The word “Escapist” is often applied to fantasy as a derogatory term (or even, occasionally, to all YA, but we won’t go there.) But the reason that books are so important to a lot of kids who have been “abused, abandoned, neglected, negated, traumatized, tortured, half-loved, and wholly-hurt” is that they do create a safe place for hurting children to literally escape to. Some kids don’t have access to a therapist or a great teacher they can spend time with or anything else. For those kids who are being abused at home and have nowhere else to turn, what are they going to do? Often, read a book.

And fantasy holds a special spot in this cycle because it isn’t just a book that a child can get absorbed in for a while. If it is a big, meaty, well-drawn fantasy with several books, then it becomes an entire world that the child can imagine herself living within. I re-read Lord of the Rings (all of them) at least 16 times in my adolescence (I lost track counting at 12, but I know that I read it at least 4 times after that.) I imagined that I lived in Middle Earth quite often.

My Mom despaired that I would ever stop reading “escapist literature” and develop “adult reading tastes.” And I did eventually do the latter (I adore Olive Kitteredge and The Well of Loneliness), but I still love fantasy. And back then, I needed it. I needed to escape. So here is to escapism in general. But not all fantasy is for escape. Though I absolutely love Tender Morsels I would not give it to a traumatized twelve year old. I’d even be on the fence about The Hunger Games–though I love those, too. (But that might just be me getting more conservative in my old age.)

So what characteristics make for a good escapist fantasy?

• An intricate and fully-developed world–one where it seems to extend off the page
• The darkness feels at least a little abstract or hypothetical or over the top
• There are multiple books set in the same world
• The good guys come out on top
• If trauma or abandonment are treated at all, they are done in a fairly light-hearted and not overly realistic way

Books that I think fit the bill are:

• Lord of the Rings
• Harry Potter
• The Dark is Rising Sequence
• His Dark Materials
• Robin McKinley’s Damar books (The Blue Sword and The Hero and the Crown)
• The Bone series by Jeff Smith
• Buffy the Vampire Slayer the tv show if it were books
• Maybe the Percy Jackson books? I haven’t read those, so I can’t be sure.

But, the real reason I started this post is that I came across a new series a few days ago, and I am wicked hooked. The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer. (And did anyone think of calling these books the Lunar Cycle? Because that would have been cooler.) These are . . . post-apocalyptic fairytale retellings? Huh?

Cinder by Marissa Meyer

We start out with Cinder who is a Cyborg Mechanic in New Beijing. And she doesn’t just lose her shoe when she dances with the prince. She loses her whole foot. In front of the whole ball, and then the whole kingdom and the whole “Earthen Union” because, of course, it’s being broadcast live.

Then we move on to Scarlet who is a hot-headed farm girl with anger-management issues who falls for Wolf–he turns out to be a genetically modified wolf-person hybrid foot soldier being controlled by magicians from the moon.

Apparently Cress which comes out next February (and I will die of anticipation before then) is a Rapunzel retelling. And there will be one final book the following year.

Is this a fully-drawn world that seems to go on off the page? Yes indeed. And unlike the Hunger Games, the threat stays a little way back. There is something about children being forced to kill children as a spectator sport that is just a little too close and real, too Lord of the Flies, for Escape. But here the big evil is the Lunar Queen who can control everyone’s bioelectrical waves (basically mind-control), but hates mirrors because they don’t lie. It stays a little way back. It feels just unreal enough. Like Sauron and Voldemort, to be a good villain but not utterly terrifying.

Both these main characters have been hurt and abandoned. Kind of like Harry Potter. But also like Harry Potter, it isn’t quite real. It’s not dealt with in a realistic way, so it doesn’t force kids to face the reality of their situation or anyone else’s. And this isn’t a short-coming. I think really good, Escapist, fantasy can bring up Universal questions–Harry Potter and LOTR are both rife with them–without forcing the reader to deal with a lot of deep emotional issues that he or she may not be ready to face.

In any case, enjoy! (And if anyone gets their hands on an arc for Cress, please keep me in mind.)

Where are all the black boys?

The Day I Taught How Not to Rape.

I was thinking about the various people in my life and how they react to different situations and I suddenly realized that the world can be divided into “normal” people and “crazy” people. And these two groups of people speak fundamentally different languages. Now before anyone gets her knickers in a twist, it’s not a real division. I know several people who fit squarely in the “normal” camp but shouldn’t. You see crazy vs. normal is an internal sense of the world. Let’s have a few definitions:

Crazy: These are folks who either are really crazy in an organic, biological way, if such a thing really does exist, which I’m not convinced of. But more often, Crazy folks are those who lived through major crap as kids and don’t know how to act like they didn’t.

Normal: These are mostly folks who didn’t. They either had nice, gentle, un-traumatic childhoods, or they didn’t, but they have buried the hurt so deeply that they don’t even know that they didn’t. They think that they’re normal. And they act like they’re normal. And they judge the crazy folk.

Now me? I’m crazy. I have lost so many friends by wanting more from them than they wanted from me. I step over boundaries left and right. I am thinking specifically of a lovely, normal, friend I had in Boston. She was about twenty years older than me. Just the perfect age to be a pseudo-mother figure. And I didn’t have anyone to go to my college graduation, so I asked her if she would come? She declined, and when I moved away from Boston, I never heard from her again. And I had NO IDEA why.

Now it’s actually possible that deep down, crazy is a spectrum and we’re all on it. Because we’ve all been hurt, right? But the division is an artificial line on the spectrum based on two things: 1) how well we’re able to hide our pain and interact in the world with others. And 2) how self-aware we are of what has happened to us, and of what has happened to others.

In some ways, living in Vermont was just much easier for me because nearly everyone is crazy there. At least everyone I knew. Maybe that’s because of the intense level of self-work that everyone is at least attempting to do there. Vermonters tend to think they’re better than everyone else. But at least they are, in fact, trying to BE better than everyone else. But jokes aside, what I found there was that people were very forgiving of each other’s really screwy tendencies, and I think it’s because they were well-aware of their own.

