Tonight, Jen and I ate too much. Big surprise. Afterward, we went to the bookstore, and I did what I ought to have done at my Big Librarian Conference, which was buy all the rest of John Green's novels.
I love that guy's writing. I mean it. Anything he writes, I love. Political rants--fantastic! Humor, wonderful! More novels, please! Oh--and his blog!
Back to the topic at hand.
Did I mention here, that I got to meet John Green? I know I made you link over to the Wabash Teen blog, but really. Did any of you actually go over there? Are you notoriously lazy, like me? Do you see a link and just say, "Whatever, so not clicking that. Dial up will take five hours to load that page anyway...". Apparently in my internet usage, I become very Valley Girl.
I got to meet John Green! It was so fantastic. There was a whole moment where I was sitting at a table with other YA librarians who had all forgotten their cameras--newbs.
I was all set to totally Kinnear John Green. I was going to sit there all surreptitiously Kinnearing him (look here folks--I just figured you might not know that word and edited this post), while I looked like I was staring into space (not at him, I wouldn't stare at a famous author, no way) or reading a book (not his--that would be freaky and I wasn't going for freaky).
But I sucked it up, decided to be brave, and it all ended with John Green's arm around me, though not in a creepy way. In a photography way.
Cannot make you stare at that enough.
And--funny thing! Someone was even braver than me, and was being funny, which I couldn't quite handle just then so it's good he'd looked at my blog (which makes me happy I use spell check) before he met me in person, and they said--wow is this sentence messed up grammatically--no really, they said, "Nice cheesy smile," to him. He said, "I only have one smile."
It was funnier in person.
So now I have all the books, except for the one due out later this year. April, I think. Now I have to check...well, I don't know what the date is, but the title is Will Grayson, Will Grayson and he wrote it with David Levithan (of Nick and Norah fame). Let me check with the correct title...April 6, 2010...
Okay, sorry, I was distracted for a minute. See, I had to pre-order that book just now, but I'm back.
Have I rubbed it in enough that I got to meet John Green? Did I tell you that he signed my book? And the library's books? See, there's a rule. The only person aloud to write in library books is the person who wrote the book in the first place. Remember that or some librarian is going to get extra ticked at you some day.
Well, the whole loving John Green's books thing that I have happening in my life right now doesn't really happen very often. And I love it.
My happiest moments are when I give that feeling to someone else. It doesn't happen very often, but my cousin Cassie once came up to me after a long separation (she lives out of state) and said she had to thank me, because I'd introduced her to her favorite author.
She still reads Meg Cabot. And that is happy for me.
I throw books at teenagers all day. Also at moms with their little kids, teachers, and random parents, middle-grade kids, everybody. Other librarians, adults who I drag upstairs...you name them, I find them books.
But it's hardest sometimes, with people you know really well. For me, the hard part is knowing my Dad and I both love books that are kind of scary, but I love Gothic horror (Victorian Gothic--not that stupid vampire crap, that's dark/paranormal fantasy, people), and he hates it so much--it actually gives him nightmares. The Historian gave him nightmares.
Sorry, Dad. Outed you, just then.
And I hate Stephen King. He cannot end a novel. He just can't. It's a pathological thing with him; he just can't finish a book. Either he must kill all involved parties, or they disappear, or there just is no resolution at all. And I think it's bad writing. I could take it with one book, but not all of them. Come on!
Sorry, Stephen King and all Stephen King fans.
Anyway, that is why Dad and I can't read the same creepy books. It just can't happen. Also, some of the things Dad thinks are frightening just plain make me laugh. There's that, too.
And Mom--I give that woman a book, and she just doesn't read it. Then, I give her another, and she reads it, the books next to it on the shelf, and everything else by that author. It can be alarming. But then, I give her a book kind of like that first book, thinking if she liked that kind of book, she might like others similar to it--right?
Not even a little bit.
She won't read The Historian. She won't read The Thirteenth Tale. However, she's read The Woman in White and The Moonstone a billion times. Well, maybe not that many, and she loves all mysteries. Not all.
I don't even try with Paul. He likes non-fiction, which might as well be a four-letter word to me.
But then, randomly, I bought a book to fill the time before Catching Fire came in the mail, and it was just some fantasy set in Japan--in fact, translated into English from Japanese.
And he said, "Hey, could I read that when you're done, maybe?"
And I said, "Sure," because Paul knows all the Rules of Book Usage and I knew it would come back looking just like it was in my hand at the store, so it was cool.
You don't want to know the Rules of Book Usage.
And Paul loved that book so much, more than even I did, that he read it in one day. This is a 400+ page novel, and Paul doesn't read a lot. But he devoured that book.
He was sad there wasn't another at the house. And I looked for the sequel today, too. But they changed around books at the bookstore again, and I didn't remember the author's name. Sorry, Paul. We'll get it soon.
It was the best thing, having Paul love that book. It was great. I hope it happens again soon.