Val Muller

The Electronic Wordsmith

Browsing Posts published by Val

I’m pleased to announce that I’ve been invited to teach an online writing class with Pennwriters, a writers group located in Pennsylvania (but open to everyone).

The course starts on August 5, so you can enroll until then if you haven’t already. Here’s the course overview from the Pennwriters website:

make-writing-work-harder

Have you ever written a scene and felt like it was not taking your story anywhere? What about scenes that are necessary to the plot but are just plain boring? This workshop will help you use techniques to make those scenes work (at least) twice as hard, bringing interest and significance to your writing.
Professionally-written pieces draw readers in, providing information without the reader even realizing they’re being told anything. This is the mark of a good storyteller, and it’s the best gift a writer can give to a reader: total enjoyment. This course will explore ways of taking your writing to the next level, hooking readers and editors, and making your work the next great page-turner.

I read a book every week, and I’ve read enough of the “slush pile” to learn what works and what doesn’t. There’s nothing I love more than a good page turner. I’ve taken my observations from teaching classes and workshops—and from reading hundreds of books and manuscripts—and consolidated them into four steps you can take to make your manuscript work harder, attracting readers and editors.

For this course, you’ll need: a working manuscript (something you’ve been working on—it can be finished or in-progress, and it doesn’t have to be long. If you’re feeling brave, you can even use something you’ve published); a book you’ve read recently or remember fairly well; an editing program that can read and save as .doc, .docx, .rtf, or .pdf; your creativity! For this course, I’ll also offer a full critique of the first chapter of a working manuscript, highlighting techniques discussed in the lectures.

 

COURSE SCHEDULE 

Date: August 5 – August 26, 2013 (last class August 26th; course officially ends September 2)
Instructor: Val Muller
Email to Instructor: Val@ValMuller.com

SCHEDULE:

Week One: Verb and Word Choice
Monday, August 5—Introduction to Using Language Efficiently

Week Two: Point of View
Monday, August 12—Lesson 2: Using Point of View Effectively

Week Three: Descriptive Language
Monday, August 19—Lesson 3: Using Advanced Elements of Language Effectively

Week Four: Symbolism
Monday, August 26—Lesson 4: Symbolism for Characterization and Development
Thursday, August 29—Conclusion

 Enroll here

Val Muller—Bio
Val Muller is the author of the Corgi Capers mystery series for kids. She has written dozens of short stories and had numerous submissions published by Chicken Soup for the Soul. Her horror novel, Faulkner’s Apprentice, was just released with Crowded Quarantine Publications, and the first book in her young adult supernatural trilogy, The Man With the Crystal Ankh, is scheduled for publication with World Castle publications. Right out of college, Val wrote travel articles for Lancaster, Berks, and Chester County Business2Business magazines. She then moved to teaching so she could devote her summers to novel writing. She currently teaches high school English and creative writing and offers workshops to everyone from elementary kids to adults. She’s the editor at Freedom Forge Press and maintains a blog, where she posts original flash fiction and book reviews weekly. You can find out more about Val at www.ValMuller.com and www.CorgiCapers.com.

This fantasy novel follows a character named Hellsfire who (as you can guess by the name) was born with the power of fire. As a young adult, he discovers his power—and how dangerous it is. Still, he used it to save the princess, a girl he almost immediately develops feelings for. Confronting his mother, Hellsfire learns that she (sort of) knew about his power, and that he is supposed to go out into the world and seek help and answers.

He does, and finds a wizard who decides to train him. Partway into his training, though, Hellsfire feels that the princess is in trouble, and he decides to leave his training before becoming a full-fledged wizard. He travels back to the kingdom and finds that the Premier has been using his power for sinister purposes. In a coming-of-age tale, Hellsfire must help save the day.

I’m picky about fantasy tales. I absolutely love The Lord of the Rings, but I can’t help

comparing many other fantasy works to Tolkien’s, especially when wizards, elves, dwarves, and humans are involved. That said, the strength of this novel is its plot. It picks up by the halfway point, and you’ll find yourself wanting to finish to see what happens. The weakness is the telling of the story. It’s told through first person point of view, and at times,

especially in the first half of the tale, it drags because there is sometimes too much detail included. The main character narrates in a process-oriented way, often listing the step-by-step process he uses to accomplish things. There were parts of the process that could have been skipped. The first person perspective also limits the author’s ability to seamlessly weave description into the tale, so I often found myself craving details (imagery) about the world. The benefit of the first person perspective was that Hellsfire became a likeable character for me.