But it’s probably a good thing that crazies can’t just stick with crazies and normals can’t just stick with normals. In fact, I see this blog, in hindsight, as my ambassadorship from the land of the crazies to the land of the normals. And I think it’s helped at least one or two folks understand better what the sun looks like on our side of the island.

But it’s hard to be crazy. I was bullied horribly as a kid and I was so lonely. And I obviously had no idea why back then. I mean, I’m thirty now and this is the first time I’ve started to understand it. And it wasn’t my fault that I was crazy. And as I’ve said before, I was also amazing and fabulous in loads of ways. I just didn’t know how to act normal.

But I just started to put down a list of ground rules for my fellow crazies for how to interact with normals, which might help. And for a kid who is spazzing out in school and being threatened, this list might be useful, as well. Of course, this list requires that you actually be able to separate out the normals from the crazies. But I think a good rule of thumb is to assume that EVERYONE is normal until you’ve gotten good proof otherwise.

1) Never invite a normal person to your graduation! I learned this the hard way, but the real rule embedded in this joke, is not to ask a normal person who you haven’t known for a good long while to do something that is deeply important to you. This, apparently, is a boundary violation.

2) Unless it’s for a noble cause (which I think this blog mostly is) don’t talk about your traumatic past with normal people. It will just freak them out.

3) In any friendship or relationship with a normal person, it’s probably safest to let them define the boundaries of your relationship.

4) When you are really hurting or in trouble, it’s probably safest not to reach out to a normal person. If you have a slightly crazy friend you can talk to, that is probably better. That might seem like bad advice because us crazies don’t necessarily have the soundest grasp on objective reality, but here’s my reasoning: Normal people probably aren’t going to be able to understand what’s really ailing you because they haven’t been through what you have. And they won’t get it when something maybe seemingly small or random has triggered you or really just upset you. They won’t get it. And if they don’t get it, they won’t be able to help you with it, anyway. This might be a good point to mention that I think nearly all therapists fall in the crazy camp. And social workers, too. See: you can be a fine, upstanding citizen, and useful to society if you are crazy.

So those are the rules I’ve figured out so far. Any fellow crazies have others? Or any of you normal lurkers–have you had uncomfortable interactions with us crazies that have given you any additional rules or gripes? In the interest of open dialogue between the camps, I would love to hear them.

And just as a final note: I am not saying that anything goes between two crazies. I can think of other crazy friends who I have pissed off in various ways, too, but interactions between two crazies is a different beast. It has to do with really understanding the other person and knowing what has happened to them. It’s about knowing what triggers them and why and just having as much awareness and compassion as possible. I actually think this is important when interacting with anyone, jokes aside.

The Scream by Edvard Munch

I got an email today from one of my best and oldest friends. That was about 6 hours ago, and all I’ve been able to feel since then is rage. You see, this friend stopped speaking to me nearly a year ago without giving me any explanation. I spent the past year really hurting about this and wondering what I did and trying to figure out what was going on. It hurt. A lot.

And today she emails me and says it wasn’t really anything. She doesn’t know why she didn’t write to me (or call me or talk to me in any way, shape, or form at all) this year. The last time we saw each other, we had a challenging interaction–the first I can ever remember between us in nearly a decade of friendship. I don’t know what went wrong that day, but I know it was the day we stopped speaking. And I’ve spent the whole year trying to figure it out. Only to find out today after all that, that it wasn’t a big deal to her.

I think the rage is that after all that: she could afford to just drop me for a year. She has a huge family that all love her absolutely no matter what. She has a partner who she is building a beautiful life with. So when we had a challenging interaction, she could afford to just put our friendship aside for a whole year. The trouble is: nearly my entire immediate family died ten years ago. I don’t have anyone, so my friendships are so important to me. And hers in specific was really important to me.

But the thing is: it’s not her fault that she is surrounded by people who love her unconditionally and absolutely. It’s not her fault that I’m not. I know it sounds obvious, but this is something I have trouble wrapping my head around. This friend doesn’t owe me anything. Nobody owes me anything. So why do I keep feeling like somebody should?

This brings me to the ultimate question of this post. Do we as human beings owe each other anything? Do we owe children something?

I spent most of my childhood with my eye on the prize (which was surviving and getting the hell out of there.) But occasionally I would be nearly overpowered by this sense of injustice. But I didn’t really know as a kid that my life was so messed up, not really. You get used to whatever is handed to you as a kid. But as an adult, I have felt a lot of anger towards various people from my childhood. And not really, as you might suspect, towards the people who really hurt me–not towards the men who sexually abused me or towards my mom who let it all happen while she was completely ignoring me or picking on me herself. It never seemed worth it to be angry at them.

But my teachers. Those teachers who I loved as a kid. Who gave me the only sense I got as a kid that there was something worthwhile about me. Those teachers who seemed to think I was awesome and supported me. I have such anger towards them as an adult–because they saw me every single day. They heard more about my life than any other folks. Did they really not know that I was being beaten and abused at home? Did they really have no idea at all? And if they did know, how could they not have done anything to intervene? When I was a child, did anyone owe me that? Did I deserve to be helped? Is there a difference between what someone deserves and what others owe them?

And then my extended family who I couldn’t wait to visit every summer in the idyllic Virginian countryside. My extended family that I wanted so desperately to belong to. Did they owe it to me to make a point of knowing what was going on in my life and to do something about it? Maybe the answers to these questions are obvious to others, but I have no idea.

Do we have an obligation to the people in our lives?

But then I think about this blog and my writing and the work I do with children. Do I do that work because I feel like I owe kids something? No. I do it because I can’t bear the thought of any child living through the things that I did. I can’t handle the idea that any child could feel that alone and utterly unloved. I just can’t stand it. And I know they do every day. But it’s not obligation. I don’t know. As usual, no answers here.

I just got to read an incredible book by an incredible author. I’ve been a fan of Sara Zarr‘s work since I reviewed her novel Once Was Lost. And I am going to have the amazing good fortune of getting to meet her at The Writing Barn next month for an advanced writing workshop that she’s offering on emotional pacing.

