Fiction | A V. Disappointing Jonesy Reunion

Helen Fielding reboots the saga of her famous Bridget Jones with a third installment called Mad About the Boy. It's been quite a while since we've heard from Bridget; The Edge of Reason (the second installment) was published 15 years ago, though we've seen her more recently thanks to the 2004 movie adaptation.

Bridget's story doesn't just pick up where it last left off; instead, Mad About the Boy starts with just about as much time having passed in Bridget's world as in ours. She's no longer a 30-something hot mess navigating life as a single lady. Now, she's a 51-year-old hot mess, once again looking for love but this time with two kids in tow.

Now, my last few posts have been pretty verbose, so I'm just going to sum this one up as succinctly and bluntly as possible.

Our beloved 30-something Bridget was generally a ridiculous human being in the most lovably flawed way. She was constantly trying to figure out how to succeed at work and how to succeed with relationships—the pressures to be your age, as a real grownup, though it's just not happening for you so you keep on drinking the cheap wine of your youth. She was entertaining and mostly relatable.

Now the 50-something Bridget has the money and luxuries of someone who has matured personally and professionally over the past 15 years...but she is still as laughably immature, only now it's not very funny. Now, Bridget just needs a good kick in the pants and be told to GROW UP, because she's not living or dealing the way someone with her responsibility should be. It's like she's holding on to the poor decisions of her youth when she should really know better. And with the annoyingly excessive references to Twitter and other pieces of "young and modern" technology and society, everything about this book just feels like it was trying too hard to do something that didn't need to be done in the first place. Like really, this is how you revive your most beloved character, Fielding??

I will leave you with my own modified haiku:

Like Sex and the City 2
I find this book
Wholly unnecessary.

Fiction | Romance vs. Realism in a Story of Young Love

Rainbow Rowell's bestseller Eleanor and Park strikes me as one of those YA romances like The Fault in Our Stars that is sure to be a hit with the teen crowd...while the realistic cynical adults like myself are entertained but also kind of roll our eyes and say, "Yeah, OK."

Or that may just be me, so I'll start with a summary, share my praise and grievances, and then let you be the judge.


The year is 1986, and Eleanor is the new girl in school. She wears weird clothes and doesn't talk much and nobody really wants to find themselves associated with her. But that's what happens to Park; he finds himself stuck next to her on the bus, and while he feels a certain amount of pity for Eleanor as the "weird new girl," it's not enough for him to outwardly befriend her.

But Park and Eleanor are slowly drawn together on their short bus rides in the morning and afternoon—linked by music and comics, eventually forming a quiet friendship...until one day when they find they can't live without each other. They love each other despite their quirks, and usually because of them; they love each other because they provide for each other new and unfamiliar worlds unlike their own background; and they love each other because they each feel such surprise that anyone could love them back.

The real meat of the plot here is Eleanor and Park's developing relationship and how it responds to all of the outside factors that come its way—how they're treated at school, how they handle it within their families, and, more seriously, Eleanor's own impoverished home environment with an abusive parent. Just as real teenagers have to do every day, our protagonists have to navigate their own ever-changing emotions and new grown-up experiences in the already-chaotic world around them.


Here's where I'll digress into my post-adolescent cynicism just a bit...

I felt that Eleanor and Park, as often happens in young adult entertainment, had an extra injection of emotion and melodrama, of angst and romance, that authors and screenwriters and lyricists pump into their works to reflect how affecting adolescence is. But, though teens certainly feel a huge range of emotion, and though they do deal with many many serious issues, everyone is just not this affected. These authors pen characters and behaviors and actions that would rarely, if ever, actually happen...but yet it's the stuff that teens may want to happen, because they want to be more and feel more than they are.

It's a poignant time in terms of emotional development, but I don't always find stories like this very realistic. Usually it's a particular action of a character, as it was in this book, that puts me over the edge and draws the line between contrived and realistic; because, whether its my adulthood or my realism, I just don't believe these actions would happen. And worst of all, I think they perpetuate this incomprehensible reality of "teenagedom" that terrifies adults when it's really a very comprehensible, relatable thing—we've all been through it. Which I guess is my point. Sometimes it just seems unrealistic when maybe it shouldn't.