It’s a decent read for those who love fantasy. I would have loved this book in high school when I was going through my fantasy phrase. The adult in me craved a bit more description and depth.

I had a weird dream the other night. It was about a toy–a real toy from the 1980s–I had as a kid, one my uncle had given me. It is shaped like a rock, but when you slide part of it, a fearsome head pops up, and its rock arm lifts up, devouring anything that was sitting on it. Again, this is a real toy that I had as a kid. I hadn’t thought about it in years. Here is what it looks like:

picture from eBay listing

picture from eBay listing

This wasn’t even the important part of the dream. The important part of the dream was that my favorite part of this toy was not the gruesome, devouring rock, but the little critter that came with it (for the purpose of being devoured, of course). It was a little teal, two-legged, armless critter that looked like this:

picture from eBay listing

picture from eBay listing

This little critter was much more fun to play with than the evil rock-thing. This adorable little critter played many roles in my childhood imagination, from evil Halloween goblin to cute little alien pet for Barbie. When I had to quell my childhood toys and box them up, this one was a keeper–it is somewhere in my parents’ house, I’m sure. I’m not so sure that I kept the rock.

Anyway, despite my fondness for the little critter, I hadn’t thought about this toy in years. But in my dream, my sister (who used to play with this toy with me) came up to me and showed me the little critter, only in the dream hers was pink, and said, “they have different colors now.”

It was a strange dream, one I forgot almost as soon as I awoke. But it stayed with my subconscious, nagging at me. At my computer the next morning, it randomly popped into my mind, and I did a search. I never knew what the toy was called–my uncle had given it to me as a complete surprise; I hadn’t asked for it or anything, and obviously it’s not the most girly toy you can find! Trying to find out what it was, I typed in “rock that eats critters,” “transforming rock,” and “two-legged critter.”

Nothing.

The next morning, this morning, the specific nature of the dream wouldn’t leave me. I decided to type in a description of the critter–the color, the shape. Interestingly enough, the image above, from an eBay listing, popped up on my browser. It turns out both toys are from a series called Rocks and Bugs and Things, in which giant rocks and giant bugs competed to devour the little critters, which are known as “mordles” (or “mordels”).

What does this have to do with anything? Stay with me here. When I have weird dreams like this, they are usually “real,” meaning something in the dream has a connection to reality. I was trying to find out what it was. Was it a message about my sister? Something about the toy? Should I go to my parents’ house and search through the box of old toys to see if I still had it?

I stayed online to do a bit more searching and found something odd. A company, ToyFinity, recently acquired the rights to the toy line, and has only just recently started selling replicas of the little critters. Very recently. You can buy sets of 10 here. Here is what they look like:

From http://toyfinity.com/store.php (yes, you can buy them--you know you want a set!)

From http://toyfinity.com/store.php (yes, you can buy them–you know you want a set!)

And, just like my sister said in her dream, they come in different colors. Yes, even pink. I have half a mind to buy her a pink set, just because…

So what do you think? Why the dream just as the new replicas were becoming available? Was my childhood love for this little plastic critter (which also explains my dark side as a writer) so strong that the universe decided to inform me that a modern replica is available? If so, thanks universe.

In any case–will I be purchasing a shiny new set of mordels to sit on my writing desk and serve as inspiration for future creepy tales?

You bet 😉

Today’s post comes to us from Val Muller, author of the Corgi Capers mystery series and the supernatural chiller Faulkner’s Apprentice—just $2.99. Watch for the upcoming anthology Forging Freedom, which Val is editing.

* * *

The Beginning

This was it. So very simple actually. Just the end. And no one could prevent it. Even as a kid I knew I wanted to live in that house. I often imagined how I’d rearrange the furniture—I always assumed the same upholstered couch and warm, worn carpeting. I thought of how the guest bedroom would make a great office, and how Grandmother’s bedroom would transition to a nursery, how the master bedroom would be something I’d share with a husband one day. Even as a young woman, I still picture the way that furniture looked when my mother sang to me on dark, scary nights. I even knew that I’d sing the same songs to my own children in front of those very pieces.