Sara Zarr is an important writer, I’m just going to say it. She writes about teens struggling with some really tough issues, and she does it with such grace, compassion, and integrity. I am grateful for all the authors who try to write about kids in tough situations. And I will be the first to acknowledge that writing is REALLY HARD. But Zarr manages to understand and love her teen protagonists and that is not easy, but it’s so necessary.

Anyway, I think that anyone who works with teens should add How to Save a Life to their collection.

From the Jacket:

Jill MacSweeney just wishes everything could go back to normal. But ever since her dad died, she’s been isolating herself from her boyfriend, her best friends—everyone who wants to support her. And when her mom decides to adopt a baby, it feels like she’s somehow trying to replace a lost family member with a new one.

Mandy Kalinowski understands what it’s like to grow up unwanted—to be raised by a mother who never intended to have a child. So when Mandy becomes pregnant, one thing she’s sure of is that she wants a better life for her baby. It’s harder to be sure of herself. Will she ever find someone to care for her, too?

As their worlds change around them, Jill and Mandy must learn to both let go and hold on, and that nothing is as easy—or as difficult—as it seems.

Review: I don’t know that I’m going to be able to capture what makes this book so special because it hit really close to home on a lot of levels. But here are the stats, at least: this book deal with sexual abuse, emotional abuse and neglect, teen pregnancy, and death of a parent. I thought that one of her two teen protagonists was slightly better developed than the other, but the family dynamics between the mother and daughter are spot on.

OK, so there’s that. But we all bring ourselves and our bags to the reading of any book, and I couldn’t help reading this book as someone who has both lost a parent and has grown up in a household where I was abused and unwanted. I related to both of her protagonists. But here’s what makes this great fiction and important: I didn’t just recognize these young women–I learned from them.

I was Jill, who has lost her father, when she lashes out at her friends and pushes them away. I was Mandy when she reaches out repeatedly to a young man on the train who has no interest in knowing her because she just can’t help herself, we all want love. But I also learned from Jill that I, too, am afraid of everything since my Mom died, and I learned that the best way to heal and stop being afraid is to start, bit by bit, to let new life in. And I learned from Mandy that I am not the only person who secretly wants a do-over–a new life with a family who will want me this time.

And another thing: Jill keeps thinking back to the time before her dad died when she was happy and lively and fearless and she keeps wanting to somehow recapture that girl and become her again. And I’ve done that. I remember when I was about nine and I was fearless and the leader of the neighborhood pack because I was the toughest ever (I was actually an awesome little kid, seriously.) And I wonder why I can’t get back to that spirit? And then Jill finally realizes: she’s never going to be that girl again. There is no going back. She doesn’t have to be sad and scared for the rest of her life, but there is no going back to what she was, only forward to what she can be now. And I thought: oh yeah, that’s right. That’s how it works.

Maybe these things are all obvious to other people, but I just thought her journey was so real and so hopeful. It was subtle and understated, but it was just exactly how life does work, and I found it so personally relevant that I know that actual live teens in the real world going through these things will read this book as a revelation.

It just amazes me, frankly, that there are writers who can do this. I mean, I’ve met Katherine Paterson, and hundreds of other amazing writers, for that matter. So I know these demi-Gods exist. But here I am with all this life experience and compassion and at least a decent dollop of true writing talent, but I can’t even finish finish a novel–at least not yet–much less honestly capture these deep and nuanced emotional experiences on the page. I guess I’m just profoundly glad that there are writers who can. Cheers, y’all!

UPDATE: Just wanted to add another review and an interview about the book with Sara Zarr over at The Pirate Tree. They’re doing great work over there. Go check them out!

So, this share showed up on my facebook this morning. Of course, I was procrastinating writing so I had to think about it. And then I went to work, and I kept thinking about it. And I thought and I thought and I thought. And I know you all can’t wait to hear what I thought.

First because that snapshot is really small, the text of this mobile download reads: “We were discussing homosexuality because of an allusion to it in the book we were reading, and several boys made comments such as, ‘That’s disgusting.’ We got into the debate and eventually a boy admitted that he was terrified/disgusted when he was once sharing a taxi and the other male passenger made a pass at him. The lightbulb went off. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I get it. See, you are afraid, because for the first time in your life you have found yourself a victim of unwanted sexual advances by someone who has the physical ability to use force against you.’ The boy nodded and shuddered visibly. ‘But,’ I continued. ‘As a woman, you learn to live with that from the time you are fourteen, and it never stops. We live with that fear every day of our lives. Every man walking through the parking garage the same time you are is either just a harmless stranger or a potential rapist. Every time.’ The girls in the room nodded, agreeing. The boys seemed genuinely shocked. ‘So think about that the next time you hit on a girl. Maybe, like you in the taxi, she doesn’t actually want you to.’”

So, like is so often the case, what I’m about to say might not be that popular, but just stay with me. Of course, I don’t disagree with the sentiment behind this post. Violence against women is a reality, no doubt. I was molested by multiple men as a child. I was the “victim,” if you want, of male aggression from multiple sources. To be clear: I have been hit. A lot. And most of the women I know–truly most–have been sexually abused, raped, or assaulted at least once. Most of them. I in no way want to downplay the reality of or devastation that results from male aggression towards women. And I don’t think that a lot of men know that this is the state of things. Years ago I tried to mount a project called the “Zeus Project.” I was going to have a dozen women drive around the country and interview men about the women in their lives, and then interview those women to see if the men knew just how big a problem this actually is.

All that being said, I want to suggest that 1) not all women feel this way. And 2) that we, as a society, or possibly even just as a gender, might want to evaluate this emotional response and see if it’s helpful and if there’s something we should do to change it.

Of course, everything that I write about stems from my personal life experiences. So, a story: When I was 14, I convinced my mom to let my cousin move in with us. He was a year and a half younger than me, and he’d run away from home because his caretaker was a real jerk. And when he was dropped off at our house, the three of us made eye contact and spontaneously broke into the song “reunited” at the same moment.

But besides being a lovely and funny guy, my cousin was also a drug dealer and juvenile detention had pretty much turned him into a hardened criminal. He was stronger than me. There is no question that he was stronger than me. We would get in the biggest fights. On one particular occasion he threw a pencil carefully calculated to miss my head by an inch. The impact of that throw was so great, that that pencil actually broke the chair that I was sitting on. Now if that had been my head? The reality is that I knew that he could kill me. He knew that he could kill me. And we got in so many fights, it’s not as though he didn’t have the chance.

