Book #43: Looking For Alaska.

Last December my daughter asked for Looking for Alaska for her birthday. 

Awesome. Easy.

I bought it.

She acted happy but then didn’t read it.

Par for course.

Then a student assigns me the book this semester and I recognize the cover. Wait, this is by the guy who wrote The Fault in Our Stars, a heartbreakingly smart romance. Fantastic. 

I start the book in my office hours on Tuesday, 90 minutes before class. 

No students come.  

The phone doesn’t ring. I read, I read, I look at my phone and an hour is gone. 

I’m 100 pages into the book and I love these characters.

 I want the narrator of this book to go meet the guy from The Perks of Being a Wallflower. They would be good friends. 

I stop long enough to lecture on the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the “revolutions of 1989”, Operation Desert Storm and the collapse of the Soviet Union (the USSR became the USS “were” – get it???). I read the book in the hour between picking up this kid and then the other, then dash through Publix in record time so I can finish the book before dinner.

 I want to finish it, but I don’t. But I can’t help myself. I love this book.

Something big is going to happen; you know that from page one because the first part of the book is a countdown to the DAY.

 When that something does happen I’m not ready. I was really shocked and sad and I can’t tell you any more because I’m absolutely sure you’re going to read this book and love it, I refuse to spoil it.  Here’s the best I can do without giving it all away.

This is a story about loving someone you know shouldn’t but you just love them because you just can’t help it, you’re just built that way and it feels right.  It’s a story of honesty and friendship and loving with no regrets.

One more thing. This isn’t just a story about love at a boarding school in Alabama. It’s a story about life and loss and the consequences of driving impaired. If you have teenagers, you should give them this book before they get their driver’s license.

Book #41 which is Also Book #42. All the questions and answers in the universe.

The Ultimate Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: 5 Novels in One Outrageous Volume. Douglas Adams.

Before I go on and on let me be clear. I liked this astoundingly creative and inspired book a lot. Also, by reading it I felt initiated into a circle of smarty-pants who finds this philosophical smart funny stuff funny. 

Seriously though, 5 books of the series all in one volume were a little hellacious. One book yes. Two books, yayy. By the third book I was numb.

It felt like being forced to eat a whole big container of popcorn when you had enough after two handfuls.

 I like this book but not so much that I couldn’t put it down.

 So much was happening. Earth is destroyed; no it isn’t; we find out who created the Earth and why and that’s just 3 of the 1000 stories that dance psychedelically across the pages.   I have another analogy. 

At times I felt like the sober person stuck in a room with a blabbering tripping high-as-a-kite person whose ability to hold my attention waxes and wanes. 

So that’s why I’m counting this book as 2 books.

 Besides that it’s poetic for this book to land on #42 because. 

Because you know the answer if you read the book. I can’t explain it. If I tried you’d just shake your head and wince a little and maybe never read this book. You should read this book. But not all at once like I'm doing it.

500 pages into the book and I can’t read another page.

I  move the dining room from the kitchen to the formal dining room that I’d been using for an office. I disassemble and move and reassemble and sweep and mop and throw things away.

 I moved all the other furniture in the living room around, cleaned the refrigerator, and cooked dinner.

 After that I spent many hours HOLDING the book while watching Orphan Black, Kitchen Nightmares, Devious Maids, Nurse Jackie on On Demand.

I'm up for doing anything but opening up and reading the book up.

So I carry it here and there and read a few pages and a few more and make it to page 550.

A student comes by my office and asks how the book is going.

I’m stuck. I want to care but these characters are faceless to me, they’re scurrying across time and space and I’m hoping one of them explodes soon. Or something happens. Because there’s too much but then there’s nothing, it’s chaos.

He nods. What part of the book are you on?

I start to answer then…. I can’t. I’d have to have the book in front of me to know.  I passed the mice, the whale thing, the towel part and Marvin the robot just did a bad thing.

He nods. Keep reading. (My students are #awesome that way).

I keep reading and when I finish the book(s) and feel like I tackled something big.

 This is a great book and if you want a big fat book to keep you busy for a month (or a long long weekend) you won’t regret taking this book with you because you can put it down, pick it up, put it down.

 And it doesn’t make you cry. That’s a bonus.  Other books I’ve read have held me so rapt that I wanted to scream at anyone interrupting my journey through the story. 

I cried through the last 10 pages of The Book Thief. 

I sobbed in my daughter’s arms after finishing the Fault in Our Stars. 

I read parts of Unwind to people and quoted Tina Fey for days.

 I cried 10 times during The Shack -- silent, hot tears of grief and joy.

I loved those books, and most of the other books I’ve read because they moved me.

I liked this book.

Book #41 which is Also Book 42. All the questions and answers in the universe.

Before I go on and on let me be clear. I liked this astoundingly creative and inspired book a lot. Also, by reading it I felt initiated into a circle of smarty-pants who finds this philosophical smart funny stuff funny. 

