All my life, I have felt destiny tugging at my sleeve.~ Thursday Next
I don't want to "go with the flow". The flow just washes you down the drain. I want to fight the flow.- Henry Rollins
All this spiritual talk is great and everything...but at the end of the day, there's nothing like a pair of skinny jeans. - Jillian Michaels
You are welcome AJane, hope you get a chance to read it.
Out of My Mind by Sharon M. Draper. It is a children's/YA novel about an 11 year old girl with a photographic memory, synesthesia, and cerebral palsy. This story is told from inside her head - no one knows how bright she is so she is subject to being bored silly by people who think she is too dumb to even know the alphabet. She does have a few great people in her life who expose her to music and challenges that she meets. And at the point of the story where I am at (3rd grade), she is working hard to communicate with words on a tray, but that is sometimes frustrating because life for her is not as simple as a limited amount of words pasted on a tray.
This is how it starts:
Have any of you read this book? I am loving it so far. You can find more about Sharon Draper and this book here.Words.
I’m surrounded by thousands of words. Maybe millions.
Cathedral, Mayonnaise. Pomegranate.
Mississippi. Neapolitan. Hippopotamus.
Silky. Terrifying. Iridescent.
Tickle. Sneeze. Wish. Worry.
Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes—each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands.
Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs.
From the time I was really little—maybe just a few months old—words were like sweet, liquid gifts, and I drank them like lemonade. I could almost taste them. They made my jumbled thoughts and feelings have substance. My parents have always blanketed me with conversation. They chattered and babbled. They verbalized and vocalized. My father sang to me. My mother whispered her strength into my ear.
Every word my parents spoke to me or about me I absorbed and kept and remembered. All of them.
I have no idea how I untangled the complicated process of words and thought, but it happened quickly and naturally. By the time I was two, all my memories had words, and all my words had meanings.
But only in my head.
I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old.
Last edited by Cootie; 01-15-2012 at 02:42 PM.
After reading four Colin Cotterill and the lastest Kate Ellis I felt it time to lighten things up a little and picked up "A Brief History of the World" by Stephen Clarke
Its a funny read about a guy who buys a teleporter, it appealed to the trekkie in me. First chapter in and I am not hating it and it is amusing so, so far so good
Cootie, my daughter's class read Out of My Mind earlier this year. At 6th grade, they are right at that same age, and many were moved to tears in class discussions of the book. Love it when a story is that powerful. I meant to check it out when she told me about it, but it slipped on by. Now your post has me intent again on reading it - thanks.
We're all just walking each other home. ~ Ram Dass
Read all the Game of Throne books, now I have to wait forever for the next two. Highly recommend the series
"Dogs are not our whole lives, but they make our lives whole" Roger Caras
I just finished Mira Grant's Deadline last night and OMG, what a cliffhanger! I can't wait until the next book in the series comes out in a few months! If you're into zombie books with a brainy edge, this is the series.
Now I'm reading Arcadia by Lauren Groff. It's about a young man who grow up in a commune in western New York during the 60's - a total switch from futuristic, post-zombie apocalypse action! I loved Groff's Monster's of Templeton, if not for the story, for the writing. I thought the story was good, but I thought the writing was REALLY good. This one is even better.
Here's the write up from Publisher's Weekly:
Fiction Review: Arcadia by Lauren Groff. Hyperion/Voice, $25.99 (304p) ISBN 978-1-4013-4087-2Groff’s dark, lyrical examination of life on a commune follows Bit, aka Little Bit, aka Ridley Sorrel Stone, born in the late ’60s in a spot that will become Arcadia, a utopian community his parents help to form. Despite their idealistic goals, the family’s attempts at sustainability bring hunger, cold, illness, and injury. Bit’s vibrant mother retreats into herself each winter; caring for the community literally breaks his father’s back. The small, sensitive child whose purposeful lack of speech is sometimes mistaken for slowness finds comfort in Grimms’ fairy tales and is lost in the outside world once Arcadia’s increasingly entitled spiritual leader falls from grace and the community crumbles. Split between utopia and its aftermath, the book’s second half tracks the ways in which Bit, now an adult (he’s 50 when this all ends, in 2018), has been shaped by Arcadia; a career in photography was the perfect choice for a man who “watches life from a good distance.” Bit’s painful experiences as a husband, father, and son grow more harrowing as humanity becomes increasingly imperiled. The effective juxtaposition of past and future and Groff’s (Delicate Edible Birds) beautiful prose make this an unforgettable read.
Anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that 'my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.' - Isaac Asimov
I was thinking of the immortal words of Socrates, who said, "... I drank what?"
Just finished up The Fates Will Find Their Way yesterday, after reading about it upthread. I loved the way it was written! The best way to describe its effect was like a tide... feeling pulled in to the different stories, and then a little phrase would bring me back to a base of "reality" (thought still w/in the fictional story), and then I'd lose myself again. I wish I could explain it better, but I enjoyed the story and appreciated the style in which it unfolded.
We're all just walking each other home. ~ Ram Dass