Thursday, January 31, 2013

News!




I should probably change the name of my blog to “Underemployed but not Unloved” because I have nailed down some tentative service and education industry employment!

One of the worst things about being unemployed was that my old mainstays (barista-ing and substitute teaching) did not seem to be panning out. DC requires you to obtain your own FBI clearance before you can become certified to substitute teach.  That takes two months.  Then the processing time for the city to certify subs is six weeks.  I dropped off my application (you have to do it in person) in December so I am still waiting for my certification.  After that I can apply to be put into the system. This is a far cry from suburban Connecticut where all I did was show up and submit to a 20-minute interview.  I think the certification and background checks are a good idea, I just wish they were not so tine consuming.

If you can tolerate children and sullen, incurious teenagers, subbing is a decent way to stave off abject (but not general) poverty.  Most of the time all you need is a bachelor’s degree and thick skin.  

So, I’m on my way!

On the service end of things, I’ve been working at a coffee shop/bakery/eatery in Arlington for a few weeks now as a cashier and gopher. I’d mention it by name but somehow feel like that might inhibit my ability to type smack.  Google revels all y’all.  Eventually, they’ll train me to barista.  I’ve done barista training twice now (Illy trained in London and Café D’Arte in Portland) and places have very different techniques when it comes to tamping etc.  Counter Culture, who are a big effing deal in the coffee world, will eventually conduct my training here.

The awesome thing about this job is that it forces me to focus on just a few tasks for long periods of time.  When I am in an office, I can procrastinate.  At a service job, its important for me to always “look” busy even if I am doing eff all…

I know for a fact that service jobs have prepared me for clients. Knowing when to hold ‘em, when to fold ‘em and when to walkaway are skills the service industry pounds into you one anal retentive, grabby, cokehead chef or manager at a time!

Now, to be fair, the chef at my current job is not grabby and is not a cokehead.  I’ve heard he can be nasty but so far he’s been fine with me. Of course, I am prepared for that to change. In fact, I’m bracing for it.

Thankfully, a few previous service jobs have given me a thicker hide than I thought possible.  We’re talking Alligator-thick skin my friends.  What made it this way?  I bring you:

                                                    Tales of Service Woes:

GAP:  I worked here my first year of college.  They would give me ridiculously early shifts, have me clean the bathroom and subjected me to “Rah rah GAP!” talk constantly.  I lasted about a month but I did get some super cute pants out of it.

Sally Beauty Supply:  I worked here the summer after my first year of college with several people that St. Louis natives would call “hoosiers.”  One of my co-workers, a purple haired Smith College attendee was the worst of the lot.  In addition to having sex in the back room with her underaged, high school drop out boyfriend, she called me during her lunch break at my first full day of work to say:

“Ohmigod we’re at McDonalds and my boyfriend overdosed on heroin! I am going to be late!!!”

The fuck??

My London job at a start up soul restaurant was a revolving door of cray-cray:

Manager 1: Dutch, beyond model thin, high strung, enjoyed insulting me and speaking to me as if I had a cognitive disability. Fired.
Manager 2: Nice young man of few words. Often high. Fired.
Manager 3: Smoking hot Aussie who made it clear I was being hired because of the way I looked and my convenient ethnicity/Nationality (Black American at a Soul Food restaurant?! Perfect). Crazy coke habit and therefore…. inconsistent.  Uncomfortably hot (thanks for the phrase Megs) for someone I had to be in close contact with on a regular basis. Fired.
Manager 4: Portly, grabby British guy who dropped C bombs (over Baghdadddddddd).
Manager 5: Super cute and chill young woman. Awesome.
Manager 6: Slightly uptight but had gone on a blind date with Orlando Bloom (he was watching his carbs at the time)
Chefs 1 & 2: brothers from Newcastle who would come and yell at the waiters in the middle of service. Fired.
Chef 3: Lecherous bald Polish chef who made me Eggs Benedict for my birthday. Fired.
Chef 4: Nice normal Irish lass.  Finally! (Of course, I left like 2 weeks after she was hired)

A Note on working in London:  Waitressing/serving/barista-ing in London at 21-22 years old were the perfect jobs at the perfect ages.  My friends were an international crew of ridiculously good looking and awesome people who also worked service jobs.  I rarely paid to enter a club.  I almost never paid for my own drinks or my own food (taking home the surplus and staff meals! Yessssss). I once saw Prince Harry at a Club (he said “pardon me” to me as he brushed past). I went to a private party with Busta Rhymes (hold on, I have to stop and pick up those names I dropped).  By the time I left I could drink seven martinis and manage a halfway decent British accent.  I earned enough money to travel and have even more adventures.  It. Was. Sweet.

So, yes, I am always thankful that a service job is a still a pleasant option, even if it is not a passion.

Saturday, January 26, 2013

Way to Keep Sane *and* Pass the Time #2s: Volunteer


I don’t know if you know this about me but both of my parents have MSWs.  My dad used his more for the corporate world but has recently returned to his non-profit roots.  My mom, on the other hand, always did a lot of clinical and outreach work.  This means that at about five years old, I was well aware of things that most five year olds remain blissfully ignorant about until some movie of the week exposes them to the dirty, ugly truths of life. 

At five I knew about the HIV epidemic (this was the late 80s) because my mom had infected clients. I knew condoms had something to DO with HIV but had no idea what a condom really WAS (so I did get to maintain that smidge of ignorance).  I knew about child molestation and had been meticulously instructed on “good touch bad touch.”  Finally, I knew that there were people out there who would hurt and scare women and children enough that they were forced to hide in shelters. 

