Modern Mrs. Darcy 2020

Happy New Year! Every year I take on these reading challenges and really bite off more than I can chew, if I'm being completely honest. I almost finished the Popsugar one... I'll write about that later. This is my list from the much more do-able Modern Mrs. Darcy list!

A book published in the decade when I was born: This was a great reason to reread The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams, which I'd read probably 10 years ago. Not only is it my dad's favorite book, but I just turned 42, so it seemed perfect. It juuuuust qualified, published in 1979.

A debut author: The Seven or Eight Deaths of Stella Fortuna by Juliet Grimes. I got this a couple of years ago at a bookstore in Wethersfield, CT (RIP, That Book Store... another casualty of covid that I might never get over). If I'd known how fantastic it was, I wouldn't have let it sit on the shelf for so long. It's not a happy book or a funny book. I recommended it to a friend who said she liked it but it was really depressing. Yeah, that's true. Not a lot of happy things happen to Stella but the writing is so gorgeous.

A book recommended by a source you trust: Why Fish Don't Exist by Lulu Miller. I heard about this on the Reading Glasses podcast. More accurately, I didn't hear about it. They said to read it, but go into it knowing nothing, so that's what I did, and it was so great. 

A local author: Sea Wife by Amity Gaige. A family leaves it all behind to go live on a boat. It's romantic and harrowing.

A book outside my (genre) comfort zone: Love Lettering by Kate Clayborn. Look, Anne recommended it on her podcast (What Should I Read Next?) and in her summer reading guide, so even though I really don't like romance novels, I went for it. I was not impressed but I gave it a shot. Someday I'll have to examine why I don't like romance novels. They bore and frustrate me at the same time.

 A book in translation: Convenience Store Woman by Syaka Murata. A young woman who has trouble fitting into the world finds her perfect niche as a clerk in a convenience store. Translated from Japanese. I really enjoyed this one.

A book nominated for an award in 2020: The Nickel Boys by Colson Whitehead came out in 2019 but was nominated for this year's National Book Award. A story of race and juvenile justice...?... in Florida, inspired by a real place.

A reread: Hyperbole and a Half by Allie Brosh, because her new book came out this year.

A classic you didn't read in school: the Prime of Miss Jean Brodie by Muriel Sparks. A teacher takes on a group of favorite students at an all-girls' school in Scotland.

Three books by the same author: The Poet X, With the Fire on High, and Clap When You Land by Elizabeth Acevedo. Three young adult novels (two in verse) that deal with life as a teenage girl of Black and Dominican descent in New York, Philadelphia, and the Dominican Republic. Her characters are so perfectly drawn that you believe they're real people you know. The author reads the audiobooks herself. I don't read a lot of YA but for work I'm getting back into it, and I was so impressed with these!

Sunrise, Sunset

This has nothing to do with reading, but I feel like I need to write about this. Feel free to skip it; it's the story of loving and losing my cat, Patch. I'll start with his life, as much of it as I knew. I'll tell you when we get to his decline, and you can skip that if you need to. It will resume after the photo of him.

Before we get to Patch I have to talk a little about Mittens. Mittens was the cat I adopted when I was 22. She was the first pet I had that was just mine, in my first apartment. My ex boyfriend and I went to the local animal shelter and picked her out. She and I quickly fell in love. She was estimated to be between 2-4 years old and had been picked up as a stray but there's no way she was feral because she was so tame. Mittens and I lived together in four different homes over the course of 12 years, and then she died of kidney failure at the age of about 16. It was a long decline and it was hard but I felt like I got to say goodbye. 

About six months later, a friend of mine who volunteered at a local no-kill shelter reached out. "We have this great cat that nobody wants," she said. Patch was estimated to be 6 years old. He was painfully shy and was passed over again and again because people just couldn't connect with him when they came to browse the cats. He'd imprinted on my friend but she couldn't take him because her house was at max capacity. She trusted me enough to love and care for him, so sight unseen I agreed.

Patch came home with me in early April of 2014. For the first two weeks he mostly lived under my bed. I decided to just let him do his thing, but when I was home I would sit on the floor next to the bed and read. He would come out when he wanted to and let me pet him a little, then go back under the bed. Before too long, he started to realize that he was home and that I was nice, and then he would come greet me whenever I got home. He was a big dude but he had this cute, chirpy voice. 

