the real thin line

Everyone knows that there's a thin line between love and hate, but these aren't the only ambiguous opposites out there. There's also a thin line between love and creepiness, hilarity and awkwardness, humor and sadness, sympathy and hatred, empathy and disgust, and the ever-intriguing adult and young adult literature.

And David Yoo's Stop Me if You've Heard This One Before has them all, with the lines drawn thinner than ever.

Stop Me is a young adult book, but it's written in such a literary style that it could easily cross the generation gap-- you don't have to be in high school to enjoy this book, you just have to remember what it was like.

Or not. Because Yoo captures the experience in such an awesome, vivid way that you'll be swept up in the high school experience no matter how many years have passed. It's true to the emotions, drama, and angst, yet written with a style most high schoolers could never dream to accomplish. So what could have been a fun, light (and potentially really annoying, given the narrator's typical high school self absorption) read -- one that you enjoy but don't think about once you close the back cover, filled with the same old slang and lackluster writing in an attempt to capture a current time -- is transformed into a book that really has the potential to be timeless.

Sort of like Romeo and Juliet, which is what the main character, Albert, compares his story to.

But without all the death.

Stop Me is the story of Albert Kim, a high school junior known as the "creepy mute" because of his refusal to participate in the social scene that hasn't accepted him since elementary school. He's such a loser that his only "friends" are a group of adoring 11-year-olds impressed with his video game and capture the flag prowess, and so awkward that when forced to interact with Mia Stone-- one of the prettiest girls in school and the recent ex-girlfriend of lacrosse god Ryan Stackhouse-- during their summer job together at a local inn, Albert has to resort to crazy measures just to be able to speak to her, like smacking himself in the face, cursing like a sailor, and being a general dick as he starts to fall for her.

Because, of course, this isn't just the story of Albert. It's the story of Albert and Mia, of how they fall in love, and how they fall apart.

Don't worry, there are no spoilers here-- it's nothing that Albert doesn't bitterly inform the reader in the prologue... though I will say that the ending isn't quite what you'd expect, in a good way.

You might be wondering why I'm even reviewing this book. "It sounds great," you're thinking (or I hope you're thinking, because otherwise my reviewing skills aren't working very well), "but a literary style and a failed romance? Really?"

Well, skeptics, let me put your mind at ease: Stop Me if You've Heard This One Before is also laugh-out-loud hilarious.

My new thing, apparently, is to read books so unexpectedly funny that I look crazy when I read them in public areas.

Stop Me is funny for two reasons. There are funny experiences: sad/funny situations like Albert's 11-year-old cronies (they have their own clubhouse), and scenes that are funny/so-awkward-you-almost-feel-uncomfortable-reading-because-Albert-is-so-socially-inept-its-painful. And then there's the voice, which is hysterical as well as literary.

Okay, I'm not just impressed, I'm jealous. How did he pull it off so smoothly?

But instead of just going on about it, I'll give you a sample of what I mean, when Albert notices that Mia's ex is absent:

"That's how it is with people like Ryan Stackhouse. Love him or hate him, his absence is palpable, and school life doesn't feel right anymore. You could almost taste it, the fact that he wasn't there that day. Incidentally, his absence tasted like popcorn chicken. I lie."

Albert's voice is descriptive and emotive, but peppered with cursing, pop culture references, and snide asides like the popcorn chicken that make him an authentic (if articulate) teen, rather than sounding like a 40-year-old trying to relate to youth.

And that alone makes the book worth reading, but the story is fantastic, too. Depending on what website you go on, more of the plot is revealed, but I won't reveal anything here that isn't in the prologue or back cover, because I hate spoilers myself, and the rift that gets in between Albert and Mia is a surprising one. So all I'll say is this: the situations Albert finds himself in-- both getting together with Mia and the bit I won't reveal-- provide ample opportunity for humor, angst, romance, friendship, and rumination on relationships (both friendly and romantic), and what it means to be a good person.

Which sounds pretty abstract, but it's another thing I love about this book. Albert is not always likable. But Yoo carefully balances the line between sympathy and disgust at his main character. The first person narrative allows us to see Albert's actions in a different way than those around him, to see the why. This, coupled with his tainted observations of the world around him and the fact that we know and care about him because of previous thoughts/actions, keeps you rooting for Albert even though you're aware when he's crossing a line.

I know: literary, right? But in a way that so uniquely captures the pressures of the high school social scene (for example, Albert can't merely date Mia-- he has to put himself back into the social radar and try to make nice with Mia's friends... while he even makes some friends of his own), and so hilarious.

So read this book. I'll admit that when it was lent to me, I wasn't all that interested (I mean, Romeo and Juliet?), and then, while I fell in love with the style immediately, I wanted the book to end on page 100, with the cute, happy ending and funny/heartwarming/adorable lead-up to it. But Stop Me if You've Heard This One Before is a completely amazing book from cover to cover.

And remember, if you have a mid-list book that you love, write an original review and shoot me an email. I'll post it and try to help get the word out for mid-list authors we love!

what happens in vegas, stays in vegas. like all of your money...

WARNING: While there is nothing offensive about the subject of this book (poker), the style of writing in this book is sometimes not politically correct, and this book contains cursing (including the f-bomb) and biting humor. This review contains potentially offensive quotes to get across the style of the book. I love this book and highly recommend it, but it may not be for everyone, such as young readers.

