eschewing transitions.

Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal

The A(BC)DD blurb: This book is an encyclopedia of thoughts - sometimes just a few sentences, other times an entire essay. The subjects are almost all delightful - coincidences, towels, swearing, tears, birthdays, coffee, pies, neighbors... she deals with all of them in such a loving, matter-of-fact way, almost like she's saved up 240 pages of show and tell. It starts with a timeline, and she doesn't even bother with the letter "z." It's a perfect slice of upper middle class living in the 21st century, only more thoughtful and insightful than anything with that description has any right to be.

More: So I suppose if you're going to classify it, this is a memoir, but somehow, the entries in this work seem more pervasive and thought-provoking than most memoirs.After Amy Krouse Rosenthal (I have to type/say her whole name, I don't know why) gives her opinion on one subject, like... gas stations, and how she has to always check which side her gas cap is on when she goes, no matter what - then the reader looks into that middle distance, beyond the book, thinking - ha! Me too! It's the literary equivalent of a facebook fan page, like "I will go out of my way to step on that crunchy leaf," only it's more beautiful than that, and her prose is elegant.

Plot: No plot. "M" is in the middle. No surprise letter switch ups. No one dies at the end.

I can't stop thinking about it, so: I honestly loved every moment I was reading this book. It's a catalog of the sort of deep thinking that only comes from carefully rearranging thoughts, like re-organizing pieces in a jewelry collection. It's like reading a diary, only it's better because it isn't about people you don't know - it's about something that you're fully aware of, only you've never thought about it. Shortcuts. Being Busy. Anxiety. Or maybe you have thought about it, but Amy Krouse Rosenthal presents it in a way that you haven't thought of before.

I want to explain it further, but it's like trying to explain funny lines from a movie you haven't seen. The brilliance in her entries are just going to lose their luster.

Should you read it?: Yes. Buy 100 copies. I want her to write a sequel or something. Also, pretty unrelated; Amy Krouse Rosenthal wrote Duck, Rabbit. It is a brilliant children's book that I had the pleasure of reading aloud when I worked the Children's hour at Phoenix Books. This is just to show you that she's consistently brilliant.

not a book review, just a suggestion.

I've recently signed up for the writing site 750words.com...

Unlike this blog, which I keep for extrovert reasons, 750words speaks to the introvert. It's all about getting your brain out onto paper, working through your daily whatever on a blank sheet of webspace. The default share setting is private - in other words, it's mostly just for yourself.

It's a tiny bit better than a journal because of the infographic it generates for you when you finish - I mean, you know how you feel. But it's always a little surprising to see that 50 percent of the words I used can be construed as me feeling anxious. Or that I spend 25 percent of my time on there writing about money.

Anyway. It's a nice resource. Check it out.

Books I should have read already #1

The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier

Blurb for those who can't focus: This book's about choosing a different path at great consequence. It's also about young adulthood-the decisions that make us into the people we will be. It's about reputation. School spirit. It's good versus evil, but when good doesn't know why it's being good, and evil doesn't think it's being evil. It's not really about chocolate.

Soldiering onward: I should have read this book in grade school. I think it was an option for a book report, but the premise seems ridiculous, especially for a book that's made it to the 100 most banned books list. I kept passing it up, but I'm glad I finally didn't - it was two dollars well spent.

Two books sprang to mind while I was reading The Chocolate War - Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli and Graham Greene's Brighton Rock. Brighton Rock spent its pages on a pretty classic exploration of good versus evil on the British shores. Stargirl dealt with popularity and being yourself, at whatever cost. Mix these books together with a liberal sprinkling of the mob rule in Lord of the Flies, and you have Jerry's story.

Plot: The Vigils control Trinity High School - they're a secret society that's not so secret. They make life interesting at the school - destroying a room full of desks, commanding a class to dance any time a professor says the word "environment." They target Jerry Renault for a similar prank: The voluntary chocolate sale that everyone always says "yes" to? He's commanded to say "no," for ten days. But on day eleven - he doesn't stop. He can't fathom why, but he starts to face the consequences - from the school itself and the Vigils he's defying.

More chocolate in every bite: The multiple perspective narrative here is on display like 4th of July fireworks - it's terribly interesting to be in Archie's diabolical mind as he plans each prank. Or Goober's mind, as he tries to sway Jerry. Or Jerry's mind, as he tries to figure out why on earth he's doing what he's doing. What makes him different from Stargirl's Leo or Brighton Rock's Hale is he doesn't quite know why he's making his decisions. He knows there is an easier route and he longs to take it - but he never does. That's what made this book such a disarming read - it pinpoints that space between choices where decisions are made for us, without our understanding.

And when Cormier takes a moment within the slim 250 pages to sprinkle in some literary whiz-bang, it's welcome. The descriptions of pain as the kids play football, or what it's like to run for Carter. Those little moments where he couldn't hold back the metaphor - they're tastier than chocolate.

