the monkeys are running the zoo

So, finally... I guess if the whole evolution thing erupted right now, John Scopes would be lynched, in science and history classes, we'd be teaching our kids how the earth is only five thousand years old, and we'd be sending our boys off to fight in a crusade.

oh... wait...

Never mind.

I just wanted to thank author Cecil Castellucci, the Los Angeles Public Library, and YALSA for organizing a most spectacular city-wide event as Los Angeles celebrates Teen Read Week, October 19 - 23.

I'll be reading from in the path of falling objects at the Los Feliz Branch (time TBA) on October 20, along with author Cylin Busby. I'll also be giving out some signed books and audiobooks and other cool stuff -- like tee shirts -- for the kids (and, of course, for the awesome YA librarians who work to put this together).

Cecil, who organizes our LAYA (Los Angeles YA) group, says that Los Angeles Public Library is really behind this event, so there will be a lot of promotion for it city-wide. For writers, it's also our chance to give back to the community, maybe inspire a few (hundred) kids, and help the LAPL begin to really key in on all the excited focus on YA literature that has been sweeping the country.

a few more thoughts on school

If you visit any public school in America, you will generally find in every classroom, or at the very least in the office, some type of "Mission Statement" or "School Constitution" hanging on the wall.

I've seen dozens of them over the years, and it strikes me that no matter what region of the country I'm in, those mission statements of American public schools all include the same basic ideas: promotion of literacy, the development of "life-long learners," fostering in our children critical thinking skills, and (I always see this one) making them better citizens.

One method by which schools pursue this citizenship goal is by bringing in representatives of our government: police officers, firemen, military personnel, local elected officials, and sometimes, even governors and congressmen.

It happens all the time, and schools do this routinely. We don't question the ideology, race, sexual orientation, or religion of those representatives... that has already been done for us. It's called Election Day, and the people have spoken.

So I'm not going to use the word "outraged" here -- it's a dumb word -- but I am going to say I find myself slackjawed in stupefied amazement by the scores of American parents who are threatening to remove their children from school on Tuesday because they just don't want their kids listening to President Obama's speech to them.

What's even more disturbing are the steps being taken to accommodate this idiocy in the high school district in Santa Clarita, California... where teachers are required to provide "alternate assignments" for kids whose parents don't want them to hear our president speak, and remove those children from the environment where the speech is being broadcast.

Now that's just wrong, and teachers should not be ordered to do that. Remember the "Mission Statements" of our schools? I challenge you to go to your local school and look yours up, and I'll bet you're going to find something about the school's assumption of the responsibility to make its children "better citizens." If schools, as public institutions, have a compelling interest to foster the development of good citizenship within the framework of our great participatory democracy, just like teaching kids to read or calculate a math problem, then the schools -- and not wing-nut reactionaries who've been stirred up by broadcast ideologues -- must be in charge of calling the shots.

Otherwise, where does this go?

Can a parent object to their child being exposed to quadratic equations in Algebra, and then insist that the kid be given "alternate assignments" and still pass the class? It's the same rationale being applied in Santa Clarita.

Okay, kids... you may as well just stay home and play Grand Theft Auto until you're eighteen. We'll give you a High School diploma, as long as your mom writes you a note.

Remember all the blogs I've written about our kids' (boys especially) lackluster academic performance, and how underachievement is related to our kids' conditioned knowledge that whatever they do they will not fail; and there are no consequences for non-performance... because Mommy and Daddy will write them a note, or get outraged.

And the school's administration always kowtows to "outrage."

And it doesn't matter what kinds of unthinking losers society turns our kids into... as long as our little ones have good self-esteem.

I have a strong feeling that some of the same parents who are "outraged" that President Obama is speaking to their impressionable children undoubtedly lack that same indignation over the messages from popular music their kids pump into their skulls via earbuds and iPods. I'm sure they have no clue as to what their kids listen to. And I'm pretty sure they choose to disregard the content of video games and online activities their young innocents spend countless hours with in drooling states of mesmerized fascination.

But listening to the President of the United States of America?

Oh... the outrage.

what crawls out from under the wet rocks

I am posting tomorrow's blog today. Something unnerving is happening in the community of Santa Clarita, California, an affluent suburb just north of Los Angeles.

In the school district where I work, parents are calling in, voicing outrage and protesting that the high school refrain from showing President Barack Obama's televised "Speech to Students" this coming Tuesday.

Maybe I haven't lived long enough, but I can't recall ever hearing parents object to their children listening to a speech by an American President. What's equally shocking is that their objections are being accommodated... and this is a public school.

