By JK, on August 18th, 2011 Dear gentle readers,
You may have noticed a dearth of long-form content round these parts. You are very right, and I’m afraid that may be the way of things for a while. Let me offer my apologies, and some reasons. The main one: This chick named Liv Spencer is monopolizing most of my free time. Who is Liv? Why my tween non-fic writing alter ego, shared with the v. talented Crissy Calhoun, with whom I’ve co-authored 3 seminal masterpieces (Taylor Swift: Every Day Is a Fairytale, Love Bites: The Unofficial Saga of Twilight, & The Miranda Cosgrove and iCarly Spectacular!) If these are not on the shelves of tweens of your acquaintance, click on those links and get your credit cards ready. Given the time sensitive nature of these books (though no doubt the springy pop-country anthems of Ms. Swift are ones for the ages), they tend to be pedal-to-the-floor endeavours. Our latest project, and the main source of my blog absenteeism: a companion to wildly popular mash up of Gossip Girl, Veronica Mars, and Desperate Housewives that is Pretty Little Liars. (Do you watch it? Do you want to go over the minutiae of Aria’s often-ill advised fashion choices or [...]
By JK, on June 21st, 2011 My earliest childhood memory is of sitting in a circle of peas in my parents’ backyard garden. The memory is bright, leafy green shot through with sunshine — somehow overexposed, like real memories often are. Even now, I can still feel the lingering warmth of that summertime encirclement.
Happy but humble beginnings.
Almost 25 years later, I’m finding my way back to that garden. It started last summer, when, with the determined change that follows a break-up, I decided I would grow things. Lacking a garden and inspired by Gayla Trail, I assembled some pots, a few seeds and seedlings, and I let the planting begin. (I wrote a post about it, finally understanding Thoreau’s wonder at growing beans.) When those first sprouts emerged, I felt a sense of awe at this miraculous yet mundane event unfurling before me. It was a feeling long forgotten, lost sometime after that pea circle and my sickly yogourt cup bean plant in my early primary days.
My budding fascination was unexpectedly nourished by my father, who, until recently, had taken a gardening hiatus similar to my own. But in the last few years, he has picked up his spade once more, and bragged about [...]
As I mentioned in a post last week, I recently headed to NYC for Book Expo America, and as with all my travels, a little bookstore exploration is a must. This time I set my sights on the Strand, a family-run indie that’s been around since 1927 and claims to house 18 miles of new, used and rare books in their store. After paying them a visit, I must say that’s entirely possible.
I strolled in on a warm May evening around 9:00, and despite the hour, many quiet browsers still circulated through the store. There’s something extra special about a bookstore at night: it has a different ambiance altogether. It slips out of its daytime bustling and settles into a quiet, consistent hum, like that of the electric lights that draw in booklovers from the darkening streets with their glow. As I walked through the doors of this remarkable store, I couldn’t help but smile. At the end of a long day, even a new bookstore in a foreign city still feels like coming home.
I tried to capture some of the Strand’s immensity on film, so let’s go on a tour together, shall we?
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