C.K. Robertson's Blog, page 16

Book Review: Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell

Hello Readers & Friends,

Today I'm doing a review on Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell. Rowell has blown up on the Bookstagram scene recently and I was quite intrigued going into it - I had no clue what to expect, what type of genre, what type of writing style... no clue.

I gave it 3.5 stars. I read it very quickly (it's not a big book) and couldn't put it down. I just kept wanting to flip the page to find out what happened next, even though for the most part, nothing at all was happening. The prose was delicious. The romance was sweet as sherbert. It reminded me of being sixteen and young and dumb and in love and was just so enjoyable to read. I'll absolutely be reading her next books.
So why the 3.5? Well, read on...

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*Spoiler Alerts*

What I loved most:
- The romance, of course. It was innocent and funny and real.

- The weird, underdog protagonists.

- Denice and Beebi. I wish we saw more of them, they were funny and sweet and the exact type of friend Eleanor needed.

- The boldness of the notes left for Eleanor. They were rancid, vile, disgusting and so off-kilt compared to the rest of the story. That was what made it so poignant.

- Park being half Korean. I've never read a book with a half-asian protagonist before. I'm half asian too, my mum is Japanese, and many of the things he dealt with really were relatable for me. I know some people have said it was at times racist, but it was set in the 80s and I have to say - these things still happen today. I'm glad she brought attention to it. Something in particular which struck a chord was when he tells Eleanor there are no good-looking asian people and it makes him feel ugly. This is something I had trouble with growing up,  and not being able to find Youtube tutorials for makeup that would work on eyes like mine. It brought a lovely depth to his character throughout the storyline, without making him 'the asian protagonist.' He was still 'Park the protagonist' - if that makes sense.

- The 80s setting and pop culture references. Very Ernest Cline.

What I didn't like:
- Cal. He was so boring and seemed to serve literally no purpose in the entire story.

- All the unresolved issues!!! What happened to the kids at the end? What happened to her mum? What were the three words? (I assumed ' I love you' but I know there are other options floating around on GoodReads?) Was Richie sexually abusing Eleanor, or just an asshole? What was the stuff in the house that night the police came? Why did a gun go off that night? What did Eleanor tell Park the night she decided to run away? What happens to Richie now Park's dad knows what's going on? Does he just carry on? Why is Maisie sitting on Richie's lap such a thing? Why does Richie write all that stuff on her notebooks?? I can't deal with all these unresolved storylines, and that is why I gave it 3.5 stars. I just need a bit more clarity, I like things largely spelled out for me by the end of a book and for me there was too many things I had to use my imagination for.

What did you think?
Love,
C x

Ep04 Plots & Shots: Children of Blood & Bone by Tomi Adeyumi

Hello Readers, Friends & Listeners,

Another apology for missing last week's episode - my house move scuppered everything and when we finally managed to re-record we discovered a slight echo issue, but I have edited it out to the best of my ability as this week we chat about Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyumi - a particularly rambly episode.

We both loved this book and I am particularly empassioned about Backstabber Inan, as he will henceforth be referred to.

Have a cheeky listen, and enjoy!
We upload every Monday - next week we discuss Ready Player One by Ernest Cline.
As always, expect swearing, nonsense and 0 professionalism.

C x

Book Review: Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo

Hello Readers & Friends,

Okay, let's take a minute (or hour) to discuss Crooked Kingdom.
I read Six of Crows and loved it enough to post a review here, (I only tend to write a full review if I either loved or loathed a book) and I would say Crooked Kingdom is even better.

I genuinely would go as far as saying that Bardugo is one of the best fantasy writers of our generation. A huge statement? Yes. Do I care? No.
This book took me two weeks to read. The last time a book took me two weeks to read it was the mammoth A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara. Crooked Kingdom is not an easy read. You have to go slow, pay attention, concentrate and think the whole way through.

The dialogue is delicious. Her characters are the best I've ever read. She makes me want to read and re-read and re-read most paragraphs again and again.

Some of my favourite quotes to pick out include:

“I would have come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together-knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.”

“Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.” 

“Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.” 

“Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?"
"Guns?" asked Jesper.
"Ships?" queried Inej.
"Bombs?" suggested Wylan.
"Political bribes?" offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. "This is where you tell us how awful we are," she whispered.
He shrugged. "They all seem like practical choices.” 

“No mourners, no funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.” 

And now I have to stop myself because I could sit and write every sentence of the book because it's all so great.

The characters, all the main characters, are the most complex, realistic and three-dimensional characters I have ever read. Every single one has a strong backstory that drives every single action they undertake, every single witty response, and every single choice. And they're all so different, so contrasting. In other huge fantasies that I love, like The Mortal Instruments, it is always still only the main one or two charactes who are filled with such depth. Hell, even the antagonists are twisted and delightful and clearly understandable. Because of this you are sucked so deeply into the world when you read that when it's finished you suffer the world's worst book hangover (like I am right now!).

So now I've banged on and on about how much I love the characters, dialogue and writing, let's move onto some SPOILERS.


