The Fault in Our Stars: can reading sad books be a positive thing?

Have you ever read a book that made you laugh or cry, actually out loud? I've had a few of them—The Harry Potter series has made me laugh many times over the years, and of course I cried when Dumbledore died (actually, I cried at some point during each of the last three books. But when Dumbledore died I both cried and threw the book to the floor. Yes I was twenty-two years old). The book Marley and Me had me alternately laughing and crying as I sat on a plane from Seattle to Burbank, and then as I sat reading for an hour afterward on a mercifully deserted train platform (if you've seen the film, it's crap, I know, but the book is honestly really really good, especially if you've ever owned a dog, and especially if your dog was badly behaved). I cried reading A Walk to Remember by Nicholas Sparks (which I realize is lame but I was seventeen). I even got a little bit teary at the end of The Graveyard Book, when Bod ventures out into the wide world.

Photo: Amazon.co.uk

Last Friday I read another book that left me in floods of tears: John Green's new young adult novel The Fault in Our Stars. Though I had been waiting on the book for months, I honestly didn't know what to expect—I had loved the author's debut Looking for Alaska (another tear-inducing novel), but personally found his Paper Towns a bit underwhelming (despite its containing a lot of good ideas and Walt Whitman references). The Fault in Our Stars follows Hazel—a smart, insightful 16 year-old who also happens to be living with stage four cancer—as she meets and gets to know Augustus, a cancer survivor with a fondness for heroics, symbolism, and grand gestures. Together they share their love of reading, which—without giving too much away—leads to the central adventure of the story. Though there is obviously a lot in the book about illness, Green tries to avoid the clichés that Hazel so emphatically despises—in particular the brave, ever-positive, ever-inspirational cancer kid. Instead he tries to give the reader an honest picture of what it's like to live with a serious disease (according to his vlog, the story was inspired by his time working as a student chaplain in a children's hospital). The characters are complex, real, flawed, and variable. Which is one of the reasons the book is so heartbreaking.

But that brings me to my central concern of the week: why do we love books that make us cry? I mean, crying is bad, right? Yet I have a general rule that any book that actually makes me cry deserves at least four stars. Why? Because the author has made me care about these fictional characters to such an extent that I shed real tears at the tragedy of their situations—I mean, isn't that amazing? It's like magic to me. That kind of skill is what I aspire to. Not necessarily to make readers cry, but to be able to write such believable characters that the reader can't help but become emotionally invested in the story. Characters make or break a novel. Reading really good characters is entrancing, almost intoxicating, nearly addicting—we've all had books we couldn't put down. We've all (all of us who are readers, anyway) stayed up a little too late with a great book, arriving at work or school in the morning with shadows under eyes, mumbling about having had a few too many (chapters) last night. (And yes, while I realize that plot is very important in a novel, I would argue that without characters that the reader can care about, plot alone isn't enough to keep them turning the pages.)

Not everyone feels this way. When I commented to my fellow library lady last week that the book I was reading was "so sad! I'm like, an emotional wreck right now!" She just shook her head and said "You don't want to read something that makes you sad. You want something that makes you happy!" And while I found this a valid opinion, I sort of realized that sad books, in some weird way, do make me feel happy. Or, if not happy, then hopeful. Or maybe optimistic is a better word—as if I've gone on some sort of worthwhile emotional journey.

So what do you think, Dear Readers? Is there something to be gained from reading books that bring us to tears? Or do you find the whole idea a bit masochistic? Let me know in the comments!

Kindle and me: seven months later

For my birthday in June, I decided to buy myself a Kindle with an Amazon gift card I had received from my family. At first, while I was excited to receive my first e-reader, I wondered how much I would actually like it compared to reading "real" books. After all, I had fallen in love with reading through physical books, and I loved the very essence of them—the paper and ink, the different fonts, the cover art, the entoxicating smell of a new book. These are things that I still enjoy, and I don't think I would ever read e-books exclusively, but at the same time, I've discovered some real advantages to the format:

1. Weight—my Kindle weighs about the same as a paperback, so even when I'm reading a very long book, it's easy to carry around.
2. Durability—I always take a book with me to work to read on my train journey and during my breaks. Because they are bouncing around in my bag with my other things, paperbacks tend to get scuffed, or the covers might get bent or frayed. Not so with an e-book. My Kindle stays safe in its Neoprene cover, ready to slip out and read at lunch time. 
3.  Reading while eating—anyone who reads all the time will tell you, it's hard to eat certain foods while simultaneously trying to hold a book open and turn pages. The Kindle lies flat on the table next to you, needing only a finger to press the page-turn button.
4. Switching between books—if I'm reading something and come across an allusion to Shakespeare or a quote from the bible that I want to check out, no problem: I can be there in a few clicks.
5. Taking notes—I've never liked writing in physical books; it's always seemed like vandalism to me. But on my Kindle I can highlight passages I want to remember, and I can type notes at any point in a book. Handy! I can also see highlights from other readers, which is interesting.
6. Traveling light—Going on a trip, or moving? You can take your whole library with you without weighing down your luggage. Sweet!

