CRABBY CONVERSATIONS: SPONTANEOUS ROAD TRIP!

I have a grand idea. Let’s jump into a snazzy little clunker and rev the engine into the distance. Let’s follow the sunset with a can of money and a drawstring bag of clothes. Pack light because things will work out on the way. Let’s not plan anything and focus on the objective. Let’s see the Northern Lights, let’s visit our long-lost lover, let’s just seek adventure and because we’re on a road trip we’ll find it. See a hitchhiker? Pick him up. See a road sign for the biggest block of cheese in the Western Hemisphere? Pull off. This is a road trip and we have all summer and our phones are nowhere to be found because those sedentary people are just holding us back.

Sounds implausible, reckless, and a generally awful idea, right? Wrong. Because this is fiction and we can do whatever the heck we want and nothing too terrible will happen unless we want it to.

Road trip books absolutely baffle me because they’re considered contemporary fiction. Realistic. I think I would categorize them as fantasy, because how does everything work out perfectly? How does adventure just kick you in the face? How is the road trip not just sleepy hours in a car with disgruntled occupants?

And I have one question, just one– where are your parents? If they know about your trip, how are they okay with it? If they don’t, how did you possibly deceive them of something this big? (alright that was more than one question)

But, seriously. I wish my parents caved to my reckless whims and allowed for my craving for adventure be satisfied by a road trip.

The thing is, despite the absolute absurdity of these trips and the complete unrealisticness of this niche, I love this books. I love them so much.

I think it’s my wistfulness. I would adore going on a road trip. The more spontaneous, the more fun. I’ve always wanted to have interesting things and interesting people fall into my life, and I’ve dreamed of breaking out of suburbia and into something real. Yet this books aren’t real… But they are what I wish was real. If that makes any sense.

So, yes. Road trip books are unrealistic. Completely fantasy. But somehow the valiant road-trippers find love and fulfillment and excitement and sorrow and everything in between. It’s the classic Hero’s Journey, but in contemporary terms.

But here’s the thing.

I hate the classic Hero’s Journey of trumping through woods and fighting evil with swords and magical powers and gaining alliances.

Yet I love the contemporary Hero’s Journey of driving down the highway of escaping sticky situations with wit and luck and meeting people from the forgotten folds of the world.

MONTHLY WRAP UPS: APRIL

Read: 4 novels

  1. Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
  2. Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli
  3. Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
  4. Takeoff: Looking Beyond the Clouds by Austin Jackson

Reviewed: 3 books

  1. As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner
  2. There’s No Place like Oz by Danielle Paige
  3. Killer Cruise by Jennifer Shaw

Discussed:

  • Crabby Conversations: Just Don’t Read It

Book Haul:

  1. Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck
  2. Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda by Becky Albertalli
  3. Mosquitoland by David Arnold
  4. Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum

     

    How could I resist this beautiful cover? (Plus it was only $6)

  5. Between the Lines by Jodi Picoult and Samantha Van Leer
  6. Off the Page by Jodi Picoult and Samantha Van Leer
  7. Vanishing Acts by Jodi Picoult
  8. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han
  9. Catch-22 by Joesph Heller

Wow, I actually got quite a bit of books this month! The haul has only been around 1-3 lately.

Bookish Excitement:

  • 972 Bookmarks
  • Author Event: Little Shop Launch Party
  • 8 books behind on Goodreads Challenge

Non-bookish Excitement:

  • Death Cab for Cutie concert!
  • Dogwood Festival
  • Tybee day trip #SB2k15
  • Standardized testing and exams! My favorite!

Monthly Favorites:

  • Read: Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison
  • Reviewed: There’s No Place like Oz by Danielle Paige
  • Discussed: Just Don’t Read It
  • Haul: Off the Page by Jodi Picoult and Samantha Van Leer– Alright, so there’s a reason that this is my favorite out of my uncharacteristically large haul. Random House sent me an ARC of this book with the cutest little presentation, and (unlike some of the bigger bloggers) I’m not rolling in ARCs and publisher-sent books, so needless to say I was pretty pumped.
  • Bookish Excitement: Little Shop Launch Party
  • Nonbookish Excitement: Death Cab for Cutie concert

MONTHLY WRAP UP: MARCH

Alright, so I’m beginning to fall behind again with discussion posts and my Goodreads challenge. It seems like every time I come on here I’m complaining about the posts piling up! Oh, well. It’ll get better. Let’s focus on the positive.

Read: 6 novels

  1. 10 Little Indians by Agatha Christie
  2. Tiger Lily by Jodi Lynn Anderson
  3. Grasshopper Jungle by Andrew Smith
  4. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
  5. Naomi and Ely’s No Kiss List by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
  6. The Alex Crow by Andrew Smith

Reviewed: 4 novels

  1. Fairest: Queen Levana’s Story by Marissa Meyer
  2. Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews
  3. Ashes to Ashes by Jenny Han and Vivian Siobhan
  4. Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Discussed:

  • It’s sad because I didn’t discuss anything. Three next month to make up for it? *crosses fingers*

Book Haul:

  • The Alex Crow by Andrew Smith

Bookish Excitement:

  • 968
  • Author talk: Andrew Smith
  • 4 books behind my Goodreads challenge
  • I’m absolutely in love with the Little Shop of Stories in Decatur right now because they’re having a ton of author events! YES!!