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SPOILERS BELOW:

What I loved:

Kaz Brekker will forever be my most favourite character. Potentially of all time. He is so deep, so complex, so intelligent. Kaz Brekker is always one step ahead of everyone, including the reader. I marvel at his wit, his cunning and everything he does surprises me - even when it shouldnt. I used to be called Kaz at uni because my middle name is Kazumi, and my love for Kaz Brekker makes me want to re-adopt this old nickname. He is divine.

Kaz and Inej. This is not insta-love, it's not cheesy and cliche. It's complicated and difficult and never really happens but is always beneath the surface and the ending leaves you wondering if anything will ever happen and hoping that it will and, for me, deciding that it must.

Nina and Matthias. Although Matthias was a fine character, my personality didn't like his. I just found him too uptight and boring and strict. I loved how he was paired with Nina, the total opposite. I loved their love/hate relationship that really climaxed in this second book. I loved how she made him seem more fun. If there was no Nina, Matthias would have fallen flat for me.

The death of Matthias was needed. It would have been too unrealistic to believe this team could have escaped death so many times on their missions. I liked that it was Matthias because I felt the pain through Nina, whereas I wouldn't have felt it otherwise. It was needed, and it was sad, and it made me like his character a lot more. Of couse he would die being honourable - he was Helvar through to the very end.

Wylan is a wonderful character. He was always surprising me and of all the characters he had the most thorough development. I loved how every discovery about his father drove him forwards, propelling him into a stronger person. In the first book he was just a meek little boy, always afraid. He ended up doing a bit of a Neville Longbottom and being the hero of the final mission in this story. The best part is that I don't think he even realised what a hero he was.

Jesper is my man-crush in this book, despite the fact he is completely gay. He's the light and laughter and witty, reckless fun that the group needed. And I loved the slow burn of his and Wylan's relationship. I loved the addition of his father in this book to round him out and help us to understand his drive more deeply. It also added a layer of family into the story, when until then the characters had mostly been driven by a lack-of family.

Nina and Inej was the much-needed female friendship we needed. It felt as though it was desperately needed for Inej to have this female support system after her time in the menagerie and they were such a heartwarming duo throughout. 


What I loved less:

There is so much localised terminology, so many different nationalities and countries and alliances and languages that it made it quite hard to remember what's what. Particularly at the big auction at the end, it was quite difficult for me to recall which country is in which state and why, which made the climax of the auction difficult to follow.

Pekka Rollins and Per Haskell - I don't know if it's because they both begin with a P and are both antagonists but I had them confused and mixed up all the time.

Kuwei - What a bore. I forgot he existed for most of the book. The only time he was interesting was when Jesper kissed him by accident and we finally saw a bit of personality.


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This is the first duology by Bardugo that I've read, and I'm going to be adding all her other books to my TBR immediately. I cannot explain how much I loved it and I can only pray that it is made into a film.

For the record, if it is, my casting would be as follows:
Kaz - Jamie Campbell Bower with black hair.
Inej - Shay Mitchell
Matthias - Chris Hemsworth
Nina - Scarlett Johansson
Jesper - Michael B Jordan
Wylan - Robert Sheehan
(Fox, if you read this, please take my casting into serious consideration.)


Did you read it? What did you think? I'll be reeling over the ending for days.
Love, C x

Ep03 Plots & Shots: Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

 
Dear Readers, Friends & Listeners,
This week our Plots & Shots podcast focuses on the Shatter Me series by Tahereh Mafi.
Unfortunately I have to apologise, this week is only 15 mins rather than 30 because we recorded 3 in a row and by this episode we were so drunk that I had to delete the majority of audio due to repetition, rambling and incoherent slurring. We'll get better at this in time, I promise!
We are also struggling to find time to record this week, so next week's release may be a little late and I apologise for that as well. When we get into a better rhythm we will be consistently releasing every Monday, 30 min podcasts!

As always, this episode is filled with swearing, complaining, nonsense and probably offensive content. Listen to us argue about feelings on Juliette and her toxic relationships.
Love, C x (And B! x )

Ep02 Plots & Shots: City of Bones by Cassandra Clare

Hello Readers & Friends (& Listeners!)

This week's Plots & Shots episode we discuss City of Bones and The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare.

We plan on posting once per week and we are now live on iTunes as well, if you'd rather listen to us there.

This week, you can expect to hear about:
- our thoughts on the Cassandra Clare plagiarism scandal
- how much Bronte fancies Simon's teeth
- how much I fancy Jace
- Bronte's personal incest opinions
- rambling & swearing.

Enjoy!
Love,
C x

About Amity.

Dear Readers & Friends,

As many of you know, I finished writing Enmity last summer and had planned to release Amity at the end of 2018.

A lot of things got in the way and I just wasn't confident or happy with where the book was. I finally reached a point where I finished it and sent it to my editor but neither of us are happy with where the story went and the character development. So much of it will have to be rewritten that at this stage it would essentially be a complete overhaul and re-write and my motivation and drive for the world and it's characters has been lost by the wayside as I work on other projects.

I don't ever want to release something that is a dissapointment to anyone who enjoyed the first book, and I would rather not release anything and have Enmity as a standalone novel than release something myself and my editor are not happy with.

I'm going to spend some time focusing my creative energies on my standalone contemporary, Whisper, and a new series that I am planning out.

This isn't to say that Amity won't happen, but that it is indefinitely on hold for now while I decide what I can do with the plot and characters that will carry the first novel forwards and drive development.

