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.

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.