And I never heard a single liberal parent in Santa Clarita (I hear there are some) voicing complaints about the eight years of Bush State of the Union Addresses we'd show in classrooms. Hmmm...

Sorry, but we have places for kids whose parents object to their exposure to the current and legitimate American Government: it's called "home school."

Or maybe "Ruby Ridge."

I spoke to the switchboard operator at the school, and she told me, "I have had tons of parents calling very upset about this."

Tons.

Parents.

Are you fucking kidding me? You actually found someone to breed with?

I can't entirely blame the principal for giving in. But I can be disappointed in the pervasive spinelessness in education today; that when a seated American president decides (as many have done in the past) to speak directly to young people about the value of education, about participating in our great democracy, about bettering the individual as a means to better the nation -- and a chorus of ignorant, misled, ill-informed, dare I say racist and bigoted idiots can call the shots over an institution established by the state to promote the general welfare of kids and society... well, that's an attack on schools every bit as shocking as someone walking through the gates and carrying a weapon.

So on Tuesday, maybe we'll be showing Triumph of the Will instead of President Obama in Santa Clarita.

feel the burn

Last month a friend of mine, Lia Keyes, posed a question to writers on a blog about what she called "characters that sizzle," in particular, what were the kinds of qualities that made characters come alive and jump from the page and into your head.

This is one topic that I have some pretty strong feelings about, and I think that a lot of writers, particularly writers of YA, simply don't get it.

First of all, I like to start with the concept of what the "A" in YA stands for -- adult. This implies a lot of components, not only limited to the content and thematic elements of the work (which is why YA is a particularly vibrant genre... because real YA writers are willing and able to tackle issues that "adults" are afraid to face), but, most importantly, the makeup of the characters themselves. YA characters are becoming adults, and consequentially have to struggle -- and often fail at -- issues that challenge their core values: how they deal with themselves, and how they deal with others.

That being the case, we expect good, vibrant, living and breathing YA characters to make mistakes and contend with their own personal flaws (which readers are able to forgive because we're talking about young people who initially experience some of life's more challenging and traumatizing events).

So, what makes a character "sizzle" for me? As I told Lia, a good YA character has to have flaws and make mistakes, otherwise I can't stick with the story much less root for the character's success. I went on to say that I recently toiled (forced myself to finish, which I normally would have not only "put down" -- but throw the freaking book into the nearest unyielding wall) through a 400-page YA stinker where the protagonist was so perfect, innocent, saintly, and flawless that I wished I could Gumby my way into the book just so I could beat the hell out of him.

Man, sometimes I really wish I could do what Gumby could do.

Characters are supposed to undergo some kind of change by the end of a book. But when you read (and this very often happens in series books) hundreds of pages where the main character is exactly the same at the ending as he/she was at the beginning, then nothing that happened over all those hundreds of pages actually matters at all.

And... duh... that equals "not worth reading."

Anyway, my comment to Lia did elicit a funny response from another author, who wrote:

"I don't know which I like better, the idea of punching one of those saintly protagonists, or the use of Gumby as a verb."

To Gumby... yeah, I like that verb, too.

missed by that much

I realize, paying attention as negligibly as I do, that I've been off by one day on the release of in the path of falling objects.

So, the release date is one week from today -- September 10, 2009.

Also, I've committed to bringing myself and my books (and goodies) to the Los Feliz branch of the Los Angeles Public Library on Tuesday, October 20, for Teen Read Week (I am so looking forward to that). And there may be a local-area school visit that day as well.

More details to come.

That's all I have to say today. I'm having a bit of an identity crisis.

the healing art

So my eye -- I mentioned this on another blog somewhere -- is totally messed up. I have this nasty infection which has forced me to stop wearing my beloved contact lenses and resort to a poorly-suited eyeglass prescription that makes me feel like I'm stoned.

And to make things worse, my eye -- half shut and unable to focus -- makes me look like Charles Laughton on a bad day. So, I broke down and went to the doctor.

People who know me are aware that it takes a minimum of an unhealed broken bone to get me to the doctor, so you can imagine, I think, the eye.

So, here's what happened:

Of course, the first thing, after the forms and such, is they bring you to the "pre-doctor" room, where they check your blood pressure, temperature, weight, and make you feel like a total wuss for coming to the doctor.

Oh... and at my "pre-doc," they always ask for a cup of piss.

Well, first of all, let me say that I was in a really foul mood anyway, and just barely managed to convince myself that coming to the doctor would NOT be worse than just shooting myself in the fucking face. So, I'm like, "Why do you need me to pee in your cup when there's something wrong with my eye? It's piss. Is the doctor going to do a tarot spread, too?"