I hope you all understand and are not too disappointed.


Love,
C x

E01 Plots & Shots: Introductions & Harry Potter

Well. We did it. We have recorded our first episode of Plots & Shots, where we get drunk and (sort of) discuss literature.

In this first episode we get drunk and attempt to introduce ourselves whilst discussing our thoughts on Harry Potter.
Expect screaming, laughter, swearing, rambling and just absolute nonsense.

We can only hope it gets better from here.

If you want to follow us, catch Bronte here and myself here.

The Infernal Devices - Review & Rant

Hello Readers & Friends,

OKAY. So we all know I loved The Mortal Instruments series by Cassandra Clare, going full-on fandom with it. And I have just last night finished The Infernal Devices, and need to write a proper review to explain some of my issues with it.

After a lot of dillying on GoodReads between 3 and 4 stars, I ended up giving it 4 stars because despite my problems with the characters, the storyline was strong, I love the Shadowhunter world that Clare has created and I thought it was really nice to read something set in a historical London. My favourite characters were (of course) Magnus Bane, and Jem Carstairs.

The idea of the mechanical automaton army and the twist with the clockwork angel were both really nice and as always, Clare's tone of voice was really easy, fun and pleasant to read. I looked forward to each of these books with aplomb.

So what's the issue? Well, though my issues grew throughout the trilogy, it really all came down to the final book, Clockwork Princess. If you don't want spoilers, look away now.



*SPOILERS BEGINNING.*

I hated the ending. For so many reasons. The only thing I hated more than the ending was Tessa.

So let's start with the effed-up love triangle thing that's happening. I know Cassandra Clare loves a tortured romance, a forbidden love. But the way that this love triangle was structured and the way she had designed CERTAIN CHARACTERS *ahem, Jem,* to be so loveable, meant I ended up hating Tessa.

So we have two best friends who both love the same girl, Tessa. And this little home-wrecking hussy just starts getting with BOTH OF THEM, because she can't choose and 'loves them both.' Oh, and it's a secret, because she 'doesn't want to hurt them.' Sorry, but this isn't being selfless, it's being a sneaky little hamrag. And it doesn't make me like her.

So then we have to read countless chapters where she is engaged to Jem, and fantacising about Will. Is it just me who thinks this is completely wrong? I just felt so terrible for Jem, like he was a pity-marriage because he's dying, and he deserved so much better. It made me kind of hate Tessa. And then Will's storyline with the curse is built to make the reader feel so bad for Will and to understand Tessa's compassion for him, but it didn't work with me to be honest. I don't care how nice both boys are, if she couldn't choose between the two she should have chosen neither and let them go on and find girls who loved them properly.

The worst part for me? When she is told Jem has died and does the dirty with Will MOMENTS LATER. YOUR HUSBAND HAS JUST DIED, B*TCH! What are you doing?! You dirty little hussbag! I hated, hated, hated that entire scene.

You know what else I hated?
Jem not really being dead. I'm sorry, but it went 10000% against his character to be turned into a Brother, and it made absolutely no sense other than to shock the reader. It was also sadder than if he had died, to be honest. The thought of him living forever, alone, without music or friends or anything else.. it just never made sense that he made that choice. I hated that.

I aslo hated that Will died an old man whilst Tessa remained young beside him. Sorry, but this was literally never mentioned in depth throughout the entire book and then is dropped into the end?! Like, who the hell would marry someone who never ages and just die beside them at age 90? I hated that. And it was a little creepy as well.

AND THEN, the worst bit. After Will dies an old man, Jem suddenly un-Brothers himself (with little-to-no explanation!) and GETS WITH TESSA AGAIN!? So she had her cake and ate it, too. Both boys were literally each other's sloppy seconds, at least once. And I feel like that in itself went against Will's character, that he would have told her to jog on and found himself another girl.

So those were all my issues with The Clockwork Princess, and the finale of The Infernal Devices. (After writing this, I've gone back and given it 3 stars instead. I got angry thinking about it all. The first two books still get 4 stars.)

I know everyone was rooting for Will, and some people for Jem, but I just hated it all. I wish Will and Jem had just continued being best friends and grown old together and sacked Tessa off.

Anyone else agree with me?

C x

Nanowrimo Chapter Excerpt

Hello Readers & Friends,

Some of you may know that a couple of months ago I took part in the Nanowrimo challenge. I reworked an old manuscript and in 30 days came up just short of my 50k word target, hitting 48,100 words, which I'm pretty pleased with.
I'm now padding it out with more dimension, title still TBC but am leaning towards A Girl Called Whisper.

I am so unbelievably excited about this project. I have loved writing a contemporary and feel like I can understand these characters than any others I have written, being set in such a similar setting to the one I grew up in.
I don't have a blurb or anything yet, but here is the current draft of Chapter 1. I hope you all enjoy it.

Also, whilst you're all here, comment or DM me on Instagram with your favourite cover-style from the bottom of the post. I've been playing in Canva and would love your opinion for whenever the day comes to commission official artwork.


