Sarah Guillory's Blog, page 8

Childhood Revisited: My Review of THE HOUNDS OF THE MORRIGAN

I want to thank everyone who participated in the Childhood Revisited blog series. I really enjoyed reading reviews of book I fell in love with as a child - they made me want to re-read them all.
 My copy of the book has been taped back
together more than once.
My love affair with The Hounds of the Morrigan began in fourth grade. It was the biggest book in our school library, and I had always had a thing for weighty tomes. I gained an enormous sense of satisfaction when I finished long books, but it also meant I could live in their world a little bit longer.

We visited the library every two weeks, so at the end of the two weeks, I was disappointed when I had to return the book. I begged my parents to buy it for me for Christmas, and I was thrilled when it was propped against the fireplace on Christmas morning. I finished it fairly quickly after that, so enamoured was I with the characters and their quest to basically save the world. There is one particular moment that I can recall as vividly today as if it just happened. I was lying on my bed reading this book with the radio on in the background. “Eternal Flame” by the Bangles came on (you read that right - the Bangles), and the mood and tone of the song so perfectly fit the scene I was reading that I seriously felt as if my heart were too big for my chest. That is the first time I really remember being so moved, so caught up in a story that the words felt more real than reality. I had always been able to lose myself in a good book, but this was so beyond that.
The Hounds of the Morrigan follows ten-year-old Pidge and his five-year-old sister Bridget. They have been recruited to go on a quest to find a stone with the Morrigan’s blood on it. If she finds it first, the world will be doomed. They are followed along the way by the Morrigan’s hounds, who can scent them but are not allowed to actually hunt them unless the children run in front of them. I always felt such fear for the kids, as I knew how badly they wanted to run but couldn’t. They are helped along the way many times by both man and beast, and must outwit the Morrigan as she uses her magic to prevent them from finding the pebble first.
This book was released in 1985, well before Harry Potter, and I loved the fantasy and magic and danger. I had never read a book like it. At the time I believed the children to be in a completely new world, but in re-reading it, I realized they are in Ireland. (Which is fantastical enough for me.) Most of the story’s characters are based on Celtic mythology, and I do wish I knew a little bit more about that. I think that would make the story even better.
As a child I loved the stories and characters, particularly Roo, the Fox. I have read this book more times than I can remember, but this is the first time I’ve re-read this book since becoming serious about my writing. This time around I was more interested in O’Shea’s writing. I’m sure part of that had to do with the fact that I know this story so well. But O’Shea does a wonderful job with voice. The story is told in third-person POV, and many times we are in Pidge’s head. He, and his little sister, seem much wiser and more mature than their age. But somehow O’Shea still manages to keep a child’s voice without sacrificing language. She does not dumb down her vocabulary or really even simplify her sentence structure. The dialogue, particularly when Bridge is speaking, still makes me giggle.
The Hounds of the Morrigan is one of those books that feel like they belong just to me. I’ve never met anyone else, besides my sister, who has read this book. If you have, I would love to hear your thoughts. If you haven’t – well, I guess I can share.

Childhood Revisited: Emily P. reviews THE LITTLE HOUSE books

By the time I was six, I was already searching for chapter books to quench the burning desire I had to read books that would last longer than thirty minutes. And although I was already an advanced reader, I wasn’t quite ready to give up illustrations. So, my mom presented me with The Little House in the Big Woods by Laura Ingalls Wilder, launching me into a faithful obsession that would consume the next four years of my childhood. The Little House books were just amazing to my younger self, the story of a girl my age growing up in such a different time, but still facing the same struggles as I did, like getting along with a sister. By my seventh birthday, I had read the entire series, and a little part of me had grown up with Laura (which could possibly explain why I never did understand my parents’ use of the “you’re only seven” excuse). These were the books that taught me about family, and because of them, I was able to appreciate my family even more. Laura was always more than a drawing of a little girl or a “Half-pint” to me. She was another friend.

