Book Review: "The Light We Lost" by Jill Santapolo

Let me begin this by saying that I avidly hate every single character in this book. This is why I couldn't stop thinking about how great this book was in the days after I'd finished it.

I had my eyes on this book since I saw the hardback cover for it at the bookstore I work at. I. Love. Covers. Have I mentioned this before?

And, when reading the synopsis of the book I figure it was a mix of a falling in love story and a falling out of love story. I was intrigued by the possibility of this being a reverse love story, and wanted to see how well the author could write such a thing. I passed up buying the book when it left our store to become a paperback book. But, when it returned I felt drawn to it again.

One day I had the hankering to read something, and figured I would pick something out to read over the weekend before I got too busy with school work. I was between "The Light We Lost" and "Exit West." I picked up "Exit West" and read the first couple of pages in the break room. The cover is gorgeous and it was an interesting story presented. However, since I had already been flirting with "The Light We Lost" for so long I thought I ought to grab it first. Then, a customer came in looking for the book after a friend told her it was amazing. It was as if the book gods were looking down on me and telling me what to do.

I almost didn't buy it. The first page didn't catch me as strongly as I thought it would, though the narrator established a storytelling style that I found interesting. And, I am very good at telling myself not to spend money. The lines were long at the bookstore, but I jumped in line for check out and took the book home.

I ate some dinner and then cracked open the book. You all, I did not put this book down until I finished it.

Lucy, the main character and narrator, is telling the story of her first love, Gabe. It's an off and on relationship, but even as Lucy goes through her life she continues to reference and remember Gabe. This is probably why I hate Lucy. I thought she needed to move on, he ditched her butt years ago! But, he is her "wild fire" love (138). Then, she meets Darren, who is her "hearth fire" love (138). And, as a reader, I'm thinking "Yes! Darren is great. He's a family guy, he's got a good job, his friends are a little too "bro" for my taste, but he's here, he's kind, and he's not Gabe!" However, he also has flaws that make me hate him adamantly. He doesn't take Lucy's career seriously, he doesn't want her having lunch and coffee alone with Gabe when he comes to town, like he's just douche at times. But again, better than Gabe!

Gabe, oh little Gabe. Gabe is passionate, but that makes him impulsive at times. The story begins with Gabe and Lucy witnessing 9/11 while finishing college in New York city. And in responsive Gabe decides to go to Iraq to cover the war through photography. This is an admirable feat, and Lucy supported his decision. But, he didn't tell her when he applied for a job as a reporter until he'd gotten the job. Shortly after that he left, and Lucy was heartbroken. The now broken up couple rarely kept in touch over the years, until the time of the book when Lucy tells Gabe their story.

We, as readers, are not sure why she is telling the story, except for some hints here and there. Then, towards the end we are told why she is doing this and what is to become of their relationship. Though, we aren't completely sure what will happen to Lucy and Darren, but that's the joy of book endings.

This is a very character driven story, and I loved every second of it. The characters effectively made me want to rip my hair out and to shake some sense into them, and that is all so great. The story made me feel a lot of emotions and I thrived off of those feelings. Those feelings, even of hate, have made this story stick with me. I kept thinking about it, and telling people about this great book I read, it's now on the staff recommendation shelf at the bookstore, because I want more people to read it. It perfectly drew me in, kept me hooked, and remained in my thoughts in the aftermath of reading it. This is a book that deserves to be promoted and passed on.

So go buy it! Devour it! Enjoy!

Does Anyone Have a Job for Me?

My eye is watering because the windows are open, and my hands are shaky because I've only had a cup of coffee this morning. But I just had this thought to write a post about my current struggle to find a job.

I currently work at a wonderful chain bookstore. I love this place. We have so many books, everyone who works there is amazing, and sometimes the customers aren't horrible. It's a really good retail job, even I live in constant fear Amazon will crush us. But it's great! However, I think it may be time to move on.

I don't want to be there forever. I'd like to never have to work another Black Friday in retail, honestly. There's a full time position open, for a department lead, but I don't think I'll take it. As much as I love the department, it's just not something I'd really like to take over. I'd really like to move out into the world and into a career field I'm truly passionate about.

But, I need money. I am about to get hit with my student loans. This thought makes me want to throw up. Anyways. The extra 20 hours and potential pay raise would be great, but honestly I don't want to spend an extra 20 hours there. I have to get out, guys. I love the people and the discounts oh so, so much. But I can't be there for much longer!

So, if anyone has a job that's creative, possibly involves writing and editing, I'm very interested. Full time preferred, will accept internship if it leads to something greater.

See, I'd like to be an editor. I love working with my peers on how to improve a story, or even just developing stories. I love sitting one on one with students and reading through their work so I can provide feedback. I love reading books, and I just want to put more books into the world!

I am a hard worker, I get along very well with people, and I have a lot of fun thoughts I can share with the world. So, please hire me. Trust me, it'll be cool. Also, I remind people of Luna Lovegood, and who doesn't want a walking, talking book character in their life?

