones together, made sparks and called them fire. We got warmer and the food got better.
We got married. We had some children. They cried and crawled and grew. One dissected flowers, sometimes eating the petals. Another liked to chase squirrels. We fought wars over money and honor and women. We starved ourselves. We hired prositutes. We purified our water. We compromised, decorated, and became esoteric. One of us stopped breathing and turning blue, then others. First we covered them with leaves and then we buried them in the ground.
We remembered them. We forgot them. We aged. Our buildings kept getting taller. We hired lawyers and formed councils and left paper trails. We negotiated. We admitted. We got sick and searched for cures. We invented lipstick, vaccines, Pilates, solar panels, intervensions, table manners, firearms, window treatments, therapy, birth control, tailgating, status symbols, palimony, sportsmanship, focus groups, Zoloft, sunscreen, landscaping, Cessnas, fortune cookies, chemotherapy, convenience foods, and computers. We angered militants and our mothers.
You were born. You learned to walk and went to school and played sports and lost your virginity and got into a decent college and majored in psychology and went to rock concert and became political and got drunk and changed your major to marketing and wore turtleneck sweaters and read novels and volunteered and went to movies and developed a taste for bleu-cheese dressing. I met you through friends, and didn’t like you at first. The feeling was mutual, but we got used to each other. We had sex for the first time behind an art gallery, standing up and slightly drunk. You held my face in your hands and said that I was beautiful and you were too, all with the streetlight behind you. We went back to your place and listened to the White Album. We ordered in. We fought and made up and got good jobs and got married and bought an apartment and worked out and ate more and talked less. I got depressed. You ignored me. I was sick of you. You drank too much and got carless with money. I slept with my boss. We went into counseling and got a dog. I bought a book of sex positions and we tried to least degrading one: the Wheelbarrow. You took flight lessons and subscribed to Rolling Stone. I learned Spanish and started gardening. We had some children, who more or less disppointed us, but it might have been our fault; you were too indulgent and I was too critical. We loved them anyway. One of them died before we did, stabbed on the subway. We grieved. We moved. We adopted a cat. The world seemed uncertain. We lived beyond our means. I got judgmental and belligerent. You got confused and easily tired. You ignored me. I was sick of you. We forgave. We remembered. We made cocktails. We got tender. There was that time on the porch when you said, “Can you believe it?” This was near the end and your hands were trembling. I think you were talking about everything, including us. Did you want to say it, so that it would not be lost? It was too much for me to think about. I could not go back to the beginning. I said, “Not really”, and we watched the sun go down. A dog kept barking in the distance and you were tired, but you smiled and you said, “Hear that? It’s rough, rough,” and we laughed. You were like that.
Now your question is my project an our house is full of clues. I’m reading old letters and turning over rocks. I bury my face in your sweaters. I study a photograph, taken at the beach, the sun in our eyes and the water behind us. It’s a victory to remember the forgotten picnic basket and your striped beach blanket. It’s a victory to remember how the jellyfish stung you and you ran screaming from the water. It’s a victory to remember dressing the wound with meat tenderizer and you saying I made it better.
I will tell you this. Standing on our hill this morning, I looked at the land we chose for ourselves. I saw a few green patches and our sweet little shed. That same dog was barking. A storm was moving in. I didn’t think of heaven, but I saw the clouds were beautiful and I watched them cover the sun.
Hi! I don’t think I’ve actually received this rec. It’s no problem.
I’d suggest The Perks of Being a Wallflower for Charlie, The Book Thieffor Liesel, A Song of Ice and Fire series for Tyrion, Pride and Prejudice for Elizabeth, The Shadow of the Wind for Daniel, Harry Potter series for Hermione, Fangirl for Cath, Matilda for well Matilda, Northanger Abbeyfor Catherine, Anne of Green Gables for Anne, and Inkheart for Meggie. I know I’m missing some books.
My followers suggest Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami, The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, The Infernal Devices trilogy by Cassandra Clare, Delirium by Lauren Oliver, Reading Lolita in Tehran byAzar Nafisi, Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu, The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman, A Series of Unfortunate Events by Lemony Snicket, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer, The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly, Pivot Point by Kasie West, and Smart Girls Get What They Want by Sarah Strohmeyer, I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith, and Special Topics in Calamity Physics by Name of The Wind by Patrick Rothfuss, and The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.
This is a list of book shelves by need and cost. It’s absolutely wonderful!
New York Times bestselling author Lauren Oliver presents How a Book Is Made: The Spindlers. Go behind the scenes and follow the book publishing process from start to finish in a seven-video series for book lovers, students, and aspiring writers.
This is a really beautiful website. She doesn’t just talk about writing, but also the publishing of her books. I really love seeing how a book is put together like this.
World Book Night is one of those amazing things that exists. Every year on April 23rd in the UK, US, and Germany books are given out by the hand full to light or non-readers. The reason for it I think is best said from their website:
Reading for pleasure improves literacy, actively engaging emerging readers in their desire to read. Reading changes lives, improves employability, social interaction, enfranchisement, and can have a positive effect on mental health and happiness. Book readers are more likely to participate in positive activities such as volunteering, attending cultural events, and even physical exercise.
The books to be given away:
Volunteer book givers agree to the following:
If you’re in the US, then you can apply here.
It’s National Teen Read Week. If you’re a teen, then go out and read.