I Absolutely Didn’t Hate The Haters

After my soapbox-declaring love for Jesse Andrews’ debut novel Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, let’s just say I was eagerly awaiting his followup, The Haters.

Best friends Wes and Corey love hating on everything, even the stuff they love. When we find them at the novel’s beginning at a super-competitive jazz camp filled with really intense campers they start hating on it immediately. But, as the great philosopher Swift once said, “haters gonna hate” and Wes and Corey find a likeminded hater in Ash, seemingly the only girl at camp. After bonding over their mutual hateship, the trio ditch camp, form their own band and go on tour, which turns out exactly like you’d expect a tour planned by pre-college teenagers to turn out.

Me and Earl and the Dying Girl was a fairly mature young adult novel, what with (spoiler alert) one of the title characters (spoiler alert) dying from (spoiler alert) cancer, but with The Haters Andrews has doubled-down on the young adult experience, including all the ridiculosity and awkwardness that comes with it. Not to give too much away, it’s a much less sad book, but no less realistic. From Corey defying his parents for the first time to Wes’ first time having sex—in a scene that so closely resembles my own first time that I’m half-convinced Andrews was hiding in my closet—The Haters will undoubtedly have something in it to which you can relate, and it rewarded my eager anticipation in spades.

Similar to Wes and Corey, I was in jazz and concert band in high school, but I didn’t hate on it. As my classmates listened to the whispers of the Ying Yang Twins, Kelly Clarkson‘s complain about her career in optometry and the Black Eyed Peas sing about camels, I was plugged into my portable CD player (remember those?) listening for countermelodies, harmonies and other musical flourishes on the first CD I ever bought—the Jurassic Park soundtrack. Yes, I was that band geek.

Maybe it’s cliché to describe writing like this as “real,” but I can think of no better term. Andrews imbues his characters with a penchant for self-deprecation and I absolutely love that, mostly because I’m the mayor of self-deprecating humor. If you ever see me on the street, ask me to tell you about my one pickup line that involves me carrying a microscope around a bar. My friends get a kick out of it. Anyway, when Andrews uses this humor it adds a natural level of realism to his writing and it makes the characters feel like friends I haven’t met yet. I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent in the world of The Haters and couldn’t stop myself from reading, even though I dreaded what I’d do with my life when I finished. I considered being an alpaca farmer a few times.

“When I leave, alpaca this book.”
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While Andrews obviously excels at capturing teen angst and awkwardness, I’d love to see him branch out to more adult novels. I’m not asking for Fifty Shades of Grey written by Jesse Andrews (but now that I’ve typed those words I want nothing more), but I’m eager to see him tackle a different genre. For example, Matthew Quick maintains his style in both adult and young adult books, and although I’ve never read anything by James Patterson, I’m pretty sure he’s written books for every reading audience. He even wrote a book for zoo animals.

Wes, Corey and Ash might not be the most likeable characters in the beginning, but that could be the point. Do you remember what you were like as a teenager? Besides a lot more acne, you probably weren’t the pleasant bouquet of posies you are today. You most likely changed, as does our trio. Likewise, your opinion of them may change. No matter what flaws readers may perceive in The Haters, I’ll definitely be in line for whatever Andrews writes next. He wrote the screenplay for the movie version of Me and Earl and the Dying Girl—which I also loved—so maybe an film adaption of The Haters is right around the corner …

Shredfest!
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Part Scott Pilgrim with shades of a Monty Python sketch plus a lot of heart,  you’ll be hard-pressed to find a reason to hate on The Haters.

–Ross

Does Size Matter?

Guys, I completed one of my 2015 Reading Resolutions just in time to start thinking about 2016’s … but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I finally finished Stephen King’s It. I feel a new kind of emptiness inside and my right eyelid has been twitching for the past couple of days (and I thought Chuck Palahniuk wrote some twisted stuff). That old terror of reality is coming to get me, more frightening than any supernatural evil, but I did finish.