I'd also love to be a writer. I think this is a fun activity, along with reading. I'm in a fiction class (Finally! I feel like I've spent all four years of college writing poems.), and It's making me write and be creative in a prose kind of way, and I love it. So, publish my work! It's some good stuff.

Speaking of... I do need to edit that one piece and submit it to "Word Hotel." And write my project prospectus. It's due in three days. Then write my final project. Hm. Okay.

I should also eat lunch.

I digress.

I've applied to several internships and nothing has come of it. It's very disappointing. But, it also means I'm available. Again, if you have a job or a connection to a job, please send it my way. I will apply, you will be impressed, and if you're not, please contact John Hammon, he will tell you how great I am. You'd be helping a girl who gave up her childhood dreams of being a dancer achieve her adult dreams of being a creative mind in the book world. You'd basically be the literary version of Walt Disney, I'm just saying.

My resume is attached.

Book Review: "Code Name Verity" and "Rose Under Fire" by Elizabeth Wein

I need to be writing my "project prospectus," but, ya know, I'd rather suggest a book that will rip your heart out and stomp on it.

Actually, two books, because they're great.

These are books that are/aren't a series. Yes, they're connected, and there's even a prequel to Code Name Verity. But, you don't have to read them in any particular order. In fact, the prequel was written after the other two, so, you do you. I do suggest reading "Verity" before "Rose." Just because there are some reoccurring characters that you will understand a lot better in "Rose."

So, let's get into it!

Code Name Verity is written as a confession. A confession from a World War II British ("I'm Scottish!" -Julie) spy to be given to the Nazi soldiers she's held captive by. You rarely get in the moment story telling, as Julie is writing down how she met her best friend, Maddie, and telling the reader about the horrors of being a prisoner in this Paris hotel.

Julie is extremely brave through this entire time, and I wish her story was true, but it is all fictional. Despite being held in grueling conditions, and suffering from the knowledge that Maddie is dead, she continued to fight and hold her ground when faced with the Nazi officers.

It's a beautifully written non-linear plot, and Julie keeps the reader (and the Nazis) desperate for answers. So, she keeps writing, and we keep reading. We want to know all about Maddie and Queenie, and how she was taken in as a spy when she reveals she mostly helped work the phone lines. The reader also waits anxiously to see if she figures out a way to escape or rescued, or if the war will just end before anything too bad happens to her.

Now, I know what happens. But you should read it to find out yourself. The story is exciting, and Julie won't let you put this confession down. Go read it!

Then! Read "Rose Under Fire."

This book is written as a journal entry after everything has happened to Rose. Rose, like Julie, is also part of the war effort, but from America. She works as a taxi pilot, similar to Julie's best friend, Maddie. She has connections high up, and is allowed to taxi her Uncle to Paris, while it's occupied. Much like Julie, she is caught. But, instead she is taken to a work camp, Ravensbruck. Rose speaks a little French, but makes friends with women from all over Europe, such as a multi-lingual Polish woman, and a Russian woman. The Polish woman is part of a group called "The Rabbits." Google "Ravensbruck Rabbits" and you'll find images of what these women went through. The Nazis performed horrible medical experiments on them, half hoping they'll die, half hoping to find better ways to care for the German soldiers.

Like "Verity" this book gives the reader some insight into World War II, and though The Rabbits were real, Rose was not. But it's still so good!

The reader waits for Rose to make her escape, tries to figure out what happened to the friends she keeps talking about, and cringes at what happens in the work camp.

I love the journal entry style of storytelling. I love the character's bravery, and I love learning about World War II. The other day I sold this book to a young boy who had to read about WWII, and I was happy for days. Whenever I sell these books I do dances and try and imagine them up late that night trying to finish the books through their tears.

They're so good, guys! Read them! I need to re-read them. But also, there are so many good books out there to read! Ugh, the constant dilemma.

Memories with Older Siblings

My go-to fun fact is that I'm the youngest child of 7. This number impresses people, even though compared to families of 10 and the Duggars, it's not that special. After this fact comes to light I'm often asked "All by the same parents?" Yes. Or, "How old is your oldest sibling?" 42.

Yes, my sister is a full 20 years older than me. But, my closest sister is less than 2 years. See, there was a ten year age gap between my brother Patrick and my sister Anne. My parents had kids about 2 years apart of each other, so they all had buddies. But, there is still that gap.

I always enjoyed having older siblings. I remember playing dress up in Emily's clothes, and having Patrick babysit us. Anne loved to ride with Scott on his dirt bike, and I still have the same children's book Niki gave me when I was in pre-school. It was always cool to go visit Matt when he worked at "On the Border." And, when all the siblings came together for birthdays and holidays it's a laugh fest. I love my family.

One thing that I've noticed, however, is that though we lived in the same house, under the same parents, our memories are wildly different.

I like to tell the story of how our neighbor behind us introduced herself to Mom. She came over with a cake to welcome the family to the neighborhood, but had to ask: How many kids were here. She had just witnessed the refrigerator box roll down the hill with what seemed like a dozen feet dangling out of it.