Now  conventional wisdom will have it that I was a victim, and I was terrified. And this terror will have informed every interaction I’ve had with men since then. And we need to educate men to behave better, and fight for stronger anti-assault laws, and teach girls self-defence, etc.

I’m not really arguing with any of that. BUT, and it’s a big but: the emotion I felt around my cousin was not terror. It was rage. Rage that he was, simply put, stronger than me. That I was not strong enough to beat him. I was really really strong, but he was just stronger and that drove me mad.

I remember one day he made me so angry that I opened up a can of soda and poured it over his head and then ran like hell. And I managed to slam my car door shut just before his retaliatory pop-can collided with it–it made a huge dent that I was never able to fix. But I didn’t care because for that one time at least, I had won. I was so elated that I drove to school, and when the band teacher came in to class ten minutes later and politely asked if I hadn’t left my keys in my car by any chance . . . well, I went back outside and discovered that was an understatement, to put it mildly. In fact, I had left my car running with the keys in, the headlights on, and the driver-side door wide open.

I am so sick of being told by society that I was a victim. That, in a male-dominated society, I am still a victim. That, in fact, I will always be a potential victim. This is my blog, so I think I’m allowed to cuss on it. And to all of that, I have to say: horse shit!

I am not the strongest woman in the world. I am certainly not stronger than every man. And I don’t even want to argue the fact that most men are stronger than most women. But in nearly every circumstance that arises, I can take care of myself. Whether through brute strength or wits. So that’s the first point I want to make: it never occurs to me when I’m around a man that he might hurt me. I am not afraid or intimidated–it doesn’t even occur to me to be. And I think that’s because I know that I can handle myself.

Ten years ago, when I was not nearly so buff as I am now, I went to a women’s self-defense class with a friend just because it seemed like a good, enlightened thing to do. But after a class or two, she and I started talking and we realized that the class was making us both uncomfortable because the instructor was talking to us all as though we needed to constantly remember to watch what was going on around us because we were, as this mobile upload implies, potential victims. And this made both of us uncomfortable because we both knew that we weren’t.

It’s not that I can not be hit. Or that I am so different from other women. Anyone can be mugged. Anyone can be attacked. But not everyone is a potential victim. And not everyone who is hit is a victim. And some people really are less likely to be assaulted than others. Because the truth is that violent men are cowards mostly.

A man was following me in a train station in New York City for too long for it to be coincidence. He was going to mug me. But I turned around and I looked him in the eyes, and I asked him why he was following me? And he turned red and practically ran away. And, likewise, if a man tries to rape a woman in an alley, he’s going to think twice about it if she doesn’t instantly cower down and look petrified. I’m not saying he won’t still do it, but he will be less likely to.

So 1) I am sick of people assuming that I am weak and that I, like all women, walk around slightly fearful of men at all times. 2) I think we do girls a huge disservice by treating them like they are potential victims. Because that engenders fear which makes it more likely that they will become victims. Women may not, in general, be as physically strong as men. But they don’t have to be as weak as they are. And they aren’t as weak as we treat them. And they are much stronger, by and large, I would guess, than they think themselves.

So, yes, part of the solution is for men to become gentler, more sensitive, more aware of women’s needs. But the other part is for women to toughen up and stop acting so weak. I would contend that walking around fearful is almost as damning as being hit. At least, I’d rather walk around with the constant knowledge that if someone hit me, I could damn well hit him back, than with the constant knowledge that I am a potential victim.

Think about it.

I was watching an episode of My So Called Life–a teen show from the ’90s, that I never liked when I was a teen because it was too angsty and melodramatic. Except that it shows a lot of real life that isn’t easy–teen alcoholism, unavailable parents, parents who hit their kids, parents who are having affairs, teen sex. Just a lot of stuff. Anyway, this episode, “So Called Angels” was about teen homelessness and it just killed me.

Ricky Vasquez, Gay teen runaway.

In the episode one of the main character Angela’s best friends either runs away from home or is kicked out–it’s unclear which. What is fairly obvious is that his father is beating him. And probably because he’s gay. This character, Ricky Vasquez, was one of the first gay characters on t.v. and became something of an icon for representing some of the tougher issues that gay teens still face today.

Ricky ends up living in an abandoned warehouse with a bunch of other runaways while Angela’s mother gradually comes to realize that the line separating these kids from her own daughter is much slimmer than she’d like to believe.

And maybe that’s why we mostly pretend not to see homeless people. Because we know deep down that it’s not so much that separates us from them. A tiny shift of fate and we could be homeless, too. But getting out again once you are is so hard. So very very hard.

I’ve known a lot of homeless people. And a few who once were but managed to climb out of it. Most of them, including males, were raped at least once when they lived on the streets. Most of them got sick a lot. Had next to nothing to eat. Couldn’t sleep through a night for worrying that the cops would bust them or another homeless person would steal their only pair of shoes.

There are too many reasons that people in general end up homeless, much less kids. But a big one still with teens is being gay and having their parents kick them out. In the episode, a church group took all the kids from the warehouse into the church for Christmas. I had a horrifying thought that this avenue of help for hurting kids might be denied to many homeless kids because they’re obviously gay, as Ricky Vasquez is. I’d like to think better of people than that, but it’s hard to tell. Gay teens are still the highest demographic of homeless teens. And the most at risk to kill themselves.

I have less to say that’s useful about all of this than usual, even. I don’t even have any suggestions for what we might start to do. I don’t know what books can do to help this problem. I do know a few homeless folks who read quite a bit but they have to steal books from the library (they always bring them back.) You see, you can’t get a library card if you don’t have an address (nor can you register to vote.) And you can’t buy books obviously, and you’re not nearly as likely to be in school. And you can’t go to book stores because you’ll be run off because you aren’t likely to be clean, cus it turns out that it’s really hard to bathe regularly and well if you don’t have a home, and even if you go to the Y and bathe or use the showers at the beach, you probably don’t have clean clothes.