I decided to give myself the entire month of October to read It because it’s huge and because I’d finish on Halloween. Spooooooky! I have to say it’s one of the most complete novels I’ve ever read. Some of the book’s detractors may say that there’s too much detail about the history of a fictional town, but it made the whole experience feel more real. I wanted to go on adventures with the kids in the book and I wanted to be with them when they finally faced off with It, which I can only describe as mind-bendingly far out. The made-for-television adaptation is really like a trailer for the book. There’s only so much of the novel that could conceivably be crammed into just over three hours. Some of the novel—like the showdowns with It—are so unfathomably conceptual that they might be unfilmable. Such scenes are better existing only in your mind, if your mind can handle them.

It consumed me and took over my subconscious for a several days. I had nightmares about my friends dying pretty regularly while I read it, but on the night I finished it, my dreams were beatific. I didn’t remember specifics upon waking, but I felt at peace.

The novel is a big hulking thing, more weapon than book, that sat on my bookshelf in three different apartments over five years, a towering 1138-page monolith. I felt a new kind of accomplishment when I turned the final page, and finishing it endowed me with the confidence that I could start and—more importantly—finish other long books.

(Please note: When I talk about length, I’m talking about number of pages, not number of words, even though number of words is more accurate.)

For years I’ve been putting off reading some long books, like Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay. For some reason I thought it was around 1000 pages, but it’s a paltry 639. Ernest Hemingway‘s For Whom the Bell Tolls and John Steinbeck’s East of Eden are practically novellas at barely 500 and 600 pages, respectively. And Moby-Dick? Herman Melville’s classic allegorical tale, which I always thought was much longer (like Kavalier & Clay), comes in at 625. Haruki Murakami‘s 1Q84? That’s closer to It at 925. What about Gone with the Wind? Margaret Mitchell gets even closer at 1037 pages. War and Peace? Tolstoy’s tome tips the scales at a whopping 1386 pages.

Some of these look downright scrawny next to It.

That sweet, sweet thickness.

It isn’t even King’s longest novel; The Stand holds that honor at 1153 pages.

There are, of course, plenty of articles and listicles about the longest novels, some of which are in our catalog, like:  Joseph and His Brothers (1207 pages), Clarissa, or, The History of a Young Lady (1533) or The Man Without Qualities (1774).

But does size really matter? I’ve read long books that were awful, like the 756-page Breaking Dawn (don’t judge—I was in college, trying to impress a girl) right along with short books that were awful (like The Train from Pittsburgh). Likewise, I’ve read short books that were fantastic (like the 295-page Me and Earl and the Dying Girl). Regardless, it’s undeniable that with more words—and more pages—authors have more room to create a more detailed world into which you can escape.

I doubt anyone would bemoan a well-crafted escape.

What’s the longest book you’ve ever read, dear readers? Do you have any recommendations on what I should read next to decompress after It? Sound off in the comments below!

–Ross

Me and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, Part II

I told you I’d be back with a review of the film adaptation of Pittsburgh-native Jesse Andrews‘ debut novel Me and Earl and the Dying Girl.

In case you need a refresher on the plot, Greg (Thomas Mann) and Earl (RJ Cyler) make no-budget films inspired by their favorites. The 400 Blows becomes The 400 Bros. Eyes Wide Shut becomes Eyes Wide Butt. Peeping Tom becomes Pooping Tom. You get the idea. Their lives are changed forever (as is often the case in coming-of-age stories) when Greg’s mom, played with subtle shrillness by Connie Britton, forces Greg to hang out with leukemia-stricken Rachel, played by the adorable Olivia Cooke.

Director Alfonso Gomez-Rejon, whose only directing credits prior were episodes of Glee and American Horror Story and a remake of The Town That Dreaded Sundown, has assembled quite a team for this film. Cyler’s Earl endeared himself to me just as he did in the book. Mann is great at playing dopey and awkward; it makes him relatable. Cooke, who seemed set on becoming this decade’s scream queen, shines in her role as the dying girl. With eyes bigger than hubcaps, you can tell exactly what she’s feeling just by looking into them. She’s got a real silent film star quality about her.