Those shelters were where my volunteer work began.  My mom would bring me and I’d help in the way a five-year-old can: stocking the kitchen, playing with other kids, etc.  Since then, I can count on two fingers (London and DC Part 1) the periods in my life where I was not doing something, for free, to help someone else.

Now, I am not saying this because I think I am amazingly wonderful and altruistic.  The truth is, I was indoctrinated as a small child and I don’t know another way to live my life. I do not feel complete if I am not volunteering.  It is not entirely selfless because it makes me feel good.  Another benefit is that when you’re unemployed, volunteering is a great way to keep up your skills and to fill the time.

In DC, I have two consistent volunteer activities. On Thursday nights I tutor and mentor a little boy from SE DC.  He’s 10.  We’re working on his reading and I’m re-learning fractions. On Fridays, I volunteer in house as an attorney at Catholic Charities.  I was connected with one of my pro-bono clients through CC as well.  I am deeply conflicted about, oh, 90% of Catholic practice and teachings.  However, their work with undocumented migrants, migrant victims of violence and asylum seekers makes me proud to be a (terrible) Catholic.

In addition to those two activities, I keep my eyes and ears open for things that interest me. This month was the President’s second inauguration and I decided to volunteer for that.  I’m excited for President Obama’s second term (especially regarding immigration reform and LGBTQ rights) and I thought it’d be a cool way to meet others who are like minded.  

It was the single worst volunteer experience of my life. Worse than that time I had to clean up brown recluse spider infested debris in post Katrina Slidell. At least then, only the venomous spiders, not the organizers or equipment, were a problem. 

Initially, I was told that I would be helping with coat check inside of the Inaugural Ball.  I was psyched though puzzled about how my background and small donation could have landed me such a plum role.  In my head, I was already dry cleaning my gold lace D&G dress.  I was contemplating how to create a smoky eye from my NYX kit (I have never gotten that down!).  I was studying up on the types of fur so that when JayZ handed me his chinchilla I could make a smart observation.

Alas, this was not to be. Instead I was outside of the McPherson metro stop in a bright red (made in the USA!) polyester hat carrying an “Ask Me!” sign.  How many people actually asked me how to get to the ball? One.  Most people who asked me questions were men who just wanted to talk.  I guess the hotlines for that sort of thing are fewer and fewer.

I’ll spare you the details about how awful it was to volunteer with this Inaugural Committee. In addition to voicing my concerns in person, I wrote the committee an email expressing my concern about their disorganization, cavalier attitude toward volunteers and failure to follow through on several assurances (examples: “you’ll never be alone and will always have a partner!” and “We’ll have handwarmers, vests and credentials for you!”). I stopped short of calling them a discredit to the administration but did state I would never volunteer with the administration again.  The email included more than half a dozen-bullet points.  My initial inclination was to include a chart but there’s no need to nuke a bridge when a good old-fashioned burning will do.

That was last week and I was just getting over the crowds when I wandered out of CC this Friday to grab something at Dunkin Donuts and ran into…. The March for Life!  It is the 40th anniversary of Roe this year and this weekend DC is hosting a few hundred thousand anti choice activists!  I didn’t know this for sure until I asked someone in the Dunkin Donuts which was chock full of both coffee AND people who believe that life begins at conception and should be protected at any cost.

I admit to being so unsettled out by the multitude of squeaky clean, fresh faced anti choice advocates that I had to call my mommy.  She immediately wanted to know if I engaged them in conversation about my personal views on the subject. For the record, I’m staunchly pro-choice. You probably already knew that. 

Anyway, my mom is one of those people who really likes to engage people in hopes that she will challenge the way they think or figure out why they believe what they do.  On this issue, I am not. So when she said,

“ Did you ask them…”

I cut her off and said something like, “No, no I did not because by the time you’re in DC, having traveled there on a bus from middle America with 20 members of your church group, alighting to wave huge signs with a screen printed baby on them, we’re beyond conversation.”

I can hear it now…..

Me: I think your movement is rooted in religious fervor, misogyny, lack of empathy, short sightedness and a need to wholly control women’s sexuality.
Protestor: I think your movement kills babies.

Bam! Totally dropped the dead baby bomb!  As far as they are concerned there’s no coming back from that one! 

So no, I asked a few questions about what was going on, repressed the urge to yell “Long Live Roe! And to a lesser degree Casey! Ha! Souter fooled ya!” and sipped on my delicious hot chocolate.  DD makes fantastic hot chocolate.

Besides,  I know the marchers would not have gotten angry, but they would have tried to school me in a gentle, Christian way.  

Also, my already bleeding heart was softened when I saw one of them buy a homeless guy a turkey sandwich.  It was actually nice to see a fully integrated picture of Christianity (giving alms to the poor and protesting the murder of innocent babies). This is one of many things I have against several major religious institutions.  Sure many are downright draconian when it comes to sexuality, abortion and gender roles.  The same churches (I am looking at you Roman Catholicism and Latter Day Saints) are incredibly progressive when it comes to immigration, poverty and  the death penalty.  They should be JUST as vocal about the DREAM Act as they are about Roe.

And that’s why, my friends, it is awesome to see someone in a bright green pro-life scarf buying a homeless man a Turkey sandwich at Dunkin Donuts.

You had no idea that a post about filing my time with volunteering was going to end with anti-choice baby signs at Dunkin Donuts did you? Ah, the magic of the written word.

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

(Slightly Masochist) Way to Keep Sane #2

Gawker.com has an interesting series of stories about being unemployed that they collect from emails submitted BY the unemployed. 

