You Had Me at Hello: Top 10 Book Covers/Titles

Image from The Broke and the Bookish

Top Ten Tuesday is a weekly blog spot hosted by The Broke and the Bookish, who I learned about from Anna Reads.  Today's topic - the top ten books you've judged based on their cover/title - was too good to resist! 

Here's my list:

1. Shiver, Linger, and Forever by Maggie Stiefvater
I was not interested in reading about werewolves....or so I thought until I spotted Maggie Stiefvater's Shiver on the shelves.  After passing the book over several times because of its plot, I finally picked it up.  I just couldn't resist that beautiful cover(!), and I am so glad I didn't.  You can find my thoughts on the entire trilogy here, but suffice it to say, the content of Shiver is executed as beautifully as the cover.  The subsequent volumes in The Wolves of Mercy Falls Trilogy are also eye-catching.

2. Any Ellen Hopkins cover
If I didn't already know what an accomplished writer Ellen Hopkins is, the simple, but surprisingly forceful covers of her books would lure me into reading them.  Many of the titles are designed to reflect the book's theme (see Crank and Burned), but my favorite at the moment is her most recent young adult novel Perfect.

3. Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist and Dash and Lily's Book of Dares by David Levithan and Rachel Cohn
I read Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist, the first collaboration between David Levithan and Rachel Cohn, solely because of the cover - the original cover.  The newest edition's cover is also cool, but I am partial to the original - blame my sense of nostalgia.  Nick and Norah is hilarious, moving, and fast-paced all at the same time - like your favorite song.  Levithan and Cohn's Naomi and Ely's No Kiss List is not quite as compelling (or well-designed), but their most recent collaboration, Dash and Lily's Book of Dares is outstanding.  Smart and quick-witted, Dash and Lily are the people I wish I could be or at least be friends with.  It also has a pretty cool cover.

4. Speak, Wintergirls, and Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson
I am noticing a theme in my list: awesome authors tend to have awesome designers.  Case in point: Laurie Anderson and the trifecta of Speak, Wintergirls, and Chains.  I haven't had an opportunity to read Chains yet, but Speak and Wintergirls are hauntingly beautiful books with hauntingly beautiful covers.  I know Chains will not disappoint.

5. Labor Day by Joyce Maynard
I have mentioned in a previous post, that the cover of Joyce Maynard's Labor Day caught my attention before I even knew what the book was about.  It's a good thing too because the plot - a single mother falls in love with an escaped (and wrongfully accused) convict over the course of a weekend - is so far-fetched, I may never have read it otherwise.

6. The History of Love by Nicole Krauss
Don't let this book's placement on this list fool you, The History of Love by Nicole Krauss is my favorite book of all time, and while it may not have the most eye-catching cover, I was drawn to its title.  Anything that claims to explain "love" is a must-read for me, and Krauss does not disappoint.  The History of Love is the epitome of craftsmanship and utilizes one of my favorite literary tropes - a book within a book.

7. The Mercy of Thin Air by Ronlyn Domingue
This is another novel whose title rather than its cover grabbed by attention even though its cover is equally gorgeous and intriguing.  The Mercy of Thin Air by Ronlyn Domingue paints a moving portrait of the afterlife and first love.  Domingue's prose, like her title, is as delicate as gossamer.

8. The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin
I stole this one from Anna Reads, but The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin has been on my to-read list ever since I saw its arresting cover.  This one speaks for itself.

9. Sabine and Griffin by Nick Bantock
I was introduced to the Sabine and Griffin series by Nick Bantock in graduate school when a girl I knew presented a project on "interactive" novels for a composition theory course.  Although I have collected a few, I have yet to read any, but they relate a correspondence between two friends, Sabine and Griffin.  The best part is the reader gets to "open" each letter, which come in all different shapes, sizes, and penmanships.

10. Postsecret by Frank Warren
This last book may be a cheap shot, but it is a book (and a project) that has infiltrated every aspect of my life - personal and professional - so it deserves some props.  Frank Warren's Postsecret project is now a worldwide phenomenon, and I can remember vividly the first time I picked up his first published collection of postcards bearing the shocking, hilarious, and downright heartbreaking secrets anonymously shared with him on the back of a postcard.  The entire book is, in fact, a piece of art, but the simple brown paper wrapping stamped with an unfamiliar address was just begging to be opened, so I did - along with millions of other readers - and what I found inside is the purest definition of humanity.

Have you ever judged a book by its cover?  What are your top ten? 

