An Abundance of Meh

I hate finishing a book that you never really liked in the first place; it has that dissatisfying feeling of staying in a relationship that you know isn't going anywhere, but you're too lazy to break it off. Such was my experiene with my latest read. I just finished John Green's YA lit book An Abundance of Katherines, and I was sufficiently underwhelmed. I originally read it because I fell in love with Green's haunting, heartbreaking first novel Looking for Alaska, a book that I still think about (which is always the mark of a fantastic story). However, a formulaic plot (a coming-of-age summer roadtrip, where we learn of love and identity) coupled with a trite message (Gee, I am in charge of my own future! I'm not defined by my past or my former self!) make for an average read.

The book tells the story of recent high school graduate Colin Singleton, a former child prodigy and wannabe genius, who has been dumped by girls named Katherine exactly nineteen times. Nursing his latest Katherine-related broken heart, he and best friend Hassan embark on a summer roadtrip, the outcomes of which the reader can easily predict from early on in the story. As expected, Colin learns to love a girl whose name is not Katherine, and he recognizes that life and his own future are unpredictable.

Despite the book's formulaic plotline and tired themes, Green excels at building interesting, complex characters, and one of the book's bright spots is main character Colin. Colin's vast intellect results in a general misunderstanding of social cues and human conversation; Hassan frequently chides him for bringing up uninteresting topics, like Austro-Hungarian archdukes, in social situations. At one point in the story, Hassan makes a grammatical error in conversation, and, not wanting to bring up a topic which regular people find boring, Colin internally corrects the grammar mistake: "Stolen something, Colin wanted to say. But grammar isn't interesting." Oh, Colin, I empathize with you. While grammar is infinitely interesting to me, and I could have a lengthy discussion about it with you, I must repress those urges in everyday conversation so as not to look like a complete nerd. All readers will find some of their personal neuroses, academic or otherwise, mirrored in Colin.

Much like romantic comedies, YA lit is always about the same thing, those familiar feelings and experiences of adolescence, making it very easy to screw up. At its best it grabs hold of a worn idea, or premise, or character, and transforms those familiar tropes into something new and fresh and magical that touches all readers; at its worst it feels predictable and gimmicky, using teen drama to disguise poor writing and a trite story (can you hear me, Stephanie Meyer?). And while its story may appeal to young adults, overall An Abundance of Katherines does not stand on its own outside the genre.

One word: meh. Just read Looking for Alaska.

New City, New Apartment

I've lived in the apartment for one week now, and I can officially say that we're all moved in. Art and curtains are hung on the walls, everything is organized, and it feels a little more like home everyday. So, enjoy a tour of my new place... and prepare yourself for copious amounts of pictures.

This is the view from the front door into the living room (and a bit of the dining room). Luckily, all of the furniture fits nicely, albeit snugly, into the new space.

More living room, as viewed from the dining room. Sadly, the lovely fireplace had to be covered up by the television. But what I want to know is, who needs a fireplace in San Antonio?

Here's the dining room. Happily, I finally have enough space to put all four chairs around the table. Yesss.

Next, take a gander at the kitchen, which happens to be an amazing space. Why, you ask? It contains a dishwasher, endless counter and cabinet space, a pantry, a working stove... the list could go on and on. Basically, it's head and shoulders above my old duplex kitchen.

We have some adorable built-in book shelves between the kitchen and dining room, the perfect place for narcissistically displaying all of those wedding photos! (Jk, people.)

Another perk of this apartment is the second bathroom. The days of "calling" the bathroom after coming home from a road trip are history.

The lovely guest room

Our bathroom (which was hard to get a good picture of).

And finally, our bedroom. The curtains are my favorite.

So, now that you've seen the apartment, you know you want to come visit me!

Settling In

Today marks my third full day in the apartment, and things are finally beginning to settle down. All of the boxes are unpacked, and I've been gradually putting everything where it belongs, hanging art and curtains, and generally making the place feel like home. Right now it still feels like a placeholder residence, as if my stay in this apartment is only temporary and I'm supposed to head back to Abilene in a few days.

Even though I'm very excited about this new chapter in my life, I do miss Abilene, but mostly because of the friends I left behind. It's weird (and a little sad) to think that life there will go on without me, that the people I love will have new experiences and make new memories, and that my church will change and grow, without me. However, change is part of the progression of life, and leaving Abilene was the right thing to do. But right now, I'm very ready for San Antonio to start feeling like home.

Almost Home

Well, it's finally come to this: my last full day in Abilene. And let me tell you, I am so ready to get this move started. We pick up the moving van this afternoon, load it tonight, and head out tomorrow morning. San Antone, here I come.

Waxing Nostalgic

Moving Day is scheduled for Friday, so all I seem to think (or talk or dream) about these days is bubble wrap, cardboard boxes, and moving vans, as evidenced by my last five or so blog posts. All of this packing has got me nostalgic about my little duplex, and even though we're upgrading to a larger and nicer apartment, I'll very much miss the place I currently call home. So, please indulge me as I recount some of my fondest memories of 1740 Lincoln:

1. Senior year dinners with Fat Tuesday around the white Ikea coffee table

2. Brendan saying "I love you" for the first time on the front porch

3. Living with Smay, the best roommie a girl could ask for

4. Arriving home from our honeymoon to our first home as a married couple

Our homes are often tangible reminders of our life experiences, built around the memories we made while we resided in them. And as ugly as my duplex is, as excited as I am for a newer and nicer place, it will always remain special to me because of the life I lived there.

Can I Be Your Friend??

I recently finished reading Sarah Vowell's non-fiction book Assassination Vacation, and I'm experiencing book withdrawals. Well, more like author withdrawals. In the text, Vowell explores the lives and deaths of the first three assassinated presidents (Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley), and recounts her travels visiting the locations touched by those assassinations. While the book sounds dark and morbid (and at times it is), it's equal parts travelogue, history lesson, and humorous musings. And while it was a delightful as well as fascinating read, I very much miss Vowell's enchanting style and tone.

The text is written in first-person, and Vowell frequently offers her personal experiences and anecdotes, so her personality seeps through onto the page. So, after reading the book, I feel like I got to know her pretty well (or at least her carefully crafted literary persona... but we'll save that discussion for another day). And now... I want to be her friend. She sounds so awesome! Vowell deftly blends history and modern-day, weaves the intellectual with the mundane, and makes the arcane seem relevant, while offering an insightful yet humorous take on life and politics. Plus, she's freakin' hilarious. Who wouldn't want a friend like her?

Of course, the real Sarah Vowell may be nothing like the one on the page. But lucky for me, two of her books are on my reading list, so I have much more to look forward to.

You know you want to read it.

Our House Is a Very Sad-Looking House

I've made a lot of moving-related progress in the past week. My mom and grandmother arrived last Sunday to help us begin packing, and now my entire kitchen and most of my bathroom are neatly packed in brown boxes, labeled things like "Silverware" and "Bath Towels." My house (or rather, the collection of possessions which make it my house) is slowly evaporating. All of the art, curtains, and decor is also packed, leaving behind only the most basic of living essentials. As a result, the place looks rather glum; you never realize what a cheery difference the little things make until they're gone. The rest will all be packed in about ten days, when we leave our little duplex for good.

Being in my house kind of depresses me now; most of the small touches that made it my home -- like honeymoon pictures, red candles, and green valances -- are packed away, leaving only stark, white walls and empty cabinets, so that it feels like a placeholder residence. I wish I could fast-forward my life to a couple of weeks from now to our new, fully-decorated apartment, and that warm feeling of home.

Take a gander at our growing collection of packed boxes.

The ones marked "Erin's Books" are my favorites. :)