Of course, I've noted a couple of disadvantages too:

1. Battery life—the Kindle has an amazingly long battery life. And while only having to charge it once a month certainly seems an advantage, I find that I have to charge it so infrequently that when it comes time to do it, I forget! Admittedly, this is a personal problem and not the Kindle's fault. But still.
2. All books look the same on the Kindle—You don't get all of the wonderful variations of font and paper that you have with physical books.

Overall, I'm really happy with my Kindle, and I'm glad I bought it. I still read plenty of physical books, and will continue to use my local library for many of these, but I find it nice to be able to toss my Kindle into my bag and know that I'll have a choice of several different books to read, wherever the day takes me.

So, Dear Readers, what are your thoughts on e-books? Would you ever read them exclusively, or are you old school all the way?

A new year, a fresh start

One of the things I really like about New Year's is the feeling of having a fresh start—of looking at a whole year, full of possibility, spreading out before you. That's why I think New Year's resolutions are so fun; there are innumerable ways you can resolve to change or improve your life. My resolutions this year are pretty standard fare:

1. Eat more fruits and vegetables, and less sugar
2. Finish my first draft of Dyllan and Abigail, and finish revising Water Magic
3. Understand more, and judge less
4. Draw more—at least once a week
5. Keep blogs up to date, with at least one post a week
6. Read 60 books

I would also love to learn Spanish, but I don't know if I'll be able to afford classes this year. The same for yoga and photography. But overall, I think the above list is enough to keep me busy. Some year I would love to make a crazy cool resolution like "learn the violin" or "volunteer in Africa" or "finally learn how to surf." But then, who knows what 2013 will bring.

So, Dear Readers, have you made resolutions this year? Or, what's the best or most fun resolution you ever made? Let me know in the comments.

Oh, and happy, happy New Year! I wish you peace, happiness, and fulfilment in 2012.

Favorite reads of 2011!

In 2011 I was lucky enough to read a lot of good stuff: I read a total of 54 books, and 43 of them I rated three stars or more. So in celebration, here is a countdown of my top ten favorite reads of 2011:

10. What Was Lost by Catherine O'Flynn 

I loved the atmosphere of this novel, perhaps because I've worked in a huge British shopping centre in the recent past. The story first follows Kate, a ten-year-old detective keeping tabs on the goings-on at Green Oaks, a mammoth shopping mall near her home in England. The longer second part of the story follows Lisa, a record store employee who works in the same shopping mall twenty years after Kate disappears. O'Flynn captures the bleakness of working in retail perfectly, and adds an element of mystery and a pinch of the supernatural (is the little girl who appears on the security cameras at night Kate's ghost?) to create an original, slightly creepy, poignant look at modern life.

9. Little Women by Louisa May Alcott

One of the first books I read this year and I absolutely loved it. A classic tale about four sisters with very different personalities—bashful, musical Beth; worldly artist Amy; literary tomboy Jo (my favorite); and serious, responsible Meg. With the support of their ever-patient mother, their army chaplain father, and their neighbors, Mr Laurence and his grandson Laurie, the girls grow into young women, enduring hardship, love, heartache, and lots of other life lessons along the way. I seriously love this book! I could not put it down. The characters are unique and sympathetic, and their adventures funny, sad, and heartwarming.

8. Purple Hibiscus by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

I am in awe of this author's writing. After being traumatized by Half of a Yellow Sun (a tale of the brutal Nigerian civil war), I knew Adichie's powerful way of storytelling wouldn't disappoint when I picked up her second novel, Purple Hibiscus. Again set in the author's native Nigeria, this novel tells the story of Kambili and her brother Jaja, who live under the shadow of their fanatical Christian father, who is both physically and emotionally abusive. Then a visit to liberal Aunty Ifoema's house in Nsukka changes everything. This novel has a wonderful sense of place; I found the settings rich and the characters complex and interesting.

7. Fingersmith by Sarah Waters

Sue Trinder is raised in a den of thieves in 19th Century London. She knows all about scams, so when a mysterious man called Gentleman asks her to pose as a lady's maid in order to swindle an innocent girl out of her fortune, she jumps at the chance. Her job is simple—gain Maude Lilly's trust and persuade her to elope with Gentleman, who will then have Maude committed to a mental asylum, keeping the fortune himself and paying Sue a cut of it. But what is really going on at Briar, where Maude lives in seclusion with her austere uncle? And is Maude really as innocent as she seems? I love the clever way this books is written, revealing alternate perspectives that change the way the reader sees key scenes. A fun read.

