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  • Lauren Passell 1:30 pm on 2017/07/20 Permalink
    Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , leo tolstoy, , , , , , ,   

    DO NOT READ THIS POST: The 10 Biggest Book Spoilers, Ever 

    Warning: if you like to be surprised, stop reading right now. Get a glass of water or look at Buzzfeed or start working on your memoir.

    But if you’re curious about these books and their kick-to-the-stomach endings, then by all means, read on. (Because I’m not completely cruel, I’ve whited out the spoilers—just highlight the empty space to see the hidden words.)

    Don’t say we didn’t warn you…

    The Sinner, by Petra Hammesfahr
    One of the best examples of a “whydunnit” in recent years, German author Hammesfahr’s twisty novel (soon to air as a miniseries on USA starring Jessica Biel) is largely told in flashback after Cora Bender, a seemingly normal mother and housewife, inexplicably stabs a man to death while on a beach picnic with her family. Cora confesses readily and claims to have no idea why she just committed homicide—but a patient policeman thinks there’s more to the story, and slowly susses out the truth—Cora’s younger sister was born extremely ill, and her mother became obsessed with caring for her, forcing her father to share a room with Cora, resulting in a creepily close relationship between the two that comes as close to abuse as possible without crossing that final line. Her sister Magdalena isn’t as innocent as she seems—despite her frailty, she manipulates Cora and also has an intensely, inappropriately intimate relationship with her. When Cora is 19, she takes Magdalena with her to meet a boy and his friends, not realizing that Magdalena is near death and wishes to die. Two of the boys rape Cora while the third has sex with Magdalena—who dies during the act, a specific piece of music playing on the radio. When Cora freaks out, one of the boys hits her in the head with an ashtray, and to cover up the crime, they hold Cora captive for six months. Years later, when the music plays again at the beach, Cora snaps, and strikes out with a knife.

    Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card
    In Ender’s Game, the survival of the human race depends on Ender Wiggin, the child genius recruited for military training by the government… But while you (and Ender) believe he is fighting in mind simulation, in truth, he’s been  manipulated into fighting a real war, and actually killing the enemies, called buggers. He moves to a new colony planet with his sister, where he discovers that the buggers have created a space just for him. They didn’t know humans had intelligence, and they want to communicate with him. They show him what the war looked like from their point of view, and Ender and the buggers meet a point of understanding. He vows to live with them in peace, starts a new kind of religion, and writes a Bible-like book about the buggers, signing it Speaker For The Dead, which is a perfect segue into the Ender’s Game sequel.

    Atonement, by Ian McEwan
    Atonement is about misinterpretation and its repercussions. Briony observes her big sister Cecilia and Cecilia’s friend Robbie flirting and assumes something shameful has happened between them. She accuses Robbie of rape, and Robbie goes to jail. The story then follows Cecilia and Robbie as they go to war, fall in love, and wind up together forever. But at the end of the novel, you discover that Briony is actually the book’s narrator—and she’s been lying to you, too. She did accuse Robbie of rape, and he was jailed, but C & R didn’t live happily ever after together, after all. They both died in the war. Briony just wrote a happy ending for them to atone for her sins. That’s what she says, anyway. I’m not sure I believe anything she says anymore.

    And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie
    Most Agatha Christie novels leave you gobsmacked (The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, anyone?) But And Then There Were None is an absolute masterpiece of the whodunnit? formula. People invited to a party in a mansion keep on being murdered, but by whom? Well, if you’re sure you want to know…it was Judge Wargrave! Swaddled in a red curtain, he fakes his own death so that you, the reader, assume the murderer is someone else. But in a written confession at the end of the novel, you learn that he invited people to a desolate island in order to kill them one by one as punishment for the terrible things they’d done (and thought they got away with). Agatha, you sneak!

    Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn
    In Gone Girl, husband and wife Nick and Amy tell the story of their tumultuous marriage. We read what we think is Amy’s diary, and it condemns Nick as a violent jerk. We start to believe that Nick is responsible for Amy’s disappearance and possible death. But in a series of twists, the truth is revealed—Amy and Nick are both liars. Nick was having an affair, and Amy has been alive all along, on the lam, trying to frame Nick for her death. What we thought was her diary is actually a cunning trap: it’s a piece of fiction Amy wrote for the police to find. Amy kills a friend and returns to Nick, pregnant with his child, claiming she was kidnapped. Nick takes her back even though he knows the truth. In the end, Amy says she’s getting ready to become a mom by writing her abduction story. She should hang out with Briony.

    Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier
    Rebecca begins with one of the most mesmerizing first lines in literature—“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” Things only get more interesting from there. The unnamed protagonist marries Maxim de Winter and moves into his home, called Manderley. She struggles to live up to the legend of Maxim’s late wife, Rebecca, who was seemingly perfect. Mrs. Danvers, the maid, almost gets the protagonist to kill herself in despair. But one day, divers find a sunken sailboat that belonged to Rebecca, revealing that Rebecca was murdered. Maxim then tells the truth: Rebecca was a wretched woman who had multiple affairs—one, with her cousin, resulted in her pregnancy. When Maxim found out, he killed her. In yet another twist, we find out that Rebecca was lying to Maxim—she wasn’t pregnant, but was actually dying of a terminal illness. In the end Old Danvers burns the joint down and disappears. As for Maxim and the protagonist? Happily ever after.

    The Dinner, by Herman Koch
    In Howard Koch’s The Dinner, two brothers and their wives sit down for a meal to discuss the horrific crime committed by their sons. The cousins have been caught on camera attacking a sleeping homeless woman in an ATM, throwing trash and a container of gasoline at her, and then burning her to death. Koch makes it clear that the family is bonded by a common sociopathology. The family argues over what to do. Serge, a politician, wants to come clean about the boys’ crime. Enraged by Serge’s stance, his sister-in-law Claire attacks him, disfiguring his face. Claire urges her nephews to “take care” of Beau, Serge and Babette’s adopted son, who witnessed the crime and is blackmailing the boys by threatening to reveal what they did. At the end of the novel, Beau is missing, and one of the cousins comes home covered in blood and mud. Wonder what happened to him?

    Harry Potter And The Deathly Hollows, by J.K. Rowling
    In J.K. Rowling’s seventh and final installment in the Harry Potter series, it’s revealed that Harry is a Horcrux, and must be killed before Voldemort can be. Viewing Snape’s memories in the Pensieve, Harry sees Snape talking to Dumbledore and finds out that Snape’s been his protector all this time. Snape loved Harry’s mother, Lily Potter, and spent his entire life spying on Voldemort for Dumbledore. Meanwhile, Dumbledore had been steering Harry to sacrifice himself for the larger good. Good and evil are blurred once again when Harry survives and learns that Dumbledore loved him, even if he expected him to sacrifice himself. Ms. Rowling, you’ve tricked us again.

    Rant, by Chuck Palahniuk
    This novel is an oral biography of protagonist Buster Landru “Rant” Casey, who has died. The reader gathers that Rant lived in a dystopian future where lower class citizens, called “nighttimers,” engaged in an activity called “Party Crashing,” a demolition derby where the crashers slam into each other in cars. The catch: if you crash in the right mental state, you’ll travel backwards in time. Rant disappears during Party Crashing, so his friends assume he’s time traveling. It takes some piecing together to figure out that Rant has been traveling back through time, raping his ancestors every thirteen years in an effort to become a superhuman. He isn’t one character; he is many. You can’t make this stuff up, but I guess Palahniuk did.

    Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy
    Anna Karenina is about a lot of stuff, but the heart of the story lies with Anna and her downward spiral from captivating spitfire to insecure shell of a woman. The book is beautifully written. Much of its pleasure comes from the character studies and quiet plotting. Then, in one of the most shocking moments in literature, Anna throws herself under a train and dies and you are stupefied. One of my friends always says, of Anna Karenina, “if you only read one ‘old’ book in your whole life, have it be this one.” Agreed.

    Something Happened, by Joseph Heller
    You’ll spend more than 400 pages reading about not much happening, rolling around in the protagonist’s brain as he goes to work, cares for his son, and fantasizes about the secretary. I can’t tell you what happens, though. That would ruin the book completely. 

    Kidding, obviously. The whole point, here, is to ruin your enjoyment of surprising books!

    Slocum’s son is a weakling because Slocum never made him go to gym class. This son gets hit by a car. In sadness and despair, Slocum hugs him to death. I mean that very literally, not the new kind of “literally.” Slocum hugs his son until he dies from squeezing. 