Most of the books I read in the latter parts of my childhood years were linked to The Little Housebooks. I discovered that there were also books about Laura’s mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, and daughter, and the hunt began for every copy. Sadly, we couldn’t find all of them in our bookstores, but I devoured those that we had found, almost as soon as I got them, always ready for another, much to my parents’ wallet’s dismay.
So, these were the books I chose to reread because they had taught me more than any other book ever has. The thing it, though, when I first read these books, I was Laura’s age at the very beginning of the series, and I connected with her more when she was six and seven. Now, at sixteen, I can relate to the latter of the series, and that pressure to do well in school, and that fluttering beginning of romance. These books are timeless, with lessons and meanings relatable at any age. Even now, after hundreds of rereads, Almanzo’s proposal still coaxed a little gasp and a grin from me.
That’s the beauty of all books, I think. That they can last you a lifetime, and still make you feel like you did when you were six years old, wondering how on earth anyone could live in a little house in a Big Woods.  Emily is a high school student who often contributes reviews to this blog. You can see why.

Childhood Revisited: Kate Slivensky Reviews A WRINKLE IN TIME

I first read A WRINKLE IN TIME in fourth grade, as a class assignment. It was right around the time I was in love with Bruce Coville's ALIENS ATE MY HOMEWORK. It was also right when I was on the verge of beginning my Star Wars obsession (I devoured every Star Wars novel ever written during my tweenage years). In other words, though I was already an avid reader at that age, I was just beginning to learn the wonders of "science fiction fantasy".

So, along with my fellow "Gifted and Talented" classmates, I cracked open this odd-sounding book with nerdy enthusiasm...and my nine year-old mind was blown.

Going on two decades later, I picked this book back up to reread it for this blog series and had my mind blown again. Everything came flooding back, and it was glorious. I kid you not, sitting in my apartment with only my cat as a witness, a giant grin took over my face as soon as I got to the mysterious line at the end of the first chapter:

"...there is such a thing as a tesseract."

I remembered that line. That line was burnt into my brain, because as a kid--a kid with an extensive vocabulary and science-y interests much like the main character, Meg--I'd never heard the word "tesseract" before. And it was at that line that I was officially hooked. All because Madeleine L'Engle did something amazing: she didn't tell me what a tesseract was right away.

Instead, I was left trying to imagine what this strange word might be and why it is important to Meg's mother, and what it has to do Meg's father, and how this odd old lady knew it would mean something to this family.

Before I started my reread, I jotted down everything that stuck with me from my childhood about this book: tesseracts, the explanation of how time wrinkles, the weird world where everything is the same and rigid and structured, and Charles Wallace fighting the times tables. Most of all, though, was this one sentence I wrote down and underlined several times: "IT MADE ME THINK SO HARD MY BRAIN HURT...BUT IN A GOOD WAY".

As a kid who was nerdier than most, getting to read a story in which I couldn't guess where it was going--a story with fantastical elements that were explained in a logical way and concepts that philosophy majors could debate in graduate level courses--was like candy for my mind. Too often, adults fail to give kids enough credit. Kids can think. Kids can think pretty big, serious, and complicated thoughts.

Instead of dumbing ideas down for her readers, Madeleine L'Engle introduced ideas. She counted on her young readers to take these concepts and think them through for themselves. She knew kids were smart, and so she wrote a smart book for them. I cannot applaud her enough for this.

A WRINKLE IN TIME is one of my favorite childhood reads, because it encouraged me to think. As an adult, I've clearly take that lesson to heart. I'm a science educator. I write science-based adventures for middle grade readers. In all that I do, I try to get kids to think. Rereading A WRINKLE IN TIME has been enlightening, because it's put perspective on what I do and why I do it. Every now and again, a book comes along that really does change your life, and after rereading A WRINKLE IN TIME, I'm more convinced than ever that this was one of those books for me.

If you've never had a chance to read it, do yourself a favor and snag a copy somewhere. Better yet, get a copy, read it with a kid, and then have conversations with them about it. This clever, thought-provoking novel is guaranteed to worm its way into your brain and never completely let go. And don't be surprised if little Charles Wallace worms his way into your heart and stays there forever, too.

Katie Slivensky is a science educator and aspiring middle grade novelist. She has a Master's degree in paleontology and has spent countless hours digging up fossils in the badlands and measuring bones in dark museum basements. She now works for the Museum of Science in Boston, where she teaches outreach programming to kids across New England, and also runs their rooftop Observatory. Her blog, discoverific.blogspot.com, aims to help every-day people get to know science a little better.

