Verse Week: I <3... Lisa Schroeder

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Verse Week: I <3... Lisa Schroeder

Not long after the experience of reading Love and Leftovers by Sarah Tregay, I frantically hunted down as many verse novels as I could. Apparently, a lot of other people in the Fort Vancouver Regional Library system felt the same way, because none of them were available, thereby forcing me to add them to my library hold list in what felt like a holy test of my (notorious lack of) patience. And add to my list I did. Juvenile, YA, Middle Grade, whatever. Like a drug addict desperately in search of a fix, I was willing to read any category, any genre -- as long as it was a novel-in-verse.

The first book to become available was Far From You by Lisa Schroeder. Everything about it looked promising, from the snowflakes on the cover (since I love snow) to the jacket bio informing me that Lisa Schroeder is a local author, both of which would have been ample reasons for me to award bonus stars to my final book rating.

Turns out I didn’t need them.

So engrossed was I by Far From You that I finished the book in one frantic sitting, when I had originally intended to sneak in just a few pages while my SHO showered and got ready for our outing to the local Farmer’s Market.

So captivated was I by Lisa Schroeder’s verse that I gobbled up the rest of her then-published YA novels, all of which were in verse, within three months.

So enthralled I am with Lisa Schroeder’s storytelling that I (a lazy person who does not enjoy leaving the house or driving) drove to a Barnes and Noble 25 miles away from my house to snag a copy of her most recent book, a prose novel with strong poetic elements, when I found out it had been released into the wild at that particular bookstore a few days before the official release date.

And so obsessed I am with Lisa Schroeder’s books that when it comes to her novels, I simply cannot adhere to my policy of keeping one book by a treasured author unread as an emergency reserve for those times when I desperately need to read a book I know I will love.

To ease the hardship of not knowing when I will get to read another new Lisa Schroeder book, and in celebration of our Novels-in-Verse week here at CEFS, I decided to pull all of her books off of my shelves (oh yes, I have hard copies of them all) and reflect on just why I heart Lisa Schroeder.

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Review: Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell

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Review: Eleanor and Park by Rainbow Rowell

I have thought about Eleanor and Park everyday since I read it two months ago.

That’s not a compliment.

In some respects, my attitude is perhaps not terribly fair because a particular aspect of Eleanor and Park elicited a visceral reaction from me that is personal to me, a reaction that a lot of people would not have or understand.

But as I’ve thought about the novel over the past two months, mulling over the possibility that I was perhaps being too sensitive, that the possibility of my being too sensitive was unfairly impacting my view of the rest of the book, and the book as a whole, my final analysis has always been the same: I don’t believe this book.

I don’t believe the historical context.

I don’t believe the characters.

I don’t believe the romance.

Let’s start with the first issue, the historical context.

Eleanor and Park is framed as a historical novel, taking place in Omaha, Nebraska, the author Rainbow Rowell’s hometown, in 1986. Our titular 16-year-old characters meet on the school bus when Park grudgingly allows new kid Eleanor to share his seat. 

Park is half-Korean, his parents having met and married in South Korea, where his father was stationed as a member of the army. Hmmmmm. Okay, so they met around 1968? 1969? I have to assume it was no later than 1969 since as a sixteen year old in 1986, Park would have to have been born in 1970. So...during the height of the Vietnam War, when a draft was in place to send as many young men as possible into the fray, Park’s father, an able-bodied member of the U.S. military was...stationed at an army base in Korea. Possible, I suppose, but still a bit ludicrous to me.

Ok, so then his parents get married and move to his father’s hometown of Omaha, Nebraska where Park is raised and, according to Park, the good people of Omaha,

“...couldn’t call him a freak or a [anti-Asian slur] or a [homosexual slur], because—well, first, because his dad was a giant and a veteran and from the neighborhood.”

Let me get this straight. 

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I Love... Book Club

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I Love... Book Club

Dear Portland “FYA” Book Club,

I <3 you.

Our meetings are my favorite event every month. I’m not exaggerating one bit. If I only got to see my husband and cat/Kindle stand once a month, you might have some competition, but since I see them every day, there’s no contest. 

I know it seems like perhaps you are not a priority since I have a tendency to begin reading the monthly selection only four hours before the meeting is scheduled to begin. But truly, there is nothing else on my calendar each month that I prioritize more. 

I love that every time we meet, we have avid, enlightening exchanges about anything and everything having to do with reading culture, including all sorts of books that Sarah generously keeps track of in her ever-handy notebook, publishing, and book stores, along with banter on Very Important topics such as Justin Timberlake and The Vampire Diaries. 

I love that our gatherings run so long and late that those of us who are married often feel compelled to bring home dinner, chocolate bourbon hazelnut pie, and/or a Dairy Queen blizzard for our wonderful, understanding husbands.

I love that when Sarah and I decided to subvert our FYA overlords due to their political selection of unappealing books, you were all on board with our coup.

I love that no one considered not meeting during the craziness of the holiday season, which was a possibility that I actually stressed out about beforehand due to my overly anxious tendencies.

Most of all, I love that all y’all seem to love book club as much as I do.

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