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Hi, lovely person reading this. Feel free to read these posts from 2019 and earlier, but then come join me at my substack, Slow Dopamine, where I write about creativity and writing and things I like and interview people about their creative struggles and talk about resisting this stupid tech moment we live in.
Okay, guess that’s all I have to say. How’s your day going?
So often we think of funny entertainment as escapist and silly and therefore less important than entertainment that’s more overtly serious. But to laugh, to be truly surprised and delighted by something, is a beautiful kind of vulnerability; it can open your mind to seeing humanity in new, profound ways, or shine a clarifying light on the world you already know. Laughing can open your heart, too, sometimes unexpectedly flinging you into a different kind of catharsis: the cry. In honor of the release of Crying Laughing—in which I explore the ways, both successful and not, we use humor to get by—here are some amazing books that made me genuinely laugh and also genuinely think/cry/both.
Grendel’s Guide to Love and War, By Ariel Kaplan
I picked this one up expecting to laugh at some good prank-war high-jinx, and I did—I laughed a lot—but I was not ready to cry so much. It was impossible not to care about the funny, self-deprecating Tom Grendel, so when he started uncovering new revelations about his mother, who’d died from cancer many years before, it pretty much wrecked me. This is a prime example of the genuinely laugh & genuinely cry genre.
Tyrell, By Coe Booth
Tyrell is one of my favorite YA protagonists of all time. From the first page he feels completely real, a voice so alive it jumps off the page and cracks you up with its honesty. But as funny as Tyrell can be, his situation isn’t. He’s living with his mom and younger brother in a homeless shelter in the Bronx, trying to find a way to get the money they need to live elsewhere. And as you read, you think about how many real-life Tyrells there are across the country, across the world, having to grow up way too fast because of circumstances far out of their control, because of oppressive systems of rigged inequality. It takes your breath away. It makes you want to help enact change.
The One Thing, By Marci Lyn Curtis
Oh, how I love a good sarcastic narrator, and Maggie is a fantastic one. Having lost her vision six months earlier, she’s still trying to adjust to her new life when the book starts. But then she meets ten-year-old Ben, and she can see him. This one’s surprising and funny and immensely moving. I laughed at Maggie’s sharp take on everything, and then spent the last thirty pages of the book crying. So, yeah. Another fine addition to the gen-laugh/gen-cry gen-re.
Slaughterhouse-Five, By Kurt Vonnegut
This was probably the first book that showed me humor can be used to tackle Very Serious topics. Somehow, Vonnegut’s book about Billy Pilgrim—a U.S. soldier during WWII who was a prisoner of war in Dresden, Germany when it was fire-bombed—and his resulting PTSD, manages to be both hilarious and devastating. I reread it this year for the first time since high school to celebrate its 50th anniversary, and—aside from some outdated, offensive bits—it completely holds up. War is still absurd, and so are Americans.
Beauty Queens, By Libba Bray
And speaking of writers brilliantly and hilariously unpacking American culture, there’s this gem, about a plane full of Miss Teen Dream Pageant reality show contestants that crashes on a tropical island. Full disclosure: I’m in the middle of reading this one, so I can’t speak to the ending, but I have already LOL’d so many times that I couldn’t not include it. Bray’s intelligence and wit tornado through every sentence, bringing on the kinds of belly laughs that are quickly followed by thoughts like, Wow, America’s deeply-ingrained misogyny, not to mention its obsession with materialism, is highly problematic. Not an easy feat.
This One Summer, By Mariko Tamaki and Jillian Tamaki
I could not believe how well this incredible graphic novel captured that time in your life when you’re about to become a teenager. It all feels so painfully, joyfully, cringingly real. Which is also why the book is so funny. No matter who you are, it’s hard not to recognize yourself in at least some of these panels. It’s a sad, messy, hopeful, hilarious masterpiece.