Should you read it? I'd totally recommend it, but it's banned. It's on the top ten banned list again, actually, from 2009. But it's number ten. Number one are those affronts to grammar, Lauren Myracle's TTYL series. In this case, choose last place. The Chocolate War will stick with you.

broken hearts are old-fashioned.

I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith

Hey, ADD-ers. Start here: I Capture the Castle is carried squarely on the shoulders of diarist Cassandra Mortmain, and that's what makes it instantly likable, classic, and readable. Her optimism and naivete mixes well with her wise-beyond-her-years commentary, and not only was this novel a fine change of pace from the future shock and detective fiction I've been reading, it's a perfect picture of a coming-of-age novel.

Evermore: In lots of ways, Dodie Smith (who also wrote 101 Dalmatians, which Dreamworks made into a series of movies called Shrek, I think) created a journal for one of the characters in a Jane Austen novel. This is not a novel of manners, however - the Mortmains are poor, poor, poor. And they're winning because of it. Cassandra especially. When the two sisters and their stepmother meet the characters that propel forward the whisper-thin plot, their arms are green from dying their clothes. That's the evening's entertainment.

J.K. Rowling blurbed Castle on the cover that I picked up from the library, and she says it in a nice, pithy way: "This book has one of the most charismatic characters I've ever met." And Mrs. Harry Potter is very much in the right. Even when her heart is breaking, Cassandra Mortmain can't help but win you over.

The afore-mentioned "whisper-thin" plot: Cassandra Mortmain is the middle child in a family that lives in a crumbling castle. Her father hasn't written a word since his last novel, her mother has died (she doesn't brood over this fact) and her sister wants to marry. Enter the American bothers Neil and Simon, who change everything.

Afterthoughts: I think I took such enormous pleasure reading this book because of the fine change of pace it created. It is basically a Knickerbocker Glory of a coming-of-age story, where the love she feels and the plot points it hits are nowhere near as important as how our narrator feels. That's the beauty of the journal as a novel form: it's all about how they feel about everything. And Cass is wonderfully self-aware. As much as I love a good, plot-driven scorcher of a page turner, it was nice to spend time performing the last rites of spring for half a week with the Mortmains.

Also, it brought up a very nice question to ponder - how do you make a book have a happy ending if the two people you want to get together don't get together? That's not a spoiler, by the way. It hardly matters. I'm just curious - for this novel, it worked. But can a plot-based book have a happy ending without the love interest getting together with the protagonist? Or are those books destined to be described as wistful?

Just something to think about while you ping-pong from Godsend to London with Cassie.

Should you read it? Yesirree.

Also, this was a recommendation from my friend Jessa. I read most recommendations these days. So... yep.

I have to go, it must be now...

In the Woods by Tana French

The bit for the ADD-ers: I was set to be spooked, to hear noises I shouldn't, to flip pages to see what happened and then flip back because I didn't understand how that happened with what I just read. It... sort of happened like that? However, it gripped me from the beginning, but perhaps one red herring too many left my body temperature nearly at room temperature by the end. Rather than chilled or spine-tingled, that is.

Want to hear more? Put on them hiking boots: Detective novels are either good because of the mystery or good because of the characters solving the mystery, and when the novel started I was excited to be getting a bit of both. Cassie and Robert Ryan were a lovely detective duo to be spending 450 pages with, and with Ryan narrating, and a trifle unreliable at that, I started raising my expectations page after page.

It's funny, because the expectations started high right with the cover art - it's just such darn good design - and I wanted to believe that I would see the woods wending their way through the words. For 75% of the novel, they did - but once Ryan spends the night in the woods that the reader has wanted from page one, it seems to coast on cruise control.

The Story: Robert Ryan is a detective in Ireland's murder squad - and a kid has been murdered right next to a thicket where 20 years before, Ryan was found with blood in his shoes and his two friends missing. In a startling display of poor decision-making, he and his partner take the case. Even though he can't remember a lick of what happened the afternoon his friends went missing, even though he's still emotional about it, even though he knows it might mess with what they will find.

More: It's tough to review a detective story because a lot of the enjoyment of the novel hinges on the end - how the pieces fell into place, and how satisfying it feels to place that final piece in and see the whole picture. I can tell you I was kind of satisfied - not 100 percent, but nearly. What French excelled at, though, was the two characters - Maddox and Ryan were a perfect duo, and I loved reading their interaction with one another. There's a lot of description of camaraderie that would have fallen flat if she didn't show their easy chemistry.

And the writing sparkles too - Ryan (playing narrator) apologizes for his metaphors and conceits, but they account for a lot of the joy of reading it. I can't exactly place my finger on why In the Woods didn't enthrall me to the end... but I think some of that blame lays squarely on a property developing subplot that goes literally nowhere. It was a base that had to be covered, maybe, but not to the extant it was.

Should you read it? You might want to - the duo of Ryan and Maddox is pretty irresistible, and the beats of the detective novel still seem fresh. But perhaps this one is meant to be retrieved from the library.

