Throw me a mother effin’ party because I’ve been SO GOOD about not requesting ARCs for the last couple of months.
…Annndddddd hold the applause.
The party will have to end a little early because I started jonesing for a NetGalley fix a couple of nights ago after I had learned I’d been given auto-approval by a publisher that puts out things like Mark Edwards and Caroline Mitchell, and now everything is off the fucking rails again and I am seeing spots.
It’s starts with one hit – aka one push of the “request” button – and next thing you know, you’ve done a dozen more hits and emails start pouring in with approvals (and rejections) and you’re running down the street half-naked, screaming that you’re the new Lizard Queen and all your free books are your babies.
I’ll be honest, I enjoy YA fiction, even though, I am no longer included in the targeted demographic and haven’t been for almost two decades a while. You know what…let’s not get into specifics about ages and dates. Those are all technicalities.
Sometimes I can feel a little bit weird when I have some interest in a YA books. A feeling of “I know I’m 32, but please don’t judge me for reading this” can wash over me from time to time.
I try to let myself like what I like, but there is a sense that YA is my “guilty pleasure” because it’s really not intended for me. And sometimes it’s painfully obvious that I am not intended for it.
I can also feel a little bit weird in reviewing YA books, because usually if the book didn’t work for me it’s because the 16-year-old main character says/thinks something along the lines of, “I’m not child!” And I immediately think, “oh, yes you are young lady!“
Or the 18-year-old who works at a grocery store part time is decorating her warehouse style loft apartment and it’s total bullshit because I didn’t buy my first piece of new furniture until I was 30 years old. That sense of utter and complete bullshit about how teenager on their own would truly live annoys me because no one ever plays within the boundaries of real life, at least not of what I’ve read so far.
Nevertheless, I remain dedicated to my search for an amazing YA mystery-thriller that I actually like, that feels honest and genuine and manages to pull some punches on someone who is hard to please. (Me. That’s me who’s hard to please.)
In honour of #YAWeek, I’m going to be taking a look at what’s floating around my YA TBR pile; what books I’ve come across and thought, “yes, you could be THE ONE.”
Most of us ladies who are obsessed with crime fiction likely got our start reading Nancy Drew when we were young girls in pigtails; young girls who didn’t really want to play the games our friends were playing. We liked puzzles and being observant and maybe kids thought we were weird or awkward. We watched Goonies and Ghost Writer and read The Babysitters Club. We wanted to go on a mystery adventure and solve a crime! So we played at being Nancy Drew with our Sailor Moon “casebooks”, watching from our windows and writing down the neighbours’ activities as if we were going to catch them doing something sinister, like rolling a body into a carpet.
And as we got older, we moved on to more adult crime fiction mysteries, but always gravitated towards Nancy like characters – Veronica Mars, Olivia Benson, Clarice Starling. Because Nancy had taught us it was okay to be into what we were into. We’ve never forgotten Nancy even though we have grown up. She’s frequently cited as an inspiration by writers and readers alike. Her name is mentioned in my “about” page for this blog, and I have been working on a collection of her books for a few years, picking them up from antique markets and used books store. (Only the old yellow paper covers, none of that plastic reprint crap.)
But let’s be real for a moment – in hindsight, Nancy was kind of boring, tame. A true basic bitch. She was rich and white and polite, doing her sleuthing in sweet collared dresses and Mary-Jane pumps with a perfectly coiffed flipped bob. Of course, the series started in the 1930s, so what do you expect? There wasn’t really any room for Nancy to change societal norms drastically, nor was there a market for it. Really, if you go back to those original books, you’ll find them to be shockingly racist and anti-feminist in a lot of their elements. Again, what do you expect from the time?
Anyone else wishing that the Mexican commentator was doing all of the game commentating for the World Cup? That dude is ah-meezing. He makes it so much more fun to watch.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t know anything about soccer until I met my husband. He is a huge fan. His favourite team in the Tottenham Hotspurs. It took me a while to even learn how to say Tottenham properly. But, he embraced my love of hockey, he became a Toronto Maple Leafs fan for me, so I’m trying to get into soccer a little bit more.
It’s not the most exciting sport to me. I think I’m used to the level of adrenaline hockey brings – fights and body checking and game blowouts that might see ten or twelve goals.
Soccer is a little slower. If you like to watch men run, then it’s for you. Or if you’re looking for some dramatic acting tips, also for you.
Seriously, this is the worst thing about soccer to me. These grown, athletic men spend more time finding ways to cry and flail around about made up injuries than toddlers do. I have never seen anything like it. Just get the fuck up and play your fucking sport. I’ve seen hockey goalies get a cut carotid artery from a skate, bleeding all over the ice, and they still want to find a way to get back out and play.
I’m coming down off of the Canada Day long weekend. For those among us that don’t know what Canada Day is, it’s our goddamn birthday! July 1st! HOW DARE YOU NOT SEND US A CARD!