So all of this is to say, we aren’t going to solve homelessness with books. Unless we somehow manage to make books more generally available to homeless teens. But we can raise awareness. I know of three books for teens and kids about homelessness. Two of them are very good. One of them is dreadful. Fly Away Home by Eve Bunting is a picture book about a little boy and his dad who live in an airport. It’s a sad book but not unbearably so. And it doesn’t have a nice, pat happy ending.

That is what makes the Middle Grade novel Also Known as Harper such a dismal failure in my opinion. I don’t want to trash any book, because writing is really really hard. But the ease with which the young protagonist takes her situation in hand and saves the day, and the miraculous way a home just happens on her family just makes this book really irresponsible in my opinion because it downplays the seriousness of homelessness to such an extent that it almost mocks it. And if I, God forbid, were a homeless teen reading this book, I think I would just want to die because there is no way my life would just sort itself out so neatly. And I would feel so unbelievably lazy and worthless. Nor do I think that the book works to raise awareness for non-homeless kids because it trivializes it to such an extent that it makes it seem like it’s not even something to get worked up over.

Theories of Relativity, YA novel about homelessness

The one YA novel I have read about homelessness, Theories of Relativity, is just the opposite. I picked it up by accident because the title made me think it was about Einstein (yes, I am a total geek if you didn’t already know that.) This book works because it doesn’t trivialize the subject. It shows how hard it is for this teen to get help, to get work, to pull his life together. It shows the real barriers that homeless teens face. But it’s not hopeless. This kid does actually better his situation, but by the end of the book it’s still not perfect–that wouldn’t be realistic–but he’s gone far enough to give both homeless teens who might find this book and teens who aren’t but are learning about it hope. Again, I don’t know how homeless kids manage to get their hands on books very often, but I urge anyone who has a collection of books to include this novel in their collection. It actually has some resources that a teen might look into, it’s realistic,  but it has hope, and maybe hope would be enough to keep a kid going for another day.

I also just remembered that one of my favorite writers, Martine Leavitt, has a new novel in verse out that deals with homelessness, My Book of Life by Angel. It is about a street girl who ends up being pimped out as a prostitute, another devastating reality for homeless teens. I have heard her read several sections from this book that were amazing, but I haven’t read the whole thing yet. She’s is a remarkable writer. Her novels Tom Finder and Heck Superhero also deal with homelessness.

And as I type this, I remember another wonderful novel in verse by Sharon Darrow called Trash. This one, I’m fairly certain is out of print, but if you can procure a copy, it’s worth it. It’s about sibling runaways from the foster-care system, another common cause of childhood homelessness. I think the title is a play on the fact that we treat these kids like they don’t exist, like trash. I don’t know if I’d give this novel to a homeless kid, but maybe. It’s beautiful, and devastating ultimately, and while not being as closely tuned into what homeless kids really go through on a day to day basis, it makes a real statement about homelessness, and it gives these kids their own worth, beauty, and dignity. I would definitely recommend it as a consciousness-raising tool for non-homeless teens.

Anyway, that’s all I have for now. If anyone else knows any good books about homelessness or has any suggestions, I would love to hear them.

You can read the entire description of the Rainbow list here, but I just wanted to call special attention to the Social Responsibilities Round Table (SRRT) statement of purpose because it gives a perfect description of why I keep posting book lists on here. I have no idea if anyone uses these lists, but I think they’re important and here’s why:

“Social Responsibilities Round Table (SRRT), a unit within the American Library Association, works to make ALA more democratic and to establish progressive priorities not only for the Association, but also for the entire profession.  Concern for human and economic rights was an important element in the founding of SRRT and remains an urgent concern today.  SRRT believes that libraries and librarians must recognize and help solve social problems and inequities in order to carry out their mandate to work for the common good and bolster democracy.  SRRT’s main Web site is hosted athttp://libr.org/SRRT.”

Anyway, without further ado, here is the list:

Titles marked with asterisks are the 2013 Top Ten Titles.

Adams, S.J.  Sparks: the Epic, Completely True Blue, (Almost) Holy Quest of Debbie.  2011.  256p.  Flux, $9.95 (9780738726762).  Grades 9-12.
“$5 for a holy quest” is a good deal when you’re on a desperate chase to reveal your secret lesbian crush to your best friend before she breaks her abstinence pledge with the most boring guy at school.

Berman, Steve, editor.  Boys of Summer.  2012.  264p.  Bold Strokes Books, Inc., $13.95 (9781602826632).  Grades 10 & Up.
A collection of ten stories about the magic and mystery of summertime gay teen romance.

*Bigelow, Lisa Jenn.  Starting From Here.  2012.  292p.  Amazon Children’s Publishing, $16.99 (9780761462330).  Grades 9 & Up.
Colby can’t seem to get any love.  Her mom died a few years ago, her trucker dad is always on the road and her girlfriend just dumped her for a guy.  When she rescues a stray dog who has been hit by a car, Colby starts to piece her life together with lots of help from her friends.

Calin, Marisa.  Between You & Me.  2012.  256p.  Bloomsbury USA, $16.99 (9781599907581).  Grades 6 & Up.
When Phyre falls head over heels in love with her new drama teacher, will she discover what’s right in front of her nose or let love slip away?

Cashore, Kristin.  Bitterblue.  2012.  576p.  Penguin, $19.99 (9780803734739).  Grades 7 & Up.
Eight years after the death of her father, the young Queen Bitterblue finds herself and her kingdom mired in secrets left over from his abusive reign.

Cordova, Jeanne.  When We Were Outlaws:  a Memoir of Love & Revolution.  2011.  456p.  Spinsters Ink, $14.95 (9781935226512).  Grades 9 & Up.
Lesbian activist and reporter for the L.A. Free Press and editor of the Lesbian Tide, Jeanne Cordova, brings the social upheaval and excitement of the 1970s to light in this memoir.

Coyote, Ivan E.  One in Every Crowd:  Stories.  2012.  238p.  Arsenal Pulp Press, $15.95 (9781551524597).  Grades 8 & Up.
Autobiographical stories about growing up as a tomboy and queer kid in Yukon, showing the fear and struggle along with acceptance kindness, and that everyone has insecurities.