Peeps by Scott Westerfeld

ADD-friendly review: Vampire books are all the rage, especially for YA, but Peeps somehow manages a balance between disgusting detail and hormone-fueled sexiness that transcends the genre. It's more biology than mythology and more intent on saving the world than biting necks, and Westerfeld peppers it with the snappy repartee he's known for. It's fast-paced and gross, but a nice departure from sparkling pale chests and moping. The saving-the-world plot takes the place of what I was hoping for the book to be, though.

Okay. Bigger bites, more to chew on: I think the whole vampire thing works well for YA because it's a perfect analogy for hormones, bodies changing and feeling like something else is taking control. Twilight (which, full disclosure, I read half of before I had to stop) didn't take advantage of this - those vampires were already 400 years old and the angst came from love, not a changing physique and desire that you don't quite understand - and it was worse off for it. Peeps doesn't let anything like love stop it from being a disgusting romp through Westerfeld's version of vampire lore: basically, vampirism is an STD, and our protagonist, Cal, is infected.

Plot: Cal is a Peep hunter - he has the vampire parasite but none of the symptoms. His appetite is uncontrollable (thanks to the parasite wanting to feed itself) and his sexual drive is hard to control (thanks to the parasite wanting to spread) but he has been conscripted, due to his mild immunity to fight off people that have been infected by the parasite and turn cannibalistic. And it starts with finding his ex-girlfriends, who he unwittingly infected. From there, its huge revelation after huge revelation, until it seems that Cal is fighting something bigger than vampires.

More: I did not read this book in one go. I am not always a squeamish reader, but every other chapter is a factual account of some terrifying parasite. Hookworms, mealworms, toxoplasma... It's all very squirm-inducing. So I sort of put it down for a bit. But I picked it back up to see if I could make it through a vampire novel. Scott Westerfeld is a big idea sort of writer - his characters have to save the world. Or start saving the world. Or keep the world from needing to be saved. And while I loved that for the Uglies saga, and I love that for Leviathan, Peeps' end-of-days wasn't as interesting as the inner turmoil and guilt of his main character infecting the women of his life that Westerfeld could have focused on.

Should you read it? I remain unconvinced. The concept is bang-up exciting, and the neat metaphor of vampirism as an STD remains an "I wish I thought of that." But Westerfeld has better books out there. If you're looking for a different take on vampires, or want to learn about parasites without awful pictures, then perhaps you'll love it. I just wanted something different from it than the book had to offer.

things you read again.

When You Reach Me by Rebecca Stead

Review written for ADD-afflicted folks: This is a Newbery Award winning YA novel about a twelve-year-old girl in New York City. It encompasses Madeleine L'Engle, sandwich shops, losing friends, being punched in the face, gaining friends, racism, the 20,000 dollar Pyramid, divorce, two-dollar bills and kind dentists, along with a lot of other stuff I just won't mention. It's touching, it's funny, it's 200 pages of perfect.

Wanna hear me blather more praise? Read on: When I was a kid, I told people that my greatest dream in life was to win a Newbery award. And then a Pulitzer. I wanted to win both, and if I could win both at once, all the better. For as long as I can remember, I associated the Newbery award with the best sorts of books. The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, Maniac McGee, Holes, Walk Two Moons, The Giver, Dear Mr. Henshaw... these were the books that not only made me into a better reader, but gave me something real to think about, not just a place to escape to. And When You Reach Me is perfect company for these books. It's a book of simple pleasures shadowed with complexity - Stead set Miranda up in 1979, away from cell phones, the internet, video game systems and everything that comes with them. Instead, Miranda reads for fun. She hangs out with her friends and listens to records. And the puzzle that sets the twisty little narrative in motion is all the more exciting.

Plot: Miranda, 12, lives with her mother in New York City. She's a latchkey kid, but she hates the term. Her mom is a paralegal and has dated a lawyer in the firm, Richard, for years. Miranda has a best friend in the apartment below hers named Sal - but one day he gets punched in the face for no reason, and everything changes. Sal won't talk to her, her Mom is chosen as a contestant for the 20,000 dollar Pyramid with Dick Clark, and she starts finding mysterious messages, addressed to her, that scare her.

And, just a little bit more: When I finished this book on the J-Church line heading home, I missed my stop. By a lot. I didn't even notice after I had put the book in my lap because I was looking into that middle distance between the novel you just read and the real world - that sort of fuzzy in between where the curtain is finally being rushed across the stage and you realize that none of this actually happened. The puzzle that this book sets up is only half the joy in reading it - in fact, some readers will probably guess at it before the book is through. The other half is Miranda's relationships, of course, and the way that quiet, slow understanding of how friends are made and kept and how life can be now that she understands a small fraction more than she did than when the book started. That "lifting of the veil" (to cop a line from the novel) is between every line, after every chapter marker. And that's probably why this book won its award.

Should you read it? Yes. Go get it.