It currently feels like there is nothing worse than going back to work after a long weekend. I’m exhausted even though I did literally the bare minimum for three days straight. To top it off, it’s been hotter than Satan’s taint outside. A heat warning has been in effect for a literal week. My dog is getting cabin fever because he can’t play outside longer than ten minutes without risking heat stroke. Same applies to my husband, honestly.
Climate change is going to kill us all, but first it’s making me sweat and I don’t like it.
I behaved like a vampire all weekend. Blinds drawn to create total darkness, keeping the homicidal sun away from my fair skin. The AC blasting, keeping me cool and fresh like a corpse in a morgue. And when my husband tried to touch me with his hotter-than-normal body, I burst into a hundred bats and flew away.
Summer officially started last week! Do you feel it – the unbearable heat? Do you hear it – the sound of mosquitos eating me alive. Aw, summer.
The stepkid – hereby referred to as “15” for the purposes of my blog – had her last exam and is leaving on Saturday for an extended visitation with Crazy Pants, the bio-mom.
…and to me that means FREEDOM!
*slowly starts to paint face blue*
I whine sometimes, but being a stepmom is really not that bad compared to some of the horror stories I’ve heard in my support group. (It’s still a hard thing to do, hence the support group.) But, the kid is pretty clean and polite and doesn’t think I’m an evil twat, so I think I’m doing okay.
I will say, I’m glad the older one moved out because teenage 👏 boys 👏 are 👏 fucking 👏 gross👏. My clean/organized neurosis couldn’t take it anymore.
It’s all progress and winning in my life right now…you know, except for the stuff that isn’t. But, I have a good feeling about this summer *knocks on wood.*
Some people can’t wait for summer because it means the beach and amusement parks and camping and whatever the hell else extroverted, outdoorsy people do. I can’t wait for summer because it means quiet and a warm breeze coming through my bedroom window while I sit around in no pants (apparently you have to wear pants around stepchildren) reading the summer’s hottest books.
And what might those books be you ask? Well, I’m happy to tell you.
Here is my list of the new mystery & thriller books coming your way this summer. Get your TBR ready!
Christ on a cracker, I can’t believe June is almost over.
That’s half of 2018…gone! Poof! January seemed to take fifty years to get through, but the rest of the year so far has flown by in the blink of an eye. It’s kind of depressing.
Do you have any idea how many times I’ve started and stopped a diet? How much intention I had to read X amount of books or get done X amount of things done in my house? Time just keeps on rolling no matter if we’re paying attention or not.
Still, I think this is the first time in a while where I’ve started to feel a little bit content in my life’s current status. And with summer just around the corner, I’m feeling pretty optimistic. There’s going to be peace and quiet and reading. I also have a few events to look forward to. First up: Foo Fighters in July. Then Dinosaur Jr and the Just For Laughs festival in September. For August I’m thinking of redoing my basement family room. New furniture, new flooring, new paint. Just in time for a comfy Christmas.
We’ll see how productive I’m feeling. There’s also the option to simply relax and read, taking a break from errands and responsibilities.
With that in mind, let’s get into a little bit of WWW Wednesday. What’s current, what’s coming up and what’s just finished?
Here’s a little-known secret about me. And by “little known”, I mean literally no one knows it, not even my husband.
I love Matt Dillon.
I keep it a secret because my love for him is complicated to explain. I actually I find him really gross. There’s something about Matt Dillon that is so incredibly off-putting to me; something smarmy, something that tells me he probably has weird sexual proclivities. I can totally see myself saying, “Um, no Matt Dillon, I will not have sex with you covered in mayo!”
Maybe it’s the roles I’ve seen him in that have coloured my opinion – Wild Things, There’s Something About Mary. But I find him to be very unattractive…so much so that I also want him.
I know, it’s weird. Maybe I’ll talk about it in therapy.
Honestly, NetGalley might be my undoing, mentally. I can see a breakdown on the horizon. Maybe I start writing on the walls about how many unread ARCs I have, while I talk to an invisible librarian, and my husband has to feed me ice chips.
I try to stop myself from going on there and requesting new titles, but it’s so hard. I need a 12 step program.
We’ll call this post Step 1.
If you want to play along, feel free. Basically, what I intend to do is round up all the new ARCs I’ve received at the beginning of every month, for a new month of reading. Easy!
Because I’ve been such a good girl about requesting books (up until a couple of days ago), this first post might be a little short, but books are books!
I know everyone else is saying this too but, I can’t believe it’s May already!
April flew passed me, and I didn’t even get all that much reading done, which totally sucks, but I’ve been up to my eyes in house stuff. I swear time is like a downhill snowball the older you get, and I’m not even old!
My husband and I are still trying to get this foyer mudroom finished. And I’m such an inpatient asshole that I also started painting my upstairs hallway. I’m not good at one step at a time, clearly. Also, also, I’ve spent a lot of money on paintings and lights and carpets and please someone STOP ME BEFORE I DESTROY MY BUDGET!
I took a vacation day from work on Monday and my sincerest hope is that we get something completely done this weekend so I can go back to reading.