There’s just something about the house you grow up in. No matter what, it will always be home. And I was determined to keep it that way. I remembered the way a patch of sunlight warmed my back as I played on my carpet in the dead of winter. I remembered the creaking clicks of the radiator keeping the cold of autumn at bay. The way the air conditioner rumbled as it changed cycles, locking me in a cold, dark room on the most unbearable days of summer.

The house had protected me, had made me. And I would never give it up.

Of course, such a childhood dream fluctuated with marrying Prince Charming and becoming an astronaut. When the unexpected happens, childhood dreams don’t account for things like job opportunities and relationships. They don’t account for a boyfriend—fiancé, now—with a job on the other side of the country, and a school nearby with a stellar doctoral program.

I went ahead and did the logical thing, the thing my parents would have told me to do. I put the house on the market. When no offers came in at first, I took it as a sign. But the night I wanted to breach the subject with Kevin, I got a call from the real estate agent. I had an offer. Kevin was ecstatic, of course. My roller-coaster emotions brought me no resolution.

But I was not happy.

Which is why, when the buyers contacted the agent post-inspection, demanding a credit for a new furnace (my parents had always kept the house’s original), I saw my opportunity. My agent said there were other houses on the market, and if I didn’t credit them the cost of a furnace, they would walk.

I was very happy.

I didn’t tell the agent quite yet—I already had a flight scheduled for the next day so I could supervise the emptying of the house and the shipping of its contents. Now instead of flying out to move out, I would fly out to move in. I would tell the agent in person, maybe even watch her void the contract. I was not going to sell. And then I’d tell Kevin. Maybe even over the phone. I’d drop out of the grad program and start something near Rockland. After all, I’d have my house. That’s all that matters. That house was me. I lived in its walls. So did my parents. And my grandparents.

It was home.

I was weeding the garden when I heard the car pull into the drive. I turned to the noise, smiling, ready to tell the agent my final decision. But it wasn’t the agent. It was the buyers.

A family.

The parents stepped out of the car, the man with his arm around the woman. I squinted and could see my father there, with his arm slung around my mother’s waist. The man’s eyes looked at the house the same way I’d seen my father look at the house when he was sizing up Christmas decorations he’d put up, or a new paint job on the shutters. It was a look of pride and potential. The woman smiled content. She looked at the house the way she might look at an old friend—as something she could trust for protection and comfort.

And out of the back door hopped a little girl. She had on fairy wings and a cowboy hat. The wild, happy look in her eyes was me—capricious me, the child. The explorer of basements and attics. The builder of tree houses (the one my dad and I built still graced the old oak out back).

“Good morning,” the woman said hesitantly. “I hope you don’t mind. Your agent said you would be here.”

I bit my lip and watched the little girl. Nostalgia overwhelmed me.

“She said it sounded like you didn’t want to sell. Because of the furnace.”

“We came to say we’re willing to meet you halfway,” the man said.

I swallowed hard. The girl was picking dandelions. Making a flower crown. My childhood memories flashed before me.

“My agent was wrong,” I said, my brain hearing the words for the first time as they came. They were the words of the heart. “I’ll take your deal. The house is yours.”

Houses are living things. They thrive on love and potential and care. But like living things, they can also suffocate and fester, and that’s all I would have done to the place I loved so much. But this new family, they would give the house a new life, a new generation. I returned to Kevin the next week after donating most of the house’s goods to charity. Each item would bring a little piece of my house, of me, to someone else.

When I boarded the plane, I did so smiling. And that was it. So simple, really. Not the end, but another beginning.

The Spot Writers- our members:

 RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
https://valmuller.com/blog

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Deborah Dera
http://www.deborahdera.com

 

This is a historical novel following Attilius, an engineer who is new to his position and must discover why the waters have stopped flowing to Roman cities near Mount Vesuvius. As he investigates and attempts to repair the problem, he realizes that while nature is conspiring against humanity (with the pending eruption), there are a series of corrupt deals that have led Rome to be blind to the signs of the impending destruction.

I enjoyed the historical details—so many references to wealthy Romans lounging in luxury while their slaves tend everything; references to the strange practices of the time; references to Pliny’s last days (Pliny is a character in the novel), and political intrigue not dissimilar to some of what we experience today. Just like today, there are few honest men. Attilius is one of them, and in a culture run by money, corruption, and political connections, his honesty is a liability. The details—at once foreign and familiar—made the story for me.