He went from being one of 20 cats to being alone, and I was working full-time, so he was alone a lot. The shelter told me that he wasn't really interested in other cats. He never fought with them and he never sought them out. He just didn't care. I still thought he could use a friend, so my boyfriend and I went back to the shelter and adopted Buster, a little black kitten to be his buddy. When they first met, Patch would look at me as if to say, "Was this really necessary?" while Buster played with his tail. The one night I felt movement at the foot of my bed. I turned on the light to see them lying there together, and Patch was grooming Buster. That was it. Brothers forever. 

And this is where you can skip down if reading about losing a pet is too much; I understand. It's nothing graphic or gross; he just got sick. Skip down to under the photo of him holding hands with me and Buster.

At the end of October, Patch started limping. We wen to the vet, who assured me that he was just getting older and had some arthritis. We tried a pain killer but all it did was make him sleep all day. We tried cutting it in half but it didn't stop his limping. We tried a anti-inflammatory but that didn't do anything either. We had a battery of tests done and got second and third opinions, all the while watching him get weaker. He spent a lot of time nestled in some clothes in the back of my closet. Buster would come snuggle in with him and bring him toys.

Finally we brought Patch to a neurologist. Neurology is a fancy word for this will cost all the money you've saved up for your wedding. But I did it anyway. I couldn't say goodbye to him without a diagnosis. I needed to know that we had tried everything. We had a nice snuggle and we got to say goodbye to him before he went into the MRI. I kept telling him it was just until after the procedure, but everyone else in the room (I'm sure including Patch) knew that this was the last time we would see our baby.

The vet told us to leave because it could take up to two hours to know the MRI result, and so we did. When he called he told us that Patch had a tumor in his spine that was crippling him. There was nothing he could do, and even if we'd brought him there immediately it would have been inoperable. 

I don't know what else to say except that we miss our boy. Buster would look for him, especially at dinnertime. When he got bored in the wee hours he would knock over the lamp on my nightstand just to show us that he was feeling angsty, sad, lonely, restless... Matt would just say, "Does the cat want something?" He wants his brother back. I get it. I want Patch back too.

On the day after Christmas, we went to the shelter in town and interviewed lots of potential new friends. Our criteria was simple: does he/she like other cats? Not just tolerate them but actually want to be with them? Because Patch was so important to Buster, and we need someone who will want to play and snuggle. It was a tough decision but we settled on a gray tuxedo cat named Banner, who looked so sad and scared in his profile photos. When we met him he looked us over, then let us touch his face. After thinking for a second, he rolled onto his back and requested belly rubs. (I keep saying we're going to rename him because I have no idea what kind of name Banner is, but Matt is lobbying for Banner Boxing Day as his full name, since we got him on Boxing Day and that makes it a "banner day." That's growing on me.)

We're still learning how the new four of us fit together as a family. Banner is learning the rhythms of our house (which are weird, since I was on Christmas break and Matt is still working from home) and he and Buster are getting used to each other. There has been some mutual sniffing and there is virtually no growling and hissing anymore. We have high hopes for this. My heart wasn't ready but Matt's and Buster's were, and Christmas break was the perfect time for a new cat to come into the fold, so we're doing it. 

I thought it might be disrespectful to Patch to replace him so soon, but really there is no replacing him. He's a tough act to follow. Instead I'm viewing it as a tribute to what a great cat, what a great brother, what a perfect part of our family he was that we can't be a family of just three.

Our time together was much too short. We love you so much, Patchasaurus.

Into the gray and blue world

Thirteen Doorways, Wolves Behind them All is a young adult historical fiction novel set in Chicago during World War II. Frankie and her brother and sister are living in an orphanage because her mother died and her father has set out to start a new life that doesn't involve them. Frankie is starting to age out of the orphanage, taking classes on stenography and typing while her brother is drafted into the army. Her story is told through the eyes of a ghost who has been spying on her and the other girls in the orphanage, and over the course of the book the ghost reveals her own story as well. There is a mystery here, too. How did she die? 

I loved this book. I know it's long on atmosphere and short on plot, so you have to enjoy that kind of story. Things do happen but it's very important to the author to make sure you're immersed in the mood of it all, so she sidetracks with a subplot, fairy tales, and lots of details about the scenery and tone. In that way it reminds me of The Night Circus or even The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue. I love ghosts, I love books that make me feel like I'm inside the world with the characters, and I love a good mystery, so this book checked off those boxes for me. I thought the writing was gorgeous. I actually pictured everything happening in the same color palette as the cover of the book, with the exceptions of the fox, the trumpet, and Marguerite's dress.