Love, C x

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CHAPTER ONE
The rabid screeching of my rooster-imitation phone alarm blasts through my ears and I suffer what I imagine is the equivalent of a mild heart attack. I hit snooze clumsily and pull the covers up over my head with a groan.
Mondays are the worst.
Getting up early is the worst.
It’s one of my least favourite activities. On the scale of Activities-Cooper-Least-Enjoys-Partaking-In, waking up early comes somewhere between mixed-gender PE classes and holding in a dump you really need to take because you’re somewhere inappropriate.
I wish I was a vampire so I didn’t have to sleep. I know vampires aren’t real, but for the sake of poetic license, hear me out. I know everybody loves the feeling you get when you slip into your ‘warm and inviting’ bed at night. You supposedly relax, sigh with relief that the long day is over and fall into a deep and comforting sleep. Well, not me. When I go to bed my head tends to spin around in cycles and ideas and I get stressed out even more than usual because I have nothing else to focus on. It starts small, like thinking about whether something I said earlier sounded stupid, and then it quickly spirals out of control until my gut’s clenching and I’m thinking about something dumb I think I remember saying in 2006. It always feels like the silence is screaming at me.
Then I wake up in the morning, sweaty, tired and unrested, faced with another long and crappy day that I’ll probably stress about the next night.
I would happily never sleep again if I never had to wake again either. I suppose that’s a paradox.

Eventually, Mum bursts into my room.
“Cooper? For goodness sakes, Cooper. Get out of that damn bed and sort yourself out, you’ll miss the bus!” Her voice is a cross between a foghorn and a screaming cat. I wince.
She bats at the duvet as though trying to wack me out of the bed and then she scuttles back out again, muttering under her breath. With a sigh, I get out of bed and start to get ready.
I always know to start getting ready when Mum comes to yell at me. This is because she generally waits until approximately 8.20am before coming to wake me up herself, fuelled by the fear that she will miss the start of The Morning Show to drive me into school if I miss the bus.
By 8.20am I have twenty minutes to get showered, dressed, and eat my breakfast before having to leave for the bus. I can shower in five, dress in ten and eat in five. I have perfected the routine down to the last second.
I like to invest a little more time into dressing because it takes me longer to plan my outfit. I like to concentrate when deciding what to wear because I feel better during the day if I know I’m ‘fitting in.’

There are three types of kid at my school who get the most shit: the ones who are socially inept, the ones who look socially inept, and the ones who are both.
I have accepted the fact that I struggle more than most people in social situations. Probably because I like to avoid them altogether. I have an extensive vocabulary (which I do try to dumb down in all fairness,) and an unaccommodating distrust for my fellow classmates. These personality factors make me a tasty target for bullying; a juicy young deer thrown amidst a ravenous pack of well-dressed and poorly-spoken lions.
Dressing to blend in and avoid attracting unwanted attention makes me feel more at ease. It seems to work, too.
It’s a pretty simple algorithm really: I take into account what seems to be trending, make sure I’m wearing it, and keep myself to my damn self. The current ‘cool trend’ are these mini backpacks from the sports store in town. They look ridiculous and aren’t even large enough to be practical for school, but everyone else was getting them, so I got one too. And I saw a kid with a briefcase-style book bag getting food thrown at him yesterday in the canteen, so it just goes to show really. (I have, of course, taken into account that there are a plethora of reasons that John Everist may have been the target of the food-throwing, his bag being only one potential motive. However, all things considered, who am I to take my chances and own a sensible school bag? Rather him than me; it’s a dog-eat-dog world out there.)
Today I opt for some inconspicuous black jeans, a white polo-neck shirt which is a bit big for me but they didn’t have it in my size, and the stupid mini backpack. For the record, I am an uninteresting size S. Not quite man enough to reach M, yet not quite measly enough to be XS. Silver linings, my friend.
I put on my generic Nike trainers and head down to breakfast. I wish my school had a uniform, it would make every morning so much more time-efficient with one less thing to worry about. The other school in our town has uniforms. Fancy-ass blazers and ties and even a goddamn crest-embroidered book bag, can you believe? Everyone at my school calls them Posh Twats, and I’ve noticed the kids from there always cross the road away from us on the way into school in the mornings. This is dumb - they should try to hide their discomfort about our presence. It makes them easy targets for after-school tussles, which happen frequently. (Obviously I don’t partake in these tussles, just hear about them. Why would anybody want to spend any time with people in town after school has ended?) One time, one of the fights got so huge that police were called and had to break it up, they turned up in riot vans and everything. It was all anybody was talking about the next day. I like to live vicariously through overheard snippets of conversation from everyone else, so this was a pretty big deal at the time.