The plot picked up as the volcano got closer to erupting (and then continued to do so), though I found the story could have moved faster at times. I also would have liked just a bit more imagery and details from the time period. I was relying on television shows and visits to museums to fuel my mental imagery. Still, it’s a great read for those interested in the history of Rome and ancient Roman culture.

Today’s post comes from RC Bonitz, author of A Blanket for Her Heart. Each post for the next few weeks will begin with the following words- “This is it. So very simple actually. Just the end. And no one can prevent it.” See what you can do with them! Here’s RC’s version.

 

The Transient

This is it. So very simple actually. Just the end. And no one can prevent it. Father and the young barflies he presents to me; why he thinks I’d marry one of them I do not know. Though even Mother no longer calls them louts and lunkheads. So, I’m almost thirty and she’d like to bounce a grandchild on her knee; I’ll not marry any of the so-called man on this island.

The smell of fresh baked muffins and rolls fills the shop as I remove the last of the blueberries from the oven. I start baking before the sun comes up and then open the shop at 6:30 when Mother comes in to help. Today I’m wired and just have to take a walk to burn off my frustration. Father presented a proposal from Henry last night, for the third bloody time. How many ways do I have to say no before they both get the message?

I plop my apron on the counter, leave the shop open so Mother can get in, and set off down the street toward the harbor. It’s a beautiful morning, the sun low in a golden sky and the sea calm with very little swell. Tourists will flock aboard the ferry boat today and we’ll be busy at the shop.

Passing Mumford’s Book Shop (owned by Patti Mumford, my best friend) and Collier’s Marine Supply (he’s at least sixty and married or Father would be pushing him at me I’m sure), I’m soon on the docks. Most of the fishing boats went out before dawn, but Henry’s is still here. He can’t be waiting for my answer? After two rejections? He’s nowhere in sight though, so maybe I can relax for a few minutes before he…

There’s a sailboat tied up at the gas dock. Someone must have come in late last night. An unusual looking boat it is, with complicated cruising rigging and a sleek modern hull I’d expect to see on a racing boat. And it looks tired and well used.

I’m about to hail the boat when the hatch slides back a little bit and then a little more. Somebody’s awake. Then the hatch board disappears below and a child sticks her head out, sees me and smiles. About six years old, she puts a finger to her lips and climbs out on the deck.

“Hi,” she says softly. “Daddy’s sleeping.”

I assume that means I shouldn’t wake the man, but that’s exactly what I’m here for. I’m the harbormaster, you see, and her Daddy needs to move that boat. The man also needs to supervise this child, or else her mother does.

“Hi. Your daddy needs to wake up. He has to move your boat,” I tell her and then I notice she’s not wearing a life jacket. Some parents are so lax with their kids. What if she fell overboard? “You need to put on a life jacket.”

She shakes her head. “I can swim.”

“You need to wear one. It’s the law,” I insist.

The hatch slides open all the way and a sleepy-eyed male head appears, his sun bleached blonde hair all askance. “What’s going on Emma?” he says.

“Your daughter has no life jacket. You need to put one on her.”

He stares at me as if I’m from another planet, “She’s a good swimmer. She doesn’t need one.”

“It’s the law. And you need to move this boat.”

“After breakfast,” he mutters, and turns to go below again.

This man is so—insufferable. Lackadaisical, arrogant, whatever. “You can’t cook at the gas dock.”

“I know that,” he shoots back and comes up to stare at me again, this time awake and alert.

“Life jacket, no cooking, move the boat,” I snap.

“You got any other demands you want to dump on us this morning?” he says sweetly, giving me an evil grin. He intends to ignore me; I can see it in his eyes. He’s laughing at me, the jerk.

“I’m the harbormaster. You’d better pay attention.”

 

The Spot Writers- our members:

 RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
https://valmuller.com/blog

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Deborah Dera
http://www.deborahdera.com

 

This book follows the tale of a boy whose drunken father wants him to “man up,” forcing him to spend a night in the creepy basement of the apartment complex as a rite of passage, killing all the giant rats rumored to live there. The book begins in a rather pleasant way, with the terror end-loaded into the last 40 percent. The strength of this book is the situation. Robbie is a sympathetic character, and his dad (and some other characters) are bullies enough to make us root for Robbie. There are also some characters that join Robbie, making us like him further.

