No, not the band.

There’s been a lot of talk around the blogosphere recently about the general love of bad boys. I’ve seen a few folks saying that nice guys can work too (and a few more actually claiming “bad boy” status on characters I would certainly categorize as “nice guys”) but it’s pretty much nothing compared to the wave of bad boys taking over books.

My writer friends have been noting the phenomenon as well. One writer was bemoaning the current trend of “the badder the better” and saying it used to be the bad boy hero was some dude who’d just killed a man. Then it became an assassin with a heart of gold. Then just an assassin. Then just a murderer. Another writer wondered if this onslaught was a factor of readers wanting to live vicariously through the exploits of a fictional heroine who walks on the wild side with a lover who is mad, bad, and dangerous to know. But, hasn’t that always been the case with bad boys in fiction? This isn’t a NEW trend. So why now are books filled with ever more reprehensible men?

Bad boys never did it for me. I never had a thing for Heathcliff (abusive, horrible puppy-killer!) or Mr. Rochester. I liked Gilbert Blythe and the fine, upstanding, stick-in-the-mud (if jerky) Mr. Darcy. (Actually, I *really* liked Captain Wentworth, who I suppose had the technical bad boy edge of being a privateer.) I thought Angel was a sociopath, and though I liked Spike as a character, I was never attracted to him and found his relationship with Buffy to be utterly laughable (as opposed to his relationship with Drusilla, which I actually found quite effective and moving). Me, I liked Riley — til they ruined him, that is.

(It is important to note that I do not think that angst=bad boy. Edmund Pevensie, upon whom I have a crush I’ve actually been paid to write about in detail, is angsty — but not a bad boy. He had one little lapse in judgment, and proceeds to spend the rest of the books atoning for it. A lot of bad boys are, however, angsty, which is usually our entry into sympathizing with them.)

So the only bad boy I ever fell for was Logan Echolls of Veronica Mars. And I fell hard. Perhaps it helped that Logan was still a child, and it was possible for him to rise above his abusive father and horrific home life that was making him into a psychotic jackass (See above re: angst and sympathy). I watched the end of the first season of VM with my heart in my throat worried/terrified that Logan had murdered his ex-girlfriend Lilly in a fit of jealous rage. And through it all, I loved him. My one bad-boy crush.

Perhaps my love for Logan helped when I found myself crafting my own bad-boy love interest — or what one reviewer (positively, if you can believe it) called “the asshole love interest.” It certainly hadn’t been my intention to write that guy, and it was really challenging too, to make it believable — to me — that a reasonable woman would take that kind of risk with her heart or with her safety. It took the better part of a book to set up a situation where I could even get her to a point where she’d initiate it, and another book entirely to get the relationship off the ground. It had to be believable for me.

And it worked, if the reader responses are anything to go by. People love Poe. I sometimes wonder how much they love him, and how much they love the trope of the bad boy. I worked hard on him, but most folks were on board right from the start. There’s something about bad boys that gives them that capital. Ironically, though bad boys have a population of readers ready to love them from the word go, good boys have to work five times as hard.

Here are the struggles they face:

• If they are sweet and considerate, they are perceived as weak.
• If they are steadfast, loyal, and sure of their feelings for the girl, they are perceived as desperate, lying, or too good to be true.
• If they are fine upstanding citizens, they are perceived as bland and goody-two-shoes.

Even Persnickety Snark, in her attempt at a “defense” of good boys calls them out on these things: “Too often nice comes across as boring.”

And to those naysayers, I present Mr. Lloyd Dobler:

Let’s face it, we all want John Cusack standing outside our house with a boombox.

And the whole point of Say Anything, really, is that Lloyd embodies everything that a bad boy is not. He’s sweet, and considerate, and unassuming, and steadfast, and stand-up, and absolutely, unequivocally in love with a girl that everyone thinks outclasses him.

MIKE: I wanted to ask you: how’d you get Diane Court to go out with you?
LLOYD: I called her up.
MIKE: Yeah, but how come it worked? I mean, like, what are you?
LLOYD: I’m Lloyd Dobler.
MIKE: This is great. This gives me hope. Thanks.

