I think that as a general rule lonely people give other lonely people money a lot.

"I'm not saying that I ever expect you to toe the line or anything as insubstantial and conformist as that; I hope that you will do quite the opposite and question everything--teachers, coaches, priests, lawmakers, prime-time television shows, magazine ads, top-forty deejays, and any intellectual analgesic that could numb the senses and lure you into rote compliance like it has done to the vast, flimsy-minded flock of sheep that is America."

I guess I just have a thing for the Rapp brothers.

That is a piece of a letter that Peter wrote to his little brother Jamie (aka Punkzilla). In the same letter, Peter goes on to tell his fourteen-year-old brother that he has cancer. Jamie, desperate to see his big brother before he dies, has to get from Portland, Oregon to Memphis, Tennessee.

And when Jamie starts his journey, he's still feeling the meth from last night.

This novel is written in letters that aren't necessarily in order, but they are all dated. Jamie doesn't have the best syntax or punctuation, but he has the most beautiful thoughts sometimes, and he writes down every single one of them.

As a sucker for the Rapp boys and epistolary narrative style and stream of consciousness writing, I had no chance to escape this one.

This week my son thinks he's the Supremes. All of them. So we can scratch "straight" off the list.

I never had a chance to dislike this book.

My Most Excellent Year: How do I love thee? Let me count the ways:

1. Musical theatre--I will put up with a lot of nonsense for a good musical theatre reference. I'm glad this did not have to be one of those times.

2. Epistolary narrative style--I'm a sucker for this stuff. It's the characterization and the raw beauty of stream of consciousness thought. I know that sounds strange coming from the punctuation fiend, but I can appreciate something that stirs empathy (Faulkner and e e cummings both have crazy punctuation, too, and I still love them with all of my heart and soul).

3. Diva of the week--Liza? Angela Lansbury? This is such an excellent idea that I may steal it from him. I think I'll start with Idina.

4. This quote--"And while I was tucking him in, I realized that we'd never had the "I'm gay" conversation. Has this generation finally made it superfluous? If only."

Basically, this book is a ton of fun. It's super cheesey most of the time, and it's far too happy...

...but we all need that once in a while, right?

And this time he doesn't tell me to say mercy.

It's hard to talk about We Were Here without giving everything away. The most beautiful parts are the most anticipated and the most terrifying and devestating and to give them away would be cruel.

After "it" happened, Miguel was sent to a group home and required to write about "it" and talk about "it"--but he refuses to deal with "it." Miguel bonds with Mong and Rondell, two boys from the group home with issues of their own, and the three of them escape, running for Mexico, running from home.

There are times in the book when I would notice something hinting heavily at "it," but de la Pena manages to effectively surprise even those of us who saw "it" coming with his choppy phrases like choppy breaths as Miguel pours honesty out of his chest and onto the pages of his journal.

This novel speaks less to me about race as a specific prejudice and more to me about judgement as a generality. On the first page we see Miguel's sentencing, and we automatically assume he's a terrible kid. We don't stop to consider the severity of his crime or the circumstances of his commiting it, but worst of all, we don't stop to consider that he is still a person.

Honestly, I would rather see this story in a poetic format--a lot of the build up is just frustrating, but the style and wording when Miguel decribes "it" evokes such sympathy. I think those emotions would be stronger if they hadn't been dampered by time.