© Fox Searchlight and Indian Paintbrush

The rest of the casting is pitch-perfect as well. SNL alum Molly Shannon gets to flex some dramatic muscles as Rachel’s mom, always with a drink in her hand and warning Greg to never end up like her absentee husband. Nick Offerman is great, albeit underused, as Greg’s tenured professor dad (but I could watch him all day). Jon Bernthal is also good in his role as Mr. McCarthy, the tattooed teacher whose mantra is “Respect the Research” and may or may not have drug-laced soup that inadvertently causes Greg and Earl to trip.

The camera work, fluidly kinetic and reminiscent of a Wes Anderson film, whip pans around showing off the beautifully simple muted color palette, courtesy of Chung-hoon Chung (cinematographer of Oldboy, Thirst and Stoker). Oftentimes that beautiful imagery is paired with music by the likes of Brian Eno, Ennio Morricone and Explosions in the Sky.

If all that wasn’t enough to entice you, remember that it was filmed in Pittsburgh and as such is peppered with Pittsburgh flair. The Point Breeze house where Andrews grew up is used as Greg’s house. At one point, Earl scoffs at the idea of going all the way to Lawrenceville. Rachel urges Greg to apply to University of Pittsburgh Pittsburgh State University. A boy is seen wearing a yarmulke with the Pittsburgh Pirates logo on it. I figured that had to be a prop made for the movie, but it’s totally a thing.

Jesse Andrews at a recent Writers LIVE event at CLP – Main. He’s such a chill, down-to-earth guy. I wanted to hang out with him and listen to everything he had to say.

It’s clear the filmmakers love movies as much as Greg and Earl. When the duo are looking for new inspiration for a film they’re making for Rachel in a High Fidelity-esque movie store, filmed at Mind Cure Records in Polish Hill, we catch glimpses of obscure films such as Chris Marker’s La Jetée along with more mainstream fare like Miyazaki’s Spirited Away and Kubrik’s Paths of Glory on the packed shelves. When Greg finally premiers his film to Rachel it’s a perfect union of visually stunning imagery and moving music. Such an emotionally charged scene would have been ruined if the two had been presented as teens in love throughout.

That Greg and Rachel aren’t presented as star-crossed lovers is one of the things I loved most about this movie. There is no “lifesaving” romance. No grand, sweeping gestures or romantic getaways to Amsterdam. It’s grounded in the world of a weird teenager and his very sick friend; no depictions of manic pixie dream girls (or boys) here. It’s something I’ve been longing to see in cinema since the end of Garden State.

I cannot overstate how refreshing it was that no love story was shoehorned in. Their friendship is more beautiful than any teen romance ever committed to celluloid. It’s also refreshing to see a young adult movie that isn’t set in a post-apocalyptic dystopia; I can only imagine the fun Greg and Earl would have spoofing the current glut of such films.

With Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, Gomez-Rejon and Andrews, who doubled as the screenwriter, have given us a new classic in the pantheon of coming-of-age movies. It circles well-known tropes without ever succumbing to their clichés. For me, this earns a spot on the shelf with Stand by Me, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Little Miss Sunshine and The Way Way Back. If you loved the book as much as I did, I’d wager that you’ll also love the movie.  When it opens in a town near you, I hope you’ll get out there and see it. I know I can’t wait to go see it again.

–Ross

Another Trip Through Another Kind of Monday

As per my reading resolutions, I’ve been revisiting books I read in my childhood. My latest trip down memory lane took me back to Another Kind of Monday by William E. Coles, Jr.

The Pittsburgh-set young adult novel opens at the fictional Moorland High School library.  Our protagonist, Mark, finds three crisp hundred dollar bills in the library’s copy of Great Expectations. Along with the money is a note from a mysterious benefactor inviting Mark on a scavenger hunt that takes him all over the city—a steel mill in Braddock, the observatory on the North Side, an abandoned church in East Liberty.  As the clues become more difficult to solve, the amount of money that Mark is rewarded increases.  Eventually, the clues request that he enlist the help of a “co-quester,” someone of the opposite sex and with whom he is not already friends. I remember the ending confused me when I was a high schooler reading it.  I won’t spoil it, but it still confused me, almost ten years later.