The Summer of Jordi Perez (And the Best Burger in Los Angeles), By Amy Spalding
Here’s an extremely tiny moment in this book that’s stuck with me: main character Abby is texting with her sister, waiting and staring at the three dots as her sister writes a response, and when it finally appears, it’s just a short generic couple of sentences. What the heck was all that typing about then? Abby wonders. I LOVE small, hilarious, deeply relatable moments like this one, and Spalding’s book is filled with them. It’s also deceptively powerful. Girl-girl rom-coms are rare enough, and then to have one that’s also refreshingly fat positive means that, as you read, you can actually feel your brain being deprogrammed from years upon years of stories centering the heteronormative experience and its conventional ideas of love and beauty. May we all live long enough to see the straight white dude as sassy sidekick become a tired cliché.
Hope and Other Punch Lines, By Julie Buxbaum
That I’m choosing to put a book that so prominently involves 9/11—one of the most gutwrenchingly awful events in American history—anywhere near this list is a testament to Julie Buxbaum’s abilities as a writer. Through the story of teenagers Abbi, who was in an iconic 9/11 photo when she was one year old, and comedy-obsessed Noah, who has his own connection to that terrible day, Buxbaum looks at how humor can connect and heal us, even in the most somber situations, and she does it masterfully. As Noah says, “But you can be serious and funny at the same time. We need the serious to recognize the funny, and the funny to give us even a shot in hell at surviving the serious.” Well said.
Here’s a piece I wrote for BookPage about why writing a YA novel about improv terrified me.
In this photo, I am the person in the tie and the shadow represents improv.
I wrote this song the week before Crying Laughing came out. It’s called “Is My Book Going to Sell? (Will Anybody Care?)” There are 3 parts to it. Or movements, if you will. No, they’re just parts.
I made this video for Halloween. The caption I wrote said that I’d won a PartyCity Halloween songwriting contest and here were samples of my 5 new Halloween songs. There wasn’t actually a contest. But the video is real. Enjoy.
Photo by Matthew Murphy
So Broadway Bounty Hunter closed on Sunday, earlier than anticipated.
This happened for a multitude of reasons, all of which fall under the banner of Doing a Completely Original Musical Off-Broadway With No Built-in Brand Recognition and No Subscriber Base is Incredibly Hard.
But the most frustrating reason is this one: we got a bad NY Times review.
It’s possible you didn’t know about that review, that even writing these words right now is the equivalent of me saying “Isn’t this birthmark on my thigh super-weird?” and though you’d never noticed it, now it’s all you can see.
But I can’t not mention it.
Because even though you might not have read that review, the theater industry as a whole did.
And they care about it very much.
If theater worked the way books do, the way movies do, the way TV does—a multitude of reviews, a plethora of opinions of varying weight—I wouldn’t be writing this. I might feel bad about the review privately, remind myself that it’s just one person’s opinion, then do my best to shrug it off and move forward. Anyone who makes art understands that creative work is tremendously subjective, that, just as the sun rises and sets, there will always be people who don’t like what you’ve made. Of course it’s a vulnerable feeling (and by “vulnerable” I mean “terrible”), but enduring this kind of negative feedback (and, in a best case scenario, extracting some constructive criticism from it) is 100% part of the creative person job description.
But what’s unique about theater is that, for a small original musical like ours with very little pre-existing brand recognition, the words of a NY Times critic are more than just negative feedback. For whatever reason, much of the Theater Establishment—people who buy tickets, people who invest in shows, people who want to be told what is worthy of support and what is not—looks to this one review, and this one review only, as if it is Gospel. As if it is the official decree of whether a show should Succeed or Fail.
Stepping beyond just our show for a moment, let’s think about the insanity of that, of one human on the sidelines acting as gatekeeper to a show’s success. Dozens—in some cases, hundreds—of people come together to make a piece of theater, to pour their heart, soul, passion, intelligence, and creativity into it, often—as was the case with our show, where an Off-Broadway budget (no matter how large) can only go so far—making less money than they should for all the time, energy, and expertise they’re devoting to it. And one audience member, coming to this viewing experience with their own cultural background, their own biases, their own life context/history/baggage, can knock all that to the ground with some hastily typed keystrokes?