    Even with the surprises spoiled, reading these books is still a worthwhile endeavor. You’re going to read all of them, right? What’s the best book twist you’ve ever read?

    The post DO NOT READ THIS POST: The 10 Biggest Book Spoilers, Ever appeared first on Barnes & Noble Reads.

     
  • Lauren Passell 1:30 pm on 2017/07/20 Permalink
    Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , leo tolstoy, , , , , , ,   

    DO NOT READ THIS POST: The 10 Biggest Book Spoilers, Ever 

    Warning: if you like to be surprised, stop reading right now. Get a glass of water or look at Buzzfeed or start working on your memoir.

    But if you’re curious about these books and their kick-to-the-stomach endings, then by all means, read on. (Because I’m not completely cruel, I’ve whited out the spoilers—just highlight the empty space to see the hidden words.)

    Don’t say we didn’t warn you…

    The Sinner, by Petra Hammesfahr
    One of the best examples of a “whydunnit” in recent years, German author Hammesfahr’s twisty novel (soon to air as a miniseries on USA starring Jessica Biel) is largely told in flashback after Cora Bender, a seemingly normal mother and housewife, inexplicably stabs a man to death while on a beach picnic with her family. Cora confesses readily and claims to have no idea why she just committed homicide—but a patient policeman thinks there’s more to the story, and slowly susses out the truth—Cora’s younger sister was born extremely ill, and her mother became obsessed with caring for her, forcing her father to share a room with Cora, resulting in a creepily close relationship between the two that comes as close to abuse as possible without crossing that final line. Her sister Magdalena isn’t as innocent as she seems—despite her frailty, she manipulates Cora and also has an intensely, inappropriately intimate relationship with her. When Cora is 19, she takes Magdalena with her to meet a boy and his friends, not realizing that Magdalena is near death and wishes to die. Two of the boys rape Cora while the third has sex with Magdalena—who dies during the act, a specific piece of music playing on the radio. When Cora freaks out, one of the boys hits her in the head with an ashtray, and to cover up the crime, they hold Cora captive for six months. Years later, when the music plays again at the beach, Cora snaps, and strikes out with a knife.

    Ender’s Game, by Orson Scott Card
    In Ender’s Game, the survival of the human race depends on Ender Wiggin, the child genius recruited for military training by the government… But while you (and Ender) believe he is fighting in mind simulation, in truth, he’s been  manipulated into fighting a real war, and actually killing the enemies, called buggers. He moves to a new colony planet with his sister, where he discovers that the buggers have created a space just for him. They didn’t know humans had intelligence, and they want to communicate with him. They show him what the war looked like from their point of view, and Ender and the buggers meet a point of understanding. He vows to live with them in peace, starts a new kind of religion, and writes a Bible-like book about the buggers, signing it Speaker For The Dead, which is a perfect segue into the Ender’s Game sequel.

    Atonement, by Ian McEwan
    Atonement is about misinterpretation and its repercussions. Briony observes her big sister Cecilia and Cecilia’s friend Robbie flirting and assumes something shameful has happened between them. She accuses Robbie of rape, and Robbie goes to jail. The story then follows Cecilia and Robbie as they go to war, fall in love, and wind up together forever. But at the end of the novel, you discover that Briony is actually the book’s narrator—and she’s been lying to you, too. She did accuse Robbie of rape, and he was jailed, but C & R didn’t live happily ever after together, after all. They both died in the war. Briony just wrote a happy ending for them to atone for her sins. That’s what she says, anyway. I’m not sure I believe anything she says anymore.

    And Then There Were None, by Agatha Christie
    Most Agatha Christie novels leave you gobsmacked (The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, anyone?) But And Then There Were None is an absolute masterpiece of the whodunnit? formula. People invited to a party in a mansion keep on being murdered, but by whom? Well, if you’re sure you want to know…it was Judge Wargrave! Swaddled in a red curtain, he fakes his own death so that you, the reader, assume the murderer is someone else. But in a written confession at the end of the novel, you learn that he invited people to a desolate island in order to kill them one by one as punishment for the terrible things they’d done (and thought they got away with). Agatha, you sneak!