Just the dreamy quality of the title has stuck with me ever since I read it in high school.  It’s possible that part of my enjoyment comes from the fact that I know every location mentioned, from Highland Park to Morningside.  I instantly wanted to go to each place and dig for buried treasure.  Maybe I’ll reread it with a pen and paper handy to map out each site go on my own scavenger hunt. It’s almost like if John Green’s Paper Towns had been set in Pittsburgh.

Reading it now, however, gives me another added delight as CLP – Main is featured heavily as a place Mark goes to research and decipher the clues left behind by the benefactor. The Pennsylvania Department and CLP – South Side make appearances as well.

Aside from the mystery aspect of the book, it also serves as a mini-history lesson; it touches on all aspects of Pittsburgh’s past, from the Homestead Steel Strike to the life of John Brashear to the story of Katherine Soffel and Ed and Jack Biddle, which was popularized in the 1984 movie Mrs. Soffel.

Published in 1996, some of the book is dated (there’s a Michael Jordan reference). If it were published today, Mark could just search Google—or any of our fine databases—to solve the clues.  But I liked the fact that he had to do physical research. He is assisted by a friendly librarian—is there really any other kind?—cleverly named Mrs. Harbinger.

As far as young adult novels set in Pittsburgh, I’d rank it behind The Perks of Being a Wallflower and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl.  Still, it’s a quick read and it’s the perfect book to elevate a boring Monday to another kind of Monday.

Have you read the book or do you have a favorite Pittsburgh-set young adult novel? Let us know in the comments!

–Ross

On Reading 100 Books (Actually, more like 50)

On January 21, 2014, I shared this picture on social media with the accompanying caption positing that I would attempt to read one hundred books during the year.

I’m so artsty it makes me sick.

Almost as soon as my fingers pounded out the goal, I realized that reading one hundred books was out of the question; it was already practically February.  So instead I said that reading fifty would be more likely.  I don’t have a calculator in front of me, but that’s like one every week or something.

As of writing this, I’ve read fifty-one books and am on my way toward finishing number fifty-two.

Now, I realize that this isn’t a great accomplishment by any means.  Still, I was impressed with myself for setting a goal and achieving it.  While I’ve always enjoyed reading–I do work at a public library after all–there was something almost stifling about knowing that I had to finish this goal.  In fact, almost as soon as I posted the picture, one of my friends commented that it’s better to keep the goals that you set to yourself because announcing the goals tricks your mind into thinking they have already been completed.

There were many times when I started reading a book and just couldn’t get into it, and wanted to stop.  For instance, I started reading The King in Yellow after watching True Detective over the summer, but I didn’t finish it until early December.  That’s outrageous! The book is only 256 pages.  I should have been able to knock that out in a weekend.  So I set it aside and read other books.  All the while I had this nagging feeling in the back of my head that the time I put into reading those hundred or so pages would be worthless unless I finished the book in its entirety.

So I pressed on toward my goal’s end.  I knew I had to, but it wasn’t just because I’d already put it out there on the Internet. I had to do it because if I don’t finish a book, I feel like I’m disrespecting the author.

When I first take a book in my hands, open the cover and feel the paper, crisp and dry between my fingers, I’m entering into an agreement with that author and into a relationship with that book.  For however many pages, I belong to that book and it belongs to me. When I put it down, even for a few days, I feel like we’ve abandoned each other. By not being interesting or not grabbing my attention, the book has recanted its agreement with me.

A recent study showed that putting yourself in someone else’s shoes, such as when you read fiction, improves your ability to show compassion.  Maybe that’s why I have trouble abandoning those books—because I know inside those pages, I’m someone else, maybe even someone better, if only for 300 or so pages.

Please save your psychoanalyses until the end, thankyouverymuch.

I’ve listed the fifty-one books on the next three pages, broken into three categories:  Good, Godawful and Great (because I like alliteration. If I liked assonance, I’d call them All Right, Awful and Amazing).  I briefly thought about ranking them, but then I realized that my rankings would do nothing to sway you if you’d already read a particular book and loved it and vice versa.  All I can say is that I highly recommend all the ones that I’ve put in the Great category.

Pages: 1 2 3 4

Me and Me and Earl and the Dying Girl

When I first heard that Jesse Andrews‘ debut novel Me and Earl and the Dying Girl was being made into a movie, and was being filmed here in Pittsburgh, no less, I immediately snatched the book up from our teen section at CLP – Mt. Washington.