Lloyd isn’t boring or weak (he can manhandle drunks at a party pretty handily), but he’s also pretty accepting of the fact that his general lack of ambition and his vague idea of being a “professional kickboxer” doesn’t hold a candle to Diane’s future and destiny. So why do we like him so much?

A friend of mine told me it’s because Say Anything is, ultimately, Lloyd’s story. It’s not the story of a high-powered ambitious girl who accepts the gentle love and devotion of a nice guy like Lloyd Dobler. It’s about Lloyd, everyone’s favorite everyman, who through true love and devotion wins his prize of the beautiful girl. We’re with Lloyd. We really want him to get his heart’s desire, and when he does, we cheer.

But what if this was Diane’s story? Would we then perceive Say Anything as being about a very successful girl who takes pity on the class slacker, has a little summer romance, and when her life goes all topsy-turvy, settles, knowing this guy is willing to be her house-husband and general shoulder to lean on in England? Comforting, sure, but not exactly the stuff of high passion.

Heck, even Lloyd’s cadre of girlfriends (a delicate balancing act, from a writer’s perspective, to present Lloyd as being platonically beloved by women without coding him as someone who is not boyfriend material) have to have a discussion about his catch-factor:

REBECCA: Hey, I know this is a strange thing to say, but maybe Diane Court really likes Lloyd.
COREY: If you were Diane Court, would you honestly fall for Lloyd? (long pause) Yeah.
DC: Yeah!
REBECCA: Yeah.

And maybe it also helps that Lloyd is so in love with Diane — standing-outside-the-window-with-a-boombox kind of love. But of course, that kind of thing can backfire on a nice guy. In high school, my friends and I used to say that a romantic gesture had nothing to do with the gesture — it was the guy doing it. If you liked the guy sending you secret notes and flowers, it was romantic. If you didn’t, it was lame and stalkery. If it wasn’t cutie-pie John Cusack — Lloyd Dobler who we were all rooting for — standing out there with the boom box, we’d probably recommend that Diane call the cops.

I ran into that problem myself with Brandon. The sweeter and more romantic Brandon was to Amy (and, most importantly, the less that Amy responded to it) the more his actions were viewed by the readership as lame and desperate. So maybe it’s that Amy actually likes the equally lame (from an objective standpoint) stuff that Poe pulls. I mean, a half-eaten pack of LifeSavers as a present? Not exactly diamonds and chocolates.

As the reactions to the boys in the SSG series came in, I was fascinated by what readers chose to believe of Amy’s narration and what they discarded. All first person narrators are to some extent, unreliable, in that the reader only sees what they see. Even if they are telling the absolute truth to the reader, they are not omniscient, and they bring their own biases into the situation. Take, for example, Amy’s initial reaction in SSG to Clarissa’s overtures in the library. Because Amy hates Clarissa, she thinks Clarissa is trying to be bitchy to her and to question Amy’s right to be tapped by Rose & Grave. Later, of course, we discover that Clarissa was honestly curious. Readers assume Amy’s version of events, and are corrected only when Amy is.

(Of course, some of them are never corrected. I am always surprised by the number of letters I get from people who hate Clarissa, even though Amy grows to love her.)

So perhaps readers’ disdain for Brandon’s romantic efforts is a result of Amy’s disdain. And yet, Amy is plenty disdainful of Poe through both SSG and UTR, and I got lots of letters at the end of UTR that were pro-Poe. (Which, honestly, was a relief, given what I was about to do with the storyline.) It’s hard for me to say, since I’m the writer. Were there subtle manipulations coding the reader to root for Poe over Brandon? Sure, why not? Are my skills as a writer, then, not up to snuff if I haven’t succeeded in making you root for the romantic coupling of my choice?

Now there’s a question to get neurotic over.

It’s interesting that there seems to be a definite line between “steadfast” and “obsessive”. The former is the realm of the good boy, and it’s apparently boring and desperate. The latter is the realm of the bad boy (he climbs in your bedroom window, he stalks you, he’s always there, watching you). It’s apparently sexy. Spike is an excellent example of this. He chased after Buffy no matter how much she told him to stop, no matter how much his obsession with her became increasingly desperate and pathetic (first making his real girlfriend, Harmony, dress up like Buffy for sex games, then later, making his own Buffy sexbot), and viewers still found him incredibly attractive and cheered him on. Now, tell me truthfully. If you found out that some dude had a crush on you and when you rejected him, he dressed up a sex doll to look just like you — ummm. Hot? I don’t think so.