And now, without further ado, here's a treat and surprise for you all: my first non-YA review. That's right, folks, I actually do read other books... especially if Vegas is involved.

Personally, I'm not a huge gambler, because I'm cheap and sitting at the penny slots isn't the most entertaining thing on the face of the planet (unless your penny slot is by a rocking piano bar-- read: the Times Square Bar in Las Vegas's themed hotel, New York, New York-- or you know... you're winning). But I love Vegas, and I love the idea of gambling, especially at the tables. It's glamorous, exciting, sexy... or not.

Pat Walsh's How to Win the World Series of Poker (or Not) is the funny, true story of the book editor Pat Walsh's attempt to win the game's most prestigious prize. (I couldn't find an author website, but you can read an interview about the book here.) He starts playing for pennies online, and moves up to home games with friends and family, tournaments in a church basement, games in mansions and the back room of a bar, an Indian casino, and, finally, viva Las Vegas itself.

I loved this book for so many reasons, and not just the subject matter. For all I watch movies and TV specials on Sin City, I don't actually know more than the basics of table games. How to Win begins with a prologue that comprehensibly explains Texas Hold 'em in layman's terms, so that even if you knew nothing else about poker beforehand, you can still understand the rest of the book, because the bulk of it is descriptions of specific games and hands.

If I were told that, I would think, "Wow, that sounds boring," but trust me: How to Win is anything but. I had a hard time putting it down.

First of all, there's the charm of the "All American Tale" (also the tag line of the book). Even though you know from the outset (it's in giant letters on the back cover) that Walsh didn't win the World Series of Poker (or even come close), you still root for the everyman who decided to just go for it. I think we all wish we had a little Pat Walsh in us, to complete our biggest dreams no matter how crazy (like the World Series of Poker's $10,000 entry fee) they may seem. So even though the outcome isn't a surprise, there's still plenty of excitement as you root for Paul whether he's playing against family, friends, rich socialites, old men, obnoxious drunks, pleasant strangers, or his own seemingly cursed losing streak. The excitement only grows as he moves up the ladder, getting ever closer to the World Series itself.

That, in a way, is what makes this book glamorous, even though Pat is playing against online competitors for a pot that doesn't even break a ten-spot (that's dollars, not thousands), drunk hecklers, and geriatric old men. The actual World Series, where Pat brushes elbows with poker stars and media celebrities alike, isn't given that much space in the book. It's partially because he doesn't last that long, but also because it's a story about the journey as much as it is about poker.

Also, the simple way Hold 'em is described makes you feel like you could do this. Yes, poker takes a lot of skill, but if you can follow these hands, if you can cheer and groan along with Pat... hey, who knows?

And, of course, the book is hilarious. I laughed out loud several times while reading it, garnering a few looks from strangers on the subway in the process. There are several reasons the book is funny. First, there's the way poker itself is described, turning the explanations from just informative to information with a strong, witty writing style. For example, one of the ten main poker tips is

"5. Capitalize on your opponents' mistakes.
People make mistakes all the time. I, for one, make one about every minute and a half. When you think someone's making a mistake, find a way to translate that into personal profit for you. And not just in poker; do it in life too, like Gandhi" (24).

or, my favorite:

"8. Calculate the odds.
This has something to do with math" (25). (Don't worry... by the end of the book you do have a decent idea of what it takes to calculate the odds, without any boring explanation.)

Secondly, the book is funny because Walsh doesn't care what anyone thinks. He's self-depreciating, he insults who he pleases, and he defies political correctness. It not only provides many laugh-out-loud moments -- "With my newfound wealth and my gigantic poker testicles I decided it was time to hit the real tables. I had been avoiding card clubs and casinos, preferring to cut my teeth on old men, youngsters, and dear friends" (76). It's also different, which is always a plus, and it's freeing and refreshing to not have to tiptoe around others, if only for the duration of the book (yeah, that guy is an asshole! I hope you destroy him at the tables!)

Thirdly, the book is funny because it's not merely re-tellings of certain games. There's a narrative structure, which opens up so many opportunities for humor. Walsh comments on celebrities who play poker, his first experience with the game, how he juggled the game and his family, and the World Series itself, just to name a few. If swearing bothers you, I suggest not reading the following passage, but the commentary gives a good example of the easy, conversational, and laugh-out-loud hilarious voice that narrates the story:

"This was the first year the higher-ups, perhaps mindful of poker's new respectability as family entertainment, banned the use of what they called the F-bomb. The F-bomb is the word fuck-- perhaps you've heard of it? It is a great word, and there are times when, for an exclamatory, no other word will do. What do they expect at a poker table? Someone who gets drawn with runner/runner says fuck and another player at the table will wail Oh, my virgin ears, and faint? This is not a Christian day camp; it is high-stakes poker and it is rated R. If the word fuck bothers you, go play bingo at church" (127).

The above passage should also make it clear that the narrative structure is great for other reasons, too: it makes the book a faster, smoother, more enjoyable read, because it reads more like a novel than anything. In spite of the focus on specific games, hands, and strategies, it truly is a story about one man's ambitious, crazy, exciting dream, and his thoughts along the way.