Like I said: insanity.
And yet, this is the system all of the theater community tacitly agrees to. Never mind all the other critics out there doing great work at all kinds of other publications (many of whom did, in fact, have positive things to say about our show)! No, no, let’s not give their thoughts any credence! What did the Times say?
I know, I know, it seems like I’m exaggerating. But on our show and others, one can tell from the daily analytics and ticket sales that the NY Times review does indeed have this impact, on both number of tickets sold and the amount of money people are willing to spend on them. Shows need to make a certain amount each week to stay open, and a good or bad Times review is very often the tipping point for this when it comes to original musicals.
So when you’re on the receiving end of NY Times praise, it seems like a great system. You have been chosen! In fact, the last production of our show at Barrington Stage in 2016 got, not a rave, but a solidly good review. (If it hadn’t, this NYC production likely wouldn’t have happened! Haha, I’m totally not kidding!)
But now, seeing the disproportionate power of a not-so-kind review, the whole thing just seems ridiculous. And highly problematic.
Though Broadway Bounty Hunter played to one vocal audience after another, people laughing, gasping, cheering, wildly applauding, demonstrating the textbook example of “having a good time” (so much so that we were constantly told the show feels like a hit), one person who didn’t feel that way—in this case, co-chief critic at the NY Times Jesse Green—was the deciding vote on whether our musical is worthy of a future.
I’m not saying Jesse Green was the only audience member who didn’t enjoy our show. Of course there were others, that’s why art is so beautiful; it means something different to everyone who experiences it. But, again: there were so many people who did love our show. And it’s such a bummer that so many more won’t get a chance to see it and decide for themselves because of this one opinion.
I should mention that my co-writer Joe Iconis has been in this situation before, with multiple shows punched down at by the Times in the past (often in unnecessarily cruel ways, which I guess makes better clickbait?). Joe’s Be More Chill is actually a rare example of an original musical (though it’s adapted from Ned Vizzini’s great novel, I’m using original in the sense that it doesn’t have the brand recognition of a movie or a famous person’s music) making it to Broadway in spite of a bad NY Times review Off-Broadway, but that was only possible because the show was a once-in-a-lifetime viral sensation, with massive support from a devoted teen base. This is truly amazing and miraculous, but after the Broadway production got another genuinely mean review, again from Ben Brantley (which, come on, once a critic hates something, is that really the person who should be sent to see it again? Is that what the NY Times is about? Shitting on the underdog as many times as possible?), it was only able to run so long and just closed, a week before Broadway Bounty Hunter did.
This is all to say that, barring a viral movement, it’s nearly impossible for an original musical (that doesn’t have a bottomless supply of money to throw around) to succeed without the blessing of the NY Times.
I am not, by a long shot, the first person to point this out, and Broadway Bounty Hunter is hardly the first to suffer this fate. It happens all the time. Which is why I think we should all be speaking more about it. Because otherwise nothing will change.
Joe Iconis, Jason SweetTooth Williams, and I started writing Broadway Bounty Hunter in 2011 as a love letter to Annie Golden, who we’ve been lucky to know and collaborate with since 2005. Annie is one of the most unique and badass performers/people we’ve ever met, a powerhouse in every way, and we saw how the vast majority of roles available to her as an older woman in musical theater were supporting ones. We wanted to write her a star vehicle that could showcase all of her awesomeness. Which, naturally, meant writing an action musical with her as the hero.
