Normally I dog ear pages of books for passages I want to remember, but I stopped doing that a few pages into Especially Now because nearly every tiny passage has sharp bite. The 50ish-word micro stories share common themes of unusually twined resignation and hope with characters deciding to live another day with their eyes open, like

Life was not a romance, but it could be this.

There's a realistic perseverance through the sad times. If you've lost someone you loved, perhaps to suicide, you might relate to

What hurt Lé the most--more than knowing she'd never hear Kenzie's infectious cackle again--was how life steamrolled over the dead. Tomorrow didn't care that she was gone. The world lives without us. Lé clenched the flowers tighter, like holding onto an arm.

Every story is like that, taking your breath away, and sharing empathy, because, like the I voice in story #32, we're all "so very tired of recuperation mode."

You can buy EN from the big box retailer or your favorite zine distro. I got mine from Portland Button Works.

Gabrielle Zevin has been a favorite author of mine since I read her Anya Balanchine trilogy ten years ago. Other than that trilogy, each of Zevin's novels are wildly different from one another, in terms of genre and protagonist. Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow is the story of computer game designers and of friendship. Sadie, Sam, and later, Marx are the friends at the center of the story. Sadie and Sam met in California as tweens, becoming instantly close, 609 hours into their friendship, it ends in a blow up, and they don't speak significantly again until a chance meeting in Cambridge where Sadie is attending MIT and Sam, Harvard, where he rooms with Marx. That chance meeting sets a collaboration in motion that will yield highs and lows for all three.

I don't know how to characterize the novel, whether it's literary, a certain kind of romantic, something for "new adults," or game aficionados. I'm excited to hear what nuances people in the last group will bring to their reading.

Some highlights from my bookmarks

"Alice would only have to be in the hospital for two nights this time, and it was only out of, according to her mother, 'an abundance of caution.' It reminded her of a murder of crows, a flock of seagulls, a pack of wolves. She imagined that 'caution' was a creature of some kind--maybe, a cross between a Saint Bernard and an elephant."

"Once, Sadie found [Sam] at his desk, replying to a letter that began with the salutation, 'Dear Chink Jew Faggot Lover.'
"I like that the person writes 'Dear,'"

"'There are no ghosts, but up here'--[Sam's grandmother] gestured toward her head--'it's a haunted house.'"

"Sam and herself were the oldest people in the room by at least five years. How quickly you go from being the youngest to the oldest person in a room, she thought."

^ relatable

I haven't done a good job recommending TTT, but I do recommend it, with gusto!

PS Two of the main characters are queer and of color, and one has a disability.

In this series of autobiographical essays, actor and producer Union talks trash and truth to power--two of my favorite things! She's also open about trauma, including an assault that keeps her jittery and fearful more than twenty years later, as well as how racism impacts her and her family.

Duke's Ice Creamery gets robbed, with Minerva Gutiérrez holding the bag--of cash, which she hands over, despite wishing she'd stolen it herself. Min is having a rough time of it. Her mother is out of the picture, Min was expelled from school, she ghosted her best friend Mary, and she's struggling financially. Her other best friend, CeCe, is a drug dealer who hooks Min up now and again with cash and weed in exchange for rides in Min's mother's car (which she's not supposed to drive). Her life is pretty shitty, which makes for a hard read for much of the book, and I didn't always want to stick with it.

Things look up with Minerva reconnects with Mary--and Mary connects with CeCe. The three of them hatch a get rich quick scheme--discovering the "treasure" that is supposedly hidden at Duke's. As with all get-rich-quick schemes, there are hiccups, including with Min's love interest, Duke's assistant manager, Eli. Read if you're patient and have a high tolerance for self-sabotage (that's caused by racism, poverty, and grief).

Rosie Pérez has lived a hell of a life--from being a love child to a schizophrenic and a ladies' man, to being raised in a group home away from the person she'd understood to be her mother, and all of the other challenges that come with growing up in an environment that's hostile to poverty, brown people, and women. Her autobiography is a resilience story, one of continuous learning, forgiveness, intelligence, and talent.

If you haven't seen it, or haven't seen it in a while, check out White Men Can't Jump, which Pérez stars in with Woody Harrelson and Wesley Snipes.

Evie has a shitty job, but she's really good at it and thinks that's enough, until she has to sub for her boss and learns a few things about herself.

Evie's boss is her best friend, whose superhero name is Aveda Jupiter. Their Scooby gang includes a scientist, a bodyguard, and formerly, the third bestie who right now is on strike from Aveda. And also Evie's younger sister Bea, who is supposed to be in school.

The book is kind of fun, kind of surprising, and kind of long. You might like it more than I did, and the series might be investing in. Let me know what you think!

This romance between medical student Angie and Ricky, a man she met when she was feeling blue is lovely and wholesome. Angie is from a Ghanaian immigrant family who demand a lot from her. Ricky is from a close Latine family that isn't without its challenges. Angie gets her warmth from her roommate and long-time best friend Nia and their friend group. The story is as much about Angie finding her way as a doctor-to-be, standing up to her parents, and negotiating what happens in friendships with people's relationships begin to take precedence as it is about whether or not she gets the man.

Malena and Ruby are transplants to a Jacksonville, Florida suburb--Malena from Puerto Rico after Hurricane María devastated the island, and Ruby from Seattle where she lived in her older sister Olive's shadow. The two meet by chance, in a high school bathroom where Malena is trying, at the school administration's orders, to stick pantyliners over her nipples. Supposedly she has violated the school's dress code by showing up to school braless and large-breasted. (Her back was sunburned, so she couldn't wear a bra without irritation.)

Ruby, a flat-chested girl from a liberal, activist, white family, thinks Malena is being mistreated, and encourages Malena to refuse to panty line her boobs. Ruby is not wrong, but she does have things to learn about positionality and white saviorism. Malena, too, has lessons to learn. Despite being bilingual--and proficient in a third language--she feels insecure about how her accented speech is perceived on the mainland, for good reason, so she lets Ruby take a lead in their rebellion.

I didn't realize at first that this book was dual authored (by someone with a Latine last name and someone with a German one, and now I'm curious how that worked. I feel like Ruby's story and white awakening overshadows Malena's. It provides great lessons for white readers, but I wonder if that's at Latine and other BIPOC readers' expense.

A dream team of Black women YA writers (Editor Dhonielle Clayton, Tiffany D. Jackson, Nic Stone, Angie Thomas, Ashley Woodfolk, and Nicola Yoon) come together to write connected short romance stories that take place during a blackout in NYC. I liked how they wove the narrative together that there is a range of sexuality pairings. The Tiffany D. Jackson story is told in multiple parts, reinforcing the relationships between the characters in the whole book. Despite each author having her own distinctive voice, they blend them together well without flattening anyone.

Five stars as a hate read and two as a work of literature. Midnight Sun is Stephenie Meyer's promised/threatened retelling of the first [b:Twilight|41865|Twilight (The Twilight Saga, #1)|Stephenie Meyer|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1361039443l/41865._SY75_.jpg|3212258] book, but from vampire Edward's point of view. One gets the sense that Meyer is trying to counter critics' claims that Edward is a stalker, rather than a gentleman in love. She fails spectacularly because Edward's justifications are more troubling than a lack of acknowledgment of his creepy ways, like watching Bella sleep without her knowledge or permission. In that instance, there isn't really a justification other than "I couldn't help it" or "She is so fragile that I worry about her too much if she's not in my sight at all times."

There is a bit of interesting backstory, and Jacob is a bit character in Edward's telling. More than once Edward refers to Bella as "bright"!