But, ultimately, who said books have to be realistic? A romance is a romance; it doesn't always have to perfectly mirror reality. If this will connect with a teen because they want and need that deep emotional impact, more power to this book and its message. And I especially praise the author for an uncensored version of high school relationships, good and bad. [Read more about censorship of this book and Rainbow Rowell's response.] This level of reality is what really connects with teens; you don't need to sugarcoat the harsh realities, and they want the down and dirty nitty-gritty. I would without a doubt recommend Eleanor and Park to my teen readers, and then probably play the devil's advocate part of a cold, heartless, unaffected grownup to inspire a great discussion with them.

Reading Roundup: Youthful Nostalgia in Graphic Memoirs

For some people, it's a song that can trigger a memory. For some, a taste or a smell. For Lucy Knisley, it's food (a taste and smell person by default). In her second graphic memoir, Relish: My Life in the Kitchen, the artist connects with some of her most poignant memories as they revolve around food.

As the daughter of bonafide foodies, Knisley was taught to dine with passion from an early age. Her illustrations take us to her adolescent episodes of shucking oysters and slaughtering fowl to devouring candy in Mexico and enjoying illicit Big Macs in Rome, sharing stories of her life in relation to the foods she associates with them—her own personal form of nostalgia. But just because she was raised with a bit more of an advanced taste palate doesn't mean Lucy's a food snob. She dedicates one whole chapter to the glories of fast food and how sometimes it's just exactly what you need. A girl I can relate to!

I enjoyed Lucy's style of storytelling just as much as I did in French Milk. She is full of expression and humor, and this book, in particular, demonstrates an infectious enthusiasm that comes from the heart; these are people she loves and memories she treasures. She is excellent at pulling from many places—fact, experience, nostalgia—to tell a story. She even peppers the chapters with some of her most favorite recipes, illustrated, like the rest of her story, in bright, energetic colors—a wonderfully creative way to add an even higher level of personalization and a fun resource for readers to test in their own kitchens! Overall, Relish is a really great celebration of food and an enjoyable reflection on our personal connection with it.

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Michel Rabagliati takes us on another trip down memory lane with Paul Has a Summer Job, his first graphic novel in a series featuring a Quebec teenager named Paul, loosely based on the author's own life (and originally published in French). It's 1979 and Paul is apprenticing in a print shop. After a stint of rebellion that included dropping out of school, this print shop is Paul's long-term plan for life, though it's uninspired work. Fate intervenes when a friend offers him a job as a counselor at a small summer camp for underprivileged kids. Paul quits the print shop, hops on a bus, and barely looks back.

The summer that follows is one of those life-changing experiences contingent on adolescence; you'll never be so impressionable, so wayward, so passionate, so free again. Entering the job with zero related experience, Paul finds his way as an authority figure and friend to his campers while finding a group of like-minded individuals that help shape the summer as one that would stick out in his mind forever. Along the way, he learns new ways to channel his creative energies and how to break out of the protective bubble he's created for himself—and it wouldn't be a coming-of-age story without that first-love romance component.

Rabagliati manages to tell, yes, a coming-of-age story without any sense of triteness or excessive sentimentality. It's sweet, in the way you would look back on your own stories of being seventeen and maybe chuckle and shake your head but ultimately relish in those memories and how they changed your perspective. The author is frank with Paul's (or his own?) flaws and doesn't censor his mistakes or naiveity in experiences, which lends a sense of honesty to his voice. The drawings are swift and crisp, and the figures full of expression. Rabagliati's voice in Paul Has a Summer Job is one of nostalgia but beyond that of simple episodes; he captures an entire sense of being, a sense of yourself, that is encapsulated in certain memories—one that may have disappeared without you ever realizing it. There are several other stories in the author's series on Paul, and I am anxious to get my hands on them.

Library Support from High-Profile Sources, The Demise of a Controversial Plan, and the Reunion of a Cult Classic

Just some mention-worthy news stories that may be of interest to kindred spirits and like-minded souls...