As the project evolved, our guiding ethos was that this musical should be filled with actors playing roles they rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to play, getting material to really dig into and put their own unique stamp on. Drawing upon exploitation films as inspiration—specifically Blaxploitation and martial arts films—suddenly made sense on a number of levels; these were genres where Black and Asian actors, tired of always playing the sidekick or villain, were finally able to take center stage and be represented onscreen in a way they’d never previously been able to. What if we could write a love-letter to Annie Golden and to these films, a celebration of people who have felt underestimated, marginalized, and forgotten, a show populated with characters rarely represented on a stage?
This was the beating heart of our process, through the writing, through both the 2016 Barrington Stage production and this one, and I couldn’t be prouder of what we, along with a truly incredible group of artists, have made.
But the cold reality of this business is that, even though this is exactly the show we’d hoped to make, it doesn’t matter.
And since my issue is with the system itself, with the idea that one review shouldn’t hold so much weight no matter what it says, it also doesn’t matter what I think Jesse Green got wrong about our show.
It doesn’t matter that his quick and condescending dismissal of exploitation films (“if you enjoy the genres they say they are drawing on….perhaps you will enjoy this.”) reveals an immediate lack of cultural context for the show he goes on to deride.
It doesn’t matter that he says the show “is neither very loving nor very funny” even though the show’s heart and how much it makes people laugh are the two pieces of feedback we’ve gotten more than any other, be it from Broadway producers or people who rarely set foot in the theater.
It doesn’t matter that Mr. Green can sit in an audience of people laughing hysterically and write that a show isn’t funny, even though comedy knows no other definition of success than the presence of laughter. (The undervaluing of comedy in art is a whole other conversation for another time, but this essay by Peter Sinn Nachtrieb does a fantastic job of laying out the bias against comedy in theater.)
It doesn’t matter that, even though there are still, in 2019, barely any women directing Broadway shows, Mr. Green went out of his way to call out Jennifer Werner’s direction as “amateurish,” when I know how tricky a tone she was able to brilliantly strike, what a triumph it was to get an entire cast and team of designers into the same world, telling the same story.
It doesn’t matter that Mr. Green chose to wield his power not to lift new talent up, but to smack it down.
It doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
And it didn’t matter for the countless number of other shows trying to do or say something that didn’t fit the sensibility of the two co-chief critics at the Times either.
So what to do?
Lots of people say, “This is just what it is. This is what it’s always been.” But why? Who is this system actually serving? Is kicking around artists, the vast majority of whom are already struggling, really worth the price of a few awkwardly crafted zingers?
I can’t say I even know what change would look like. Maybe the NY Times scraps the idea of chief critics altogether, instead divvying up their shows amongst a roster of diverse critics of different genders, ages, races, sexual orientations, so that the big shows don’t always get assigned to the same two voices occupying the same demographic landscape.
Maybe—as was discussed in this smart, thorough piece by Kitty Drexel and Regina Victor—there’s something to the idea of some reviews being written by people who are also working theater artists, who would hopefully approach their critique with the precision and care that comes from knowing deeply what it’s like to be on the other side of it.
Or maybe it’s enough to make people aware that this is how it all works, to encourage those people not to decide whether to see a piece of theater based solely on one opinion in the NY Times.
To make them understand that original musicals with original scores and no brand recognition are becoming an endangered species, in no small part because this system makes success nearly impossible.
I don’t need Jesse Green to say our show is good. I know it’s the show we intended to make, easily one of my proudest artistic achievements, a truly spectacular run.
But I do wish our show’s survival wasn’t so tethered to him saying it isn’t.
Hey everybody! My 2nd book came out! That's right, DENTON LITTLE'S STILL NOT DEAD is out in the world and you should buy it right now.
And to celebrate, here's a song!
On page 25 of DENTON LITTLE'S DEATHDATE, Denton mentions a song he wrote and performed at the school variety show. This is that song. I've been talking about writing it for, like, 2 years now, and I finally did, just in time for the STILL NOT DEAD launch party.
Enjoy.