So if you love poker, I highly recommend this fun, unique, addicting book. And if you don't love poker, I highly recommend this fun, unique, addicting book. Who knows-- you might just pick up a new hobby. Or not.

And remember, if there's a mid-list book that you love, write a review and email it me at doingitwrite@gmail.com. I'll post it under a guest reviewers section. We can work to save mid-list authors!

who needs goals, anyway?

Life after high school is a confusing time for everyone, but especially for Stan Smith, whose uninteresting name matches his uninteresting life. A former child prodigy with an IQ of 165, recent graduate Stan has no direction — or car, or girl, or even chance at college, because he never applied. He’s perfectly content (with a few nagging doubts about wasted potential, voiced by numerous adults around him) to work at his underpaid, dead-end job as a cashier in his town’s only video store, hang out with his cool best (and only) friend, and work on his clichéd screenplays while he figures out what to do with his life.

What I love about Sean Beaudoin’s Going Nowhere Faster is that, in spite of some entertaining action — Stan’s love for a girl named Ellen, his crazy hippy parents, and his conviction that Ellen’s menacing ex-boyfriend, Chad, is out to kill him after a mishap with a firecracker and Chad’s locker — Going Nowhere Faster doesn’t have the most driving plot in the world. It’s different in a refreshing way, and it fits with the book. After all, Stan is “going nowhere,” and the plot reflects that. But don’t take that to mean that the book has no plot points (see Ellen, crazy hippy parents, Chad, and Stan’s cool best friend, Miles), or that the book is pointless. Going Nowhere Faster hits on that post-high school time perfectly, where everyone’s trying to figure out what they’re supposed to do with their lives. And Stan’s life shows that potential doesn’t always equal opportunity — a point not usually touched upon in upbeat YA books. So Stan’s story has many poignant moments about finding oneself and shaping that terrifying The Rest of Your Life… all amidst wacky scenarios, humor, and a lot of sarcasm.

If you’ve read the rest of my reviews, you had to be expecting it, and it’s true: Going Nowhere Faster is also hilarious. Jaded Stan, the “special” kid who amounted to nothing, is sarcastic, neurotic, and hypercritical, resulting in sharp, funny first-person prose. Yet in spite of his neuroses, he’s still completely amusing, sympathetic, and likable. He has a caring relationship with his little sister, and his friendship with Miles is honest and enduring when a girl comes between them. It’s not just the prose that’s comical, however. The situations Stan finds himself in (like the death threats) are off-the-wall and sometimes unrealistic, but all the funnier for it.

So join Stan on his crazy-yet-dull, confusing, neurotic life post-high school as he tries to find, a plot, a girl, a screenplay, a journey. You’ll be glad you did.

And remember: if there’s a mid-list book you love, write an original review and shoot me an email at doingitwrite@gmail.com and I’ll post it under a “guest reviewers” section. And as always, spread the word to help save mid-list authors!

because a rectangle book is so much sweeter than a round table

King Arthur's Round Table is infamous.

The supposedly equal people Arthur sat with at that table? Not so much.

But Gerald Morris's The Squire's Tale series puts everyone in the spotlight: knights, ladies, faeries, and, of course, squires.

The series begins with The Squire's Tale and is currently composed of nine books, with the tenth and final book slated to come out this year. Currently, I've only read the first eight, and I'm both excited and sad to read the final two: they're excellent reads, but I hate to see a series I love end.

Though, with the risks facing many mid-list authors, I'm just grateful that I do get to find out what happens.

Unlike many series', The Squire's Tale books don't focus solely on one or two characters. Terence (crush # 1... crush # 2 is Rhience from the seventh book, Lioness and Her Knight. I really have a problem) is Sir Gawain's squire, and the two of them are the main focus in the first two books (The Squire's Tale and The Squire, the Knight, and His Lady, respectively). They then make cameo appearances in almost all of the other books, which focus on various members of King Arthur's court, or those trying to become a member of court, such as a bumbling, would-be knight or a saucy damsel in distress who decides to save herself.

Each of the books is based off of an Arthurian legend, with tweaks and invented characters as necessary. Yet the language is modern and the plots fast-paced, making the stories smooth, fast reads.

And also incredibly fun reads. Morris' books are filled with humor, which manifests itself both in witty banter and bizarre scenarios, such as a cantankerous, unskilled knight who forces everyone who passes into a fight, no matter how uninterested (or talented) they may be. The characterization is also strong, with strong, funny, and multi-faceted protagonists who just try to do what's right amidst the danger, drama, intrigue, and absurdities of both Arthur's world and the adjacent faery world. Additionally, in spite of the patriarchal structure of the time period, which Morris portrays, both male and female characters are self-empowered, making the romantic sub-plots satisfying connections between equals.

In spite of being light, funny reads with modern language, though, the books are serious at the proper moments, and still manage to get across the impression of a very different time-- a time when the golden rule is chivalry, courtly love reigns, and knights just hang around court until there's a quest to be completed. As different as it is from our own, however, Morris' world is fully realized, immersing readers into both medieval life and a place where magic, both faery and otherwise, (with sometimes serious, sometimes hilarious results) is very active.

