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?

But you...you shall be encumbered with your own past, hm?

As a part of my Adolescent in American Literature class, we are reading various sub-genres within the genre of YA lit in order to better familiarize ourselves with the many types of books available to our future students as well as lessen the stigma of a "young adult" label. So far, we've read a YA novel of our choice (Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), a "classic" YA novel of our choice (The Chocolate War), a realistic YA novel (Looking for Alaska), an author-specific novel (John Green, An Abundance of Katherines), a dystopian YA novel (The Hunger Games) and now, a historical fiction YA novel, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing by M. T. Anderson.

Octavian leads the life of a prince--silk clothes, an education in the classics and the arts--but this son of an African once-princess is far from royalty. After having his curiousities aroused by the comments of a servant in "his" household, Octavian opens the "forbidden door," and discovers how limited his freedom really is. This psychological devestation, however, teaches Octavian more than he could ever have hoped to learn in his childhood home with the philosophers; he realizes the injustices in the world and goes off to fight them.

Stylistically, the author pays tribute to the time period, which I fully apprecite. I love the phrasing of Octavian's thoughts, the constant near-beat of the word. It's almost as though his mother's description of their native tongue as song rather than speech impacts the voice of Octavian, even before he has had that conversation with his mother. In short, I very much enjoy it.

Additionally, the novel has historical documents throughout, adding to the realism of Octavian's plight and, therefore, to the connection the audience feels with the protagonist. If students form a more personal connection with the narrator(s), they have more inspiration for completing the assignment regardless of the difficulty level. Yes, a student is less inclined to read anything they find too difficult, but I know that's one way I grew as a reader.

I fully support this book being taught in a classroom. It's a great pairing novel for English OR History.

I love you, Alaska Young.

Our first "assigned" book for the semester in The Adolescent in American Literature was "Looking for Alaska" by John Green, and I must admit, the man has style.

The narrator, Miles Halter, begins boarding at Culver Creek his junior year, on a search for the "Great Perhaps." He finds friends for the first time in his life--particularly his roommate, the Colonel, and his love interest, Alaska--who bestow upon him the ironic nickname "Pudge." These three teenagers, with varying backgrounds and histories, spend the "Before" sharing secrets, falling in love and misbehaving; they spend the "After" theorizing, feeling guilty and mourning as best they know how.

Green's use of repetition is powerful and beautiful and emotionally thrilling--at the end of the "Before" Pudge repeats "We did not say," followed by the what-ifs that weigh on all of our hearts at one point or another. Throughout the novel he uses the device in similar ways, but never quite as striking. I also liked the general style of the book; the "teenager" language doesn't feel forced or fake, rather pulsing slowly, with an appropriate crescendo and decrescendo, lyrical, but harsh.

The story, though somewhat unique, has elements to which everyone can relate. The simultaneous (or loosely separated) feelings of elation and bottomless despair are familiar to anyone who has ever experienced growing up.

Though students will be very interested in this book, I doubt that it could be taught (due to the sexuality and expletives). It's worth having around the classroom and worth recommendation, particularly to students struggling with a significant loss.

A bit for fellow procrastinators to consider

I found this on a site that I'm loving called Good Reads. You can connect it with your Facebook account, and they have a system of book reviews, quotes, authors, other book-nerdy stuff. I highly recommend that you check it out!

"Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share." --Mark Z. Danielewski, Author of House of Leaves