Well, folks, I haven't had a new REALLY DEEP CONVERSATIONS WITH YA AUTHORS episode since March, so it's about damn time. And this one's kind of amazing because it's with THE MAYOR OF YA himself, DAVID LEVITHAN! We actually filmed this episode in July, but I promise everything in it is still highly relevant.
Topics discussed include (if you click on Youtube link, you can go directly to any of these topics!):
*David’s start in the publishing industry (2:01)
*the creative impulse behind Boy Meets Boy (4:25)
*David talks LGBT books (7:56)
*strides made by We Need Diverse Books(9:41)
*David’s writing schedule(12:36)
*collaborating with: Nina LaCour(13:58)
Rachel Cohn(14:26)
Andrea Cremer(17:27)
John Green(19:25)
*the NICK AND NORAH movie (20:47)
*editing The Hunger Games and whether or not David knew it was gonna be a hit(23:35)
*David’s advice for writers (27:41)
*David’s book recommendations (29:01)
*david levithan’s awesome office tour!! !!!! ! (30:58)
Books mentioned:
Boy Meets Boy, by David Levithan
Every Day, by David Levithan
Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist, by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
You Know Me Well, by Nina LaCour and David Levithan
Weetzie Bat, by Francesca Lia Block
Baby Be-Bop, by Francesca Lia Block
Geography Club, by Brent Hartinger
Keeping You a Secret, by Julie Anne Peters
The Bermudez Triangle, by Maureen Johnson
The Rainbow Books, by Alex Sanchez
Totally Joe and the Misfits, by James Howe
Proxy, by Alex London
George, by Alex Gino
Invisibility, by Andrea Cremer and David Levithan
Will Grayson, Will Grayson, by John Green and David Levithan
The Twelve Days of Dash & Lily, by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan
The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins
Harry Potter, by J.K. Rowling
Kill the Boy Band, by Goldy Moldavsky
The Haters, by Jesse Andrews
Shades of Darkness, by A.R. Kahler
Hope you enjoy this episode. More to come soon! And if you wanna see me and/or David Levithan in person, come to YALLFest next week in Charleston, SC!
So I've more or less dropped off the face of the internet the past weeks because I've been hard at work on this musical. Man oh man, Broadway Bounty Hunter is coming together in a glorious way, and I think it's going to be a very fun show. If you're in or near the Berkshires from August 12th - September 4th, please come check it out. It's an incredible cast led by the wonderful Annie Golden (Norma Romano in Orange is the New Black), and I'm really proud of the work we're all doing.
Other fun things:
Denton Little's Deathdate won the ILA Young Adult Award for 2016! That was incredibly surprising and surreal and I still feel like it didn't actually happen. Thanks, ILA. Reading is everything, and it's a huge honor to receive this award.
I loved being on Sarah Enni's First Draft podcast. We talked about teen dramas, reader expectations, acting vs. writing, and my father's love for Dick Francis books.
The Lance and Ray Show came back with our first ep in a while, featuring my amazing editor sister Mariel Rubin as a guest.
That's all the fun I have for now! Come September, I'll be much more present on social media. Enjoy the rest of summer! Hope you're reading a lot of books and playing lots of freeze tag.
In the past week, I revealed TWO BRAND NEW DENTON COVERS. They were designed by Angela Carlino at Random House Children's, with artwork by Mathieu Persan, and I'm incredibly psyched about both of them.
First, the paperback edition of Denton Little's Deathdate.
Look at that likable skeleton chauffeur! Love that guy. Read more about the cover and Denton at Me, My Shelf, & I, where it had its official cover reveal.
Second, my new book, Denton Little's Still Not Dead, coming out February 7th, 2017.
It is the hilarious, thrilling sequel to Denton Little's Deathdate. It is all about how the skeleton chauffeur retires from chauffeuring and doesn't know what to do with his life so he gets really into chess. (See, you think the tagline is about Denton, but it's actually about the skeleton. That's the twist.) (OH SHOOT I JUST RUINED THE TWIST) Read more about the sequel at YA Interrobang, where it had its official cover reveal.