So if you enjoy humor, adventure, light fantasy, intrigue, mystery, romance, ya books, or Arthurian legend, join Terence on his first quest in A Squire's Tale, as he leaves his sheltered adolescence (literally-- he lives with a hermit in the woods) for the exciting world of quests, court, knights, and magic. Trust me, once you read the first book, you'll have to read them all.

And remember, spreading the word about mid-list authors and their books is important, so if there's a mid-list book or series that you love, write an original review and email me at doingitwrite@gmail.com. I'll post it under a "guest reviewers" section.

read it. love it. but don't try it at home.

First off, a big hearty thanks to this website, which deleted my almost completed post. Secondly, sorry, readers. I'm sure this was far funnier and more polished the first time around. Sigh.

And thirdly...

While my love for humor is apparent from my previous posts, I don't think my other great love is quite as obvious (I'm talking subject matter here, not fictional characters. My love for certain people who aren't real is probably more obvious than anyone cares to hear).

It would be obvious if this blog had anything to do with movies. I', not a huge movie person-- I'm very critical of everything I watch, and cannot watch movies again, except for a very select few. The two on the very top of this exclusive list? Ocean's 11 (my all-time favorite) and 21 (and, hey, since this is a blog about books... it's not mid-list, but if you loved 21, try Bringing Down the House by Ben Mezrich, which is the book 21 was based off of. Since the book details the true story, not the Hollywood version, it's a lot different, but still great).

No, Hacking Harvard by Robin Wasserman doesn't have anything to do with Vegas (sadly... The Hangover is another movie worth re-watching). But it does have smart, likable characters working to pull something outside of the system. And whether it's crime, counting cards (not illegal, but frowned upon), pranks, or hacks, I love it. I knew I would love Hacking Harvard the second I read the inside cover, which I'm copying and pasting from Wasserman's website:

"You don't need to be brilliant. You just need a plan.

The Hack:
Get one deadbeat, fully unqualified slacker into the most prestigious school in the country.

The Crew:
Eric -- the good guy, the voice of reason.
Max -- the player with the most to lose.
Schwarz -- the boy genius on the inside
Lex -- the little miss perfect valedictorian who insists on getting in the game.

The Plan:
Break into the Ivy League. Don't get distracted.
Don't get caught.

The Stakes:
A lot higher than they think."

But Hacking Harvard is more than just a fun plot. There are a lot of issues underlying the boys' scheme (which Lex later jumps in on), even outside of the consequences if they're caught and the much-higher stakes, which I won't spoil here. Just for a sampling, the slacker the crew has to get into Harvard is the bully who completely scarred Eric's elementary school experience. Max's father is almost obsessed with Harvard, his alma mater, but Max doesn't want to go. Schwarz, already attending Harvard after graduating high school a year early, is pushed around by his friends and walked all over by the girl he likes. All of the boys worry, at some point, how their best friendship will fare after this year. And then there's Lex, desperate to get into Harvard the legit way-- and, of course, providing some romantic tension (I won't reveal with who).

Plus, the plot itself is more than just fun. Eric and company are prankers, but Eric wants to pull hacks rather than pranks, and he wants them to mean something. He wants them to be smart, to stick it to the man. This gives the book an added element, and it also means there's a lot of info on MIT hacks, which Eric idolizes and which are also totally true-- there's an entire page about hacks and traditions on MIT's website (which, yes, I had to look up after reading this book). Additionally, the book is as much a story about the fear and anticipation of the future faced by high school seniors-- the one issue every single main character deals with in the novel-- as it is about hacking Harvard. The ending of the book reflects this-- it isn't cheesy, as one might expect (and okay, as I might have hoped...) but it's still satisfying.

In short, Hacking Harvard has a fun, incredibly smart plot with important underlying issues, humor, complex characters, and sharp writing (read an excerpt here). So go on, read the book.

But don't try it for yourself.

Still, if you're itching to do something, write a review of one of your favorite mid-list books and email it to me at doingitwrite@gmail.com. I'll post it in a "guest reviewers" section. And remember-- spread the word about the plight of mid-list authors and your favorite mid-list books!

teen angst, served fresh daily

The plot is pretty standard: High school senior Jan Martin knows that she's destined to lead an unspectacular life, unlike her best friend Rebecca, one of New York's "It Girls." Jan's French homework is tormenting her, and college applications are even worse... though nothing can compare to her new crush's disinterest.

It seems like a typical comedic YA book about a girl navigating love, life, and high school. After all, there are tons of such books out there, which can make it difficult to pick out those that are worth reading from those that are just blah.

Trust me on this one. Melissa Kantor's Confessions of a Not-It Girl is so worth it.

This review is almost superfluous. If you click on the title of the book, you'll find another link to read the first chapter of the novel. And once you read the first chapter, you'll have to read the rest of it.

Jan's angst, minute analysis of her life, and imagination make her first-person narrative a light, fun, and utterly hilarious read. For example, when asked to babysit for her crush's little sister, Jan realizes that she's hardly prepared:

"With only forty-nine hours to put together an outfit that said both 'I am a responsible baby-sitter who will not abandon your child to pursue pleasures of the flesh' and 'I am a sexual dynamo,' I headed upstairs to evaluate my options" (Kantor, 7).