Happy Reading!

Mini Reviews

I have seen several book bloggers use mini reviews to quickly cover books that they didn't like or couldn't finish.  I will be writing mini reviews of several books here - for some that I didn't love - but for some that I loved so much that all I can say about them is YOU HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK; IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!  Those two sentences I am screaming about one book in particular do not seem to warrant a full post, and it may liven up my "Debbie Downer" look at the other books reviewed in this post.  So without further ado, here is a brief history of what I have read over the past few months (I am saving the life-changing book for last to build suspense):

One Day by David Nicholls

I loved the premise of this book - it follows two friends verging on lovers for twenty years but only on the same day each year - September 15th - a sort of anniversary for this misfit couple.  As much as I wanted to love it though, I just couldn't.  The overall effect of the book was distant.  I never felt connected to the characters or their interactions.

Best matched with the British.   

Thirsty by M. T. Anderson

I have become a connoisseur of vampire literature ever since the phenomenon of Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series swept the nation.  As an English teacher and self-proclaimed lover of young adult literature, I had to know what it was about vampires that had the general public so hot and bothered.  I have attempted to answer that question here (where it has been posed to students in my many ENG 111 courses as well), and my literary travels have taken me all the way from John Polidori's The Vampyre and Joseph Sheradin LeFanu's Carmilla to M. T. Anderson's Thirsty.  Thirsty was published in 1997 before the insanity of Twilight, and it bears the hallmark of Bram Stoker's Dracula - vampires as bloodthirsty, uncontrollable, violent, and frightening.  It is markedly different in that the vampire in question is a teen boy.  Chris is not only struggling with puberty and high school, but somehow he has become a pawn in a game between good and evil, which leaves him with a desire to rip into the throats of his family and friends.  My trouble with Thirsty is that instead of tying up loose ends, the novel continues to unravel as it nears its conclusion.  I don't mind a cliffhanger, but Anderson's Thirsty had too many plot holes for me to feel satisfied with its ending. 

Best matched with the violence and angst of adolescence.

Blankets by Craig Thompson

This is my first true graphic novel, and I must commend Thompson on his beautiful, intricate, and compelling illustrations (see left).  But however arresting the graphics were, I found myself at times focusing on the word bubbles and ignoring the drawings altogether.  I had to force myself to slow down and take in the whole picture in front of me.  At a hefty 582 pages, Thompson's Blankets seems daunting, but the story - part autobiography - is relatable and easy to follow.  I sped through it in a day or two, but what began as a cohesive story about the relationship between siblings and first loves became disjointed and lost its focus towards the end.  I think Thompson got caught up in two different stories - first of his relationship with his brother Phil - and second the intoxication of his first love Raina, and although they appear in the same book, they really have little else in common.

Best matched with artists. 

Perfect by Ellen Hopkins

If there was a book in this line-up that I would like to scream about, this book would be it, but I just. can't. seem. to. make. myself.  I am a huge fan of Ellen Hopkins.  She is a fearless writer, which shows in her medium - verse - and her subject matter - anything uncomfortable, unnerving, or just plain upsetting.  Here is a quick run-down of some of her books' plots: meth addiction, teen prostitution, molestation, suicide, self-mutilation, and the list goes on.  Hopkins is the master, though, at finding hope in the dark, gritty corners of the world.  In addition to her engaging, activist writing style, her books are aesthetically pleasing.  The covers are phenomenal, and Perfect has one of the best (see above).  Hopkins is one of those authors that I have grown up with, but I find myself growing too old (gasp!) to find the teen drama relatable.  All of her novels move me, but Perfect more often annoyed me with its lofty, idyllic prose at the beginning of each section.  This was an unexpected emotion for me because Perfect is the sequel to my favorite novel by Hopkins, Impulse.  Impulse is one of Hopkins' first experiments with multiple narrators.  The story is told through the perspective of three troubled teens who all tried to take their own lives and end up in the same rehabilitation center.  Perfect picks up their story several months before Impulse concludes but from the perspective of four different teens linked genetically or peripherally to the characters in Impulse.  Like all of Hopkins' characters before them, the voices narrating Perfect have issues ranging from eating disorders to roid rage.  Although I was not completely captivated by Hopkins' newest novel, I do continue to recommend them to my students - Hopkins' characters and their experiences really resonate with them, which is the purpose of good literature.  It can be life-changing.  It can make a difference, and although Perfect might not have shaken my world, it can certainly do so for the right reader.  I am looking forward to Hopkins' foray into "adult" literature with her newest novel Triangle, set to drop on October 18th.  I am hoping to be recaptured by Hopkins' magic in a novel whose plot is more aligned with my current life choices and expectations.