Childhood Revisited: Jennifer Iacopelli Reviews THE SECRET GARDEN

When Sarah tweeted about the idea of rereading our favorite childhood classics I instantly knew I wanted to be a part of it and which book I wanted to read. There were many books that influenced me as a child and many books that I came back to over and over again. From the Little House series to Anne of Green Gables, I loved reading about strong girls, girls whose worlds I wanted to crawl into and experience first hand, girls I wanted to be friends with and emulate as I grew up. But like I said, when Sarah mentioned this blog series, I knew which book I wanted to reread, because this book was the first book that made me feel that way. The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett was the book that made me a reader.

Mary Lennox is a brat. That’s what I remember thinking when I was seven years old and reading The Secret Garden for the first time. My aunt, the one that always bought me books (we all had a relative like that right?) bought me a copy for my 7thbirthday. She said maybe it would be a little too much for me, but I pretty much took her words as a challenge and was determined to read it on my own. So I did and for the very first time, I found myself with a real quandary while reading a book. Mary Lennox was most certainly a nasty, bratty little girl who’d I’d probably hate if I met her in real life, but I also remember thinking that maybe she had a good reason. Her parents were dead, everyone forgot about her and then she was sent to live in a strange house in an even stranger place. This wasn’t black and white, a hero or a villain. This was the first shade of gray I’d ever encountered and it fascinated me. Of course I didn’t really understand that at the time. I was simply drawn into the magical world of Yorkshire, the mysterious boy who thought he would die and the boy with red hair and beautiful blue eyes who could talk to the animals. I think I might have loved it despiteMary.
As an adult, the world of The Secret Garden was no less magical. I still fell in love with Dickon and his animals. The mystery of Colin and his “crooked” back was no less intriguing, but my opinion of Mary was a total reversal. As a little girl I thought that she was a brat, but with good reason. Now, it was all I could do not to weep for the little girl who had no understanding of how desperate she was for her mother’s love, for anyone to take notice of her, for just an ounce of happiness. It was such a joy to watch the magic of the garden, but truly the magic of having people love and care for her, transform Mary into a strong girl, one capable of amazing things, like helping a sick boy become healthy and reuniting a family.
Now, years later, I finally understand what kindled my interest in reading about girls like Laura Ingalls and Anne Shirley and later, Elizabeth Bennett and it all came back to a little brat I was sure I wouldn’t be able to stand and the magic she experienced in a secret garden.   Jennifer Iacopelli was born in New York and has no plans to leave...ever. Growing up, she read everything she could get her hands on, but her favorite authors were Laura Ingalls Wilder, L.M. Montgomery and Frances Hodgson Burnett all of whom wrote about kick-ass girls before it was cool for girls to be kick-ass. She got a Bachelor's degree in Adolescence Education and English Literature quickly followed up by a Master's in Library Science, which lets her frolic all day with her books and computers, leaving plenty of time in the evenings to write and yell at the Yankees, Giants and her favorite tennis players through the TV.  Jennifer is the author of Game Set Match, which will be out May 1st, 2013. Add it to your Goodreads!
Also, follow her on Twitter and check out her gorgeous website.

RECLAIMED is available for pre-order!

So I had a nice little surprise on Thursday afternoon - Reclaimed went up on Amazon for pre-order. My awesome CP Kate tweeted me a link, and I had a little mini heart-attack when my book showed up. I had no idea it was going up this early! Thanks to everyone who has already pre-ordered it. The whole thing is a little surreal.

If you're interested, you can pre-order Reclaimed HERE.




Also, on Saturday I received a huge box of Reclaimed bookmarks from SHP. Aren't they gorgeous? They have the tagline on the back, which I love. One small town. Two big secrets. Three lives that will never be the same.

Seriously, y'all, I am so looking forward to October and being able to finally share this book with you.