Jan blows up inconsequential moments to huge disasters in her mind (from the real pronunciation of her name-- Yahn-- to running into her crush in a ratty t-shirt), and lives an active fantasy life revolving around the way her life should be going-- sometimes to the point of missing what's actually going on around her. Jan's hyperbolic worries make her a funny and likable protagonist, rather than a shallow, annoying one, however, because Jan has a good sense of humor and cares deeply about her family and friends.

Confessions of a Not-It Girl is full of hope, humor, and talented writing. Additionally, Jan's strong, witty voice and a wonderful cast of characters, from the secretly not-so-secure Rebecca to Jan's quirky parents to Josh, Jan's crush-worthy crush, make Confessions of a Not-It Girl stand out among other books of its genre, even if the basic plot is fairly standard.

And remember-- have a mid-list book that you love? Email original reviews to doingitwrite@gmail.com to be featured in a "guest reviewer" post.

because homer is so overdone

I'll admit it--The Pig Scrolls by Gryllus the Pig (as told to Paul Shipton), and its sequel, The Pig Who Saved the World, are intended for middle schoolers.

But the Shrek franchise is aimed at kids, too, and come on-- that's fun for the whole family.

I compare The Pig Scrolls to Shrek not only because I think both can amuse those older than the intended audience (I first read The Pig Scrolls as a senior in high school), but because both are parodies.

I should say here that I love parodies. They may be my favorite type of humor. I read whatever parodies I can get my hands on, and write parodies almost as frequently as I write completely original pieces (the assignment: write a 15-page short story in the style of a horror novel. 165 pages of golden Dracula parody later, I got an A in the class). I love parodies because so much wit has to be involved to pull off a funny, original story that still works with the source material.

And trust me-- humor, wit, and sarcasm (my other favorite) are aplenty in The Pig Scrolls, which draw from the Greek myths.

Gryllus, the protagonist, is a talking pig, but he didn't start out that way. He was a crew member on Odysseus's ship, one of those turned into swine by Circe. But when Circe agrees to change the men back, Gryllus makes sure he can't be found. After all, why be a human, with a life filled with danger and responsibility? Better to be a pig, where all he has to worry about are his two favorite things-- eating and sleeping.

That is, until he runs into teenage prophetess Sibyl, who informs him that the world is in grave danger, and can only be saved by a talking pig.

Awesome.

And so begins the bizarre quest of determined, idealistic Sibyl and cowardly, completely unwilling Gryllus: locating a strange shepherd boy to deliver to Apollo. Along the way, they run into a whole cast of interesting, mythical characters, such as a moody, adolescent Homer, and too many monsters for comfort.

The Pig Scrolls and its sequel, The Pig Who Saved the World (where Gryllus is, once again, called upon to save the cosmos) both have tight, action-filled plots, but it's the humor that really makes Shipton's novels shine. Clever references and modifications of Greek myths (which younger readers may not fully get), British slang, and a heavily sarcastic voice make Gryllus's tales utter fun to read. Gryllus is a lovable character, with a big heart and conscience hidden behind his snarky tone, laziness, and self-centeredness. His friendship with Sibyl and company is humorous, heartwarming, and full of banter.

Don't expect The Odyssey, here. They are middle-grade books. But if you like humor, parodies, Greek myths, or sarcasm, don't ignore this book just because the narrator is a talking pig. Love the fact that the narrator is a talking pig, because, really-- a talking pig saving the Greek gods and the entire cosmos? How great is that? (About as great as an ogre saving the world of fairy tale characters, eh, eh?)

And, oh yes-- the way the second book ends leaves room for a third, but even though The Pig Who Saved the World was published in 2006, I haven't heard about a third, even though I would love to see what happens to Gryllus...

And remember-- if you have a mid-list book that you love, email me an original book and a little info about yourself (for the "About the Guest Reviewer" bit) and I'll post it. Spread the word about books you love!

ogres, goblins, and orcs, oh my

Though some reviews of the book say that this novel is aimed at the younger end of young adult readers, I absolutely fell in love with Standard Hero Behavior by John David Anderson. The 2007 novel is Anderson's first and only, making me wonder if Anderson has fallen to the wayside like so many other talented mid-list authors, who lose publishing chances just because their books aren't bestsellers.

And, if you're interested in humorous light fantasy and read this book, you'll see just how not okay that is.

Protagonist Mason Quayle is a bard, and his best friend Cowel a door-to-door plume salesman, in a town devoid of heroes. Mason spends his time penning heroic ballads about average accidents (the story opens with Mason writing a dramatic poem about a farmer who managed to escape his fight with a chipmunk), while Cowel mostly gets doors slammed in his face. Neither make enough money to pay the bills, which is a particular problem in Darlington.

Situated near mountains just crawling with deadly beasts-- ogres, goblins, orcs, and more-- Darlington used to be a center for heroes. Now there's only one: Duke Darlinger, who charges an expensive protection tax that has bankrupted the once prosperous city, and made it so that Mason and Cowel can barely put food on the table. But when Mason discovers a secret about the Duke that puts the entire town in deadly danger, he and Cowel set off on a quest to find real heroes to save the day.

Mason is thrilled-- finally he'll be doing something, like the bards of old, who fought valiantly alongside heroes to record their stories. He may just achieve his dream to get noticed... and find out the answer to questions that have plaguing him his whole life: why did his father, one of the town's former heroes who left for adventure when Mason was little, never return? Is he still alive? And was he truly a hero?