And then go listen to this song by Mates of State, which I listened to about 500 times while writing the new book.
Everything about this photo is a lie.
Dearest friends and readers.
Many of you have understandably been quite perplexed as to the whereabouts of the second Denton book. You get to the end of the first one, you see the page that's pictured here, you head to the internet excitedly, and THEN YOU CAN'T FIND A SINGLE THING ABOUT THE BOOK.
I wish I could say I planned that as part of some J.J. Abrams-esque secrecy marketing scheme (I'm realizing I seriously should have done that), but I did not. I most certainly did not.
In an alternate reality, the book was supposed to come out TODAY, actually. But in our actual reality, the book's release got delayed for various reasons, and then all info about it was temporarily obliterated from the world. Right now, however, I am excited to finally, officially tell you what's up.
First off, the book has a brand new title:
Denton Little's Still Not Dead
And secondly, it has a brand new release date:
February 7th, 2017.
Thank you for your patience, and huge thanks to everyone who reached out to ask me what the deal is with the second book. Can't tell you how much it means to me that you care.
More information and a cover reveal to follow in the coming months, but at least now you know THE THING EXISTS.
Because it does. It's written. And I really can't wait for you to read it.
I love what you're doing with your hair these days. It looks great. You look great. I hope you're feeling great about it.
Because you should.
Episode 3! I talk with the stupendous I.W. Gregorio, author of NONE OF THE ABOVE, about:
*the origin of Ilene’s pen name (0:52)
*a day in the life of a surgeon/YA author (1:50)
*what kept her motivated while writing None of the Above (2:50)
*thoughts on her next project (3:57)
*the importance for Ilene of having a day job (4:30)
*the tradition of physician/writers: (5:51)
*her decision to go into medicine (6:24)
*the inspiration for None of the Above (7:59)
*whether or not the patient who inspired None of the Above has read it (11:27)
*the response of the intersex community (11:57)
*Ilene’s involvement with We Need Diverse Books (12:54)
*thoughts on Asian-American representation in books (13:22)
*why the protagonist of None of the Above is white (16:14)
*a fun fact about Ilene (17:26)
*some YA book recommendations (18:08)
*I rant briefly about the doling out of stars (19:36)
My brother Dustin started a great new podcast called EVERYONE BUT ME, exploring that 21st-century sensation of being on social media and feeling like everyone’s got it figured out but you.
I was honored to be his first guest, speaking openly about my creative journey and struggles. And squirrel penis. Checkitout!
Episode 2 of Really Deep Conversations with YA Authors, in which I interview the delightful Becky Albertalli, author of SIMON VS. THE HOMO SAPIENS AGENDA.
Things we discuss include the following (FYI on YouTube, these appear in the description and you can click on them to go to the topic of your choice):
*what Becky was like as a teenager (1:14)
*Becky’s journey from being a clinical psychologist to being a novelist (4:24)
*second book struggles (Becky’s currently on the 7th draft of hers) (8:19)
*the fear that your publishing contract is going to be canceled (10:35)
*the voices in your head while you write (11:47)
*the negative comment Becky hears most about her book (12:37)
*thoughts on being a straight woman writing a book about a gay male teen (17:08)
*the origin story of the Shoreo (18:56)
Here’s a trailer for Episode 2 of REALLY DEEP CONVERSATIONS WITH YA AUTHORS, which features the awesome Becky Albertalli and will drop this Thursday.
I shared lots of love for many books last year on social media, and I want to start this year by mentioning all those wonderful reads on here for easy, all-in-one-place consumption. There will be a number of posts, five books at a time, in no particular order, over the next couple months. Here’s we go!
