Young Adult

Where's Waldo

My parents brag that I could find Waldo at 16 months. It sounds accomplished. Makes them seem accomplished by the transitive property.

Little House on the Prairie

 My dad read to me every night sitting on the floor by my bed. I would peer from a hole in my nest of turned-grey teddy bears and beanie babies with tags still on because they were going to be “worth something someday.” I liked seeing the words while he read. I couldn’t read ahead but the visual aid of the slick sliding words relaxed me. Sometimes I would pop a hand out from the pile and rub my dad’s head. I didn’t particularly like the feel of his stubbly hair but he liked head rubs. He read to me every night until high school.

The Giver

My fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Pyle, loved loaning me books. It was okay, though, because in fourth grade it was still cool for the teacher to like you. I think she thought she was keeping me away from drugs. She loaned me The Giver. I read it sitting in a musky, army green armchair in my Grandmother's basement. I cried and cried. I had no control since confusion was making me cry, not sadness--confusion that wouldn’t let me process how to stop the tears. I didn’t read the last couple chapters of the book till 5 years later. It was the closest i'd come to not finishing a book.

Algebra 1

I was on the cusp of young adult literature; teachers no longer applauded me for consuming books with secondary characters, subplots, and symbolism. Books with chapters were no longer "chapter books" they were novels. I was transitioning from "some pig" and magic tree houses to broken families and self harm. I was fascinated by books on the Hollocaust. I wondered if that made me a bad person. No one had ever told me if it was wrong to watch people die in your mind. I read bulky paperbacks bent into my math textbooks never got in trouble. I 

The Princess Bride

Favorites were very important in middle school. The term “best friend” is a pact not with just said friend, but with the society of adolescence. My best friend was- Milena, my favorite movie was Dirty Dancing, my favorite book had been A Wrinkle in Time. When I finished The Princess Bride I went through the turbulent process of changing loyalties. I took pride in my favorites they made me feel self- actualized.

The Hobbit

A neighborhood boy and I were playing the messy game of self-aware pre-dating. We would have sharp moments of talk, bursting laughter, and stinging silence.  I told him my favorite book was The Princess Bride, it was a book with enough quirk that I thought I came off as open and sophisticated. His was The Hobbit. I hadn’t read it so the conversation bumbled back to The Princess Bride. The boy said he had read it and thought it was funny how some people thought that the author was being truthful during the personal anecdotes. I had thought that the author was truthful. I felt dumb and lied to. 

Breakfast of Champions

The summer after high school graduation I fell in love with Kurt Vonnegut.  I worked at a warehouse and spent eight hours a day counting merchandise-- earrings, love god statues, marble geese-- into recycled chicken crates.  My co-workers were special needs adults and volunteers from an assisted living home for the elderly. Ricky volunteered from 2-5 on Wednesdays. He would tug a scratchy stool over to my work table and smear price stickers onto items while I processed them. Ricky had a large face, he had a wife that proposed to him when he was 21 and was supposed to have three children but she hadn’t worn her seat belt. I spent every break reading-- J.D. Salinger, Chuck Palahniuk, Khaled Hosseini—and Ricky noticed. He gave me a tired back broken copy of Breakfast of Champions. He asked every Wednesday how I was liking it. I told him it was eloquent and inspiring, I think he knew I wasn’t reading it. I finally read it my first week of college. The people and social life I had been told would dominate my time hadn't appeared yet. So instead I fell in love. I used my complimentary college pen to etch "So it goes" and "Etc." onto the crease in my elbow. I was flirting with the idea of a tattoo. I knew I didn't yet have the commitment capabilities but I also knew someday I could.