This collection is not something you should read when you're down (just like "Help me Make it Through the Night" is not a song to listen to when you're single and downing your second glass of Manischewitz watching "Say Yes to the Dress" on a Friday night.).  

These emails/letters give both a fantastic glimpse into the type of people this economy is leaving behind and how others (or at least those apt to comment on the internet) respond to their plight:

http://gawker.com/hello-from-the-underclass/


Saturday, January 12, 2013

Way to Keep Sane #1: Running


Like I’ve said many a time, running keeps me sane.  I think because it has been a consistent form of release for me.  I started running when I was eleven, but I didn’t do it with any regularity until I was thirteen and I joined my high school’s indoor track team.  My older brother had just graduated the spring before as a local sprinting super star.  Of course, I had to do everything he did; I'd met the coaches before I was even in high school and I had been introduced as the next generation. I started off sprinting like my brother and made varsity very quickly. I flaunted my awesome blue and white letter jacket and varsity pins like a peacock. 

I liked sprinting but I really connected with the cross country/distance coach, his personality and his methods. I joined the cross country as a sophomore, ran top seven right away, and its been distance running ever since. 

Part of what I like about running is the challenge but also the high. Endorphins are real y’all.  And they are my drug of choice. I love the feeling when  I reach the point in a run and everything is smooth and fluid - my breathing, my stride, my form...My mind can wander, I can work out any issues I have and the physical thing I am doing, it just...is. 

I’m not obsessed with it the way I was in high school but I always feel better after running than I do sitting on my bum eating Quaker Toasted Oat Squares (yes, that’s what I am doing now).   Running is the best kind of self medication. Well, until you get a stress fracture but that’s why everything in moderation…

I feel lucky to have run all over the world from Havana to Yerevan, Amsterdam to Durban, London to the Bay.  Its my own special brand of “Pimpin’ Around the World.”  Clearly, its different in each city. Running down the road in Havana, I ran right by (and stopped to chat with) Olympian Ana Fidelia Quirot.  Running in Durban, I was mostly peeved because EVERYONE SAW MONKEYS ON THEIR RUNS BUT ME.  I digress.  

Lately, I've been noticing the difference between the two cities I have lived in most recently: Portland, OR and Washington DC. 

I have prepared a chart to explain:

City
Portland, OR
Washington DC

Common Routes
Springwater Corridor, Oaks Bottom Wildlife Refuge, Forest Park and the streets of SE Portland
Streets of NW, Georgetown, The Hill; streets of Silver Spring, MD when I first arrived

The Scenery
A beautifully painted wildlife building, evergreens, the Willamette River, Sellwood Bridge, perfectly tended gardens, wetlands, dense gorgeous forest

Row houses, gas stations, McMillan Reservoir, Howard University, Washington Monument, The Hill
The Terrain
Asphalt, trails, gravel
Concrete. Ugh, my shins.

The Wildlife
Osprey, eagles, deer, the occasional skunk, garter snakes that I happily removed from the path with a stick, one turkey vulture, one daytime raccoon (I doubled back and picked up a rock with which to beam him but he hightailed out of there)

Black Squirrels! (These are still very exciting for me), small mice, a rat the size of my shoe, the sight of which caused me to squeak like a stereotypical girl when it ran across my path
The Spectators
Homeless people, Hipsters, Hippies that come out of the woods to cheer for you and then give you a tasty orange for post run consumption, practicing roller derby teams, Bikers who see you so often they learn your name
Homeless people, people who don’t know how to move the hell out of the way, roaming bands of Bieber cute multicultural boys in skinny jeans on skateboards and bikes


Fellow Runners
Chill.
Clueless.  Why in the world are you running 1) in black 2) at night 3) with your i-pod on? 

Minimal.  Occasional double takes from guys on bikes. A hoot or two from dudes in a pick up truck.
Fair (DC) to Severe (MD). Listen, I don’t know if there are women out there who respond to the advances of men yelling at them out of cars while they run.  I hope not.  The sexual harassment put me on edge when I first arrived, especially when a guy followed me on a run in Silver Spring.  Thankfully DC hollerers seem to limit themselves to brief compliments and horn honking. 

Smells like….
Teen Spirit (a mix of trees, dirt, skunk, water, beer, sticky icky and deep fried pickles)
Food smells



Bike Etiquette Grade
B+.  Points taken off for all of the ridiculously fancy Spandex and the few overzealous bikers who do not pay attention to where they are going.
C-.  Sidewalks are not for bikes. I should not have to press myself against a massive stone lion so that you avoid running me over on a bridge.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

Way to Pass the Time #1: Books


Yesterday, I went to one of my favorite places – the library.  I was a little overzealous a few nights ago and put a bunch of things on hold while I was searching Amazon to get links for this post.  As a result of my overzealousness, I had seven books to pick up at the library. 

I thought I had more but it turned out that the Step Up 2 DVD and The Last Olympian (part of the YA Percy Jackson series) were for another person with my first initial and last name.   Of course, I have seen Step Up 2: The Streets because I have friends obsessed with the Step Up series. I have also already read The Olympian because YA books are still books y’all! So, this person who shares my last name and first initial 1) has a lot in common with me in terms of media choices 2) is probably 15.

One of the silver linings in unemployment is being able to read a lot.  I love to read, I wish someone would pay me to do it.  I’m a particularly voracious, indiscriminate reader.  I prefer fiction, but I’ll read anything from “literature” destined to become part of the cannon to fluffy trash. 

I’ve read at least one book for every cover letter I’ve sent out (probably more, I think I’ve read…250+ books in three years).  

