No Easy Answers

I recently finished Sue Klebold’s book A Mother’s Reckoning and when I got into work today my ILL book was awaiting me: No Easy Answers: Truth Behind Death at Columbine.

It was interesting to read a mother’s account of the tragedy, and the circumstances that she feel led to it, so I decided to read a different viewpoint of the same event. This book was written by a friend and classmate of the teens who were responsible for the shooting.

As I've written before, I was in highschool when Columbine happened, and the year after it happened, I attended the National Catholic Youth Conference. It was a football-field sized stadium that we gathered in, us teens from across the country who came together for this event. Much of the time spent at the conference was listening to speakers and attending workshops and seminars, so it wasn't surprising to see a young woman climb the steps to the stage and take her place behind the podium. I cannot remember what she said her name was, but when she said I"m a student at Columbine Highschool" you could hear a pin drop.

Everyone wanted to hear what this girl had to say because what had impacted her directly had impacted all of us indirectly. Even now as a 30-something adult, I often think back to how I felt watching the news footage of the tragedy, and the conversations I had with my friends in the days and week following. I remember clearly that my high school, a small, private Catholic all-girls school, installed a new security system with a doorbell and a video camera.

I was discussing Sue Klebold's book with a teacher at school who had also read it, and how difficult it is as mothers to even try to imagine our sons committing such a horrible crime, and taking themselves away from us in such a shocking and violent way. Brown writes: "The next Dylan could be your son. . .a regular person who faces the cruelty of the real world just like the rest of us- and in whom something erodes away over time."

After reading Sue Klebold's book, it doesn't seem as if Dylan was unloved, or even that he imagined that he was unloved. I think what eroded away in him was hope. Depression is a cruel disease, and over time it robs people of their ability to see the future in any positive way. What's the point of continuing on if it means more sadness/grief/anxiety/anger/etc? Someone who struggles with depression for years, as Dylan did, and hides it from others due because of the shame involved, probably wouldn't have much hope left.

Everyone begins the same way- a newborn baby. Everyone is someone's child, and even though society paints people as monsters, I like to remind myself that everyone is a person. I can't believe that anyone begins their life intent on destroying another's, and I see these books as an attempt to restore some humanity, even in the worst imaginable scenarios.

Wabi Sabi

I was recently introduced to the Japanese philosophy of Wabi Sabi.

This concept is derived from Buddhism and represents a world view focused on transience and imperfection. Basically, the flaws we see in art, everyday objects or ourselves should not only be accepted, but celebrated. These flaws remind us that nothing is perfect or permanent. Cracks, crevices rust and peeling paint are all marks left behind by time, weather and loving use. Everything around us is transient, as are we, and all of it is constantly in the process of returning to the dust from which it was made.

I am in love with this phrase, because I never knew that one existed for the way I live.

My home is an altar Wabi Sabi: the art I make, to the roadside cast-off furniture I bring in, my vintage cookware that's cracked and chipped, the teddy bear that's missing his arms and an ear that I found washed up on the beach.

                          Broken keys on a typewriter                            The teddy bear that washed up on Long Sands 

                        Chippy paint on this old window frame                        Rust on this discarded door

                         Layers of peeling paint on                                     A chipped teacup holds flowers

                       this abandoned rocking chair

I've become very selective about the people I invite to my home because I know many people would look around my yard and house and just think all the stuff is "weird." Hand-made wind chimes, funky painted furniture, blue bottles hanging from trees, orphaned dolls and stuffed animals.  .  .it's not because I'm poor or weird or a hoarder, it's because I think they're beautiful, and they contain stories.

I don't usually have to explain any of this to people (because I don't invite people over who wouldn't understand and the people who do come over are friends who don't need it explained) but it's nice to know that this is a philosophy- not just an eccentricity.

A Mother's Reckoning

I recently started reading A Mother's Reckoning: Living in the Aftermath of Tragedy by Sue Klebold. She is the mother of Dylan Klebold, one of the teens who was responsible for the Columbine school shooting in April of 1999.

I read books like this because I've always had an interest in true crime and criminal psychology, and also in this particular event. I admit that I can be a bit morbid, but I also know that there are many people my age who have an interest in Columbine because it was a defining moment for our generation. People who are my parents' age remember where they were when Kennedy was shot, and people my age remember this event in the same way. Tragedy can bring people together. It can also rip families and communities apart.

For many years, we thought we knew all about Columbine. We knew that Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold had belonged to the Trench Coat Mafia, and we knew that Cassie Bernall had answered "Yes" when her killers asked her if she believed in God. But as always, the further we recede from an event, the clearer we are able to see it, and the facts come to the surface like the cream rises on milk.  This April will mark the 18th anniversary of of the shootings, and eighteen years has allowed us to separate the facts from fiction and has also given us enough time to grieve, while giving Sue Klebold the opportunity to clarify some aspects of the story. Eighteen years is certainly an appropriate amount of time for us to let go of everything we thought we knew, and listen to someone who does know. She knows her son took lives, but she also grieves a son who took his own life. Her book is simply her account of how she reconciles two images of her son: the son she gave birth to, hugged and kissed and laughed with and the son that committed an infamous crime against humanity.