Then it sat on a chair in my apartment for three weeks.

What can I say? It’s summertime.  There are trails to be biked and girls in sundresses to be ogled.  So after those three weeks lapsed, I renewed it.  Again, it sat while I found other activities to do rather than diving into those meager two hundred and ninety-five pages.  Suddenly, I saw that the holds list for the book was growing, so I got to reading.

I’m so glad that I finally did.

Narrator Greg Gaines is a high school senior who blends in with each social circle he encounters without ever fully becoming a member of them.  His only friend is Earl and together they make weird no-budget home movies inspired by the likes of Werner Herzog.  Greg’s only plan for his last year of school is to fly as low under the radar as he can.  His plan is foiled when his mother decrees that he must revive his childhood friendship with leukemia-stricken Rachel—the dying girl of the book’s title.  In the end, events transpire that cast off Greg’s carefully crafted cloak of invisibility that he has taken so long to cultivate.

I simply loved Me and Earl and the Dying Girl. I was literally laughing out loud several times while I read it. The last book that made me laugh out loud as much was Mac Lethal’s hilarious and surprisingly heartwarming Texts from Bennet, a spin-off of the popular Tumblr of the same name.  Me and Earl and the Dying Girl is no less hilarious and no less heartwarming.

Since the book is based in Pittsburgh, I found it very believable and found myself easily relating to Greg. By now I’m sure you can tell that I love movies, not unlike Greg, so I saw a bit of myself there.  But there’s more.  I strongly related to Greg’s navigation of the cliques of high school.  When I was his age, I would often imagine what high school would look like if the social scales were suddenly inverted.  I always believed—and still do to this day—that if ever such a cosmic shift had occurred, I would have remained firmly in the center of the spectrum; my popularity would have been unchanged.  I believed this because while I may not have been friends with everyone, I was certainly friendly toward everyone.  However, my math might be a bit off since there were just over eighty kids in my graduating class whereas Greg goes to Benson High School, an almost certain stand-in for the recently sold Schenley High School.

Regarding the upcoming film version, news of it has been scant. As of writing this, the most recent piece of info was pictures of Olivia Cooke, the titular dying girl, surfacing from Comic-Con, sans hair.  According to Thomas Mann’s Instagram account (because that’s a place we go to for news these days), filming wrapped on July 20. Mann will be bringing Greg’s awkwardness to life in the film.

Sightseeing at Mind Cure Records and The Copacetic Comics Company after getting a drink from Lili Café in Polish Hill…or is this part of the movie? We’ll find out whenever it’s released! Photo by thomas_mann on Instagram

I know I’m potentially setting myself up for disappointment, but based on how much I loved the book, I feel like I already love the movie.  I know, I know.  There are inherent dangers when adapting a book to a movie, but I have faith because Andrews himself wrote the screenplay.  If Andrews loves films as much as Greg does, I have hope.  There are several times in the novel when the layout switches from a normal book to the layout of a script. That was just one of the many things that endeared the book to me. I also loved how self-aware the book is. Greg is hilariously self-deprecating and directly addresses the reader several times. I kept thinking of movies like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Fight Club and Amélie while I was reading it. If the movie can capture even a fraction of the fourth-wall-breaking fun in those movies, I’ll be very pleased.  This movie could very well—potentially—be added to the pantheon of my favorite Pittsburgh-filmed movies.

Andrews has crafted a story that is realistic in both its humor and its treatment of how I’d imagine a socially awkward kid would react to a friend dying of cancer. I certainly enjoyed the book more than a certain other book about a girl with cancer whose movie counterpart also recently filmed here.  Is the trope “girls with cancer” approaching the territory of a cliché? I don’t know, but however you like your books about girls with cancer, either unrealistically saccharine or realistically humorous, you should definitely check out “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl” while we wait for the movie. I’ll undoubtedly review it here whenever it comes out.

Have you read the book? Do you want to yell at me and tell me how wrong I am for not liking The Fault in Our Stars? Sound off in the comments below!

–Ross