Best matched with solace seekers.

How it Ends by Laura Wiess

Here it is.  We have arrived.  THIS is the book I was shouting about at the beginning of this blog post.  THIS is the book that YOU MUST READ.  IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE.  Laura Wiess' novel, How it Ends, is narrated from the perspective of "Grandma" Helen and fifteen year old Hanna.  Under the surface of mundane high school dating fiascoes and canning capers runs an undercurrent of ageism - or the attempt to understand the differences between the young and old.  Wiess also employs a technique used by my favorite author, Nicole Krauss, in my favorite novel, The History of Love, which is a book within a book.  Helen writes an autobiography - conveniently titled How it Ends - for Hanna.  This book is an extremely intimate look at the life of the young and old and the places they overlap.  It is uncomfortable and unsettling at times, but it is worth reading for the raw poignancy of its storytelling alone.  I never ever saw the conclusion coming, and to think about it now almost reduces me to tears, but Wiess skillfully has me considering the choices one makes at the end of one's life in a a way I never have before.  I won't say more because there is nothing else to say.  I loved this book.  Read it.  It could change your life.

Best matched with anyone who has ever been young or worries about getting old.

Review: The Help by Kathryn Stockett

I mentioned two months ago that I was participating in a mini book club and reading Kathryn Stockett's The Help.  I finished the book weeks ago, but conflicting schedules meant my book club members and I could never find a time to chat and see the movie together.  The founding member and I finally found time Friday night to meet and see the movie.

Stockett's The Help has received a lot of attention since it debuted in 2009 and even more so since the movie premiered in August 2011.  Like Joyce Maynard's Labor Day, I was first attracted to the striking yellow cover of The Help.  Now, after reading it, I am reminded forcibly of Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, and Stockett's characters sing movingly in this novel.  Told from the perspective of three characters, two maids, Aibileen and Minny, and the woman who captured their stories, "Miss" Eugenia "Skeeter" Phelan, The Help seeks to highlight the injustice of maid servitude in Jackson, Mississippi at the height of the civil rights movement.  Stockett captures the mood of fear and turmoil of the 1960s well, but although each character has an easily discernible and distinct personality and voice, I found Skeeter's innocence about the true state of civil rights in her hometown to dominate the first half of the book - to its detriment.  (This, however, is a failing that the movie rectifies.)  Within the first two hundred pages of the book, I was so mad at Skeeter's ignorance and her desire to superimpose her voice on top of the maids really telling the stories that I thought about quitting the book.  However, I rarely leave a book unfinished, and I am so glad that I kept reading The Help.  It was worth it.

Many years ago, when I fancied myself a writer of sorts, I wrote a brief manifesto on writing in which I stated a good writer has the ability to elicit strong emotions from his/her audience.  A good writer can make the reader laugh, cry, scream, or throw the book across the room.  By this definition, Kathryn Stockett is a good writer.  The Help moved me to laughter and tears more than once.  The poignancy of Aibileen's love for the children she tended to and her own son who didn't make it past his early twenties reminded me of my own childhood babysitter Neen-Neen.  Her real name is Evelene, but as children, my sisters and I could not pronounce "Evelene," so she became Neen-Neen to us, and she always will be.  When I got married last November, Neen-Neen and her sisters sat in the pews with my family because she is my family.  Yes, some white mistresses, like Hilly Holbrook, did horrible things to their maids, but often the bond between family and maid was tight and full of love.  I am under no circumstances condoning the mistreatment of others, but I think The Help really captures that perilous and tenuous line that both maids and the families they served walked between love and servitude.  Everyone is caught up and constrained by their titles, which makes it difficult to move or breathe.  Nowhere is that more evident than in the story of Constantine and Skeeter's mother.  Although the movie took some creative liberties with this scene, the image of Skeeter's mother, literally caught between the DAR biddies and her love for Constantine, highlights this conflict.  Unfortunately, she conceded to the pressures of her life as a white woman in the South.  Her tearful sorrow over that fact later in the film does little to assuage her previous actions.

Stockett's novel is timely because prejudice and racial injustice of all types still exists - God only knows why, and I think Stockett realizes this, so she, like Skeeter, wrote about what disturbed her, but unlike Skeeter, I think Stockett lacked the bravery to write about what was happening in the here and now - not that that diminishes the power of her novel or the film.  I think the film is such a success because it captures the true essence of the book.