(I found the most lovelorn pic of Spike I could for this part, and, sidebar, do you know if you just google the word “Spike” this is most of what comes up? No actual, you know, spikes.)

There are some old screenwriting tricks writers sometimes use to create sympathy for an otherwise unlikeable character. If he’s mean, show that other people — people we’re inclined to like — like him. Have him be sweet to children or small animals.This is called “save the cat.”

When we see Logan going to get the belt his father will beat him with, we understand there’s a reason behind his jackass nature. When Spike risks death to protect Dawn, we see that he really does care about both Summers girls. Personal sacrifice, vulnerability, unshakeable interest in the heroine (who can’t help but be at least flattered, though returning the interest is the brass ring)… these are all games that you get to play with the bad boy. But the good guy? He’s not otherwise unlikeable. The readers already know his vulnerabilities. They like him.

They just don’t lurrvvve him.

Except when they do? Why do we swoon over Lloyd Dobler when he’s nothing like Logan Echols?Or are they different populations entirely that do the swooning? Are some of always going to be Team Bad Boy and some of us always going to be Team Nice Guy? And what does that make of me, Team Nice Guy, except for that one little dalliance with Logan?

Stay tuned to find out!

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Maggie Stiefvater, who once made waves online with her “I just don’t get romance” post and then a year later sold a big fat werewolf romance to Scholastic (releasing this fall!) has put up a very thought-provoking post furthering her thoughts on love and romance. I think it’s safe to say that Maggie’s opinions on the matter have shifted somewhat in the past year and a half. However, I don’t agree with her current thesis that large gestures don’t work, and only by writing around romance do you get romance. (Updated to add: Maggie has amended herself to “earned” big gestures, which I agree with absolutely — see below.)

For instance, the scene in The Village that she points out as an example of a “small gesture” of love is, in reality, anything but. Here we’ve got Joaquin Phoenix’s character, as stoic and silent as ever a character was, finally breaking through after half a movie’s worth of teasing and being told he’s in love for the “things he refuses to do” and revealing a concrete example of his love — GRABBING her hand, not “refusing to catch her” which she claims he’s done for years. Then he admits in a moving, impassioned, grand speech a few scenes later:

“Why can you not stop saying what is in yours? Why must you lead, when I want to lead? If I want to dance, I
will ask you to dance. If I want to speak, I will open my mouth and speak. Everyone is forever plaguing me to speak
further. Why? What… good is it to tell you you are in my every thought from the time I wake? What good can come
from my saying I– I sometimes cannot think clearly, or- or do my work properly? What gain can rise from my telling
you… the only time I feel fear as others do, is when I think of you in harm? That is why I am on this porch, Ivy
Walker. I fear for your safety above all others. And yes… I will dance with you on our wedding night.”

These things work in tandem with each other. We believe the impassioned speech and we thrill at the big hand grab because of the small gestures that lay the groundwork. And those small gestures all build up to what romance fans like to call “the gut punch moment”: the declaration, the realization, the proposal or the reconciliation, or the love scene, the kiss on the dock in the rain or the “you pierce my soul” letter or “I know” before being lowered into carbonite or any of the thousands of grand gestures that leave the audience breathless and elevated in every romance ever told. You need ‘em both. You need ‘em all.

Shanna Swendson actually has an excellent series of posts on this, in which I think she gets to the heart of why “you complete me” doesn’t really work (for Maggie and me, at least). It’s not that it’s the “big gesture” — it’s that it’s the big gesture without the small one. Tom is a shit to Renee, who loves him because, I don’t know, he’s got some kind of idealistic outlook on life that attracts her? His last-minute realization that she actually is worthy of his affection, and not just her kid, is false and hollow, because no “small gestures” accompany it. In fact, the “you complete me” shot is even cropped so that you can’t see Tom is doing the sign language for it as well, which would be a sign that he at least PAID ATTENTION to something Renee showed him once upon a time. Shanna’s point is all about romantic comedy filmmakers focusing on these big gestures without the small ones, or thinking that if you line up the right order of events and a big misunderstanding, you’ll wind up with a romance.