Below is a list of some of my favorites from the past three years.  Not all of them were published in the past three years but I have read them all during my underemployment/unemployment.  Book descriptions are generally by Amazon.  When they are mine, its pretty clear. ;)

Historical Fiction

I really enjoy historical fiction, especially when it includes themes that are not commonly explored.  Both of these books touch on slavery and particularly the female slave as concubine/sexual victim.

Property – Valerie Martin
The best part of this book is the protagonist, you feel some pity for her but mostly you want to shake her:  
The year is 1828, the setting a Louisiana sugar plantation where Manon Gaudet, pretty, bitterly intelligent, and monstrously self-absorbed, seethes under the dominion of her boorish husband. In particular his relationship with her slave Sarah, who is both his victim and his mistress.

Wench – Dolen Perkins-Valdez
I think the description does a great job actually, no need for my two cents:   
wench \'wench\ n. from Middle English “wenchel,” 1 a: a girl, maid, young woman; a female child. Situated in Ohio, a free territory before the Civil War, Tawawa House is an idyllic retreat for Southern white men who vacation there every summer with their enslaved black mistresses. It’s their open secret. Lizzie, Reenie, and Sweet are regulars at the resort, building strong friendships over the years. But when Mawu, as fearless as she is assured, comes along and starts talking of running away, things change. To run is to leave everything behind, and for some it also means escaping from the emotional and psychological bonds that bind them to their masters. When a fire on the resort sets off a string of tragedies, the women of Tawawa House soon learn that triumph and dehumanization are inseparable and that love exists even in the most inhuman, brutal of circumstances— all while they bear witness to the end of an era.

Thriller

Hell or High Water – Joy Castro
I have to say, this book threw me for a loop.  I just kind of picked it up, choosing it for its cool cover, yet it somehow panned out.  One of the best thrillers I've read in a long time:   
Nola Céspedes, an ambitious young reporter at the Times-Picayune, catches a break: An assignment to write her first full-length feature. While researching her story, she also becomes fixated on the search for a missing tourist in New Orleans. As Nola’s work leads her into darker corners of the city, a singular narrative voice emerges, and an even more compelling question surfaces: Who is Nola Céspedes?

Headhunters – Jo Nesbø 
Jo Nesbø writes a damn good caper.  He is also an attractive older man.  Clearly, lots of Scandinavian men age like fine fine wine. See: Mads Mikkelsen, Viggo Mortensen and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau (Nikolaj plays Jamie on Games of Thrones and is in the movie adaption of this book.  Get it on Netflix!)  Anyway, Amazon has lots to say about the book and next to nothing to say about smoking hot, distinguished Danish/Norwegian men: 
Roger Brown is a corporate headhunter, and he’s a master of his profession. But one career simply can’t support his luxurious lifestyle and his wife’s fledgling art gallery. At an art opening one night he meets Clas Greve, who is not only the perfect candidate for a major CEO job, but also, perhaps, the answer to his financial woes: Greve just so happens to mention that he owns a priceless Peter Paul Rubens painting that’s been lost since World War II—and Roger Brown just so happens to dabble in art theft. But when he breaks into Greve’s apartment, he finds more than just the painting. And Clas Greve may turn out to be the worst thing that’s ever happened to Roger Brown. 

Little Star – John Ajvide Lindqvist  
This is the author of Let The Right One In a creepy kiddy vampire tale with a Swedish and an American film adaption.  This book is similarly creepy and VERY dark  (no one does dark like the Swedes! It must be all of the parental leave, low crime, kötbullar with extra lingonberry sauce and universal healthcare that gets their imaginations going... Swedish books can never just have one super effed up thing, there always have to be six or seven: "let's have Nazis, ja..then human trafficking, then devil worshipping, oh did ve add some sexual assault or deviant sex? nej, let's add that, ja... oh we are only at four disturbing things...let us add some alcoholism, incest and a troll, ja perfect.  Little Fluffy Bunny's Day Out is ready to go to print!!!" ) Anyway, Amazon sez: 
A man finds a baby in the woods, left for dead. He brings the baby home, and he and his wife raise the girl in their basement. When a shocking and catastrophic incident occurs, the couple’s son Jerry whisks the girl away to Stockholm to start a new life. There, he enters her in a nationwide singing competition. Another young girl who’s never fit in sees the performance on TV, and a spark is struck that will ignite the most terrifying duo in modern fiction.
 
The Racketeer – John Grisham 
His best effort in years. For reals: 
Who is the Racketeer? And what does he have to do with the judge’s untimely demise? His name, for the moment, is Malcolm Bannister. Job status? Former attorney. Current residence? The Federal Prison Camp near Frostburg, Maryland.  On paper, Malcolm’s situation isn’t looking too good these days, but he’s got an ace up his sleeve. He knows who killed Judge Fawcett, and he knows why. The judge’s body was found in his remote lakeside cabin. There was no forced entry, no struggle, just two dead bodies: Judge Fawcett and his young secretary. And one large, state-of-the-art, extremely secure safe, opened and emptied.  What was in the safe? The FBI would love to know. And Malcolm Bannister would love to tell them. But everything has a price—especially information as explosive as the sequence of events that led to Judge Fawcett’s death. And the Racketeer wasn’t born yesterday...
  
Gentlemen and Players – Joanne Harris
The writer of Chocolat weaves a damn near perfect cat and mouse tale: 
For generations, privileged young men have attended St. Oswald's Grammar School for Boys, groomed for success by the likes of Roy Straitley, the eccentric Classics teacher who has been a fixture there for more than thirty years. This year, however, the wind of unwelcome change is blowing, and Straitley is finally, reluctantly, contemplating retirement. As the new term gets under way, a number of incidents befall students and faculty alike, beginning as small annoyances but soon escalating in both number and consequence. St. Oswald's is unraveling, and only Straitley stands in the way of its ruin. But he faces a formidable opponent with a bitter grudge and a master strategy that has been meticulously planned to the final, deadly move.