I also cheered when I read this quote: "Why does the world demand girls be beautiful, but when they are, punish them for it? why does it punish girls either way? Why does the world want girls to be sorry, some even more than others? Sorry, sorrier, sorriest." It was something Taylor Swift said in her Netflix documentary; at one point she swore in an interview and then clapped her hand over her mouth and said "Sorry!" Then, "Why am I sorry? I'm sorry I swore in the house that I bought with the money I earned from the songs that I wrote about my life..." I digress.

But this book was lovely. I loved it. :)

The real monsters are the scariest.

I picked up this book after hearing about it on NPR a few years ago and finally read it yesterday. It was a great October read for a day when I wanted to be out hiking but I managed to hurt my leg last week and can't do anything like that... so I sat in the recliner with my cats and read this book. 

This is a graphic novel the size of a phone book (remember those?) that starts with Karen, a 12-year-old horror enthusiast living in the 1960s telling you that it's her sketchbook. Through her detailed, brilliant drawings, she tell us the story of her life so far, as well as that of the woman upstairs. Her upstairs neighbor is an elderly Jewish woman living with her husband. They are holocaust survivors and Karen only vaguely understands what that means at the outset of the novel. Early in the book, Mrs. Silverberg is shot, and Karen resolves to solve her murder when the police have ruled it a suicide. 

Karen's life serves as a framing story to Anka Silverberg's, whose voice we hear on some cassette tapes Karen gets from Mr. Silverberg. Karen is also dealing with her mother's terminal illness, her own questions about her sexuality and self-image, and her older brother, who is keeping some big secrets. When Karen draws herself into scenes, she depicts herself as a young werewolf. 

This book was heavy and not for children, despite Karen's age and its graphic novel format. We learn about the horrors of Nazi Germany (especially for women and children) and we see a lot of sex. 

There is a volume two of this story, which I feel is essential now because there are a lot of loose ends to be tied up. I just learned that the publication date for that has been pushed back more than once, so I'm not sure when I'll get to read it! If you're a fan of graphic novels and coming-of-age books, give this one a read.

What could have been

"Chickie Pete and his trumpet. He might have played professionally, why not? A session man in a funk band, or an orchestra. If things had been different. the boys could have been many thins had they not been ruined by that place. Doctors who cure diseases or perform brain surgery, inventing shit that saves lives. Run for president. All those lost geniuses-- sure not all of them were geniuses, Chickie Pete for example was not solving special relativity-- but they had been denied even the simple pleasures of being ordinary. Hobbled and handicapped before the race even began, never figuring out how to be normal."

This is the moral of this book in one paragraph. The Nickel Boys is a book about cycles. We're all born into groups, into patterns that we don't recognize when we're young or when we don't have anything else to compare it to. Elwood is one person who sees it easily, however. His parents are drifters who left him with his grandmother at a young age. His grandmother provides a loving, supportive home for him, and Elwood is determined to do well. Even when the other kids make fun of his glasses. Even when the other kids break his bicycle.

Elwood's determination to let nothing derail him lands him in exactly the wrong place at the wrong time, and the harder he resists, the harder the world pushes back. This book is a heart-breaking look at how people are so often trapped in their circumstances, no matter what they do to break free. It also shines a light on the brutality of our justice system, especially the way it can be abused when dynamics of power and race are factored in. It's a worthwhile read, especially for anyone who works with teenagers.

What do these two books have in common?

Long Way Down by Jason Reynolds

Will is so sad that he's skipped over being sad and went right to anger. He knows the rules. Don't cry, don't snitch, and get even.

Will's brother Shawn was shot coming home from an errand for their mom. Will wants revenge and he's pretty sure he knows who did it.

In this novel in verse, Jason Reynolds introduces us to Will as he boards the elevator to get to the ground floor of his building. He has seven floors between his apartment and the street where he plans to shoot the boy he thinks shot his brother. And on the way down he grapples with the choice.

Will is alone in the elevator... or is he?

Jason Reynolds wrote this book inspired by A Christmas Carol. If you're familiar with that story, then you already have a hint, but I don't want to give away too much! Part of the wow factor of this book is the surprises you find. 

This book has so much to think about, even if you're not a teenager. It will take you less than an afternoon to read. Read it!

Between a hoax and a scam

This isn't a book review but it's kind of about a book... 

Since the shut-down, my boyfriend has been watching a lot of Law and Order in the background while he's been working from home. When school ended I started joining him and we laugh together about some of the weird dialogue. They couldn't just say two people were having an affair; they were "sweating up the sheets." We have fun spotting character actors and I Google where we might know them from. It helps that WE TV is showing nothing but Law and Order, all day every day. We joke that I have to leave the house on the hour to go for a hike or to go to the store because if not I'll get sucked into another ripped-from-the-headlines plot.