*Cronn-Mills, Kirstin.  Beautiful Music for Ugly Children.  2012.  288p.  Llewellyn Worldwide, Ltd., $9.99 (9780738732510).  Grades 8 & Up.
Music geek Gabe has just come out to his family as transgender but is still known as Liz at school.  He uses his late night community radio show to try on his male identity and encourage listeners to explore their own “b side.”  Will the show’s growing popularity expose his secret?

*Danforth, Emily M.  The Miseducation of Cameron Post.  2012.  480p.  Balzer + Bray, $17.99 (9780062020567).  Grades 9 & Up.
When Cam’s conservative aunt discovers her niece is a lesbian, she sends Cam to God’s Promise, a church camp that promises to “cure” young people of their homosexuality.  Cam’s engaging voice tells her story with wry humor, intelligence, and a strong sense of place in eastern Montana.

Davis, Tanita S.  Happy Families.  2012.  240p.  Random House Children’s, $16.99 (9780375869662).  Grades 6 & Up.
When twins Ysabel and Justin discover the true reason for their family’s split, they struggle with the secrets their father has been keeping.  Can they deal with their dad’s new life and find a way to put their happy family back together?

Franklin, Emily & Brendan Halpin.  Tessa Masterson Will Go to Prom.  2012.  272p.  Walker & Company, $16.99 (9780802723451).  Grades 8 & Up.
Lucas and Tessa are friends forever, and now Lucas realizes they are something more – until his prom invitation is Tessa’s cue to come out to him, and put the entire town on notice that she wants a date of her own.

Gant, Gene.  The Thunder in His Head.  2012. 200p.  Harmony Ink Press, $14.99 (9781613725726).  Grades 9 & Up.
Openly gay sixteen-year-old Kyle Manning’s life at home and school starts to fall apart when his parents’ divorce, and becomes more complicated when he meets and falls in love with the mysterious Dwight.

Gennari, Jennifer.  My Mixed-Up Berry Blue Summer.  2012.  119p.  Houghton Mifflin, $15.99 (9780547577395).  Grades 4-6.
Twelve-year-old June dislikes her mother’s new partner Eva and is dismayed when the two adults plan to marry.  When a movement to repeal Vermont’s civil union law exposes the family to bitter homophobia June discovers an inner courage that surprises her family, her community, and herself.

George, Madeleine.  The Difference Between You and Me.  2012.  256p.  Penguin, $16.99 (9780670011285).  Grades 6 & Up.
Jesse and Emily are as opposite and can be, and are as head-over-heels for each other as you can get.  But when they’re on opposite sides during a heated battle, can they keep the discussion separate from their relationship?

Gonzalez, Rigoberto.  Mariposa Gown.  2012.  230p.  Tincture (Lethe Press), $13.00 (9781590213513).  Grades 8 & Up.
BFFs Maui, Trini, and Lib are confronted with difficult choices as they graduate- college, career, and who will wear a gown to the senior prom.

Graves, Michael.  Dirty One:  Stories.  2011.  152p.  Chelsea Station Editions, $16.00 (9780983285106).  Grades 10 & Up.
Raw and honest stories about the adolescent experience of nine teens living in the fictional plastic capital of America.

Griffin, Molly Beth.  Silhouette of a Sparrow.  2012.  224p.  Milkweed Editions, $16.95 (9781571317018).  Grades 9 & Up.
When sixteen-year-old Garnet discovers the truth about herself and her desires, can she find the courage and freedom to follow her dreams?

Heinberg, Allan.  Avengers:  the Children’s Crusade.  2012.  248p.  Marvel, $29.99 (9780785135494).  Grades 8 & Up.
When Wiccan’s powers grow almost to the point of chaos, the Avengers take action to stop him, but the Young Avengers – including Hulkling, Wiccan’s lover – decide to cooperate with Magneto to find the Scarlet Witch, who may be able to help Wiccan regain control of his power.

Hoole, Elissa Janine.  Kiss the Morning Star.  2012.  256p.  Marshall Cavendish (now Amazon Children’s), $17.99 (9780761462699).  Grades 10 & Up.
Best friends Anna and Kat take off on a cross-country road trip, using Jack Kerouac’s novel, the Dharma Bums for inspiration.  Out on the open road they explore the Northwest and encounter church folks, a tattoo artist, hippie jam band groupies, some wild small-town girls, and a spiritual guru.

Hopkins, Ellen.  Tilt.  2012.  608p.  Margaret K. McElderry Books, $18.99 (9781416983309).  Grades 9 & Up.
Shane, in love with HIV-positive Alex, is one of three teens sharing their fears and whispered secrets as they navigate life’s toughest decisions.

*King, A.S.  Ask the Passengers.  2012.  304p.  Little, Brown, $17.99 (9780316194686).  Grades 9 & Up.
There’s only one thing Astrid Jones can do when a growing attraction to her co-worker Dee becomes too big and too confusing: send her love to airplane passengers flying overhead while she tries to figure out who she is down here on the ground.

Knowles, Jo.  See You at Harry’s.  2012. 310p.  Candlewick Press, $16.99 (9780763654078).  Grades 6 & Up.
Twelve-year old Fern is a quiet, thoughtful child in the middle of a close-knit but dysfunctional busy family.  She longs to be brave like her namesake in Charlotte’s Web, but her courage is soon put to the test when tragedy strikes outside the family restaurant and her life is turned upside-down. 

Kokie, E. M.  Personal Effects.  2012.  352p.  Candlewick Press, $16.99 (9780763655273).  Grades 9 & Up.
After his beloved older brother T.J. is killed in action in Iraq, seventeen-year-old Matt begins to read a series of his brother’s letters and discovers his brother’s secret- and must come to terms with his brother’s secret life and what it means.

*Lo, Malinda.  Adaptation.  2012.  400p.  Little, Brown, $17.99 (9780316197960).  Grades 9 & Up.
Something strange has been going on with Reese Holloway since her car accident and her top secret medical treatment- but will she be allowed to figure it out, or will others take her apart to figure it out first?