Every morning I have toast with marmite on it. I don’t know why, I just really, really like marmite. Enough to have it every morning of my life and not get bored. Also, if I’m running late I can spread it super quickly and just run out of the door, toast in mouth, though Mum nags about me doing this. She thinks it’s rude to not sit down for five minutes with the family every morning. My family aren’t the most exciting people on the planet, so if I do skip breakfast I don’t feel too bad about it. I doubt I miss out on any jaw-dropping, life-changing conversation. No cures for cancer or global warming solutions will be lost on me.
Now don’t get me wrong, they’re good people and all. My Dad is funny and intelligent and I really look up to him a lot. He teaches me new words when he does his morning crossword and I’m pretty sure I have him to thank for myration and logic. He works for a delivery company, but I’m not too sure what he does. (He’s told me several times, but I forget. A sure sign that I’m not due to follow in his footsteps and make it a family business.)
He wears a tie to work though, so he’s probably relatively important as far as delivery jobs go. Of course, you can have an important job without a tie. See: Doctors, chefs, sailors. But I like how ties look - smart and respectful. Unless you’re a door-to-door salesman. Or a politician.
My sister is already at the table. She’s four years older than me - twenty. She has long dark hair and big brown eyes and her name is Bella, which means ‘beautiful’ in Italian. My sister is beautiful, and all the boys in my class fancy her. I’m not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, it’s gross, and I hate hearing them say vulgar things about her. On the other hand, I get a lot less shit in my day-to-day life because they somehow respect me for having a hot older sister. It makes no sense, but I don’t dispute it. If having an attractive older sibling somehow gets me higher on the social ladder than poor old John Everist, I’ll take it.
I get on well with my sister but we don’t really hang out together. This suits me, because her friends aren’t the type of people I’d choose to spend my time with. To say it kindly, they’re a little goddamn moronic.
The boys all look a little like well-groomed aliens with a shit-ton of gel in their hair and the girls all use abbreviated words like ‘totes,’ which makes me embarrassed to even listen to. Even Bella speaks like that when she’s around them, though she drops the act when it’s just us at home.
They make me feel uncomfortable as I’m not sure how to speak to them and I feel like I don’t belong. This makes me sweat. You will notice sweating is a frequent occurrence in my miserable life, and it’s boring and gross but it’s part of who I am and as long as I keep wearing deodorant it’s not like it’s hurting anybody. For the record, I use the 48 hour dry protection stuff. And yes, I have a can in my mini backpack. Dad says it’s hormones, but I know it’s to do with my feeling uncomfortable. I let him think it’s hormones. He says it all proud as if he’s finally getting his very own, size Small, man-child.
Back to my sister and away from my body malfunctions: Bella is a hairdresser, but she’s doing a degree in Psychology part-time. This makes her think she has the right to psychoanalyse me on a daily basis. She always has big, back-combed hair
While I eat my toast I can hear the dance music coming out of her headphones, her hair wild and unruly underneath it. She bops her head to the music and eats her muesli. She loves her muesli, says it’s good for you. I think it looks like bird food. She says it will help her to lose weight, which I don’t understand either because she doesn’t need to lose any. Dad says all women want to lose weight, and even if they don’t, they say they do anyway. I don’t really understand this. I don’t understand most other people anyway, but girls heads are even more complicated to figure out. Dad says it’s not worth even trying.
I also don’t understand how it’s not okay for me to grab my toast for an on-the-run breakfast because I should be ‘spending time with the family’, but Bella can stick headphones in and not speak to any of us and that is somehow acceptable. I bring this up a lot with Mum but she doesn’t do much about it. Bella says me acting up about her breakfast ritual is my insecurity complex flaring up, because she is the girl of the family and therefore more likely to be favoured. This is one of many examples of Bella’s Bullshit Brain-Analysis.
I finish my breakfast and say goodbye.
Bella says ‘laters’ and Mum kisses me on the forehead and says what she always does, “have a lovely day, make good choices and be happy.”
Dad looks up from his paper. “Bye, champ.”
The same as any other goddamn day. My life is a series of unstimulating events.

I walk down to the bus stop, the rows of uninteresting same-same suburban houses passing me by. The postman waves at me and I nod back. It’s a nice sunny day, and there’s a crisp freshness in the air. When I reach my stop I stand on my own and wait for the bus while everyone else stands in their groups of friends, catching up on their weekends. I don’t have any proper friends at my school. My best friend is Harry, who lives next door to me. He goes to Post Twat school, which has led to his being christened with the nickname The Prince - also because he coincidentally shares a first name with Britain’s favoured royal. I see Prince a lot, but times like this I wish he went to my school so I had someone to chat to while I wait. Instead I put my headphones in and lean against a small brick wall, staring at my feet as I listen to the clash of Wolf Mother.
Everyone at my school is into commonly ‘cool’ things, like football and hip-hop. I like to paint and read, so I don’t quite fit in. We actually applied for me to go to Posh Twat school (to be labelled PTS from here on end), but they were oversubscribed. Most likely with all the other uncool people from Bennesons (my school) who, like me, are trying to climb their way into some sort of social spotlight in an alternative educational environment. Imagine a world where brains won over brawns? Fantasy.
Mum even wanted to send me to a goddamn ‘special school’ for a while, because she thought my struggles to fit in were worsening my diagnosed anxiety. Can you believe that? Being on the special bus is the last goddamn thing I need.
After that horrendous suggestion I made a conscious effort to fit in better and to stop talking about the things that worry me. And I must admit, since doing so, alongside taking my prescribed medication, I haven’t felt half as anxious as I did before. Placebo effect? Perhaps.
Dad’s on my side too. “There’s nothing wrong with my boy, he’s a great lad and everybody should stop fussing and leave him be,” he said.
So Mum left me to be.
I’m just a bit socially awkward, that’s all. No big deal.