Worth the Hype

I always have the fear that hyped books will lead to a Lost in Translation experience for me.  That is, wishing I could have not only my money, but the hours of my life back after suffering through something pretty yet banal that the whole damn world swears is "life changing art."  Its like "Fountain" yes yes readymade art yes yes modern art genuis but when it boils down to it, someone famous signed a commode.  That's what Sophia Coppola did, sign a commode and release it to the masses.  I have strong feelings about that movie.  Sorry.  Thankfully,  I am disappointed by movies much more than I am by books.  The ones below totally live up to their hype and their best seller spots.  

Gone Girl: A Novel – Gillian Flynn 
This book does an incredibly good job at keeping up the suspense and messing with your head:  
Marriage can be a real killer.  On a warm summer morning in North Carthage, Missouri, it is Nick and Amy Dunne’s fifth wedding anniversary. Presents are being wrapped and reservations are being made when Nick’s clever and beautiful wife disappears from their rented McMansion on the Mississippi River. Husband-of-the-Year Nick isn’t doing himself any favors with cringe-worthy daydreams about the slope and shape of his wife’s head, but passages from Amy's diary reveal the alpha-girl perfectionist could have put anyone dangerously on edge. Under mounting pressure from the police and the media—as well as Amy’s fiercely doting parents—the town golden boy parades an endless series of lies, deceits, and inappropriate behavior. Nick is oddly evasive, and he’s definitely bitter—but is he really a killer?  As the cops close in, every couple in town is soon wondering how well they know the one that they love. With his twin sister, Margo, at his side, Nick stands by his innocence. Trouble is, if Nick didn’t do it, where is that beautiful wife? And what was in that silvery gift box hidden in the back of her bedroom closet?

The Descendents: A Novel – Kaui Hart Hemmings 
I have not seen the movie but the book is stellar: 
Fortunes have changed for the King family, descendants of Hawaiian royalty and one of the state’s largest landowners. Matthew King’s daughters—Scottie, a feisty ten-year-old, and Alex, a seventeen-year-old recovering drug addict—are out of control, and their charismatic, thrill-seeking mother, Joanie, lies in a coma after a boat-racing accident. She will soon be taken off life support. As Matt gathers his wife’s friends and family to say their final goodbyes, a difficult situation is made worse by the sudden discovery that there’s one person who hasn’t been told: the man with whom Joanie had been having an affair. Forced to examine what they owe not only to the living but to the dead, Matt, Scottie, and Alex take to the road to find Joanie’s lover, on a memorable journey that leads to unforeseen humor, growth, and profound revelations.

The Night Circus – Erin Morgenstern
Beautifully written and just incredibly magical.  I spent a lot of the book thinking "I want to go to this circus!  Why does this circus not exist?!": 
The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night. But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway: a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them both, this is a game in which only one can be left standing. Despite the high stakes, Celia and Marco soon tumble headfirst into love, setting off a domino effect of dangerous consequences, and leaving the lives of everyone, from the performers to the patrons, hanging in the balance.

Nonfiction 

I touched on this book in another post.  Its changed the way I think about clothes especially the clothes I buy and the clothes I donate:  
In Overdressed, Cline sets out to uncover the true nature of the cheap fashion juggernaut, tracing the rise of budget clothing chains, the death of middle-market and independent retail­ers, and the roots of our obsession with deals and steals. She travels to cheap-chic factories in China, follows the fashion industry as it chases even lower costs into Bangladesh, and looks at the impact (both here and abroad) of America’s drastic increase in imports. She even explores how cheap fashion harms the charity thrift shops and textile recyclers where our masses of cloth­ing castoffs end up.

This book literally changed the way I run.  For the first few weeks I followed the program, I was running about a mile per minute faster than I was used to but it didn't FEEL like it.  The wonders of shortening ones stride and increasing cadence...

Sci-fi and Fantasy

A Song of Ice and Fire (Books 1-5) – George R. R. Martin.  
Have you seen the show Game of Thrones? These are the books that inspired HBO's world of kingdoms, dragons, creepy uberblonde twin lovers and Jason Momoa as Khal Drogo... The chapters all have different protagonists so although the books are quite thick, they are pretty fast reading. That being said, the final book was the reason I was relieved to have gotten a kindle for Christmas.  Save your shoulders and pick up the electronic pack.

Fledgling – Octavia Butler
Butler was one of the few Black women sci-fi writers. She effortlessly wove the supernatural and race into fascinating tales.  I am warning you, this gets a little squicky in light of the protagonists perceived age.  Booklist says:  
Shori, a 53-year-old vampire who appears to be a prepubescent girl, awakes alone in a forest, badly burned and scarred, with no memory of what has happened to her. She wanders to a road, from where she is picked up by young Wright Hamlin, whom she bites once she realizes she is a vampire. Wright shelters her, and the two begin a relationship, but Shori is drawn to the site of the fire that burned her. When she and Wright are attacked at the site, she learns of an older vampire, Iosif, who may have the answers she seeks. But when she meets Iosif, she learns that he is her father and that he, too, is in the dark as to who burned the enclave in which Shori and her mothers and sisters were living. When Iosif's enclave meets a similar fate, Shori and Wright flee, determined to track down the people responsible for destroying Shori's family. Butler has a reputation as a master for good reason, and her narrative flows quickly and seamlessly along as Shori seeks those who would destroy her. Gripping and memorable, Butler's latest is a welcome return performance. Kristine Huntley
 