The weakness of this book is the telling of the story. It’s told in third person omniscient, so there’s a lot of “head hopping” from what one character is thinking to what another is thinking—sometimes even within paragraphs of each other. As a result, I never felt like I got to know any of the characters well enough—I wasn’t shown much through their perspectives. Rather, there were lots of scenes comprised only of “telling” me what a character was like, stating an adjective and then following up with an example. As a reader, I much prefer being shown. For such a short novel, I also found a lot of repetition of words and sentence structure that sometimes served to slow down the plot in places where I wanted to be tearing through the pages to see what happens to the characters.

Still, the situation presented in the tale is creepy, at times even terrifying—and at the end (in the basement), it will have you burning through the pages to see if your worst suspicion is correct.

I would recommend the book to a younger readership, provided they like scary stories. I can see this story as a “gateway drug” to harder horror.

This week’s post comes to us, for the second time in a row, from Cathy MacKenzie, who writes mainly short stories and poems. The theme for this month is “water.” Cathy hopes you enjoy part two of her story!

Cathy’s new book, compiling 18 of her best and most recent short stories, titled Between These Pages, is now out on Amazon.  E-book is $2.99. Print version is $10.00:

http://www.amazon.com/Between-These-Pages-ebook/dp/B00DP3RDOA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1372780978&sr=1-1&keywords=Between+These+Pages

 

Check out Cathy’s blog at: http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/

 

 Water Haven II

 

Instead of last week’s yellow noodle, tonight’s colour is pink, but the theme is the same. I’m swimming alone in the pool—still fleshy, flabby and frumpy old. This time it’s evening and I’m shrouded in darkness. I’m crying huge tears, and, thanks to the night, I can’t even pretend my body has morphed into svelteness, because I can’t see anything but the moon’s dim light glancing across the ripples.

I wasn’t drunk that last time, but I am tonight. Terribly drunk. I recollect my story of the yellow noodle and think how ironic it is I remember the colour yellow and compare it to the pink noodle which now accompanies me.

My huge gulps of sobs and my irrational words resonate through the night. Sound travels fast and piercing across water, and my pool is no exception. Gentle quietness would pervade were it not for the sounds escaping from my mouth. I pray the neighbours are safely ensconced in their homes so they aren’t privy to my personal woes. My weeping is laden with pain. My stomach aches. My heart is tore in more pieces than the proverbial two.

Is this the night? Obviously since I still exist, someone rescued me from the previous pool depths. I survived that episode to write another tale.

But—no—tonight is not the end. I’ll survive for another day. Another sleep. Another wracking cry. I’m a survivor, after all. I’ll survive this, and anything else tossed my way.

I’ll survive till the next time.

And likely the next…

 ***

 The Spot Writers- our members:

RC Bonitz
http://www.rcbonitz.com

Val Muller
https://valmuller.com/blog

Catherine A. MacKenzie
http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Deborah Dera
http://www.deborahdera.com

Today I had the chance to interview Marie McGaha, founder at Dancing With Bear Publishing, and also one of my publishers and colleagues.

Tell us about the inspiration behind your publishing company:

CROSS THE LINE FULL SIZE PRINT 2x3The love of my life, Bear, passed away and I was devastated even though we hadn’t been married for several years due to a closed brain injury he suffered in a motorcycle accident. He was never the same after that and really just went downhill. It was horrible for me, our kids, our grandkids, and the rest of our family. But after his death, I wanted to do something to honor him, so I wrote Dancing With Bear: A Love Story, a memoir of our life together. Even though I had about 25 books out with nine different publishers, I didn’t want anyone else touching this book; it was way too personal. So, after a bit of thinking, I decided to start my own publishing company, Dancing With Bear Publishing, to publish my book. And having been in this business more quite a few years now, and having to deal with unscrupulous publishers when I was new at this game, I wanted to help new authors get published, and learn about the game of publishing without getting ripped off like I had been with one or two of those publishers.

 

Summer is a great time to encourage kids to read. What are some offerings from DWB for children?

An_Important_Job_to__2xOur children’s line, Dancing With Bear Publishing’s Children’s Line has something for every age from newborn to young adult. We have picture books like, An Important Job to Do: A Noah’s Ark Tale by Victoria Roder that has the most wonderful illustrations by Deborah Lenz.