One part that struck me early on is her discussion of the role the media had in early coverage of the shooting. The sources reported many inaccuracies, exaggerations and fabrications, and information literacy is a hot topic now in the wake of so many "fake news" stories that proliferate on social media. The first news reports gave a death toll of 25, which is nearly twice the actual number of victims (not including the killers themselves). The helicopters circling overhead made the Klebold home look like a sprawling compound, contributing to the mythos that the killers were spoiled rich brats, when in fact the house was bought at a very low price due to the building's neglect, evidenced by the mice infestation. When the initial shock wore off, and we started struggling to comprehend "how" and "why" the accounts seemed to give every scenario possible, including the ones that contradicted each other: the boys had been bullied, the boys had been bullies themselves, the boys had been planning this attack for years, the boys had simply "snapped" and acted on impulse, they had been outcasts, they had been likable and had other friends and recently attended the prom.  .  .it was difficult for anyone to guess the truth with so many different speculations swirling about.

Teachers and librarians are struggling now to help students learn how to decipher credible sources of information from ones that are not; it's easy to teach them that an academic journal is more reliable than a Wiki article, but it's a struggle for many adults to sort out the "real story" when the media is so willing to feed us information that is biased, exaggerated, or simply wrong.

The Dog, Ray review

I was fresh off of reading A Dog’s Purpose when I spotted one of new arrivals: The Dog, Ray. I’m a sucker for animal stories, especially dog stories.

It definitely has some similarities with W. Bruce Cameron’s book; both stories follow the philosophies that 1) dogs do have souls, not unlike humans and 2) souls inhabit bodies as long as the bodies are alive, and then they move onto a new body.

Twelve year old Daisy is killed in a car accident, and is surprised to find herself in processing center, which is like an employment agency. She is quickly reassigned to a new body and her instructions are to go down the hall and through the door on the right, and she realizes too late that she exited out the door on the left.

She finds herself in a new, canine body. She assumes that she will be able to track down her grieving parents, somehow communicate to them that she is indeed their beloved daughter, and live out the rest of her life comforting them. But of course, nothing is ever that simple.

The longer Daisy, renamed Ray, lives as a dog, the less she remembers about her former life. She wonders if souls are recycled all the time, if we’re supposed to remember our past lives or if it’s less painful to have it washed away in death, and begin each life anew.

Cameron’s book allowed me to indulge in the idea that my old dog, Jasmine, is alive somewhere in a new dog body, and that maybe she remembers me. Does she remember sledding in the winter? Does she remember all the car rides I took her on after I got my driver’s license? Does she think of me in that sliver of time before night ends and morning begins, when I’d reach my arm down and feel her sleeping next to my bed?  Linda Coggin’s book makes me wonder if that’s really ideal. Imagine how much pain we would all carry inside us if we remembered everything from several lifetimes.

I love books that are written for children that bring up topics of life and death and spirituality and the afterlife because not only do they inspire thoughts about those ideas, they validate our uncertainty, hope, and fear.

awaiting another Evil Librarian!

I was checking out the freebies and ARC's that are available on LibraryThing, and I was very excited to see a listing for Revenge of the Evil Librarian, the sequel to Evil Librarian.

Here's my review of the first book

And here's the cover reveal for the sequel:

Robbing the Cradle

I was perusing the library's Instagram account this morning, and obviously we follow many other libraries and bookstores and authors, and someone posted a picture of the recent James Patterson book Cradle and All.

I couldn't help but think of a few other horror books covers I've seen recently:

I know I've posted before about the trends that arise in book cover design, especially because many of them are created now by using stock photos and then altering them, but it's always fun to juxtapose a few examples that use a similar design or theme.

The Replacement and Cradle and All both had these covers in hardcover, but The Ghost of Lily Painter had a different cover in it's hardback edition, and did not receive this new treatment until the paperback was released. The hardcover looked like this:

I'm not saying that this publisher copied anyone else, in fact The Ghost of Lily Painter had its paperback release in 2012, and the other two books were published afterwards. I'm merely pointing out the the similarities in the design.

The Memory of Light review

Young Adult books in which the protagonist battles some kind of mental or emotional disorder are always a go-to read for me.  Seeing young teens every day at work reminds me that I was also one, and that they come with emotions and thought processes that we don't always understand, or remember to try to understand. Even the most well-adjusted teens and young adults can often relate some aspect of these books, whether it's conflict with parents and siblings, or pressure to succeed in school or extra-curricular activities, feeling socially awkward and outcast or just struggling to understand who you really are inside.

I think these books have intrinsic value in collections for those reasons, and even if the reader does not share the same mental/emotional issue that the book's character does, it promotes awareness that everyone struggles with something.

I was a bit disappointed that this novel read like many of the others I've read: girl tries to kill herself, girls gets hospitalized, girl makes friends at hospital who have similar issues and she realizes that she is not alone and that there is support available for her if she has the courage to seek it, etc. I think the best thing about this particular novel is that it focuses on a group of Mexican-American teens, and the doctor who works with them is Indian. It is vital that people understand that mental and emotional health problems do not affect only one skin color, or one economic class. I've read so many books with these themes that take place in upper-middle class suburban neighborhoods and focus on white teen girls. 

Of course those stories do have a place and a significance, but they seem to have proliferated over the past decade or so, making books that feature other races and demographics that much more necessary in order to paint a better picture of the problem itself.

#WeNeedDiverseBooks is a movement that specifically aims to increase the availability of children's literature that includes a wide array of races, religions, heritages, genders, sexual orientations and beyond.

By featuring several Mexian-American teens, one from an affluent family and the others from blue collar families an Indian psychiatrist, references to the Hindu god Ganesh, the Aztec god Huitzilopochtli, Stork certainly has a winning contribution to the movement. Although I was disappointed in the storyline focusing on Vicky's depression because it was par for the course as YA novels go, I applaud the characters he creates as well as the cultural references which may pique a reader's interest and encourage them to learn more about them.