Well, pre-doc was not amused, and I half-expected her to go into the minstrel pee-bone's-connected-to-the-eye-bone routine, but, obviously, she thought better of it and left her lonely cup empty, saying, "The doctor will be in in a few minutes."

Now, I have my theory about health companies and pee samples, but that's for another post. I did notice that pre-doc had pulled up my Facebook profile, though.

Anyway, the doctor comes in about half an hour later. He looks at me quickly, then flips over my patient paperwork and starts drawing a picture. I shit you not. A picture. This is what he says:

DOC: This is your eye.

ME: Wow. That's really big.

DOC: It's not "actual size."

ME: Why are you drawing those lines across it? It looks like a giant clam.

DOC: No. It's an eye. Giant clams look more like this.

[Now he begins drawing a giant clam, below my eye.]

ME: Is the clam what hurt my eye?

[He looks at me. I can clearly tell he's thinking "retard," but, Christ, I'm not the one drawing a not-actual-size eyeball and giant clam on the back of a patient chart.]

**Pre-doc enters**

PRE-DOC: Are you drawing lace fans?

DOC: That's not a fan. It's a giant clam, and this is Mr. Smith's eyeball.

PRE-DOC: Well I can clearly tell that's an eyeball, but giant clams don't look like that.

So, after about 20 minutes of art class, the doctor, who has to this point done absolutely NOTHING for my eye, looks at me and says that there's a prescription of antibiotic pills and eye drops waiting for me at the pharmacy.

Okay. That's it.

And I'll be honest -- I've only taken antibiotics one time in my entire life, and I think Doc Picasso accidentally gave me the kind called "uppers," because I've been awake since Monday.

Yeah.

Health care.

teens, reading, and certain "words"

Welcome to September, and the kickoff to a really busy and exciting time for me. It's a fitting follow-up to August, because the entire story of in the path of falling objects occurs during one August, and the book will be coming out this month -- among other things keeping me occupied (like working on another novel).

I found out yesterday that during my ultra-busy next couple of months that I will be reading for Teen Read Week at the Los Angeles Public Library on Tuesday, October 20. When I find out the specifics of time and branch location, of course, it will be posted. And, naturally, I'll be reading excerpts from in the path of falling objects -- but I haven't chosen which ones yet... aside from the obvious page one.

I'd made a few bets with kids since the galleys came out last spring, that if they could read to the bottom of page one and NOT want to turn the page and keep reading that I'd give them a dollar. Needless to say, something shocking happens on page one and I haven't given out any money yet.

So, that week is Teen Read Week, and every day during that week I also read aloud for ten minutes in every class I teach. You can guess what book I'll be reading from... but you might be wrong, since I let kids choose the book they want to hear at the start of the week. My money's going to be on in the path of falling objects, but I have other choices available to them... and I'll let you know what the kids want to hear.

Of equal significance, though, is the week of September 26 to October 3. That's Banned Books Week and every year during that week I also read to kids each day from a book that has been banned or challenged with banning somewhere in the United States. This year's Banned Books Week Featured Author is Thomas Paine, whose revolutionary pamphlet, Common Sense, was a monumental bestseller in the American Colonies... finding its way into the hands of nearly every literate person in the population.

I was thinking about Banned Books Week just yesterday, because I'd read my friend Ellen Hopkins' (we share the same phenomenal agent) blog, in which she eloquently expresses herself in regards to the matter of language in her edgy new book, Tricks.

By the way, I'm pretty sure that one day, one of my books is going to end up on a banned list somewhere (probably pretty soon, too). But I'm with Ellen on her defense of words, and I work with HUNDREDS of kids every day.

Let me say this: The word fuck is not a word to a high school kid. The word fuck is more like a comma, or a breath teens take between thoughts. So, if you're a writer and you're trying to realistically portray American teens in the contemporary era, you can skirt around words -- and that's okay -- or you can make words up -- but I'm not buying that approach -- or you can just deal with it and say, "Here's this story. It's what I wrote. It's made up of words."

I guess I'm just saying this as a forewarning to people who, next year, read The Marbury Lens.

It has words in it.

A lot of them.

*shifts uncomfortably*

Okay. Well, for the last couple of years during Banned Books Week, I've consistently read Chris Crutcher's Whale Talk. This year, I'm going to change the selection and read John Green's Looking for Alaska. I think the kids are going to like it. Unfortunately, the first two days of that week, I'll still be over in London, so it will be an abbreviated, three-day week for me.

And of course, I'll keep you posted on all my read-alouds... especially what book the kids choose for Teen Read Week.