Standard Hero Behavior is a gentle parody of quest stories, and Mason and Cowel's mission is filled with misadventure and bizarre characters, such as a retired hero-turned-shoe-salesman, a somnambulist swordsman, a swarm of deadly pixies, an attractive young witch, and a werewolf hit man. This ensures that the plot is almost as amusing as the tone (though it does turn serious at the proper moments). The story is written in typical, modern language, making the read quick and hilarious, due to the sharp commentary on the situations and the banter between Mason and Cowel.

Just as in Hilari Bell's Knight and Rouge series, it's the characters and their friendship that really make the book. Mason and Cowel are both quick-witted and sarcastic, and their observations and back-and-forth are fun and funny to read. Underneath it all, however, there's clearly a deep friendship, which is cute and endearing.

A clever, parodied premise (Duke Darlinger has sponsors who pay for advertising space on his horse, and for Darlinger to promote them during his victory speeches), an interesting plot (will the boys save the day?), great tone, likable characters, hilarious banter, a little bit of romance, and emotional stakes (will Mason find out about his father? Will Mason and Cowel discover what they want to do with their lives?) ensure that Standard Hero Behavior is a must-read for lovers of light fantasy.

And I would love to see another book by Anderson. So if you loved this book, like I did, spread the word. And remember, if you have a book by a mid-list author that you love, write and original review and email it to me at doingitwrite@gmail.com-- I'll post it!

men are from mars, women are from venus

For me, freshness is almost as important as humor in a novel, and Sarah Miller's Inside the Mind of Gideon Rayburn has both. An unknown girl narrates the tale, a girl who inexplicably finds herself privy to the every thought of Gideon Rayburn, new kid at an exclusive New England prep school.

Guys always wonder what girls are thinking, but it goes the other way, too-- and now this unknown girl has the opportunity to finally find out as out-of-place Gideon navigates his way in his new environment. His journey isn't made any easier by his roommates Nicholas and Cullen, who are both rich, suave, and sometimes morally questionable. The pair make a bet out of Gideon's semi-virginity, and want him to loose it all the way with fiesty Molly McGarry. Gid likes Molly, and he wants to prove himself to his roommates, but there's the added complication of Pilar, the sexiest, most popular girl in school.

While both the ending and the revelation of the narrator is unsurprising, Gideon Rayburn is still a fun, worthwhile read. It's interesting to get into Gideon's head as he worries about girls, popularity, and impressing the guys. Still, he's a funny, caring guy who readers can't help but like. The rest of the characters are multidimensional, too -- Molly, Pilar, and even Cullen and Nicholas. Despite the faults of Gid's roommates, you can also see hints of why they are the way they are, such as when Gid stays with Nicholas over a school holiday. The book serves as more than just a look into the male mind, however. Gideon Rayburn is a comedic romance with a strong, wry voice that takes place in the over-the-top boarding school environment. And let's face it-- that's always fun.

And remember-- do you have an original review of a mid-list book that you'd like posted? Shoot me an email at doingitwrite@gmail.com.

strong and sexy, meet weak and sallow. and like it.

With the commercial success of Twilight, vampire novels have dominated the bookshelves, in both teen and adult literature. No matter your feelings about that, the fact is that there are so many it might be difficult to choose one, were you so inclined, not only because of variety, but because, let's face it, there are some not-so-great reads in that pile, just riding the wave.

Whether you're looking for a vampire read or not, I still suggest Catherine Jinks' The Reformed Vampire Support Group.If the title isn't enough to grab you (yep, I literally judge books by their covers), let me give you a little description of the main characters.

The vampires are not the calm, ruthless terrors of Bram Stoker's Dracula. They are not the glittery romantics of Twilight, or any sort of sexy as embodied in the media today, whether books, television, or movies.

No, the vampires are, as protagonist Nina bluntly states, dead, and get all the perks that come with that.

And when I say perks, I'm being sarcastic.

Can only go out at night, and only with the added precaution of sunglasses. Weak bodies. A million ailments. An eternity of hiding the fact that you have eternity.

A pretty mediocre, depressing eternity, at least for Nina, who still hasn't fully accepted her disease.

Nina has been trapped in the un-aging body of a fifteen-year-old since the seventies, and still lives with her mother. Every week, she attends the Reformed Vampire Support group, with vampires who have given up biting people. Instead, they take enzyme supplements and drink the blood of guinea pigs... and woe to the person who has to clean up if they don't hit the vein just right.

To complete the irony, Nina makes a living as an author, writing about sexy, glamorous vampires who actually do things-- and heroic things, at that.

Nina finally gets her chance to prove that vampires aren't boring and useless when one of their group is staked. Along with her friend Dave, another vampire, Nina is on a mission to find and stop the murderer before he can find the rest of them-- a mission that's severely complicated when they run into a dangerous, gun-toting werewolf trafficker along the way.

The Reformed Vampire Support Group is funny, exciting (lots of action, adventure, and solving-the-mystery, with only the very slightest touch of romance), and totally clever. Jinks turns the vampire novel on its head by writing about the less-than-glamorous side of being undead, and Nina's voice is the perfect way to do so. Nina's blunt, sarcastic voice is amusing and perfect for the book.