The bus arrives and I wait for everybody else to board first before getting on and taking my usual seat at the very front with the bus driver, Marvin.
“Good morning, Marvin.”
“Good day! How are we, young Cooper?” he asks back jovially.
“Alright,” I reply.
Marvin nods and off we go.
I always sit at the front because when I sat elsewhere, the other kids used to give me trouble. This was a long time ago, when I first came to Bennessons, but they called me names and pulled at my clothes and antagonised me into fights. Sometimes I struggle to control my temper. One time I got really angry and hit this boy, Blake, because he was calling me a retard. The school let it slip that one time, but after that Mum said I should sit at the front and take no notice of what anybody said to me, so that’s just what I did. That fight was in my first week of Bennessons when I was eleven. I’ve sat here, with Marvin, ever since.
I like to use the bus journey to read, anyway. Usually I don’t read in public as part of my method for fitting in, but when I sit at the front with Marvin everyone acts like I’m not here. This suits me fine, because I can read in peace and nobody gives me any shit for it. Also, if something great happens in the storyline, I tell Marvin about it and he nods and asks questions, which I like. I always read fantasy stories. They’re usually fat and bulky and take up a lot of precious mini-backpack space, but I love how anything can happen in these worlds. Magic and apocalypses and crazy shit that doesn’t exist… it can all happen in these stories. I think it’s cool, like whoever has written it has bent the rules of the world to create something totally new. When I’m reading it’s like I can envision it all happening in my head so clearly, sometimes I go back home and recreate scenes as drawings.

We arrive at school and I wait for everybody to get off before I do, ears pricking up and catching slithers of conversation as people bustle past me.
“And then she told him no way- “
“She was like, amazing, and he was like, isn’t it? And -”
“So then I looked in the toilet and this dump was freaking huge man, like-”
“I swear my Mum is the biggest bitch I’ve ever -”
And then it’s time for me to get off, so I swing my dumb backpack onto my shoulder, grab my folders and shuffle off, giving Marvin a nod of departure.
“See you on the way home,” he waves and pulls away, the door closing after me. He’s a good guy.

I turn to face the dreaded doors of Bennesson and sigh, trying to pump myself up for the day. The Dreaded Doors of Bennesson - that would be a great book name. I should log that somewhere. Everybody around me is chatting excitedly about their weekends, exchanging gossip and sharing uninteresting opinions about reality tv shows I don’t watch. The building looms up into the sky and looks… depressing. Grey and bleak and depressing. Inside isn’t much better, gross green plastic-like flooring and fluorescent lights that, I’m sure, were designed specifically to highlight sixteen-year-old-boy’s pimples as brightly as possible.
On cue the bell screams and there is a collective groan as everybody starts hustling towards class, lockers slamming and footsteps padding down the halls.
I don’t have first period today. I get to miss my first class to go and see Suzie.
Suzie is the guidance counsellor and I have a private session with her twice a month, which is great for getting me out of class.
I wait outside her office and try not to jiggle my knee, which is something I do when I’m anticipating any sort of discomfort. It’s not that Suzie makes me uncomfortable, it’s that I’m not sure what I’ll talk about today and feel uncomfortable going in without a set plan. I like plans.
Her office is beside the Head Teacher, Mr. Gray’s office. Opposite me sits Miles Jenson, one of the more popular kids at school. He’s sat with his legs spread wide, slumped into the chair with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, a hood hanging low over his forehead. He looks like he may want to stab me. I try to avoid eye contact but I can feel his eyes boring into me and it makes my pulse quicken as I anticipate an altercation about to begin.
I glance quickly to the side and clench and unclench my fists. My knuckles crack.
Mr Gray’s door swings open. “Come in, Jenson. And pull those blooming trousers up, for christ sake!”
I watch as Miles trudges up and follows Mr Gray into his office, the door shutting behind him, and let out a sigh of relief. No altercation after all.
“Come on in, Cooper!” Suzie’s head pops around the door and I get up and trail into her office. It’s small and painted yellow, a bunch of Thank You cards on the desk from parents and students. She smells of soap and has really long, red wavy hair. Her voice is really gentle and lullaby-esque, so when she speaks everything else around me somehow gets quiet and my insides feel still and my head calms down. She smiles and sits down at her desk, looking at me expectantly.
I see Suzie for my anxiety. It’s not a learning difficulty - I’m of above-average intelligence for my age group. My anxiety just makes it a little harder for me in certain social situations, which in turn makes me less confident, which makes me more anxious. It’s a raging cycle of useless behavioural patterns. Suzie helps with this sort of thing. I don’t necessarily have to see her anymore now that I have my panic attacks under control, but I like to keep going anyway because it gets me out of class for an hour.
Kids go to see her for loads of different reasons; when their parents are divorcing, if they’re hurting themselves, if they’re too thin, if they’re bullying people… the list is extensive. Sometimes they are forced to go by Mr.Gray as punishment for something, but usually they go by choice. In general, if someone goes to see Suzie nobody gives them shit, because she’s helped so many kids with family problems that there’s an unspoken respect for her and anybody who needs to speak to her to deal with stuff. If anyone asks why I’m going to see her, I man a conscious effort to look very sullen and say, ‘family issues’ and then the person asking will look empathetic and nod. It’s the unspoken rule at Bennesson’s: nobody gets crap for seeing Suzie, because she’s the goddamn nicest woman to live on this earth.
I like my time with Suzie. I show her sketches I’m working on and talk about books I’ve read. She likes my paintings a lot, so sometimes I do special ones just for her as gifts. Only when I’m feeling nice, I don’t make a habit of it or anything. I don’t want it to get weird and her to think I fancy her or anything. Christ, imagine. I talk about wanting to go art school a lot and the anxiety it brings me that I might not get in. And the anxiety it would bring me if I did get in and had to socialise with all new people in all new surroundings.
In return for my paintings, she gives me book recommendation lists which she thinks I will enjoy. It’s like having a friend at my school, only she’s way older than me and I can only speak to her twice monthly. We go over coping mechanisms for anxiety and I talk to her about anything causing me particular stress at the time.