My Heart and Other Black Holes, by Jasmine Warga
This was the first 2015 debut book I read (that wasn’t my own), and I was only ten pages in when I thought, “Hot damn, the 2015 debut bar is set high.” For a book that deals with such a dark subject matter—depressed protagonist Aysel wants to commit suicide and is looking online for a partner to make sure she sticks to her plan—this book has a surprising sense of humor. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really sad and really painful, but like life, there are still laughs woven in there amongst all the darkness. It makes the book even more human and, as a result, even more moving.
The Distance Between Lost and Found, by Kathryn Holmes
When I finished reading this one, I was astounded to learn that author Kathryn Holmes had never lived through an experience like this. It’s a lost-in-the-wilderness survival story and it plays out in this way that feels so true-to-life, with every tiny detail, every injury, every missed meal accounted for incredibly well. It has a wonderful emotional arc for main character Hallelujah, too, who struggles to gain her confidence back after a dude in her church youth group—who happens to be the preacher’s son—has spread awful lies about her. There are definitely some religious themes, which I thought might be off-putting, but they’re handled in thoughtful, interesting ways that add to the richness of the story. I guess what I’m saying is: maybe skip The Revenant and read this book instead.
None of the Above, by I.W. Gregorio
It’s an amazing thing when you finish reading a highly engaging piece of fiction and feel like you’ve genuinely learned something, too. This book expanded my mind and my empathy without ever feeling preachy. Popular high school senior Kristin learns early on in the novel that she’s intersex, meaning that, though she presents as a female, she also has male organs. Soon the whole school finds out, and suffice it to say, Kristin quickly becomes a lot less popular. The story is told in a grounded, believable way, with characters you truly care about, so it never for a moment feels didactic. That said, it does force you to examine your own thoughts about gender, to wonder what you would do if you discovered this about yourself or your partner, which is why I truly believe this book should be required reading for every human being.
The Honest Truth, by Dan Gemeinhart
This book is sort of a MG cousin to The Distance Between Lost and Found—it’s the story of a young, terminally ill boy and his dog, making a trek up a mountain with the potentially limited time the boy has left–and it’s just as beautifully done. I cried a lot throughout this one and, even though I’m not a huge animal person, when I got to the last page, I thought, “Man, maybe I should get a dog,” which, trust me, says a lot about how terrific this book is. (It’s also worth mentioning that Dan’s second book, Some Kind of Courage, comes out today!)
Everything, Everything, by Nicola Yoon
You can actually feel the love bursting off the pages of this book, which is a huge-hearted delight from cover to cover. It follows Maddy—a girl whose compromised immune system means she’s never been able to leave the house her whole life—and what happens when she starts crushing on the new boy who’s moved in next door. The tone is unique, and Yoon nails it—grounded yet playful, moving without ever being precious, and along with the text, the book is filled with emails, graphs, and brilliant drawings by David Yoon, who, yes, happens to be the author’s husband. (I’m telling you; the love oozes.) As if all that’s not enough, it’s unpredictable, too, always a step ahead of the reader. So, yeah, if you like love and surprises and joy, this one’s worth a look.
If you’re experiencing tons of snow right now (like I am), you should curl up with a good book. Maybe one of these on this list I wrote for the Guardian!
I should add that, when I wrote this, I had yet to read Isabel Quintero’s Gabi, A Girl in Pieces. If I had, it would most certainly be on here.
This is one of the wackiest episodes of our (just 20-minutes-long!) podcast yet. Ray and I talk and improvise with talented improv musician Mark Erenstoft, and I talk about my sad 2016 stoop sale (pictured below).
I’m so damn thriled that Broadway Bounty Hunter is going to be happening at Barrington Stage Company this summer. It’s a musical I co-wrote with Joe Iconis and Jason SweetTooth Williams that stars Annie Golden (Hair, Assassins, Norma on Orange is the New Black) as a veteran musical theater actress who becomes a bounty hunter. Come to Massachusetts sometime between August 12th and September 4th and see it!