    Gone Girl, by Gillian Flynn
    In Gone Girl, husband and wife Nick and Amy tell the story of their tumultuous marriage. We read what we think is Amy’s diary, and it condemns Nick as a violent jerk. We start to believe that Nick is responsible for Amy’s disappearance and possible death. But in a series of twists, the truth is revealed—Amy and Nick are both liars. Nick was having an affair, and Amy has been alive all along, on the lam, trying to frame Nick for her death. What we thought was her diary is actually a cunning trap: it’s a piece of fiction Amy wrote for the police to find. Amy kills a friend and returns to Nick, pregnant with his child, claiming she was kidnapped. Nick takes her back even though he knows the truth. In the end, Amy says she’s getting ready to become a mom by writing her abduction story. She should hang out with Briony.

    Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier
    Rebecca begins with one of the most mesmerizing first lines in literature—“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again.” Things only get more interesting from there. The unnamed protagonist marries Maxim de Winter and moves into his home, called Manderley. She struggles to live up to the legend of Maxim’s late wife, Rebecca, who was seemingly perfect. Mrs. Danvers, the maid, almost gets the protagonist to kill herself in despair. But one day, divers find a sunken sailboat that belonged to Rebecca, revealing that Rebecca was murdered. Maxim then tells the truth: Rebecca was a wretched woman who had multiple affairs—one, with her cousin, resulted in her pregnancy. When Maxim found out, he killed her. In yet another twist, we find out that Rebecca was lying to Maxim—she wasn’t pregnant, but was actually dying of a terminal illness. In the end Old Danvers burns the joint down and disappears. As for Maxim and the protagonist? Happily ever after.

    The Dinner, by Herman Koch
    In Howard Koch’s The Dinner, two brothers and their wives sit down for a meal to discuss the horrific crime committed by their sons. The cousins have been caught on camera attacking a sleeping homeless woman in an ATM, throwing trash and a container of gasoline at her, and then burning her to death. Koch makes it clear that the family is bonded by a common sociopathology. The family argues over what to do. Serge, a politician, wants to come clean about the boys’ crime. Enraged by Serge’s stance, his sister-in-law Claire attacks him, disfiguring his face. Claire urges her nephews to “take care” of Beau, Serge and Babette’s adopted son, who witnessed the crime and is blackmailing the boys by threatening to reveal what they did. At the end of the novel, Beau is missing, and one of the cousins comes home covered in blood and mud. Wonder what happened to him?

    Harry Potter And The Deathly Hollows, by J.K. Rowling
    In J.K. Rowling’s seventh and final installment in the Harry Potter series, it’s revealed that Harry is a Horcrux, and must be killed before Voldemort can be. Viewing Snape’s memories in the Pensieve, Harry sees Snape talking to Dumbledore and finds out that Snape’s been his protector all this time. Snape loved Harry’s mother, Lily Potter, and spent his entire life spying on Voldemort for Dumbledore. Meanwhile, Dumbledore had been steering Harry to sacrifice himself for the larger good. Good and evil are blurred once again when Harry survives and learns that Dumbledore loved him, even if he expected him to sacrifice himself. Ms. Rowling, you’ve tricked us again.

    Rant, by Chuck Palahniuk
    This novel is an oral biography of protagonist Buster Landru “Rant” Casey, who has died. The reader gathers that Rant lived in a dystopian future where lower class citizens, called “nighttimers,” engaged in an activity called “Party Crashing,” a demolition derby where the crashers slam into each other in cars. The catch: if you crash in the right mental state, you’ll travel backwards in time. Rant disappears during Party Crashing, so his friends assume he’s time traveling. It takes some piecing together to figure out that Rant has been traveling back through time, raping his ancestors every thirteen years in an effort to become a superhuman. He isn’t one character; he is many. You can’t make this stuff up, but I guess Palahniuk did.

    Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy
    Anna Karenina is about a lot of stuff, but the heart of the story lies with Anna and her downward spiral from captivating spitfire to insecure shell of a woman. The book is beautifully written. Much of its pleasure comes from the character studies and quiet plotting. Then, in one of the most shocking moments in literature, Anna throws herself under a train and dies and you are stupefied. One of my friends always says, of Anna Karenina, “if you only read one ‘old’ book in your whole life, have it be this one.” Agreed.

    Something Happened, by Joseph Heller
    You’ll spend more than 400 pages reading about not much happening, rolling around in the protagonist’s brain as he goes to work, cares for his son, and fantasizes about the secretary. I can’t tell you what happens, though. That would ruin the book completely. 