Neither she or her fellow vampires are sexy (see the pic, above), but all of the characters in Jinks' novel work. So many are likable, such as witty Nina, steadfast Dave, and Nina's human, chain-smoking, elderly mother, who still devoutly cares for her daughter and puts up with the rest of Nina's undead posse. The cast is fairly large, but it provides an eclectic, well-rounded group-- after all, anyone is at risk for being bit, from dim-witted George to Bridget, an eighty-plus nun-- that is often hilarious.

Great characters, voice, and an interesting mystery/action plot. Go on, give the decrepit vampires a chance. They're not just riding the wave.

Trust me, even though they're from Australia, they couldn't surf anyway.

(And hey, remember-- if you have an original review you'd like posted for a mid-list book you love, email me at doingitwrite@gmail.com).

footnotes are always funny. trust me.

I wouldn't recommend this book for guys (because, you know, there's no way you could have gathered that from the picture), but Bad Kitty by Michelle Jaffe is the perfect summer beach read.

And I don't just say that because I got the worst sunburn of my life reading this book on a cruise ship several years ago.

The book isn't exactly what you'd think. While there's romance, friendship, and the hilarious over-analyzation that's a staple of comedic teen chick lit, Bad Kitty is actually a mystery/crime novel... and hilarious, to boot. I could summarize it for you, but to better give you a taste of the book, I'm going to copy and paste the summary on the jacket flap:

"Meet Jasmine,¹ forensic supersleuth,² aspiring Model Daughter,³ and friend to animals.⁴ One second she's trying to enjoy her Vegas Vacation,⁵ the next she's tangled up in an outrageous adventure and has to outwit a crazed killer before he ends ten lives, one of them her own.⁶

¹ Hi! That's me!
² I. Wish.
³ Emphasis on aspiring. Current status: failing.
⁴ If friend means 'unsuspecting victim' and animals means 'one very bad kitty.'
⁵ And meet the cute guy at the Snack Hut. I have priorities.
⁶ Meep! But I guess it winds up okay since Kirkus Reviews says: 'Inventive, witty, and laugh-out-loud funny, with an enjoyably twisty ending.' They wouldn't say that if everyone died, right? Right?"

This synopsis is the reason for the title of my post, which is a bit of knowledge I've picked up from reading so much. Footnotes are always funny (you need more proof, you say? What, don't you trust me? Fine, here: The Bartimaeus Trilogy by Jonathan Stroud, Freshman by Michael Gerber.)

And Bad Kitty is fraught with them, letting not only Jasmine but her friends comment on the action, and break the fourth wall. In fact, Jasmine's voice throughout is great, light and funny (but appropriately serious during the most dangerous action), caring, and quippy. Additionally, the mystery/murder plot is a fresh take on the YA chick lit novel, and exciting to read. It's the entertaining, likable characters that really make the book great, however. There's Jasmine's obnoxious cousin, who uses catchphrases such as "That's so Visa" (ie, everywhere you want to be), there's Polly, Jas's straight-laced best friend, and shy Tom, who have obvious chemistry, and finally gorgeous, bizarre Roxy, who could have any guy she wanted but only falls for weirdos.

Additionally, there are hints about there being more to the death of Jasmine's mother (several years prior to the start of the book) than it seemed, and this continues when Jas falls into even more trouble in the sequel, Kitty Kitty.

I read Kitty Kitty awhile ago, however, and so far haven't heard anything about another, even though the plotline about her mother is never resolved...

Anyway, grab the book, pull up some beach, and remember: use a lot of sunscreen.

the three b's: books, banter, and bromance

This may come as a surprise, but I don't actually have book reviews for every book that I love lying in wait for opportune moments such as this. So you're in for a treat, folks-- book review improv!

Hopefully that sounded less nerdy to you than it did to me when I typed it.

Next up on my list of mid-list books that I love (and that need to be saved) are the Knight and Rouge novels by Hilari Bell. The books are teen/fantasy/buddy/mystery/adventure/humor novels, and star Sir Michael Sevenson and, of course, Fisk.

The premise of the series is that idealistic Michael, who is eighteen in the first book, decides to become a knight errant and search for good deeds and adventure, even though the profession has been defunct for over two centuries. In repayment for Michael getting him out of a long stay in jail, streetwise seventeen-year-old Fisk, former burglar, cardsharp, and conman, becomes Michael's squire, joining him on Michael's crazy misadventures.

And they certainly are misadventures. In the first book, The Last Knight, the boys free a damsel in distress from a tower keep... only to belatedly discover that she was an accused murderess, awaiting trial for her husband's poisoning.

Oops.

Now they have to find and re-capture her, or face the consequences. I won't go into the plots of the second and third books (I don't think there are any spoilers in the plot summaries, but as someone who took off the jackets of Harry Potter books and hid them until I was finished with the entire things, I won't be the one to make that judgment call) but you can read the official plot summaries posted on Hilari Bell's website by clicking on the title of each book: The Last Knight, Rogue's Home, and Player's Ruse.