From our teen author, Shaelee Elmore, whose father passed away unexpectedly when she was thirteen, we have My Definition of a Dad. Shaelee wrote this as an essay for school shortly after her father’s death and it is a very touching tribute that everyone should read, especially young people who have suffered the same type of loss.

Tears to Dancing by Laura Thomas is a wonderful story of tragic loss and finding the will to live even when you think everything you have is lost.

Wind-Free by Patricia La Vigne will touch the heart of every girl who loves horses.Wind-Free_Cover_Final

And for boys, Tim Champlin, who is the father of two boys, gives us Lummox, the story of adopting a St. Bernard who winds up being a hero.

Also, from Val Muller, we have the Corgi Caper mysteries that boys and girls alike will enjoy reading.

What are some fictional offerings for adults you would recommend for a beach read?

We have quite a few that fall into that category. Miracle at Sycamore Grove by Bobbie Shafer is due out July 4,2013. This is the third book in the Secrets of Eagle Creek series.

Even though it’s not the holidays, yet, we have some wonderful romantic stories in our anthologies, Christmas Bells, Christmas Tales; One Red Rose; and A Halloween to Remember.Christmas Bells_Christmas_Tales_Cover_133

And there’s a few of my own books that were previously released by other publishers, and I was able to get out of my contracts. I have rewritten them, had them re-edited, and put new, more beautiful covers on them.

Tell us about some of DWB’s offerings for readers who prefer nonfiction:

ItsNotYouItsThem_2xWe have some wonderful inspirational books. It’s Not You, It’s Them by Victoria Roder that deals with adults who suffered childhood sexual abuse and how to overcome and be empowered through God’s word.

Limitless by Andrew W. Lankford is a collection of poems that resonate like prayers, and will touch your heart.

How did you get into writing?

I was born with a pencil in my hand. Seriously, as soon as I learned to put letters together to form words, I was writing. But even before I could write, I made up poems, songs and such far-fetched stories my parents were sure I would grow up to be the biggest liar on earth! (They didn’t have the imagination I did!)

What is your favorite piece you’ve had published? Why?

I love everything I’ve written but Cross The Line my all-time favorite. I think it’s so different from other books, and the characters leap off the page and live with you long after you’ve closed the book.

If you could meet any of your characters, who would it be? Why?

That one is easy – Caleb Jordan from Deep Within My Heart, a story that was previously e-published, and I’m still working on the rewrites. Caleb is a pirate… need I say more?

What advice would you give to an aspiring writer?

I get a lot of emails from aspiring writers and the one thing I get asked all the time is, “How much do you charge?” When I say nothing, they are flabbergasted. So my advice is this, never ever pay a publisher to publish your work. Money should always flow from publisher to author, NEVER the other way around.

 You can visit DWB and Marie at: 

www.dancingwithbearpublishing.com

www.dwbchildrensline.com

Twitter – #DWB_Publishing

Facebook 

LinkedIn

 

This is a nostalgic book that follows the coming of age of Jason Lee, a white boy in the South during the 1980s. Lee befriends a black boy, Samson, much to the disgust of the racist town. At the same time, Jason Lee is also trying to uncover the truth about his father, JL, who served (and died) in Vietnam and was a fighter for equal rights prior to that. Jason also experiences his mother’s nervous breakdown and learns to help his Uncle Mooks, who has been wounded—physically and mentally/emotionally—by serving in Vietnam.

The book reminds me of the classics about the South—To Kill a Mockingbird, for example. It has the whole-heartedness of a book that can be used in school classrooms, and it confronts important issues and themes. The voice of Jason Lee, who narrates the book, is simple and genuine, making it an easy read despite the subject matter. For me, the one shortcoming was the conflict. While most books are heavily plot driven, and I’m complaining about the language, this book was the opposite. The language was rich, but the conflict didn’t take hold right away—aside from the racism that was prevalent from the beginning, the conflict(s) didn’t emerge until later. Still, when the conflict does take hold, you’ll want to keep reading until you finish.

Overall, I recommend this read. It’s an award-winning book. It was not a waste of time, and the characters and personality of the setting were poignant at times, with a wholesome plot and setting to support a coming-of-age tale.