    Kidding, obviously. The whole point, here, is to ruin your enjoyment of surprising books!

    Slocum’s son is a weakling because Slocum never made him go to gym class. This son gets hit by a car. In sadness and despair, Slocum hugs him to death. I mean that very literally, not the new kind of “literally.” Slocum hugs his son until he dies from squeezing. 

    Even with the surprises spoiled, reading these books is still a worthwhile endeavor. You’re going to read all of them, right? What’s the best book twist you’ve ever read?

    The post DO NOT READ THIS POST: The 10 Biggest Book Spoilers, Ever appeared first on Barnes & Noble Reads.

     
  • Kelly Anderson 6:45 pm on 2015/04/01 Permalink
    Tags: april fool's day, , , jean rhys, leo tolstoy, patrick o'brien,   

    6 of the Most Surprising Books I’ve Ever Read 

    SURPRISE!

    I know, it’s not your birthday, but it is that most divisive of holidays: April Fools’ Day! As I tend to find most pranks more heart attack–inducing than amusing, I wanted to be sure you got at least one pleasant surprise: Books! I’ve tallied the six most surprising (in a good way) books I’ve ever read. Not a single one popped a whoopee cushion on me, but each is memorable in its own way.

    In the Woods, by Tana French
    I loved mysteries as a child. I owned every Nancy Drew I could track down. But I don’t read many of them these days: after years of reading, not to mention expert Law and Order viewing, I somehow got the idea the genre held no more surprises for me. This book proved me so, so wrong. In a rundown suburb just outside of Dublin, three children run into the woods one day and are never seen again. Twenty years later, the body of another young girl shows up outside those woods, left on an ancient sacrificial altar. You might think you’ve heard this story before, and you may even be able to guess whodunit long before the detectives do. But that doesn’t matter, because there’s so much more here than just a mystery. The narrator is unreliable: a detective traumatized by his past, and trying to move on in the midst of a case that keeps threatening to drag him back under. The secondary characters are memorable, archetypes without being typical. French’s prose is unexpectedly lyrical, with exquisitely rendered images and an atmosphere that stays with you long after you close the book. This book awakened me anew to the possibilities of mysteries.

    Consider the Lobster, by David Foster Wallace
    Before I picked up this essay collection, I knew nothing about David Foster Wallace beyond his reputation for literary acrobatics and deliberate obscurity. Nothing I’ve ever read argues better for not trusting what you’ve heard. These essays are characterized by wonderful observational humor, and, sure, experiments with prose, but the trickery is all in the service of the deep thought and deeply felt moral code at the heart of Wallace’s writing. His subjects range from an inside look at the porn industry to the title essay, a serious look at the morality of eating meat. Instead of the literary showoff I expected to find, I met a writer whose determination to consider the hard questions is rivaled only by Tolstoy’s. His writing displays honest empathy that refuses to get bogged down in cliché. David Foster Wallace looked at disparate pieces of our world and tried to make them fit together.

    War and Peace, by Leo Tolstoy
    Speaking of Tolstoy, this book surprised me, too: it’s the gold standard for the most intimidating book in the world, but I quickly discovered it’s not the boring brick I feared. Written with ferocious intelligence and astounding scope, it begins with the late 18th-century Francophiles of the Petersburg court, and moves slowly forward to a country mobilizing for, and then fighting, a war against Napoleon’s invasion, railing against the ensuing fallout and devastation. This is a book about individuals trying to live through a chaotic, frightening time in history, and all the machinations of a country in flux. It’s a book about tripping over your own feet whenever you speak, about fathers who know best and sons who disagree, and teenage girls overflowing with life. It’s a book about people—passionate, shouting, scratching, dancing, laughing, bickering, blushing people, rendered with compassion, understanding, and devastating truth.

    Master and Commander, by Patrick O’Brien
    I expected this one to be as Russell Crowe advertised it: manly adventure, swashbuckling, rough seas, dashing uniforms, and toasts to Mother England. Delightfully, it totally is, focused on the exploits of Jack Aubrey, dashing officer of the Royal Navy, and Stephen Maturin, stalwart surgeon, scientist, and secret intelligent officer, and their missions of derring-do set amidst a backdrop of war. But what surprised me was the book’s beauty, its prose rendered in the gorgeous language of sailors and the sea. It’s the sort of lush, rhythmic writing that comes along but rarely. Moreover, O’Brian is no mere master of plot—his characters are three-dimensional, complex human beings whose voices shout over the choppy currents below. Filled with people standing at the crossroads of the Enlightenment and Romanticism, this book shows us the best and worst of both. Even if you’ve never heard the siren song of the sea, you’ll understand its allure.