Lowrey, Sassafras.  Roving Pack.  2012.  358p.  PoMo Freakshow Press, $19.78 (9780985700904).  Grades 11 & Up.
The story of the daily life of a straight-edge transgender teen unfolds in journal-like entries about her world of family, desire, love, lust, and intimacy.

Magoon, Kekla.  37 Things I Love (In No Particular Order).  2012.  224p.  Henry Holt, $16.99 (9780805094657).  Grades 7 & Up.
Bullied by her best friend and facing the impending death of her father, Ellis finds hope through a new therapist and in her emerging relationship with Cara.

*Miller, Madeline.  The Song of Achilles.  2012.  384p.  HarperCollins, $25.99 (9780062060617).  Grades 9 & Up.
Stirring and memorable, this novel is a reimagined retelling of the Homeric story of the love between Achilles and Patrocles.

*Moon, Sarah, editor.  The Letter Q:  Queer Writers’ Notes to Their Younger Selves.  2012.  288p.  Scholastic, $17.99 (9780545399326).  Grades 6 & Up.
Looking back on what they wished they knew when they were younger, 64 of today’s award winning GLBTQ authors write and illustrate letters to their former selves in a way to reach out to those who are in the shoes they once filled.

Moskowitz, Hannah.  Gone, Gone, Gone.  2012.  251p.  Simon Pulse, $16.99 (ISBN 9781442453128).  Grades 9-12.
This quiet love story is set in 2002, as random and deadly sniper fire has Washington DC under siege.  Craig and Lio are drawn together, yet the recent trauma of 9/11 has them at odds, with Craig’s emotions on hold and Lio at a growing distance from his own feelings.

Newman, Leslea.  October Mourning:  A Song for Matthew Shepard.  2012.  128p.  Candlewick Press, $15.99 (9780763658076).  Grades 8 & Up.
The fence, the road, the clothesline, the truck – these are some of the 68 spare, poetic voices joining together to tell the story of what happened to Matthew Shepard that tragic night.

Parent, Dan.  Kevin Keller.  2012.  160p.  Archie Comic Publications, $19.99 (9781879794931).  Grades 6 & Up.
There’s a new guy in Riverdale:  he’s cute, a military brat, funny, and smart.  And oh yeah – he’s gay.

Perkins, Stephanie.  Lola and the Boy Next Door.  2011.  338p.  Penguin, $16.99 (9780525423287).  Grades 8 & Up.
Sixteen year old (going on seventeen) Lola Nolan lives in San Francisco’s Castro district with her two fathers.  She spends her time creating lavish costumes, working, avoiding the mean girls at school, and hanging out with her 22-year-old musician boyfriend, Max.  Life is good – until the heartbreaks of her past come back to her present.

Peters, Julie Ann.  It’s Our Prom (So Deal With It).  2012.  342p.  Hatchette Book Group, $17.99 (9780316131582).  Grades 6 & Up.
Azure has gone public with her objections to her school’s senior prom: too expensive, too exclusive, too heterosexual.  When the principal challenges Azure and her friends to take charge of the planning committee, they jump into the task—and the accompanying headaches—of planning an inclusive prom.

Radclyffe, Kathleen, editor.  OMG Queer.  2012.  264p.  Bold Strokes Books, $9.95 (9781602826823).  Grades 8 & Up.
Teens tell in their own words what it’s like being GLBTQI in today’s society- how they’re changing the boundaries and definitions, whether to choose a label that can box you in, and living with discrimination and love hand in hand.

*Rice-Gonzalez, Charles.  Chulito:  a Novel.  2011.  275p.  Magnus Books, $14.95 (9781936833030).  Grades 10 & Up.
After sharing a secret with his best friend, a Latino teen’s ideas about what it really means to be a man are challenged.  Should he play ‘straight’ and keep his standing among his peers in the neighborhood, or come out and be his true self?

Ryan, Tom.  Way to Go.  2012.  224p.  Orca Book Publishers, $12.95 (9781459800779).  Grades 9 & Up.
High school junior Danny looks forward to a relaxing summer vacation with his two best friends, but a run-in with the local police has his mother insisting he find a summer job.  Work in the new restaurant in town brings friendship with Lisa, a tattooed free spirit who helps him accept his true self.

*Saenz, Benjamin Alire.  Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe.  2012.  368p.  Simon & Schuster, $16.99 (9781442408920).  Grades 9-12.
Dante and Aristotle are opposites in almost every way but, nevertheless, the two boys are best friends, almost like two halves making a whole.  Saenz’ lyrical novel examines the bonds of friendship and the uncertainties and saving graces of love.

Schwartz, Amy.  Willie and Uncle Bill.  2012.  40p.  Holiday House, $16.95 (9780823422036).  Grades K-2.
Queering the picture book, Willie’s Uncle Bill takes him on adventures to the hairdresser, cooking Icky Stew, and rocking out with The Purple Tomatoes

Schwartz, John.  Oddly Normal:  One Family’s Struggle to Help Their Teenage Son Come to Terms with his Sexuality.  2012.  304p.  Penguin, $26.00 (9781592407286).  Grades 9 & Up.
On the day thirteen-year-old Joe Schwartz came out at school, his mother came home to find him in the bathroom, having attempted suicide.  With Joe’s help, his father weaves together the family’s story and the statistics behind the failure of schools to protect students who are gender variant.

Takako, Shimura.  Wandering Son, Volume 2.  2012.  200p.  Fantagraphics Books, $19.99 (9781606994566).  Grades 6 & Up.
Shuichi spends his grandmother’s cash gift on a special present that leads to his sister finding out his secret, leading to disastrous consequences.  But can Shuichi find the strength and courage to withstand the trials that are to come?

Takako, Shimura.  Wandering Son, Volume 3.  2012.  200p.  Fantagraphics Books, $19.99 (9781606995334).  Grades 6 & Up.
As their friendship grows more strained after their secrets are exposed, Yoshino and Shuichi start to learn about the hard realities of being transgendered, and the consequences (unintended or not) that it can bring.