Today nothing is particularly bothering me, but I need time to drag out because my first class is Math which I really don’t excel in, so I want to miss as much as possible. I’ll have to pull something good out of the bag. Out of the bag...
“My bag is stressing me out.” I tell her, my face sombre.
She glances quickly at my bag, which is sat by my feet. I kick it to emphasise my distaste.
“Why is your bag stressing you out, Cooper?” she asks me with her baby-voice. She says my name a lot. I think she does this to feel like she is connecting with me and to encourage me to open up more.
“It’s not big enough for my folders.” I hold up my folder to magnify the severity of the situation, “which means I have to carry them, in which case I may as well not even have a bag and just carry all my stuff into school by hand like a stockroom assistant.”
She nods slowly. I can’t tell if she’s humouring me or not, so I carry on, feeling like I’m on a bit of a roll.
“It cost me seventeen quid down at Sports Bucket and it probably cost an overseas factory worker about twenty pence to make. It’s a daily reminder of my conformist attitude and I hate it.” I glare at the bag to make my point.
“So why don’t you buy another bag?” Suzie asks. It took her two minutes of listening to my made-up rant before asking me this, the most obvious question. Suzie is a good listener.
“Because I’ll get beaten up,” I announce, feigning exasperation.
Sudden inspiration hits and I begin to improvise a speech Mr Luther King would be damn proud of.
“Some kid the other day with a briefcase big enough to fit all his folders, and probably mine too, got Baked Beans thrown at him at lunchtime. Of the Heinz variety,” I add, as though it makes a difference. “You think that’s a coincidence, Suzie? Because I sure as hell don’t. So here I am, paying my seventeen bucks and being a sell-out because society is telling me that if I buy an appropriate and sensible school bag, I’ll get Beaned.” I pause, impressed by my use of the word ‘beaned’ as a verb.
“Who got Baked Beans thrown at him?” Suzie asks sharply, snapping to attention.
I fold my arms. “Snitches get stitches,” I reply.
I sit and half-listen to Suzie give an empowering speech about being myself and spending my money on things I want to buy without caring what other people think. She tells me anybody who gives me trouble can be reported in confidence and they’ll get their just comeuppance. Snitches get stitches, I think to myself.
“You can go now, Cooper. I’ll see you in a fortnight.” She smiles at me and I pick up my Conformist Backpack and head back just as the bell for English rings. I’m going to be late.

I walk in after everybody else has sat down, clenching and unclenching my fists as I feel the teacher pause mid-sentence to look at me, The Late Arrival. I’m sure everybody is looking at me, laughing inside, but I stare fixedly at the floor. That’s when I notice a pair of battered lace-up boots. There is a girl I don’t know standing at the front of the class with our teacher and she looks over at me with her big blue eyes and I feel myself get hot. This means I’m probably going red, for which I loathe myself. I want to jump into a lake of starved crocodiles, hungry for my not-very-meaty prepubescent body.
“Sit down, Cooper. You’re late.” Mrs Hadlow gestures at a seat, peering at me with a look of contempt over her glasses. “I was just about to introduce your new classmate.” She turns back to address the room as I shuffle over to my desk, my face burning with… shame? Embarrassment? Awkwardness? Unwanted attention?
“Everybody, this is Whisper, she has moved from London to join us. I hope you will make her feel welcome,” she continues.
The class snigger at the girl’s name and she stands there steely still, glaring out into the room with a slight pout.
I don’t snigger, despite my usual intention to follow the crowd.
She is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.
Her hair is metallic black and short, scraped up in a messy and stubby ponytail. She’s wearing red lipstick which makes her look so much older and more sophisticated than the other girls in the class. Her cheeks are rosy and she’s wearing a ton of black eye makeup, which make her eyelashes look like fat little spiders legs. Her blue eyes look even colder surrounded by the black as she glares out into the room.
She has a tiny nose stud that sparkles when light catches it and her nails are bitten right down, but she’s painted them with black nail varnish so they still look fascinating somehow. Her skirt is hitched right up and her jumper is tight against her curves, which makes me hot again when I realise I’m staring. She’s blessed with infinite beauty and I’m cursed with aching wonder. If she’s a whisper, I’m deathly silence.
Our teacher tells her she can take a seat and Whisper stalks over to the last free chair, two rows along from mine. Her boots squeak on the linoleum floor. She slumps over her table chewing strawberry bubblegum that I can smell from where I’m sat. It must be fresh out of the packet.
She fiddles with her pen, weaving it around her fingers and stopping to doodle flowers and stars on her notebook sporadically. I watch her as she writes ‘Whisper’ in swirly, cursive writing over and over again at the top of the page. It reads like goddamn poetry.
She glances over and catches me staring at her, open-mouthed. I feel my skin burn again, but instead of ignoring me or laughing at me like anybody else would do, she winks and gives me a smile that’s full of trouble. With that smile, I am hers.