Childhood Revisited: Lindsay Currie Reviews WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS

As a child, I read a lot. As a teen, I read even more. Now, as an adult, I realize how much all of that reading shaped me as a writer. I would spring out of bed like it was Christmas on RIF (reading is fundamental) day and come home with a beautiful, crisp new book. The funny thing was, it was always the same book I brought home. My other copies of it became worn, and the covers tattered between my sticky, little fingers. I always seemed to need a new copy. I'd stash the old ones on my bookshelf and put the new one on my desk so I could enjoy the shininess of its cover.

That book was Where the Red Fern Grows, by Wilson Rawls. The story of a boy and his beloved hunting dogs, living with his family in the heart of the Ozark mountains. It captured not only my attention, but my heart and I read it over and over again. If you look this book up, you'll find it's categorized as a children's novel as the main character is ten, but by many standards it's best read by fourth grade and up due to some salty language. There's also some significant violence, but absolutely none that I would consider gratuitous or irrelevant to the storyline.

Whether or not I knew it at the time, this book influenced me. It made me feel everything right along with the main character, Billy. It made me want hunting dogs even though I had no idea what on earth I'd do with them. I was completely sucked into the story and no matter how many times I read it, I was always in tears by the ending.
It. Was. Beautiful.

There are several books I could cite as being influential, but Where the Red Fern Grows definitely takes the prize for the strongest. Wilson Rawls taught me how vivid language and a beautiful imagination can weave magic. Reading that book encouraged me to write. The ability to move people with words like he could became far more alluring in my fourth-grade mind than any super power out there.

Recently, I read this book again with my son. I can't begin to tell you how powerful it was to see how it effected him, how excited he was for our reading time and how touched he was at the end of the book. Have there been other books that touched him? Of course. But not many that left a mark on the heart like this one. As an adult reading the book again, I'm in awe of this author's ability to juxtapose the bleakness of Billy's poverty with the perfection of the pristine land his family hunts. Rawls was unafraid to capture the moments of darkness in childhood, and the heartache of learning some of the harsher lessons in life. At the same time, he managed to grow that thing we all thrive on - as children, teenagers, adults. HOPE. That four lettered word that keeps us reading. . . keeps us wishing on stars and blowing eyelashes off of our fingers.
So, Where the Red Fern Grows -- my favorite childhood book and one that has stood the test of time for me. I can truly say although it might be a different appreciation, I love it just as much today as I did when I was ten.  Lindsay Currie is a YA writer repped by Kathleen Rushall of Marsal Lyon Literary. Visit her blog at http://tiptoe-kisses.blogspot.com or follow her on twitter at https://twitter.com/lindsayncurrie. 

To Read and Read Again

Books were my first love. My grandmother (a teacher) taught me to read before I started school, so I spent most of my childhood lost in pages. I would hurry though my schoolwork so I could sit and read. I remember getting so lost in a book that I wouldn’t hear my mother calling me for dinner. I grew up in a small town, and books were a way for me to see the world. I felt I had traveled the globe by the time I got into high school and fell in love with Russian literature.

I am a re-reader. Sometimes I admit that with shame. There are so many amazing books out there that I want to read, and I know that I will never get to all of them. That thought makes me sad. When I read the Twilight series, I envied the Cullen’s insomnia. I couldn’t imagine all the books I would be able to read if I didn’t have to sleep.
I feel guilty sometimes when I’m re-reading a book. But I love that world and those characters so much that I want to get lost in it over and over again. Sometimes I re-read even if I didn’t love the book. I might have read the book before I was ready for it, and either it was too difficult for me to understand, or I hadn’t yet reached the point in my life where I could appreciate the struggles of the characters. I have both fallen in love with books that I didn’t really appreciate the first time I read them and have re-read books that, by the time I got to the re-read, had somehow lost their magic for me.
But more often than not, when I re-read I am transported to a familiar world, almost like home, and sometimes I’m even transported back to my childhood.
I’m going to do a series of reviews of childhood favorites. I have several guest bloggers lined up to write reviews of their favorite childhood stories. Maybe you’ll be inspired to read a book you’ve heard about but never had a chance to read. Maybe you’ll be reminded of one you loved. But I hope you’ll be motivated to do the same – re-read a book and maybe recapture a tiny piece of the magic of childhood.