The Nashville Public Library's motto has been, since my days of working there in high school, "A City With a Great Library is a Great City." And now I think a city with high-profile celebrity residents that support the library and its public programs is an even better one! Last week the NPL Foundation kicked off publicity for a new fundraising program with Nicole Kidman as one of its supporters. Kidman has been a Nashville resident for several years with husband Keith Urban and calls the public library "a community hangout—with a meaning."

"Write the Next Chapter" is the campaign hoping to raise $15 million for the Nashville Public Library Foundation, a nonprofit separate from the library itself that raises additional money for the system. So far, $13 million have been pledged, mostly from deep-pocketed donors (it's unclear whether Kidman is one). The organization is not usually funded by small gifts from patrons, but that's where they're looking for the remaining $2 million. Kidman's involvement is textbook PR, but if this city's celebrities are aware of and engaged with institutions like the library—and if PR like this is going to help fund programs that benefit the whole community—then I am all for it!

Read the full article here: Nicole Kidman backs fundraiser for Nashville Public Library

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Did anyone ever hear about the controversial plan for the New York Public Library's famous 42nd St building? For the past couple of years, they've been planning a massive overhaul of the building, sending many of the research archives offsite, getting rid of the famed underground stacks, and turning the building into a lending library. To pay for it, they'd be selling the buildings of two current libraries (including the current lending library that exists right across the street)...and I'm not sure where they were supposed to go, if anywhere.

This plan legit broke my heart. And infuriated me. The purpose of the Schwarzman Building has always been the portal to access all of that information—it's the system's main research branch, the gateway to all these amazing resources that the library holds. (And that's a fundamental role of the/any library!) However, it's also where the tourists visit and where the crowd-gathering programs are held. To me, this plan indicated that the NYPL's priorities had shifted away from providing resources for its patrons and instead to getting their main physical symbol, this 42nd St building, in the news.

I mean, really. This is a system that has eliminated YA librarians from its workforce. Where Children's Librarian positions are decreasing as they generalize the position of "librarian"—if they even have qualified MLS-holding librarians in the positions and not just Library Clerks. I've been to branches where the children's desk is manned by security guards, because there's no one qualified on staff to cover it. I've been on the waitlist for books so long that my hold was cancelled because a year and passed—the default "cancel by" deadline. So instead of funding more resources and qualified employees and accessible operating hours, the NYPL is saying, with this plan, that their public image at 42nd Street is more important than the services it provides to the everyday NYC-resident public. INFURIATING.

But this story does have a happy ending. As of early May, the NYPL has abandoned this plan! The Nation did a wonderful, eye-opening follow-up article in light of this news that goes into all the complexities of the NYPL, funding, politics, and transparency. I highly recommend you read both of Scott Sherman's articles and consider what "library" means to you.

Read the full article here: The Battle of 42nd Street

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And last but not least, a bit of fun! Are there any Roswell fans in the house?? You may remember this sci-fi-ish teen drama from the WB in its heyday of teen dramas. It was the one about aliens that had really dedicated fans—ones that mailed bottles of Tabasco sauce to the WB in a united front against cancellation.

The ATX TV Fesitval hosted a 15-year reunion of the cast last week, and I swear there must've been something in the water at those WB studios around this time; no one ages! After seeing this update, my inner fan-girl wants to totally watch the series from the beginning...again. Like the character-driven fan favorite Friday Night Lights and/or Parenthood? You may be more inclined to watch Roswell knowing that the creator of these two shows, Jason Katims, is the brains behind Roswell, as well. My fandoms are all making sense to me now...

Read more and see the reunion over at Variety.

Nonfiction | The Road to Making It, After All

My favorite Nick At Nite shows from my youth (when Nick at Nite syndicated comedies that hadn't aired within the last decade):

I Love Lucy.
Laverne & Shirley.
Mary Tyler Moore.