There's a lot to love about these books. The mystery/adventure is well-written and entertaining, and I'm often trying to figure out whodunnit right along with the characters. The chapters alternate between the voices of Michael and Fisk, and it's entertaining to get the different perspectives of the characters. The books are funny (which probably shouldn't be surprising by now-- humor is something I really value, both in books and everything else). The humor usually manifests itself in Michael and Fisk's friendship. Hilari Bell said that she aimed for the books to be buddy novels, like "fantasy versions of 'buddy' cop shows," but I would describe their relationship as a little bit bromantic, and it's so cute that they're close, even though it outwardly manifests itself in arguments and funny, witty banter (and, come on, who doesn't love good banter?).

My favorite aspect of the books, though, is the characters themselves (I know, right? You'd never have guessed that from my first post). They're flawed, multi-dimensional characters who are nonetheless impossible to dislike because of their kindness, wit, and humor, which makes me want to read about them no matter what they're doing.

But what they are doing is totally entertaining, so I recommend (these are now the links to the B&N pages) The Last Knight, Rogue's Home, and Player's Ruse if the genres listed a few paragraphs above seem to be something you'd be interested in.

And remember, follow the blog, spread the word, and shoot me emails/reviews you've written about your favorite mid-list author at doingitwrite@gmail.com.

Oh, and preview for tomorrow: the post will not be a book review. That's right, folks-- improv AND variety. Really, I'm too good to you.

l (your) fao

I first read Michael Gerber's Freshman, a bizarre, over-the-top parody of college life, the summer before I started college.

Terrible idea. Instead of making me excited for college, it made me depressed that my college experience would totally never compare.

What I would compare Freshman to is Scrubs. Granted, Scrubs is funny and Freshman is hysterical, but both are comedies that parody an establishment (hospital, Ivy League college) using bizarre scenarios (see the clip, read the book), but still manage to have complex, likable characters and hit upon real truths.

For a taste of the hilarity, check out the Stutts University (the setting of the book) website. It's also laugh-out-loud hilarious.

And now, as promised, my small contribution to try to garner interest for my favorite at-risk books: copying and pasting a review I already wrote about the book for a publishing interview. I know, I know. It's too much effort, it borders on heroic... but please, hold your applause.

"When Hart Fox’s acceptance at prestigious, Ivy League Stutts University is hijacked by local millionaire Burlington Darling, who buys a new boathouse in exchange for his son Trip’s acceptance, Hart is forced into a raw deal to attend his dream school. Mr. Darling will get him in and pay his way, but Hart must keep blockhead Trip out of trouble and take all his classes so that Trip won’t ruin his father’s bid for governor. Yet Trip is only a part of Hart’s bizarre freshman year; Hart must learn to navigate the strange Stutts culture, his first relationship, and help his new friends resurrect a scorned and almost obsolete humor magazine.

Freshman is laugh-out-loud hilarious, a strength so overpowering that one might at first not realize the numerous other merits that not only make the novel so funny, but give it satisfying substance: blunt, deft prose, a fully formed plot, and complex, well-drawn characters. Freshman’s humor often manifests itself in the bizarre, but not to the point of throwing readers out of the story, for two reasons: matter-of-fact prose and truths that underlie even the most off-the-wall situations, such as the fact that Mr. Darling’s political opponent is a dog due to a paperwork error. Gerber’s blunt style never acknowledges the impossibility of the events, firmly establishing the rules of the world in which the story takes place: “Mr. Darling entered the race thinking that it would be a slam dunk, but the dog, a Boston Terrier, was awfully cute” (27). The truths hidden in each wacky scenario continue to assuage skepticism, as well as making the impossible plot relatable (and more funny for it).The truths regard society (like the public’s love for cute animals), friendship (when angry with his best friend, a character cheers himself by pondering his friend’s numerous failings), and, of course, the university system. Stutts’ campus is crumbling because of the effort to make it look older (an effort only applied after mass time travel failed), there is a building named “Center for People Who Give Us Money,” and Trip’s fraternity is Comma Comma Apostrophe. Though no college student can literally have the Stutts experience, most can relate to Gerber’s hilarious definition of a safety school, “Someplace you’d rather kill yourself than attend, but your parents make you apply to anyway” (11), Hart’s disgust with running into now-chummy high school enemies over break, and obnoxious housemates.

The plot keeps driving to the end, making the reader want to keep reading not only for amusement, but to find out what happens to Hart, his friends, and their humor magazine. The characters aid in this, for while some are caricatured for humor, the main characters are complex, fully developed, and easy to care about. Smart, funny, and polite Hart desires to belong, worries that he cares more about his girlfriend than she does for him, and is desperate to hang onto his friends and life at Stutts. Hart’s best friend, Peter, is in a wheelchair after a high school football accident, and is still dealing with his situation underneath his witty, irreverent, devil-may-care attitude (like not being able to play football at Stutts, and not being able to get a date due to his disability). Yet part of him is glad that the accident occurred, for it saved him from the clichéd path of his successful but ultimately unhappy upper-class family, though Peter himself takes his extreme wealth for granted. Even Biff and Beekman, freshmen who attempt to murder Hart multiple times to win a bet, are impossible to dislike, with hilarious neuroses and situations that make their actions almost understandable.

Michael Gerber’s fully formed plot, complex, well-drawn characters, blunt, clever prose, and flowing structure, make Freshman a must-read, even if you will lament that your college experience didn’t compare."

And remember: comment or email about your favorite mid-list authors/books, and spread the word!