Pariah – Bob Fingerman. 
The author gets downright Swedish in this zombie tale, heaping up the disturbing details and obstacles in what is supposed to be a "dark comedy":  
A global plague has nearly vanquished mankind; the citizenry of New York City is no exception. Eight million zombies. Shoulder to shoulder. Walking the streets, looking for their next meal of human flesh. The residents of an Upper East Side walkup have joined forces to keep themselves safe, the pageant of walking rot outside their windows a constant reminder of the their foreseeable fate. Trapped in the safety of their building, the tenants find themselves at each others’ throats. When they spy a lone teenage girl who walks unharmed among the undead, impervious, their world opens up.

 This series is a ton of fun, combining the supernatural with old fashioned British protocol and old timey technology:  
Alexia Tarabotti is laboring under a great many social tribulations. First, she has no soul. Second, she's a spinster whose father is both Italian and dead. Third, she was rudely attacked by a vampire, breaking all standards of social etiquette. Where to go from there? From bad to worse apparently, for Alexia accidentally kills the vampire -- and then the appalling Lord Maccon (loud, messy, gorgeous, and werewolf) is sent by Queen Victoria to investigate.  With unexpected vampires appearing and expected vampires disappearing, everyone seems to believe Alexia responsible. Can she figure out what is actually happening to London's high society? Will her soulless ability to negate supernatural powers prove useful or just plain embarrassing? Finally, who is the real enemy, and do they have treacle tart.  The Parasol Protectorate is a comedy of manners set in Victorian London: full of werewolves, vampires, dirigibles, and tea-drinking.

Scandal: Well Written

Godchildren and Pride and Avarice – Nicholas Coleridge.   
If these were Danielle Steele or that other one (Jackie Collins? Or is it Joan?)  then not only would they be written on a 5th grade level, each would be the type of drivel that you hide in a Pride and Prejudice cover when you take public transport.  However, this author manages to make scandal not only easy to read and interesting but he does so in a way that saves you from calling this a "guilty pleasure."  These books are written on an 8th grade level, at leastThey sound delicious no?
 All the godchildren, looking back on that fateful dinner, remembered it in the same way:  the vacant wooden throne at the head of the table, the huge array of wine glasses and water glasses that were always a feature of dining at any of Marcus' houses, the sense of expectation and dread that hung over them like a cloud of mustard gas.  In his magnificent island home overlooking the sea, the great tycoon Marcus Brand plays host to his six godchildren. But soon, secrets will be revealed that dramatically alter the tone of this holiday weekend, and all will have to confront a web of betrayals and lies spanning four decades... Each from a different background, the godchildren grew up enthralled by their godfather: Charlie, fascinated by Marcus's wealth; Mary, whose life is blighted by tragedy; Jamie, feckless but utterly charming; Saffron, stunningly beautiful but unaware of her power over men; Abigail, insecure and gauche; and Stuart, who is torn between admiration and hatred for his capitalist godfather.
***
Gazing from his magnificent Chawbury Manor, Miles Straker has it all. But when noveau riche Ross Clegg buys and builds on the land adjoining his country estate, ruining his perfect view, Miles is irate. Even worse, Ross is quickly taken up by the country gentry, who admire his success and his down-to-earth manners. But Miles is a dangerous enemy and he vows to take the Clegg empire apart piece by piece.

A Step Above Chick Lit

Jennifer Weiner especially: 

Ok this was a re-read but its good.  Of course it caught my attention that the book features an attorney who leaves her firm job to walk dogs for a living.  This would be funny haha if I did not know you can get A DOLLAR A MINUTE to walk dogs in NYC:  
Meet Rose Feller. She's thirty years old and a high-powered attorney with a secret passion for romance novels. She has an exercise regime she's going to start next week, and she dreams of a man who will slide off her glasses, gaze into her eyes, and tell her that she's beautiful. She also dreams of getting her fantastically screwed-up little sister to get her life together. Meet Rose's sister, Maggie. Twenty-eight years old, drop-dead gorgeous and only occasionally employed, Maggie sings backup in a band called Whiskered Biscuit. Although her dreams of big-screen stardom haven't progressed past her left hip's appearance in a Will Smith video, Maggie dreams of fame and fortune -- and of getting her dowdy big sister to stick to a skin-care regime.These two women with nothing in common but a childhood tragedy, shared DNA, and the same size feet, are about to learn that their family is more different than they ever imagined, and that they're more alike than they'd ever believe. 

Dorothy Koonsom especially My Best Friends Girl.  
This was my first Koonsom, but not my last.  She creates complex, vulnerable Black women characters who operate and attempt to successfully navigate British society. Interracial relationships/friendships, overcoming psychological trauma and career/family balance are common themes:  
How far would you go for the best friend who broke your heart? This internationally bestselling novel tells an enchanting tale of life’s most unpredictable loves and heartaches, and the unforgettable bond between a single woman and an extraordinary five-year-old girl. From the moment they met in college, best friends Adele Brannon and Kamryn Matika thought nothing could come between them—until Adele did the unthinkable and slept with Kamryn’s fiancé, Nate. Now, after years of silence, the two women are reuniting, and Adele has a stunning request for her old friend: she wants Kamryn to adopt her five-year-old daughter, Tegan.  Besides the difference in skin color—many will assume that headstrong, impulsive Kamryn is Tegan’s nanny—there’s the inconvenient truth that Kamryn is wholly unprepared to take care of anyone, especially someone who reminds her so much of Nate. With crises brewing at work and her love life in shambles, can Kamryn somehow become the mother a little girl needs her to be?