There's a theme here, and it's groundbreaking. These were monumental women in comedy, the ones that could hold their own in an era when women in comedy were rather rare. Lucy paved the way back in the 1950s with her flawless comic timing and brilliant business acumen; but nothing symbolizes the rise of feminism in television quite like The Mary Tyler Moore Show—and this is the subject of Jennifer Keishin Armstrong's Mary and Lou and Rhoda and Ted: And All the Brilliant Minds Who Made The Mary Tyler Moore Show a Classic.

Several years ago, I wrote some in-depth posts on an amazing book called When Everything Changed that chronicled the feminist movement from the 1960s to the present, and The MTM Show was featured as the embodiment of feminism of the 1970s. In the decades prior, it was rare for a woman to have a career, and it was rare for her to be single—and happy—well into her thirties. And look at how television had portrayed women before Mary Richards! It was the Donna Reed generation where women stayed at home and supported their husbands, and they were usually just the straight man (er, woman) to a male lead.

By 1970, television was still mirroring a reality that was quickly disappearing. The MTM Show was the anecdote to the false reality of women and their world being portrayed on the small screen. Finally, here was someone the modern woman could relate to! But as Armstrong shares in her book, the road to success was often a difficult one.

To say this show was a hard sell to the television industry is an understatement. Starting at the very beginning, Armstrong chronicles the many successes, failures, and compromises of getting MTM on air. And once it's on, she covers just how it all came about, how all the pieces fell into place—the writers, the scripts, the actors. She delves into the stories behind monumental episodes, how the characters were created and fleshed out, and how groundbreaking it really was both on screen and behind the scenes. While The MTM Show was certainly trailblazing in its on-screen portrayal of women and their lives, it was also creating a breeding ground for women writers in an industry dominated by men. With all this in mind, then, it's no surprise that modern-day comic queen Tina Fey cites MTM as a big influence.

I really enjoyed Mary and Lou and Rhoda and Ted. It was an enjoyable history of the show that never got too bogged down in detail, nor did it drone on as many entertainment bios tend to do. Its focus was diverse, approaching the story from many angles to tell it in context. MTM was an important show in TV history, and you finish Armstrong's book with that understanding. In the case of most entertainment-focused nonfiction I think you need to have a foundation of interest in the book's specific subject—the figure or feature at hand. But in this case, I think an interest in pop culture or feminism or 20th-century history, or especially how they connect and reflect, is all you need.

Time to start the series from the beginning...again.

New Format, New Focus

Hello! If you're visiting this blog at its URL (as opposed to a feed reader) and you've been here before, you may be noticing some big changes! I mentioned these changes a couple months ago, but I've just now found the inspiration to make those plans a reality. So welcome to the new face of The Five Borough Book Review!

Actually, truth be told, The Five Borough Book Review is dead.

But its content isn't! Over the past five years, I've amassed an amazing collection of book recommendations! They're a wonderful resource for anyone in need of a new read or curious about a specific title (and for me to go back and remember what I've read!). The best way to encourage readers is to create excitement, and that's what I hope many of these posts have done—and this will never change!

Now though, in addition to posts about books, I'll be sharing movies, music, TV shows, podcasts—any cultural product that piques my interest. And, because I will soon be entering a new phase in my lifelong bookish career (now as a middle school librarian!), this blog will also be a space to highlight some of the things I encounter and learn along the way. Call it a professional makeover as I move from 20-something sideline bookworm to late-20-something enthusiastic educator.

For a bit more information on this blog transformation, you can check out the revamped About page. I will eventually be changing the URL (if I can figure out how to do that with Google and Blogger), so keep an eye out for that information as well.

Most of all, thank you for reading! This will continue to be a space to share a passion for books, inspire exploration, and incite discussion as we consume the oodles of culture at our fingertips. I hope you'll stick around for the ride.

What's ACTUALLY on the Shelves...

Yup. Seems about accurate.

Living in a small NYC apartment, I used to purge my shelves frequently and mostly kept books I'd file as either "Intending to Read" or "Loved Enough to Share With Someone Else." Now that I will (eventually) have more space, I imagine my collection won't be as discerning.

What takes up the most space on your shelves?

Cartoon by Tom Gauld as found on the Picador Book Room.