On Growth

 
I’m not a huge fan of the Oscars. I do appreciate artists, those who work and hone their craft, and I am always glad to see that celebrated, as well as disappointed when it isn’t. This is not going to be a long rant on the state of Hollywood, as I know absolutely nothing of the state of Hollywood. But what I have noticed since the Oscars is frequent comments, namely on Twitter, that make me believe that we as a society have failed to grasp the  notion of growth. When Anne Hathaway won, I saw over and over again how an Oscar just went to the girl from Ella Enchanted or The Princess Diaries and isn’t that appalling and horrendous. No, actually, it’s what should happen.

I don’t know where we got this notion that a person – and their talent – is stagnant or frozen. Artists, whether they are actors, painters, musicians, or writers, have to start somewhere. And I don’t believe they are born incredibly talented yet remain undiscovered until finally bursting out into the world fully-formed and incredible. Yes, some do. But most begin with a passion for something. They work hard at this passion, and over the years, they improve.
This is how it should be.
So no, I’m not surprised to see someone grow and improve in their craft. I’m impressed. No, I would not be surprised if someone wrote fill-in-the-blank-with-the-genre-you-think-is-trash novels and then later went on to pen a book that won the National Book Award. That is what growth is.
True artists work hard at their craft, seeking to improve it with each new work. Some of them start out way beyond where the rest of us will ever be. But that doesn’t mean they should stay there. I don’t care where an artist begins – what I want to see is their journey, the way they learn from each work they produce and go on to make it better, more meaningful, different.
I want to see passion translated into hard work and success, whatever that looks like.
I want to see someone become a master of their craft by meeting each day with the idea that they will give a little more of themself and be a little better than they were the day before.
I want to see Ella Enchanted go on to win an Oscar.

Trailer for THE DOLLHOUSE ASYLUM

I've already shared the beautifully creepy cover for my friend Mary Gray's book The Dollhouse Asylum, but today I get to share the trailer! Check it out:

A virus that had once been contained has returned, and soon no place will be left untouched by its destruction. But when seventeen-year-old Cheyenne wakes up in Elysian Fields--a subdivision cut off from the world and its monster-creating virus--she is thrilled to have a chance at survival. At first, Elysian Fields, with its beautiful houses and manicured lawns, is perfect. Teo Richardson, the older man who stole Cheyenne's heart, built it so they could be together. But when Teo tells Cheyenne there are tests that she and seven other couples must pass to be worthy of salvation, Cheyenne begins to question the perfection of his world. The people they were before are gone. Cheyenne is now "Persephone," and each couple has been re-named to reflect the most tragic romances ever told. Everyone is fighting to pass the test, to remain in Elysian Fields. Teo dresses them up, tells them when to move and how to act, and in order to pass the test, they must play along. If they play it right, then they'll be safe. But if they play it wrong, they'll die. 


 
  Spencer Hill Press is offering a special The Dollhouse Asylum bone charm necklace to FIVE winners throughout the tour. Potential winners only need to add the book to their to-read list on goodreads! (And, for bonus points, they can tweet about the giveaway!) Add it to your Goodreads!
Cult Dollhouse Asylum link: http://marygraybooks.com/cult-dollhouse/for-members/

A Gif-tastic look at the Writing Process

1.  Oh look, a bright, shiny new idea!  This is probably my best idea ever; I can’t wait to start!


 2.  Wow, the writing is going well.  This one is it!


 3.  Hmm, not sure where this is going.  I love the characters, but where did I put the plot?


 4.  This is horrible.  I hate everything about this.  I’ll just keep plugging away and fix it later.


 5.  Later – this is the vilest piece of crap ever saved in a Word document.  It’s a horrible idea, and the writing is putrid.


 6.  Ooh, an idea to fix the idea.  Scribble.  Scribble. Scribble.


 7.  Nope, that didn’t work either.


 8.  Fetal position.


 9.  Rewrite the entire thing.


 10.  Curse the Muse.


 11. Rewrite the rewrites.


 12. Kiss the Muse.


 13. Drink.









I've never made gifs before, obviously, and it look me three times as long as it would have if I had just written this out. :)