Yesterday, Matt texted me and said, "Remind me to tell you about the most ridiculous Law and Order plot yet when I get home." Look, as someone who likes to write and still has aspirations to publish a novel, I know it's not nice to pick on other people's writing. I've also just taken two levels of a sitcom pilot writing class, and this stuff is way harder than it looks. So if the plots of Law and Order episodes are little far-fetched it's fine. I still couldn't wait to hear about it.

Matt had just watched an episode called Faith about a publisher who was murdered because he caught onto the fact that the teenage author with ALS whose memoir he was publishing might not have been real. I said, "Oh my God, Matt. This isn't crazy. I knew this person! This is a real story!"

So I'm going to take you all back to 1995. We were early adopters of the Internet in our house, at least among people I knew. We were faithful AOL users. I liked to hang out in the teen rooms and I remember specifically spending time in chat rooms and message boards for teenagers who liked to write. I started chatting with a guy whose screen name was TONE123 (at the time I was SybilVane, named after a character in The Picture of Dorian Gray.) TONE123 told me that his name was Tony and that he was my age (about 16) and he was a published author. For real, a kid my age had published a book. I was fascinated. He'd written an entire book, found himself an agent, and had the thing published. It was a book I could go to Waldenbooks and buy. It was called A Rock and a Hard Place, and I did indeed go to Waldenbooks and buy it. It was a harrowing memoir of the child abuse he suffered at the hands of his biological parents. The story was that his parents used to physically and sexually abuse him and allow their friends to do it too; in fact, that's why he was also suffering from AIDS. It was horrifying. It was the saddest thing I'd ever read. And it was all a true story. I knew this guy. His full name was Anthony Godby Johnson, and we were IM friends. 

We used to email each other stories back and forth and give each other feedback. I chatted on the phone with him once. He supposedly lived in New York City and I was in northern NJ. Once, some TV developer he knew was putting together a focus group of teenagers and my dad drove me and my sister into NY to learn more about the variety show they were brainstorming. Tony was friends with Oprah, Mr. Rogers, Keith Olbermann, and Armistead Maupin. And me, apparently. And I'm sure lots of others. This was before the days of Skype and Facetime. There was no video chatting. There was email and there was the phone, and catfishing was easy.

Somewhere around when went to college, we lost touch. My dorm wasn't outfitted with the ability to connect to AOL. I could use email from campus but not IMs or anything. We did email once in a while but his responses were far apart and finally we just... I guess lost touch. 

I hadn't thought about Tony in a long time, but several years later my dad asked my sisters and me at Christmas to go through some boxes of things from our house in NJ and take whatever we wanted; the rest was getting tossed or donated. In my pile of books was A Rock and a Hard Place, all highlighted and underlined. By then, Google was a thing and I was wondering what was going on with Tony. Was he even still alive? Had he written anything else? Google turned up a bunch of links instead about the fact that there never was an Anthony Godby Johnson. I found this article by Tad Friend in The New Yorker. I also learned about Armistead Maupin's novel The Night Listener, which was made into a movie by the same name. 

There's something about finding out that something you just took to be true having been a total fabrication. It kind of shifts the ground under your feet for a second. Tony was a completely made-up person, fabricated by a woman named Vicki Fraginals, who claimed to be his adoptive mother. Nobody had ever met him face-to-face. He wasn't allowed to meet anyone because he was soooo sick, but Vicki had fooled a literary agent and a publisher enough to get his memoir published and distributed. That added legitimacy to it, so none of the celebrities (at least at first) questioned anything. Internet and publishing hoaxes now are much more common, from James Frey's A Million Little Pieces to Catfish. 

I went down a little rabbit hole last night, watching a youtube video of Keith Olbermann talking to Armistead Maupin about the fact that they'd both been tricked by Vicki. Keith is angry. Armistead seems to have dealt with it. 

I think it's time I read and watch The Night Listener. I was only a small blip on Vicki's radar, I'm sure. I wasn't rich or famous. I had nothing to offer her as far as fame or publicity. It's kind of creepy that she hung out pretending to be him in AOL chat rooms. She was clearly a pretty disturbed person. There is going to be a short film released soon called Tony Fraginals made about Tony Johnson by another teenage friend of his. I couldn't resist sending him an email about Tony. I haven't heard back yet but I can't wait to watch the film.