Best matched with the courageous, Southern spirit that exists in Southern women of all backgrounds.

Review: The Bride Stripped Bare by Nikki Gemmell

Nikki Gemmell's The Bride Stripped Bare, published in 2003, is an intimate look at what Betty Friedan in her explosive 1960s research study, The Feminine Mystique, termed "the problem with no name."  An anonymous young bride begins a secret journal, starting with her honeymoon, revealing the truth about marriage.  As she attempts to understand her new role as wife, her marriage begins to unravel around her, and although she is unhappy with her husband at times, she desperately tries to save what they have created together.  Her experiences and musings on the matter of marriage are captured in eloquent yet very frank prose.

The real power of Gemmell's novel, though, is her use of the second person.  The reader is never told the bride's name, and her use of "you" makes it hard for the reader to disentangle the unnamed narrator from herself.  Her experiences and feelings become every woman's experiences and feelings as she tries to locate and staunch the unsettling dissatisfaction in her marriage and her life as "wife."  As demonstrated by Friedan and by the unknown seventeenth century author of the little book on marriage Gemmell's bride constantly references, this unnerving "problem with no name," or the hole in my chest as I tell my husband, is not exclusive to this bride alone.  It is a shared experience among all women that in fictionalized form, Gemmell is able to explore more thoroughly than Friedan's women of the '60s could.

When I think back on my reading of The Bride Stripped Bare, I am reminded of a song by the Eli Young Band entitled "Crazy Girl."  The chorus goes like this: "Crazy girl / Don't you know that I love you / I wouldn't dream of going nowhere / Silly woman / Come here let me hold you / Have I told you lately / I love you like crazy girl."  On the surface, it seems like a sweet reassurance of the singer's love for his significant other; however, calling her a "crazy girl" and "silly woman" only serve to belittle her fears and doubts in her lover.  The artist of this song, as does the bride's husband in Gemmell's novel, pats the woman on the head and dismisses her feelings, saying "there, there - nothing to worry about" instead of taking the time to understand why she is upset and address her specific concerns.  Similarly, when our anonymous narrator tells her husband specifically what she wants in bed, he is amused instead of receiving, and although he complies, he response to her is like that to a kid playing dress up in her mother's clothes - cute but ultimately unrealistic, a role she is not equipped to fulfill just yet.  But is it so crazy for a woman to doubt her lover's faithfulness?  To be reminded that he cares?  To need to be told that she is loved?  And Gemmell's bride has reason to be concerned, her husband may have had an affair with her sexy best friend.  Gemmell's bride begins her long spiral into identity crisis at this point in the novel, culminating in an affair of her own, but what's worse is she no longer has another woman to confide her.  The bride and her mother have had a strained relationship their entire lives, and now she has lost her faith in her best friend.  The battle between her often conflicting responsibilities and desires wages on internally.   

Gemmell offers a cure for the bride's "problem" or "hole in her chest" in the form of a baby.  I, however, was disappointed that her supposed "cure" is to have a child - I may have mentioned elsewhere on this blog that I am sick of the unexpected pregnancy, the pregnancy to save a marriage, or just the plain pregnancy/baby turned my life around plot.  I realize I may offend all current and aspiring mothers here when I say I am a woman who does not (for the foreseeable future) want a child.  In fact, I am so tired of the pregnancy plot that I seriously contemplate not reading or giving up on reading books that employ the thematic use of pregnancy - Gemmell's introduction of the pregnancy plot occurs late in the novel, so I was invested.  The only other novel that springs to mind in which I knowingly accepted the pregnancy as key theme concept was Megan McCafferty's Bumped and that's because McCafferty proves herself to be the master of dystopia in this novel and takes on pregnancy as topic, not to defend or elevate it, but to critically examine its popularity as a plot and media device today. McCafferty knows that dystopia is meant to disturb your view of the future, and she does just that by investigating the impact of social networking sites, teen pregnancy television shows, and the teen pregnancy pact on adolescents in a future society, and what she discovers is unsettling.  But like McCafferty, Gemmell seems to realize that pregnancy is not the solution to the unnamed problem because her novel ends with the bride and her child missing - only her car and her son's stroller at the top of a cliff in England as a clue to their whereabouts.