Nonbookish Excitement:

  • I’m a Junior Marshal so I have to help with graduation (ugh), but I get to skip all my exams!
  • …my life is boring…

Monthly Favorites:

  • Read: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
  • Reviewed: Me and Earl and the Dying Girl by Jesse Andrews
  • Haul: The Alex Crow by Andrew Smith
  • Bookish: Author talk!!

CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE READER: INK-STAINED HANDS

An idea sparked in my mind, promoted, of course, by a novel. This idea sparked and fizzled away for a while, until I read another novel. And I sat there, and I read a sentence over and over and over. And I needed that quote. And I wanted to remember that quote. And I wrote that quote on my hand, and I looked down at it periodically until it faded into my skin.

And that, my friends, is how my hands became perpetually ink-stained.

Ironically, I can’t remember the quote that made me stop and temporarily tattoo it into my hands. I do remember the book that started it all: We were Liars by E. Lockhart. For some reason, when Cady and her romantic interest (I can’t remember his name…) wrote words on their hands, I loved it. It was romantic. They wrote part of the sentence on the left and part on the right. Always something that would connect together.

So, I read this fantastic quote and I thought, wow, I should write this on my hand.

Let’s back track. Some time ago, I watched this peculiar indie film called A Love Song for Bobby Long. I liked it well enough; it made me minimally uncomfortable, but it was okay. I think about that movie periodically, and for some reason, it’s been pretty influential. Bobby Long was a lost soul who used to be a college professor, and he dramatized everything and could quote long passages from famous writers without hesitation, and I’ve always aspired to be able to quote off the cusp.

And thus the quote jar was born. But I never took the time to find paper, write the quote, and stash it in the jar. I let it sit, collecting dust instead of words, for a year or so.

Flashforward again. Writing on my hands. Somehow, from this movie, the quote jar, and We were Liars, I realized that my arms and hands were perfect mediums to write on and be able to look at each day. For at least a day I’d be able to look down and read and reread these quotes as many times as I wanted. They’re comforting. A little piece of my novel when I can’t read. A snippet of gorgeous words to inspire or evoke emotion. I wish I started this habit when I was in the midst of We were Liars because that book is full of beautiful quotes.

Longer quotes I put on the inside of my forearm because a. that doesn’t wash off as easily as on my hands and b. I, unfortunately, am not ambidextrous, so it’s quite a feat when I write on my right hand. Usually the quotes that I write on both my hands are very short and cute and probably wouldn’t make sense if you hadn’t read the book. It’s like my own little inside jokes. Right now I have “(left) When I found (right) everything romantic” from The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan. I like the way the quotes are broken in places that should flow. I think it adds to the effect.

Now I’ve been doing this for a good many books, maybe ten or so. Then I got those little bookmarks that are arrows that point to the exact line you stop at. And I had an idea. I’d use those arrows and bookmark the good quotes and write said quote on my hand. Once the book is finished, I’ll pick the best bookmarked quote (maybe a couple, depending on the book) and write it on a more permanent material (like paper) and put it in the dusty quote jar.

Eureka! I now had a system. A tedious, somewhat complicated system that, if attempted to be explained to non-readers or non-romantics they’d ask me the universal question of why? Why would I spend all this time on these words? Why do I want to stain my hands with a never-ending cycle of quotes? What’s so special about them?

Well, my dears, I’ll tell you why. I want to win an argument by quoting a famous writer. I want to look at a piece of artwork in some high-class museum and say to my comrades, “this reminds me of a quote by… ‘…’” In short, I want to have all the tools to be completely pretentious. If I decide to use this power, it’s up to me. But the fact that I can is all that matters.

And I guess in a practical sense I can use it on exams and such in school. But who cares about that?

Anyway, in all seriousness, I just really like words. And, no, it doesn’t completely work. I don’t remember all the quotes I write, and some I do remember aren’t that significant. Here are a couple:

  • “Us fight” –Alice Walker, The Color Purple (this is a quote in dire need of context)
  • “We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that’s what I want in life.” –Marina Keegan, The Opposite of Loneliness
  • “You can find ways to be okay with dying, but you can’t fake your way through living.” –John Corey Whaley, Noggin

And my personal favorite,

  • “The secret of happiness is to see all the marvels of the world and never forget about the drops of oil on the spoon.” –Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist

The Alchemist was loaded with beautiful words and gorgeous quotes, but this is the only one I can recall instantly. I recommend the book, by the way.

I’ve decided, just now, that this can qualify as a hobby, and I adore it immensely. Sometimes I transcribe words that mean specific things to me, or cornerstones in the plot of the novel, or pieces of wisdom, or a beautiful line. I hope I’m not the only one who loves stealing these words.

Do any of you guys have an obsession with quotes? What’s your favorite bookish quote?