Mystery/Detective Series

The Leonid McGill series – Walter Mosley.  
The thing about these books are they always leave me wanting more because the protagonist is such a mystery: raised by a Black Marxist father, is married to a promiscuous Dane and counts a ruthless White ex-assassin as his bff.. each book unravels a little piece of the Leonid McGill puzzle.  The Long Fall is the first book in the series:  His name is etched on the door of his Manhattan office: LEONID McGILL, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR. It’s a name that takes a little explaining, but he’s used to it. “Daddy was a communist and great-great- Granddaddy was a slave master from Scotland. You know, the black man’s family tree is mostly root. Whatever you see aboveground is only a hint at the real story. Ex-boxer, hard drinker, in a business that trades mostly in cash and favors: McGill’s an old-school P.I. working a city that’s gotten fancy all around him. Fancy or not, he has always managed to get by—keep a roof over the head of his wife and kids, and still manage a little fun on the side—mostly because he’s never been above taking a shady job for a quick buck. But like the city itself, McGill is turning over a new leaf, “decided to go from crooked to slightly bent.”

The Sophie Katz series – Kyra Davis.  Lots of sassy fluff and fun with a bi-racial Jewish San Fran protagonist: Sex, Murder and a Double Latte is the first in this series
 Thriller scribe Sophie Katz is as hard-boiled as a woman who drinks Grande Caramel Brownie Frappuccinos can be. So Sophie knows it's not paranoia or post-divorce, living-alone-again jitters, when she becomes convinced that a crazed reader is sneaking into her apartment to reenact scenes from her books. The police, however, can't tell a good plot from an unmarked grave. When a filmmaker friend is brutally murdered in the manner of a death scene in one of his movies, Sophie becomes convinced that a copycat killer is on the loose -- and that she's the next target. If she doesn't solve the mystery, her own bestseller will spell out her doom. Cursing her grisly imagination (why, oh, why did she have to pick the ax?), Sophie engages in some real-life gumshoe tactics. The man who swoops in to save her in dark alleys is mysterious new love interest Anatoly Darinsky. Of course, if this were fiction, Anatoly would be her prime suspect . . .

The Harry Hole series – Jo Nesbø. 
Nesbø, like the cool ø indicates, is Norwegian.  This means instead of Nazis, sexual assault, deviant sex, incest, human trafficking, devil worshiping, alcoholism and trolls, he swaps out the trolls and incest for a suspiciously ugly but brilliant protagonist that frequently resists the crushing Scandinavian pressure to conform and goes rouge! The Redbreast is the first Harry Hole book:  
 Detective Harry Hole embarrassed the force, and for his sins he’s been reassigned to mundane surveillance tasks. But while monitoring neo-Nazi activities in Oslo, Hole is inadvertently drawn into a mystery with deep roots in Norway’s dark past, when members of the government willingly collaborated with Nazi Germany. More than sixty years later, this black mark won’t wash away—and disgraced old soldiers who once survived a brutal Russian winter are being murdered, one by one. Now, with only a stained and guilty conscience to guide him, an angry, alcoholic, error-prone policeman must make his way safely past the traps and mirrors of a twisted criminal mind. For a conspiracy is taking rapid and hideous shape around Hole . . . and Norway’s darkest hour may be still to come

Nursery Crime series – Jasper Fforde 
This is one of the most original and quirky series I have read.  The author has taken familiar nursery rhyme characters and revamped them for grown ups. I am impatient for Fforde to write more. There have only been two thus far:
 The Big Over Easy: In The Big Over Easy, Fforde takes a break from classic literature and tumbles into the seedy underbelly of nursery crime. Meet Inspector Jack Spratt, family man and head of the Nursery Crime Division. He's investigating the murder of ovoid D-class nursery celebrity Humpty Dumpty, found shattered to death beneath a wall in a shabby area of town. Yes, the big egg is down, and all those brittle pieces sitting in the morgue point to foul play.
 The Fourth Bear:  The Gingerbreadman—sadist, psychopath, cookie—is on the loose in Reading, but that’s not who Detective Jack Spratt and Sergeant Mary Mary are after. Instead, they’ve been demoted to searching for missing journalist “Goldy” Hatchett. The last witnesses to see her alive were the reclusive Three Bears, and right away Spratt senses something furry—uh, funny—about their story, starting with the porridge. The Fourth Bear is a delirious new romp from our most irrepressible fabulist.

YA

Sometimes reading below your grade level is fruitful.  I have a lot in common with young adults anyway.  I am perpetually broke, have no job and long to ride a skateboard successfully.  

Speak – Laurie Halse Anderson.   
I decided to read this after someone recommended it in a Jezebel comment.  When it comes to book suggestions, I am really not picky:   
"Speak up for yourself--we want to know what you have to say." From the first moment of her freshman year at Merryweather High, Melinda knows this is a big fat lie, part of the nonsense of high school. She is friendless, outcast, because she busted an end-of-summer party by calling the cops, so now nobody will talk to her, let alone listen to her. As time passes, she becomes increasingly isolated and practically stops talking altogether. Only her art class offers any solace, and it is through her work on an art project that she is finally able to face what really happened at that terrible party: she was raped by an upperclassman, a guy who still attends Merryweather and is still a threat to her. Her healing process has just begun when she has another violent encounter with him. But this time Melinda fights back, refuses to be silent, and thereby achieves a measure of vindication.
The Book Thief – Markus Zusak
Given to me by a friend actually.  This is a serious tearjerker in the way that Holocaust books involving children (in this case, a German girl) can only be: 
 It’s just a small story really, about among other things: a girl, some words, an accordionist, some fanatical Germans, a Jewish fist-fighter, and quite a lot of thievery. . . .Set during World War II in Germany, Markus Zusak’s groundbreaking new novel is the story of Liesel Meminger, a foster girl living outside of Munich. Liesel scratches out a meager existence for herself by stealing when she encounters something she can’t resist–books. With the help of her accordion-playing foster father, she learns to read and shares her stolen books with her neighbors during bombing raids as well as with the Jewish man hidden in her basement before he is marched to Dachau.