I am dying to know what happened to her and her child - there was mention of a sequel, but I can't seem to find it on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, or Gemmell's own website.  Any help here would be greatly appreciated!

Best matched with wives, mothers, and lovers at all stages, but beware, the book contains some R-rated lessons.

"Hosting" a Supernatural Party: Vampires, Werewolves, and Souls - Oh My!

I was discussing the prevalence and popularity of vampires with my students today (wouldn't you like to be in my class?) when a student suggested the popularity of all things supernatural stems from their ability to represent what we think and feel.  I was intrigued and responded with this question of my own:

"If vampires today represent society's thoughts on sex and love and vampires are supernatural, does that make sex and love supernatural?"

I was met with mostly silence and shrugged shoulders, but the question stuck with me.  My thoughts meandered down the most obvious path: equating sex and love with the supernatural is indicating that they are an arresting, but ultimately unbelievable, fantasy perpetrated by teenage girls.  Upon further meditation on the poster-boy for vampire love, Stephenie Meyer's Edward Cullen of the Twilight series, I decided instead that the vampire as lover is actually a metaphor for the enduring qualities of love (and sex in love).  When a vampire says he (or she) will love you forever, he/she does not mean until next week, next month, next year, or even the next fifty years.  He/she means until the world implodes, the second coming of Jesus forever.  Teen girls are especially susceptible to this definition of "forever love," which explains the fascination with gentlemanly Edward Cullen.  All of the vampires in the Twilight series mate for life (and their life has no end for the foreseeable future).  Even the evil vampires like James and Victoria have mates who they would die for.

The monogamy of supernatural creatures seems to be a hallmark of Meyer's fiction.  The werewolves of The Host.  It's a lengthy tome that I finally finished after lamenting its repetitive plot in an earlier post.  Despite the slow start, the plot is a refreshing step away from Meyer's traditional vampires vs. werewolves dance.  The world of the souls is at once desirable, i.e. peaceful, and creepy, read: terrifying.  Although it takes awhile for Wanderer's, aka Wanda, story to unfold, her life amongst the souls demonstrates careful thought and ingenuity on Meyer's part.  Once Wanda becomes comfortable in her new cave-dwelling, human existence, she loosens up, and so does Meyer, and begins to share stories of her travels.  From here on out, I couldn't put the novel down.
Forks, Washington are also proponents of forever love as evidenced by their ability to "imprint" or recognize their soulmate in another, barring age, as Jacob and Quil creepily exhibit.  Supernatural, everlasting love is a theme carried over into Meyer's "adult" novel published in 2008,

Of course at the heart of the novel is not one love-knows-no-bounds story but two.  After the first half, the novel speeds towards a predictable ending, but Meyer has learned from the anticlimactic conclusion of the Twilight series that love and happy endings are not without sacrifices.

Best matched with an interest in sci-fi, an affinity for Meyer's particular brand of storytelling, and a need for repetition.

"Beware of the Book" Banned Books Week 2011

So I am a little late joining the Banned Books Week celebration, but in reality, I celebrate Banned Books Week all year long.  In my ENG 111: Expository Writing class, I provide students with a list of the top 100 Banned/Challenged books from the past ten years (courtesy of the ALA).  They are required to choose one book off the list to read and research; then they write an argumentative essay for or against the banning of the book they chose.  I have received sound, convincing essays arguing both sides of the issue, and I am never disappointed in the discussions that spring up around the issue of censorship - (man, are my students surprised by some of the books they see on that list!).  I round out the unit with a narrative essay in which my students share their experiences with censorship (in any form).  In turn, I tell them about my first (remembered) experience with censorship and my first banned book, which in honor of Banned Books Week, I will share here.

I was about 13 or 14 years on the cusp of adolescence and an avid reader.  I had already devoured Judy Blume's teenage girl's Bible Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, and my mom had picked up her Forever for me to read next.  She flipped through the book before giving it to me, and noticing its sexy content, revoked my right to read it with a resounding "NO."  Instead of returning it to the bookstore, she hid it in the top of her closet under a plastic beach bag with light blue straps.  I discovered it by accident one day, and proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom to uncover what was so scandalous.  For those of you who have never read Forever (is there a girl left in this world who hasn't?) the novel is about a teenage girl, Katherine, who loses her virginity to her first boyfriend, Michael.  I was intrigued...and confused.  But Blume taught me two things about being a woman:

1. Sex without love means nothing.
2. You have to respect yourself.

And if a banned book can teach a girl those two lessons, then I say pass 'em around.

