Hi there! It's been a second. I'm here to talk about some recent developments, some newer than others.
I haven't been reading as many books for "funsies" as I'd like to lately, "lately" meaning the past six years. I love the idea of reading books, but the action of sitting down and starting a book has become increasingly more unappealing, and for no reason other than sheer laziness.
Sitting alone in the library after volunteering, I decided to change that. For the first time in years, I walked down the YA shelves and looked for the perfect book -- or at least, an adequate book.
So I found Sweethearts by Sara Zarr. Not too thick, just an inch-worth of pages, quick enough so that I wouldn't get discouraged ten pages in. The cover brought me back to middle school, an era of cheesy novels about teenagers in love. And as I turned the book in my hands, I knew there was no way this book could be anything but a cheesy teen romance.
I guess in certain ways, I was right. But in other ways, I was horribly, horribly wrong. This wasn't just any teenage romance.
This was my teenage romance.
I haven't been reading as many books for "funsies" as I'd like to lately, "lately" meaning the past six years. I love the idea of reading books, but the action of sitting down and starting a book has become increasingly more unappealing, and for no reason other than sheer laziness.
Sitting alone in the library after volunteering, I decided to change that. For the first time in years, I walked down the YA shelves and looked for the perfect book -- or at least, an adequate book.
So I found Sweethearts by Sara Zarr. Not too thick, just an inch-worth of pages, quick enough so that I wouldn't get discouraged ten pages in. The cover brought me back to middle school, an era of cheesy novels about teenagers in love. And as I turned the book in my hands, I knew there was no way this book could be anything but a cheesy teen romance.
I guess in certain ways, I was right. But in other ways, I was horribly, horribly wrong. This wasn't just any teenage romance.
This was my teenage romance.
Okay, maybe not. The entirety of high school has proven that romance and I are two mutually-exclusive spheres of existence. But I can't deny that the blurb on the back of the book tapped into some part of me -- not sure what yet, but it was definitely something. "There are things I want to remember about Cameron Quick that I can't entirely . . . I want to remember exactly how we became friends in the first place, a definite starting line that I can visit again and again. He's a story I want to know from page one." |
In that moment, I could see a light flicker on in the back of my head; in the corner of every person's mind is a list of names. Those names belong to people we were once close to, people who shaped us, people we've lost contact with but would give anything to see again, just to talk and catch up. Today, Xander lingers near the top of my list.
That's not his real name, obviously. "Xander" is just a placeholder. But the real Xander meant a lot to me in eighth grade, back when we had pre-algebra together, and for some reason (possibly that exact same reason), he means a lot to me today. We were nothing more than friends, but the connection was present. Talking to him felt astoundingly natural. So when he signed my yearbook at the end of the year, I thought it would feel just as natural to talk after summer break.
That break turned out to last years. Senior year decided to bring us back together again. Xander seemed to change quite a lot since middle school. Thing is, I feel exactly the same.
I see us now as the main characters of Sweethearts -- me, Cameron Quick. Him, Jenna Harris. I viewed it as the opposite before, but 217 pages have told me otherwise.
That's not his real name, obviously. "Xander" is just a placeholder. But the real Xander meant a lot to me in eighth grade, back when we had pre-algebra together, and for some reason (possibly that exact same reason), he means a lot to me today. We were nothing more than friends, but the connection was present. Talking to him felt astoundingly natural. So when he signed my yearbook at the end of the year, I thought it would feel just as natural to talk after summer break.
That break turned out to last years. Senior year decided to bring us back together again. Xander seemed to change quite a lot since middle school. Thing is, I feel exactly the same.
I see us now as the main characters of Sweethearts -- me, Cameron Quick. Him, Jenna Harris. I viewed it as the opposite before, but 217 pages have told me otherwise.
The comic above explains the plot well, if not a tad crude. Clearly, the journey that brought Jenna to who she is now was not an easy one. But for once, she feels like she matters. Unfortunately (or maybe, quite fortunately), Cameron's appearance challenges all of the order in her life. She can't tell if she likes the life she created for herself, or if she'd really like to go back to her old life with Cameron.
Now I'm not planning to wade too far into spoiler territory, or really any more of the plot. If I'm being honest, this isn't the best book I've ever read. The characters fall flat at times, and the idea of "stoic, brooding boy pervades your life and assumes your stagnant friendship of ten years will instantaneously revive itself" is a bit sketchy for me, for reasons I hope are obvious.
But from the moment I picked up this book, I already knew this wasn't about Jenna or Cameron. This was about me. This was about Xander. This was about another story, one that was real, one that probably wouldn't (won't) end up in teary proclamations of love. Because in reality, it's not love; it's just me, and the boy from pre-algebra.
At an objective viewpoint, this book gets 3.5 stars out of 5. But the experience this book creates makes me want to give it something closer to a 4. It's not amazing, but it means something to me. And I think that matters.
So yes, I'm back to blogging, at least for the meantime. I have another book from the library that I'm thrilled to post about, so stay tuned for that. Small round green vegetables, my dudes.
Now I'm not planning to wade too far into spoiler territory, or really any more of the plot. If I'm being honest, this isn't the best book I've ever read. The characters fall flat at times, and the idea of "stoic, brooding boy pervades your life and assumes your stagnant friendship of ten years will instantaneously revive itself" is a bit sketchy for me, for reasons I hope are obvious.
But from the moment I picked up this book, I already knew this wasn't about Jenna or Cameron. This was about me. This was about Xander. This was about another story, one that was real, one that probably wouldn't (won't) end up in teary proclamations of love. Because in reality, it's not love; it's just me, and the boy from pre-algebra.
At an objective viewpoint, this book gets 3.5 stars out of 5. But the experience this book creates makes me want to give it something closer to a 4. It's not amazing, but it means something to me. And I think that matters.
So yes, I'm back to blogging, at least for the meantime. I have another book from the library that I'm thrilled to post about, so stay tuned for that. Small round green vegetables, my dudes.