The Perks of Being a Wallflower – Stephen Chbosky
I admit I read quite a few books that become movies without seeing the movie...  Usually the book is better than the movie anyway (except for the Lord of the Rings,  bah! Bah I say!! I should go to Tolkein's heirs houses, South Park style, and demand my $12 back!).  Ignore Publisher's Weekly calling The Perks of Being a Wallflower trite.  They clearly did not come of age in the early 90s... This novel took me back to my flannel wearing teen angst days.  Its protagonist was also reminiscent of the protagonist in one of my favorite books The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime.  
Amazon says: the perks of being a wallflower is a story about what it’s like to travel that strange course through the uncharted territory of high school. the world of first dates, family dramas, and new friends. of sex, drugs, and the rocky horror picture show. of those wild and poignant roller-coaster days known as growing up.

Liar –Justine Larbalestier.  
Not a lot I can say about this without spoiling it:  
 Micah is a liar. That's the one thing she won't lie about. Over the years, she's duped her classmates, her teachers, and even her parents. But when her boyfriend Zach dies under brutal circumstances, Micah sets out to tell the truth. At first the truth comes easily-because it is a lie. Other truths are so unbelievable, so outside the realm of normal, they must be a lie. And the honest truth is buried so deep in Micah's mind even she doesn't know if it's real.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone – Laini Taylor.  
A blue haired heroine who collects teeth for her monster family and lives in Prague? Sign me up:   
Around the world, black handprints are appearing on doorways, scorched there by winged strangers who have crept through a slit in the sky.  In a dark and dusty shop, a devil's supply of human teeth grown dangerously low.  And in the tangled lanes of Prague, a young art student is about to be caught up in a brutal otherwordly war.  Meet Karou. She fills her sketchbooks with monsters that may or may not be real; she's prone to disappearing on mysterious "errands"; she speaks many languages--not all of them human; and her bright blue hair actually grows out of her head that color. Who is she? That is the question that haunts her, and she's about to find out.  When one of the strangers--beautiful, haunted Akiva--fixes his fire-colored eyes on her in an alley in Marrakesh, the result is blood and starlight, secrets unveiled, and a star-crossed love whose roots drink deep of a violent past. But will Karou live to regret learning the truth about herself?

Westerns

The cool thing about both of these books is the way they use language, its simultaneously formal (no contractions) and informal (cool use of old timey expressions). 

True Grit – Charles Portis
Have not seen either movie but the book was phenomenal and quite short - a quick, satisfying read: 
It tells the story of Mattie Ross, who is just fourteen years of age when a coward going by the name of Tom Chaney shoots her father down in Fort Smith, Arkansas, and robs him of his life, his horse, and $150 in cash money. Mattie leaves home to avenge her father's blood. With the one-eyed Rooster Cogburn, the meanest available U.S. Marshal, by her side, Mattie pursues the homicide into Indian Territory.

The Sisters Brothers – Patrick deWitt
Who doesn't love it when a book makes them root for the kind of shady guys?:   
Hermann Kermit Warm is going to die. The enigmatic and powerful man known only as the Commodore has ordered it, and his henchmen, Eli and Charlie Sisters, will make sure of it. Though Eli doesn't share his brother's appetite for whiskey and killing, he's never known anything else. But their prey isn't an easy mark, and on the road from Oregon City to Warm's gold-mining claim outside Sacramento, Eli begins to question what he does for a living–and whom he does it for. 

Disappointments

I didn’t finish any of these but the Harris. I am getting to the point where I feel comfortable deciding not to finish a book if it doesn’t hold my attention. I'm not even going to link to them, I was so disappointed! (Or I could be sick of posting links)  Here were the stinkers I encountered (most of them recent):

The Danger of Proximal Alphabets – Kathleen Alcott
 ie The Danger of me falling asleep while I try to read this on my kindle. Really. Slow

Zone One – Colson Whitehead 
Zoned Out and didn't finish even half - Me.  I so wanted to like this. I love zombies!  But alas, it failed to keep me interested.  

May We Be Forgiven – A.M. Homes
There was potential here, it is certainly well written... but I lost patience.  I may give this another go. 

Peaches for Father Francis – Joanne Harris
An unsuccessful attempt to neatly combine: magic, chocolate, fundamentalist Islam, French xenophobia and racism, Catholicism, death, sexual assault and peaches. You read that correctly.  I am afraid I may have made this sound sexy and intriguing.  It was not and I am a HUGE Harris fan.

The Family Corleone – Ed Falco
The Godfather was nothing short of a masterpiece – both in book and film form.  The Family Corleone is supposed to be the prequel to The Godfather.  It is supposed to tell the tale Puzo never had the chance to tell.  Sadly, this was to Puzo like The Daily Mail is to the New York Times.  Hm, that was unfair.   The Family Corleone is far far less fun to read than the Daily Mail.  

I hope you find something you like in this list. Off to bed!