Maggie’s other point is an interesting one, about how the reader is dying for two characters to make a romance happen, and that is, I think, why filmmakers can get away with crap like 27 Dresses and, to an even greater extent, Prince Caspian. Hey, look, we have two attractive people who are not related to one another in this film. Let’s put ‘em together! People will buy it. We don’t have to work on that.

Ugh.

I am always surprised by the attempts made to ’ship my characters. After Secret Society Girl, people were all after a romance between Malcolm and Poe. Lately, I’ve been hearing rumblings about one between George and Jenny, which, I’m sorry, is about as likely to happen as Malcolm and Poe. But the point is that people like it when characters fall in love. But that doesn’t mean that storytellers should just go ahead and toss any old random people together, Because then you end up with, well:

WRONG! Ewwwwwwww…..

Now, this can get a little sticky, because I’m also a huge believer in following chemistry, which is, of course, indefinable. Some people may see massive chemistry between two characters where others don’t. I don’t know how much chemistry the actors in Prince Caspian might have had to whoever made that stupid, stupid decision, but there certainly wasn’t enough to overcome the canon of “eww” that accompanied their romance. I never found there to be any chemistry between the leads in the short-lived TV series Moonlight, which probably accounts a lot for why I found the show lacking. But other people completely loved that romance. On the other hand, I applaud show runners like Rob Thomas for following the chemistry of Logan and Veronica to its natural and delicious conclusion on Veronica Mars. I really don’t think they imagined a romance between those two, but when it became clear that she and Duncan were flat as pancakes on screen, while she and Logan crackled like summer lightning — well, where do you go?

And different types of romance are necessary for different characters. For instance, Maggie derides “common interest” as a reason for romance, and yet, in some cases, it’s why we are rooting for two characters, particularly in stories where you meet each character on their own long, long before they ever encounter the other. I still remember my first reading of Lord of the Rings. When I got to the part where Eowyn (bless her shield-maiden soul) kicks the Witch King’s enrobed hiney and falls into a magical coma, I remember exclaiming, “No! She can’t die. She must live and marry Faramir!” Sailor Boy, reading in the next sleeping bag over (we were in a tent in Australia at the time) was all, “Wait, she doesn’t even know Faramir and is in love with Aragorn.” But you can’t fool this romance reader. Eowyn is awesome and all, but Aragorn is a demigod. It was never going to work out. Meanwhile, Faramir is equally awesome, equally noble, equally mortal, and equally in need of someone to try a little tenderness. They needed to live happily ever after and root the orcs out of Ithilien. You knew that they would be perfect for one another when they finally met and a big part of that was their common interest. they were twin souls, serving twin purposes in their respective cities (the young, intelligent, brave noblemen who pushed the leaders of their city to betterness). They belonged together.

So before I wrote SSG, I wrote four romance novels, none of which were published, and one of which received a rejection letter praising my characterization and writing, but regretting the lack of , well, romance. Ah well, I was still learning the ropes. And perhaps the editor in question didn’t find my romantic gestures (grand or otherwise) as romantic as I do. For instance, I find it profoundly romantic that Poe saved the mouse because Amy said she liked it. I like even more that she doesn’t find out about that for months and months. Now, not a lot of people think of mice as romantic, so…

Right. My point was…something. It was that I wasn’t such a huge success at writing romance novels, but I wrote novels that were not shelved as romance novels and received heaps of reviews praising what RWA likes to call the “romantic elements” of my books.

The last three books I’ve written have been more blatantly romantic than the first two. In Rites of Spring (Break), Amy’s love life goes front and center in the plot line, and I remember half-joking with my romance writer friends that the structure of the story maps to a romantic suspense. Rampant, killer unicorns aside, is a love story. And those of you who have read the first chapter of Tap & Gown in the back of ROSB know that the question of Amy’s spring break romance looms large. But those were vastly different projects, in both conception and execution. In SSG, I had a very different denouement to the love story in mind, but those two crazy kids were like magnets. So I just went with what felt natural — though actually, ridiculous chemistry aside, it took a whole book to make it work in any rational manner (and their trials aren’t over, because these two have a HUGELY rough row to hoe if they really want to date). In Rampant, I had always intended on a love story to get in the way of Astrid’s duty, but I had to “cast” her love interest several times before I had the right kind of chemistry. The first time, he wasn’t interested in her. The second time, she wasn’t interested in him. But then I landed upon Giovanni, and they clicked, and it was gorgeous. It was also really interesting to write, because Giovanni is a markedly different kind of hero than any I’ve written before, and way, way different than Jamie. Oh, Giovanni. I’m a little bit in love with him.