Seriously though, 5 books of the series all in one volume were a little hellacious. It felt like being forced to eat a whole big container of popcorn when you had enough after two handfuls. I liked it but not so much of it that I couldn’t put it down. So much was happening (Earth is destroyed; no it isn’t; we find out who created the Earth and why and that’s just 3 of the 1000 stories that dance psychedelically across the pages.  Wait, I have another analogy. At times I felt like the sober person stuck in a room with a blabbering tripping person whose stories’ ability to hold my attention waxes and wanes. So that’s why I’m counting this book as 2 books. Besides that it’s poetic for this book to land on #42 because. Because you know the answer if you read the book. I can’t explain it. If I tried you’d just shake your head and wince a little.

500 pages into the book and I can’t read another page.

I decide right then and there to move the dining room from the kitchen to the formal dining room that I’d been using for an office. I disassemble and move and reassemble and sweep and mop and throw things away.

Then I moved all the other furniture in the living room around, cleaned the refrigerator, and cooked dinner. After that I spent many hours HOLDING the book while watching Orphan Black, Kitchen Nightmares, Devious Maids, Nurse Jackie on On Demand.

I just don’t want to open the book up. I just don’t. So I carry it here and there and read a few pages and a few more and make it to page 550.

A student comes by my office and asks how the book is going.

I’m stuck, I say. I want to care but these characters are faceless to me, they’re scurrying across time and space and I’m hoping one of them explodes soon. Or something happens. Because there’s too much but then there’s nothing, it’s chaos.

He nods. What part of the book are you on?

I start to answer then…. I can’t. I’d have to have the book in front of me to know.  I passed the mice, the whale thing, the towel part and Marvin the robot just did a bad thing.

He nods. Keep reading.

I do.

I finish the book and feel like I tackled something big. This is a great book and if you want a big fat book to keep you busy for a month (or a long long weekend) you won’t regret taking this book with you because you can put it down, pick it up, put it down. And it doesn’t make you cry. That’s a bonus.  Other books I’ve read have held me so rapt that I wanted to scream at anyone interrupting my journey through the story.  I cried through the last 10 pages of The Book Thief. I sobbed in my daughter’s arms after finishing the Fault in Our Stars. I read parts of Unwind to people and quoted Tina Fey for days. I cried 10 times during The Shack -- silent, hot tears of grief and joy.

I loved those books, and most of the other books I’ve read because they moved me.

I liked this book.

Now that I’m done I don’t want to write anything (and OH the grading I have to do, and the file moving stuff for an online mandate and that kind of fun) I want a book to love. 

Book #41 which is Also Book #42. All the questions and answers in the universe.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy:

Before I go on and on let me be clear. I liked this astoundingly creative and inspired book a lot. Also, by reading it I felt initiated into a circle of smarty-pants who finds this philosophical smart funny stuff funny. 

Seriously though, 5 books of the series all in one volume were a little hellacious. 

It felt like being forced to eat a whole big container of popcorn when you had enough after two handfuls. I liked it but not so much of it that I couldn’t put it down. So much was happening (Earth is destroyed; no it isn’t; we find out who created the Earth and why and that’s just 3 of the 1000 stories that dance psychedelically across the pages.  Wait, I have another analogy. At times I felt like the sober person stuck in a room with a blabbering tripping person whose stories’ ability to hold my attention waxes and wanes. So that’s why I’m counting this book as 2 books. Besides that it’s poetic for this book to land on #42 because. Because you know the answer if you read the book. I can’t explain it. If I tried you’d just shake your head and wince a little.

500 pages into the book and I can’t read another page.

I decide right then and there to move the dining room from the kitchen to the formal dining room that I’d been using for an office. I disassemble and move and reassemble and sweep and mop and throw things away.

Then I moved all the other furniture in the living room around, cleaned the refrigerator, and cooked dinner. After that I spent many hours HOLDING the book while watching Orphan Black, Kitchen Nightmares, Devious Maids, Nurse Jackie on On Demand.

I just don’t want to open the book up. I just don’t. So I carry it here and there and read a few pages and a few more and make it to page 550.

A student comes by my office and asks how the book is going.

I’m stuck, I say. I want to care but these characters are faceless to me, they’re scurrying across time and space and I’m hoping one of them explodes soon. Or something happens. Because there’s too much but then there’s nothing, it’s chaos.

He nods. What part of the book are you on?

I start to answer then…. I can’t. I’d have to have the book in front of me to know.  I passed the mice, the whale thing, the towel part and Marvin the robot just did a bad thing.

He nods. Keep reading.

I do.

I finish the book and feel like I tackled something big. This is a great book and if you want a big fat book to keep you busy for a month (or a long long weekend) you won’t regret taking this book with you because you can put it down, pick it up, put it down. And it doesn’t make you cry. That’s a bonus.  Other books I’ve read have held me so rapt that I wanted to scream at anyone interrupting my journey through the story.  I cried through the last 10 pages of The Book Thief. I sobbed in my daughter’s arms after finishing the Fault in Our Stars. I read parts of Unwind to people and quoted Tina Fey for days. I cried 10 times during The Shack -- silent, hot tears of grief and joy.

I loved those books, and most of the other books I’ve read because they moved me.

I liked this book.

Now that I’m done I don’t want to write anything (and OH the grading I have to do, and the file moving stuff for an online mandate and that kind of fun) I want a book to love.