    Ulysses, by James Joyce
    Ulysses is ostensibly the story of Leopold Bloom walking through Dublin one day in June, and while it starts out in a fairly straightforward manner, it doesn’t stay that way. Each chapter is another surprise, written in a totally different style, as Joyce flexes his muscles and explores the many possibilities of narration. Greek drama, epic poetry, farce, modernism, stream of consciousness, even Shakespearean pastiche: he uses every literary structure at his disposal to advance his story and make his meaning clear. His range is astonishing, and his skill even more so. Perhaps the most surprising thing is that after all these demonstrations of skill and wit and complexity, the whole point is to convey the simplest of ideas. At heart, this is a story about love.

    Wide Sargasso Sea, by Jean Rhys
    I love Jane Eyre. I love it so much, and I was completely unprepared for this book, in which Rhys gives us the untold story of Rochester’s first wife, the madwoman in the attic. I imagined something like Wicked: we’d hear her side of the story, and sympathize with a dehumanized character. Yes. And no: this is the most successful instance of one author inhabiting another’s world that I’ve ever seen. Jane Eyre is an earnest, truthful girl with an unfailing moral code, who beats back the darkness and the wild things that inhabit it again and again. But here, the wilderness at the edges of Jane’s world have completely overgrown the path. The untamed jungle is the true main character. This is a book about atmosphere, and to be inside it is to be seduced by a world in which the very air is alien, and irresistible. It finally explains, better than all Rochester’s laments, why he is the way he is, and why his wife would never have stopped setting his bedsheets on fire.

    What books have caught you unawares?

     
  • Kathryn Williams 3:30 pm on 2014/08/20 Permalink
    Tags: all the king's men, , , dramarama, , jacqueline suzann, leo, leo tolstoy, , robert penn warren, valley of the dolls,   

    Literary Astrology: Leo 

    Valley of the DollsBorn between July 23 and August 23, Leos are the kings (and queens) of the jungle. Natural performers who are fond of the limelight, you’ll find a fair share of them on Broadway and in Hollywood.  A Leo’s M.O. is to make an impression, and that they do. Generous, enthusiastic, creative, and loving, they can also be pompous and overbearing, but mild manners rarely make a leader. We suspect these literary characters were born under the sign of the Lion.

    Anna Karenina (Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy)
    Anna knows how to do one thing very well, and that is to take center stage. A lover of love, Anna (at first) practically bubbles over with enthusiasm and sincerity. She yearns for a more open-minded existence and draws others to her, most notably Vronsky. In her later, socially imposed isolation, however, she becomes overbearing, demanding, and irrational toward both her husband and her lover. Finally, in desperation, she resorts to the most theatrical stunt of all—in front of a moving train.

    Willie Stark (All the King’s Men, by Robert Penn Warren)
    Leonine Willie Stark is the ringleader of this political circus. A “man of the people,” he’s certainly got the charisma and love of the spotlight of a Leo. Motivations that are born of generosity and justice, however, are soon polluted, until Willie is just another imperious politician playing dirty. But, man, you’re gonna hear him roar.

    Neely O’Hara (Valley of the Dolls, by Jacqueline Susann)
    Oh, yes, we’re going there. In this 60s pop classic, attractive and ambitious Neely O’Hara, with a little help from her “doll” friends, rises to Hollywood stardom. Once there, however, she proves to be more difficult than Lindsay Lohan on arraignment day. Her once bright, promising star is not just eclipsed, but plummets to earth in a ball of fire fueled by arrogance, self-involvement, and alcoholic vapors.

    Sadye (Dramarama, by E. Lockhart)
    Tall, charistmatic, commanding Sadye (née Sarah) Paulson wants so badly to be as talented as her gay, black, and fabulous best friend, Demi, but she’s just…not, and that lays the groundwork for conflict in this YA drama camp story. No doubt Sadye is enthusiastic about theater and loves her BFF, but her ‘tude could use a little adjustment, which is, eventually, what is written in the stars.

    Who are some other Literary Leos we might have missed?

     
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