6. The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

It took me a long time to get around to reading this Newbery-award-winning novel, but I was so glad that I finally did. The Graveyard Book tells the story of Bod Owens, a boy who is raised by ghosts in a graveyard after his parents and sister are murdered by an enigmatic figure referred to only as "the man Jack." Modeled after Rudyard Kipling's The Jungle Book, each chapter tells a story about Bod and his adventures with his undead friends. At the end of the book, Bod finally confronts his family's killer, and learns the truth about what happened that night. A funny, imaginative, and surprisingly moving book.

Playing pretend

As I've said before, I think one of the great things about being a writer is that it gives you an excuse to have imaginary friends as a grown up. When I was little, I had a lot of imaginary friends (what you get when you combine having an overactive imagination with being a lonely child). There was Space Man—an obese copper space robot with a penchant for naughtiness. There was Fred, who skateboarded around on the school roof as I sat in my second grade class at Toler Elementary. There was a vampire named Frank, and a little white mouse whose name I can't recall, and a myriad of other magical characters who populated my childhood over the years. The thing is, while most children outgrow these fictitious friends, I didn't. Instead I internalized them. They became characters in stories—not actually real, but emotionally real. Admittedly, Space Man did fade away (after getting me into all sorts of trouble by cutting holes in everyone's underpants, thanks dude), but he was replaced by other characters, stronger voices and stories.

I think that playing pretend is such an important part of childhood. It encourages empathy by putting you in someone else's shoes and head. And of course it promotes creativity, which is important for its own sake as well as being helpful in tasks like problem-solving.

But what about playing pretend as a grown up? As fiction writers, we pretend every day. We pretend into being whole worlds, whole lives.

What I'm really curious to know is, do you pretend in other areas of your life too? Because I'll be honest, I do.

Examples: Sometimes, if there are lots of chores to be done, I pretend I'm Amish (they love chores!). Sometimes I'm not cooking dinner for Big Chimp and me; I'm cooking for the lords and ladies of Downton Abbey (because I'm a scullery maid now, but one day I'll learn to type and go to secretary school. As soon as the war's over). Sometimes I'm not a lone library assistant on the train home from work, I'm a NINJA IN DISGUISE SO DON'T FREAKIN' MESS WITH ME!! Or, you know, sometimes I'm a secret agent or a magician or a faerie or an alien or a killer whale trainer at Sea World.

Pretending: is it a healthy way of releasing creative energy (I think so), or is it (as one of my former psychologists suggested) a worrying avoidance of the real world? Do you other creative people play pretend in your everyday life? If yes, tell me in the comments!

What I learned about writing in November

See how that title works grammatically in two ways? Yup, it's time to sum up the things I learned while participating in my first NaNoWriMo.

1) I can write more than I thought I could. I can wake up early on my day off, just to write! And it doesn't suck! Some days I wrote 1,667 words. Some days I wrote two thousand, three thousand, or four thousand words. Some days my eyes burned from the screen so that I had to lie in a darkened room for a while listening to soothing music on my iPod. I'm what Big Chimp calls a "considerate" writer, so four thousand words a day is big stuff for me.

2) I can do this while still managing to have some semblance of a plot going on. Sometimes, in fact, the need to expand my wordcount left little time for sitting there wondering what happens next, or worrying over something that might or might not work. Sometimes I threw in unexpected twists just to have more to write about, and those twists, in retrospect, really helped make the story.

3) Turning off my Internet connection is very helpful. Especially when used in conjunction with goals: I will keep the Internet connection disabled until I've written two-thousand more words, and then I can turn it on for fifteen minutes and brag on Twitter about what a great writing day I'm having.

4) I may be starting to get the hang of this novel-writing thing. I had so many false starts and scrapped attempts with my first novel that it took me almost two years to finish the first (very rough) draft. With this novel, though it's obviously rough and will need plenty of editing when it's finished, the first draft is so much more confident. It's got some solid characters, it's got good direction, it's got plot...it's miles ahead of where the first novel was after the first month of work. Light-years ahead, in fact.

And on top of all of that, it feels pretty good to have written over half of a novel in 30 days (Laundry Mountain or no Laundry Mountain).

Winner!

Despite having the flu and typing like a zombie on sedatives in between coughing fits, naps, and cups of Beechum's All-in-One flu remedy, today I surpassed 50,000 words in my NaNoWriMo project, making me an official winner of NaNoWriMo 2011! Victory dance! Okay, maybe I'll save the dance for when I feel better. For now, I'm going to listen to my iPod in a darkened room until Big Chimp gets home. He's bringing a celebratory Chinese takeout meal. Mmmm, celebratory tofu. Peace, y'all.