Lololol… I may have just found the perfect missed connections.
Sappy movies based on fairy tales tell us that our dreams really can come true, if we are very good little boys and girls, and we want them badly enough. But what if you wanted your dreams badly enough to summon a demon? This idea provides the backdrop for Kerstin Gier’s Dream a Little Dream, the first book of the Silver Trilogy.
Olivia and her sister are constantly having to move for their somewhat selfish mother, a traveling professor, whose most recent gig is at Oxford. Arriving from the airport to discover their mother has been getting bizz-ay (bom chicka wow-wow) in their absence with an older, balding gentleman, while they’ve been in Switzerland enjoying stinky cheeses with their dad, Olivia and Mia are, to say the least, not happy about it. The book reads quickly and easily, but it’s just a bit bland. The storyline’s actually not that bad. Liv moves to London, and meets a group of super hot upperclassmen who are just normal popular guys. You know, good at basketball, flirting/teasing/ignoring all the girls, and, oh yeah, getting drunk and summoning demons. You know, just boring, normal activities that teenage boys engage in.
Protagonist Liv is really annoying. Although she’s supposed to be a teenager, she often talks like a middle-aged woman. She fits in well with this demon circle because she can access this funky dream hallway and she’s never held hands with a boy, much less had sex with him.
The virginal aspect, while a common theme in at least literary demonic rites (I’ll be honest, I’m not very knowledgeable about real ones), also really annoyed me. I don’t have a problem with a girl waiting to have sex, but I also don’t have a problem with a girl having sex. This aspect of the book felt a bit slut-shaming to me, which I did not appreciate. Our protagonist is not a “good” girl because she’s never been kissed before; she’s a girl who still pretends boys have cooties. Again, this is fine, it just doesn’t make her a better person than a girl who likes to go on dates and kiss her lipstick off.
The book picks up in the last twenty pages or so, ending on a cliffhanger that can be seen from a mile away, but resolving the main mystery rather nicely (except for further madonna-whore complex bullshit). The entire book, the protagonist has been fighting the idea of the existence of demons while simultaneously being able to invade the dreams of others via the dream hallway, so how do we reconcile this? Well, it’s not entirely reconciled, because this is a series, after all, and Gier has to keep you reading. Still, the ending was a bit above the rest of the book.
On my arbitrary scale of book ratings, I give this book: melted ice cream. It’s okay, and I’ll still read it, but it’s not as delicious and far more messy than I would prefer.
Pretty Cool; StoryCorps has an app, and shares tips for interviewing.
Anybody with a smartphone can now be a part of the StoryCorps movement. As TED Prize Winner Dave Isay reveals in today’s talk, you no longer have to travel to a StoryCorps mobile booth to capture an interview with a friend, family member or stranger because StoryCorps has created an app, available free to the public. Now, if you can find a quiet place and 45 minutes, you can interview someone whose story has never been heard and immediately upload the discussion to the American Folklife Center at the Library of Congress.
When Isay announced his wish at TED2015 last week, the TED community responded enthusiastically, noting that the app could be used to change the narrative of post-conflict zones, honor an entire generation’s stories on a national holiday like Veterans Day, and so much more. The app itself is easy to use, with step-by-step guidance on how to pick…
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Remember when I wrote about my odd, embarrassing obsession with Christopher Pike when I was a teenager?
Because I’m, like, growing up and shit, but more because I’m moving across the country at the end of this summer, I sold almost my entire Pike collection.
This was the right move.
Yet I couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret as the kid who responded to my ad pulled a five dollar bill out of his wallet, took the box full of books from me, and walked away, all with an exchange of less than 10 words. It would have been ridiculous for me to haul that box across the country with me, but at the same time, how do you say goodbye to a book?
Part of me wanted to interrogate the kid – make sure he would be a decent foster parent.
Care to share your own rites of passage? The wonderful, the maudlin, the bittersweet – all are welcome!