Celebrate the freedom to read!

In Memory of Peace

October has begun and with the change in month comes the promise of cooler, crisper temperatures, colorful leaf turnings, and the return of the pumpkin spice latte - oh the rapturous odes I could write about the Starbucks pumpkin spice latte...but even with all of these exciting changes on the horizon, I cannot enjoy them.  The turmoil at my alma mater, Peace College, has reached critical mass in the past few months.  New indiscretions continue to be uncovered almost daily, and current students' testimonies about the lack of communication and support when faced with major changes and transfers break my heart.  But instead of belittling the current President and her regime, including the Board of Trustees (again), I want to share a defining moment from my time as a student at Peace.

Sitting at a low table in the back of the oversized art classroom of third floor Pressley, I stared at the pencil drawings of women with downturned eyes and romantically disheveled hair strewn across the surface.  In the center of the table lies a small round mirror, ornately carved.  A copy of Kathryn Byer's poem "Vanity" is partially visible amid the clutter, proclaiming "Without hands / a woman would stand at her mirror / looking back only, / not touching, for how could she?"  A flutter of papers and a long, printed dress draw my attention to the right.  Carolyn Parker, Peace's art teacher, emerges from her tiny corner office, various canvases and wire sculptures stacked around the entrance.
"How's it going?" she smiles as she settles into a chair beside me.
"It's ok - I found some great photos online, but I am having trouble deciding which one to use.  This one is my favorite though."  I indicate the one closest to me, a profile of a lithe young woman with loosely curled ringlets falling to her shoulders.
Carolyn picks up the picture and studies it silently.  "Hmmmm..."  She places the picture back on the table and scans the handful of others spread out around the mirror.  "Hmmmm...."
I have always been able to appreciate art, but my own artistic intentions rarely ever come to fruition.  I have nothing to say in return to her noncommittal response to the pictures I chose to complete my project with.  Before I can fumble my way through a justification of the images littering the table, Carolyn asks, "What is the poem you are basing your piece on?"
"Kathryn Byer's 'Vanity'" I hand her the poem.  She reads it silently, mouthing the last lines "who dared eat / from her own hand / the fruit of self-knowledge."
"What attracted you to this poem?  Why did you choose it?"
Finally.  I am more comfortable with words than images.
"Well, I liked the images she evokes - like "the lips rubbed rose with a forefinger" and the poem's simplicity.  I think Byer is attempting to expose the illusion of beauty - how women spend so much time at a mirror altering a reverse reflection of the self - something that is not even real."
"Yes," Carolyn nods, encouraging, "I agree."  She pauses, glances at the pencil drawings of women whose beauty is almost unearthly.
"Have you thought about using a picture of yourself?"
"Myself?"
"Yes.  I think your project would make more of a statement if you used a picture of yourself."  She gestures across the table.  "These women all have their eyes downcast.  In your picture, you should look out as if challenging your viewers to eat "the fruit of self-knowledge" for themselves."
I am momentarily stunned into silence.  "Ummm...Maybe I could try that?"
Carolyn nods decisively.  "Yes.  Try that.  Bring me your self-portrait when we meet again."
"Okay?"  I slowly gather the scattered pieces of my project.  "I'll see you in class."
Back in my dorm room, I grab the digital camera I just opened over Christmas break and contemplate the best way to snap a self-portrait.  I haven't yet joined the social networking revolution of MySpace and its emerging competitor, Facebook, so I am unsure of how to capture the infamous "MySpace angle."  I back up against the slice of wall separating my closet from my roommate's - the only neutral backdrop in our room - and tentatively press the button.
Not bad, but my face barely fills the screen.  It seems lost and a little unsure.  Fortunately my roommate and best friend, a graphic designer, returns.
I share with her my conversation with Carolyn, and she offers to frame the shot.
"There.  That's it."  And she's right.  My face fills the screen, and I look content, confident.  Like I have a secret, but one I am willing to share.

Peace is a place that encourages you to be comfortable and confident in your own skin.  Without Carolyn, I never would have chosen to share myself with the world.  Without Mr. Smith, I never would have tried out for the Chamber Singers.  Without Dr. Duncan, I never would have considered being editor of The Prism.  Without Dr. Hiscoe, I never would have been published nor would I have discovered my passion for teaching.  These people, and countless others, molded me into the person I am today, and it is with deep gratitude that I offer them thanks.

My art project featuring Kathryn Byer's "Vanity"