*Telgemeier, Raina.  Drama.  2012.  240p.  Scholastic Graphix, $23.99 (9780545326988).  Grades 6 & Up.
Callie is a passionate theater geek who plunges into her middle school’s production of “Moon Over Mississippi” with enthusiasm for all things theater: sets, props, lighting – you name it, she’s on it.  When twins Justin and Jesse join the cast, Callie quickly develops a crush on one, a friendship with the other, who is gay.

Thorne, Hayden.  The Winter Garden and Other Stories.  2012.  194p.  CreateSpace, $13.50 (9781475057270).  Grades 9-12.
Venture into fairy tale journeys ranging from the Gothic to the macabre in these nine short stories featuring gay protagonists.

Trumble, J.H.  Don’t Let Me Go.  2012.  288p.  Kensington Books, $15.00 (9780758269270).  Grades 9 & Up.
When Adam moves to New York to follow his dreams, Nate’s belief about their one true love is put to the test not only by the distance, but Adam’s roommates, the harassment in school, and a new boy at school who looks for more than just friendship.

Wahls, Zach, with Bruce Littlefield.  My Two Moms:  Lessons of Love, Strength, and What Makes a Family.  2012.  256p.  Gotham Books, $26.00 (9781592407132).  Grades 9 & Up.
Author Zach Wahls is the teen whose eloquent speech to the Iowa House Judiciary Committee on behalf of same-sex marriage went viral on YouTube in early 2011.  Now, in chapters titled for the Boy Scouts’ virtues, Zach tells the story of his life as the son of two lesbian women.

Williams III, J. H., and W. Haden Blackman.  Batwoman, vol. 1:  Hydrology.  2012.  160p.  DC Comics (Warner Brothers Entertainment), $22.99 (9781401234652).  Grades 10 & Up.
Kate Kane, drummed out of the military under the “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell” regulations, continues her fight as Batwoman in the dark streets of Gotham.

Wise, Tama.  Street Dreams.  2012.  264p.  Bold Strokes Books, Inc., $13.95 (9781602826502).  Grades 9 & Up.
Life, love, and hip-hop mix to push gay Moori teen Tyson to places he’s afraid to go when he suddenly starts crushing on a straight guy he meets through his involvements in the local scene

Woodward, Timothy.  If I Told You So.  2012.  248p.  Kensington Books, $15.00 (9780758274885).  Grades 9 & Up.
A summer job at a dockside ice cream shop dishes up more excitement than 16 year old Sean expected: late night pranks, a bold new friend from New York, and a serious crush on his supervisor, Jay.  Young love and ice cream combine in this sweet and witty summer romance.

Anne Shirley and Marilla Cuthbert

So, I turned 30 about a month ago and it’s made me start evaluating a bunch of things in order to move forward in my life in a better way. One of the main things I’ve been thinking about is how little stability I’ve had in my life so far.

In the past ten years, I have attended 3 schools, lived in 6 states and one foreign country. If I didn’t miss any in my list, then I’ve held 24 jobs in 11 industries. All of this had kind of been a source of pride for me–my ability to land on my feet in any situation–but an astute observer pointed out both that I might be running away from something and that the continual chaos might make it hard for me to develop certain skills that I needed.

And of course, she was right. Now, I have a pretty good sense of what I’ve been running from. But what has this prevented me?

Well, the little man who I’ve mentioned on here so many times, has found himself some new stability in the past two years. He is with his mum and they have been in the same apartment in the same town for over a year. He’s been at the same school. And he and his mum are both in therapy.

To the casual observer, he’s kind of a wreck. He’s doing poorly in school, getting in fights, stealing, gaining weight . . . But I wonder (AKA hope) if this is actually a good starting place. When he was with us and there was a court custody battle going on and his future was so up in the air, he was violent and dissociative. We had him in therapy but he would just completely melt down every time we tried to take him. He was like a feral animal basically.

It seems like there is a fundamental shift in his life now. All the trouble he’s in might actually be a sign that he’s starting to work through the tough stuff in his life–it’s likely that the weight gain is. My understanding is that his therapy is going really well, and he has language to describe the things he’s gone through that amazes me for a ten year old. Also, it sounds like his school has really figured out in the past year how to work with him. And, he has all of the people who care about him in his life in a fairly regular, steady way.

Angry child

When kids have been abused and tossed back and forth, I think it’s a pretty natural reaction to assume a constant fight or flight reaction. When our little guy was held back in school, he assumed it meant he was dumb, but he really wasn’t. It was just that he had no energy to focus on school–he had to point it all towards dealing with all the upheaval in his life. I think that stability is finally what allows kids (and adults) to start to make sense of their lives and to start learning to move forward emotionally, intellectually, and in all other aspects of their lives. Unfortunately, part of that initial settling down process is probably falling apart. Because facing a lot of painful memories and events isn’t the funnest thing ever.

So anyway, we all need stability. What does that mean? For a kid (or an adult) to feel secure enough to start dealing with his past and start maturing forward, he needs several things. All his needs need to be met and in such a way that he no longer doubts that they will continue to be met. That means staying in the same home for a long time. That means always having food on the table for every meal. It also means having the same person take care of him without a lot of unexpected departures and for that person to be emotionally available. It means having steady helpers (like therapists and teachers) to help him understand and contextualize his life. It means having friends and other loving adults in his life in a fairly steady way, as well.

That way he can stop worrying about survival and he can start processing and then learning and growing. And it means that he will have the help that he needs to take that journey.

For my part, I have always had people–strangers and casual acquaintances, mostly–tell me how incredibly wise and mature beyond my years I am. I can see what they’re saying, but the truth, that people who have been closer to me know, is that there are fundamental emotional tasks that most people learn at a much younger age that I am only starting to grasp. When it comes to relating to other people or my own emotional life, my growth is really stunted. And it’s affected every aspect of my life and it’s made it harder to move beyond entry-level work, and it’s made my studies challenging, as well.

I’ve been so engaged in the fight-or-flight response in my life for so long, that it wasn’t until I finally found myself living in a home for four years with a family and a community and the little guy I’ve mentioned that I even started to realize that this has affected my life. And if it weren’t for watching what he’s gone through and trying to help him, I don’t know if I’d be starting to move forward even today.