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Thanks for all your continued support! x 

2018 Best Book Awards : By CK Robertson

Hello Readers & Friends,

2018 has been a long and crazy year, and I wanted to do a 'Best Books' summary in award-ceremony fashion to cover some of my favourite reads of the year.
On GoodReads I managed to beat my reading target of 56!

I actually am an idiot and thought there were 56 weeks in a year and realised about two weeks ago that there are only 52, which is great because I beat my target of one book per week by accident.



I was going to wait until the very end of the year to upload this, but don't want to forget to post and still have my Goals & Resolutions post to go up, so I'm posting this a little early and will edit if needs be :) 


Best Series: The Mortal Instruments by Cassandra Clare
Special Commendation: Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

Best Thriller: The Chalk Man by C.J Tudor
Special Commendation: Snow Girls by Chris Rooney

Best Sci Fi: Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
Special Commendation: Eve of Man by Tom & Giovanna Fletcher

Best YA Fantasy: Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo
Special Commendation: Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi

Best YA Romance: Starry Eyes by Jenn Bennett
Special Commendation: Night Owls by Jenn Bennett

Best Contemporary: A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara

Favourite Male Character: Kaz Brekker of Six of Crows
Special Commendation: Jace Wayland of TMI series

Favourite Female Character: Juliette in Ignite Me (after she grows some balls)

Best 1 Day Read: Psycho by Robert Bloch

Best Memoir: Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton
Special Commendation: This Is Going To Hurt by Adam Kay

Best Indie: Wunderkids by Jacqueline Silvester

Best Book to Film Adaption: Ready Player One

Special Commendation:  To All The Boys I've Loved Before



----

And for a full list of all my reads & ratings in 2018...

How I rate:
* Could not read or get around style of writing/ shit storyline, likely DNF
** Really didn't like, could rant about, would not recommend, dissapointed
*** Was a fine read, will probably have forgotten about it within 6 months but passed time nicely
**** Really enjoyed, looked forward to reading every day, would recommend
***** Could not put down, thought about for ages after, into the fandom and would re-read

 1. Night Owls by Jenn Bennett ****
 2. I'll Be Yours by Jenny B Jones **
3. The Gender Secret by Bella Forrest *****
4. The Gender Game by Bella Forrest *****
5. The Gender War by Bella Forrest ****
6. The Gender Fall by Bella Forrest ****
7. Everything Is Awful by Matt Bellassai *****
8. The Gender Lie by Bella Forrest *****
9. The Gender Plan by Bella Forrest ****
10. Enmity! (a million times.)
11. City of Lost Souls by Cassandra Clare *****
12. Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton *****
13. What Fresh Hell by Lucy Vine *
14. Graduation Day by Joelle Charbonneau **
15. The Gender End by Bella Forrest ****
16. Caraval by Stephanie Garber **
17. City of Bones by Cassandra Clare *****
18. City of Ashes by Cassandra Clare *****
19. City of Glass by Cassandra Clare *****
20. City of Fallen Angels by Cassandra Clare ***
21. City of Heavenly Fire by Cassandra Clare ****
22. A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara *****
23. Starry Eyes by Jenn Bennett *****
24. Who Runs The World by Virgina Bergin **
25. Let's Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson **
26. Playing With the Grown Ups by Sophie Dahl ****
27. Wunderkids by Jacqueline Silvester *****
28. The Wife Between Us by Greer Hendricks ***
29. PS.I Still Love You by Jenny Han ****
30. Alex, Approximately by Jenn Bennett ***
31. To All The Boys I've Loved Before by Jenny Hann ****
32. Always and Forever Lara Jean by Jenny Hann ****
33. The Child Thief by Bella Forrest ***
34. A Totally Awkward Love Story by Tom Ellen ***
35. Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi ****
36. Turtles All The Way Down by John Green **
37. This Is Going To Hurt by Adam Kay ****
38. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern ***
39. Coraline by Neil Gaiman ****
40. Psycho by Robert Bloch *****
41. Snow Girls by Chris Mooney *****
42. Grace and Fury by Tracy Banhart ****
43. Eve of Man by Tom & Giovanna Fletcher *****
44. The Wisprian World by W.N Cleckler **
45. Furyborn by Claire Legrand ***
46. Some Kind of Happiness by Claire Legrand ****
47. Independent Study by Joelle Charbonneau ***
48. The Testing by Joelle Charbonneau ****
49. Ready Player One by Ernest Cline *****
50. Children of Blood and Bone by Tomi Adeyemi *****
51. Tales of Beedle and the Bard by JK Rowling ***
52. The Chalk Man by C.J Tudor *****
53. Unravel Me by Tahereh Mafi ****
54. Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo *****
55. I Heart Christmas by Lindsey Kelk ***
56. Ignite Me by Tehereh Mafi *****
57. Restore Me by Tehereh Mafi ****
58. Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare 

What were your favourite reads of 2018?