I've been told this story so many times, and I've told it countless times, that it's become a memory of my own. I think I can remember when Emily had that horrible 80s haircut, and when Patrick didn't stand six feet tall. But the truth is, I wasn't even an idea. Hell, Anne wasn't even an idea because she was a surprise baby. This is my older siblings memory.

My memories include when Patrick lived in the downstairs room, and how Christmas was just Anne and I running through the halls shouting about Santa. I recall getting the cordless phone, and a laptop. My siblings played with refrigerator boxes and complained that the two babies were being spoiled.

There are hundreds of pictures from the 80s and 90s, pre-Anne and Paige, with horrible carpeting, retro toys, and my siblings. There are hundreds more of Anne and I wearing swimsuits in the middle of winter, playing in the yard with our gray faced dogs.

The dogs are another topic of memory that differs. Much like the refrigerator story, I have assumed these memories as my own. Lady was a gift from Dad when Mom was sad that her baby (at the time that was Patrick) was growing up. She gave him the gift of Anne. And Grace came from another family at Immaculate Conception who's dog had puppies. Patrick brought her home. Even the cat, Alley Cat, came from Scott picking her up behind the school. But Anne and I spent our early childhood with these animals, and we were living at home when they all passed. My older siblings got the animals in their prime, Anne and I watched them fade.

There are stories of Lady digging a whole straight through a wall in the basement, a hole I could walk through, but I wasn't there when it happened. I just experienced the aftermath.

It's somewhat unique when we gather to share memories about the house. Niki can recall when there wasn't a wall between the kitchen and the computer room. We all remember the wood burning stove rusting on the back porch, but Anne and I don't remember when it sat in the living room on a stage of bricks. When we dig out Christmas decorations Scott thinks of when the train set was new, Anne and I think of all the times we struggled to find all the pieces and get the train running.

Side note: there is an ornament on our tree that I hate. Well, I love it because sentiment, but let me explain. It's a family tree. It's shaped like a tree and it has matching hearts on it with all of our names. Well, almost. Since Anne was a surprise her heart is mismatched and glued to the trunk of the tree. My name is not on there, because there is no more space on it. I do, however, have a mug in a tiny mug set we have hanging in the kitchen. It says "Shannon" but I'll take what I can get.

Our house was three bedrooms and two baths. We added a bedroom in the basement for the boys. I can go through who slept in what room from a certain point. But that only includes the shifting and shuffling Patrick, Emily, Anne, and I did. I can see pictures of the same bunk bed Anne and I shared with my brothers, all young and camo-clad, but I don't recall them ever inhabiting the last room I called my own.

When I was young I remember the bushes and trees outside. I used to climb the tree in teh front and hide behind the bushes on the sides of the houses. I made a reading nook below the tree outside my window. But when I go home I notice how big the bushes have grown, and how the once small tree outside my window has grown to nearly block the view of the backyard. Nature doesn't hide the passage of time, and for a sentimental soul like myself, these changes can be hard. If I were to turn my back to the window in my room and look at my room, I wouldn't see what I left behind two years ago. My nieces now inhabit the space. It's full of toys I never played with, books I never read... the only thing that's the same is the (VERY) purple walls I painted myself. I'm sure my siblings felt a similar disparity when they visit the house.

That's something we have in common. We all know the home, we all know our parents, but we knew them at different times. The world changes, and there's nothing one can do to stop it. Carpet is ripped up, rules get a little looser, technology advances, pets are born and die, recipes become healthier, and kids grow up.

As I said, I'm very sentimental, so memories mean the world to me. I love hearing people's stories, but I think I love my sibling's stories most of all. They're relatable, because we are related in such a close manner, but at the same time bizarre and foreign. Their upbringing was very different from mine and Anne's. I smile at most of it, because honestly, yeah the babies did get spoiled at times. But, I also have severe FOMO. I wish I had been around to sneak into Niki's room and mess up her stuff. I wish I could've witnessed the partied Scott and Matt threw. I wish I'd been there when Lady jumped through the garage door and broke the glass. I wish I'd been a set of feet in the refrigerator box.

Side note: If my life was a science fiction film, after hitting "publish" I would be transported back into time and I'd have Emily's awful 80s haircut, but I'd be rolling in that box and probably elbowing someone in the eye. Ah, who am I kidding, I'd be the one who was elbowed.

Anyways. I do wish that I was there with my older siblings. I think it would've been fun to see the neighborhood when the trees were saplings, and the neighbors house non-existent. I'd even like to know what it's like to share one bathroom with five other children. But, I am also very happy with my own experience as a young McWilliams child. I got to hang out with my favorite cousins (that's a whole other subject, they basically had a whole other set of cousins to enjoy), and I didn't have to live through the dial-up internet days for very long. Now, I just get to experience what it's like sharing one bathroom with Emily and Niki. I think I like this situation better. It means less childish fighting and more candy for Easter.