Yes, I just finished writing a big scene between Astrid and Giovanni for KU2. Why do you ask?

Unfortunately, I can’t really talk about their “small gestures” vs. “big gestures” or “common interests” though their romance is the one on my writerly mind, because no one has read that book yet and I am spoiler-averse and it’ll be months and months (and months and months and argggggggh… don’t mind the crazy author in the corner). But I can talk about Rites of Spring (Break) — look away if you have not read the book yet. Look perhaps, to this page, and order yourself a copy (my shameless plug of the day) — and mouse over white text to read ROSB spoilers:

In ROSB, we’ve got this slow-burn romance going on for the first half of the book, but I keep it on the DL, even from the narrator. She has no idea what I’m doing to her. In fact, she’s under the mistaken impression that I’m getting her together with some other guy. Poor girl. Meanwhile, Poe keeps popping up, starting in the first chapter, and showing that the events of Under the Rose have permanently changed their relationship, and that a lot of their antagonism is more based on the fact that they are used to it, rather than actual negative feelings or even disagreements. In fact, they are pretty much on the same page — they have the same sense of duty about the society, the same concerns and insecurities about their future, etc. Who knew? (Ahem. me.) The events are a prelude, meant to disarm and discomfit her around him. Long looks, tete-a-tetes, and odd moments of tenderness — none of which add up to anything taken on their own, but set the stage for Amy’s upcoming “duh” moment, which happens when Poe, after saving her life, drops her off at the cabin. “Big gesture” alert: Amy looks out the window and what should she see? Poe pacing in front of her cabin, undecided between coming back and saying — something, but what? — to her, and leaving, letting things stay as they are.

Unbeknownst to Poe, his indecision is moot. Amy instantly grasps what he would be saying were he to come back, and knowing that is enough to change things. Poe likes her.

And really, knowing is half the battle. Because Amy? Not so much with the pretending. She can’t go back to her former antagonist relationship with him. Not given what she knows. So she needs to confront Poe either way: tell him no way is that shit going down, or okay, you’re cute, let’s make out in the sand. (Which they do — “big gesture again”.)

The interesting thing about how their relationship played out, though, to me, is that the power dynamic was not what I expected. Adolescent understanding of a power dynamic is that the person who knows how the other person feels is the one with the power. (This is why you kept your crushes a secret in high school.) Amy knows Poe likes her, therefore, she should be the one in control. And she is for about one chapter. It’s in her hands if things go any farther — if they have a date, if they kiss. After that, the power shifts rather dramatically, and I wasn’t expecting it, though I felt that, in the end, it made for a much more mature romantic storyline. Poe wasn’t going to be embarrassed to be “discovered,” as Malcolm was sure he would. He was going to own it.

I remember seeing an interview with Kristen Stewart, where she was talking about her vision of Bella in the Twilight movie, and how she had the power in that relationship because there was no question of what she wanted; Edward might be torn, but she knew. She wanted to be a vampire and to be with Edward. Well, Poe wanted to be with Amy, and once he thought there was a chance of that happening (which he didn’t back at the cabin, but with the date and the making out, well, he went for it), he had all the power. The power of conviction and of clarity. Yes, he could still be rejected, he could still be hurt by her, but there is a core of strength to honesty that can’t be touched by those things, and it’s a core that Poe hadn’t often had a chance to display in the series. He’s sneaky and manipulative, but not, apparently, when it comes to love. And it trumps any card that Amy attempts to play. I really, really liked that. He could be a deeply flawed person and he could even be wrong about their relationship, but he was absolutely forthright about his own feelings, and that’s incredibly powerful, especially compared to Amy’s wishy-washiness. Honestly? She didn’t stand a chance. He had to be rewarded for such a big step for his character, though also in keeping with his character, who despite his manipulative nature, is very blunt honest and dedicated. And those were all small gestures, but together, they were a tidal wave.

But because of that, in the end, Poe didn’t have to do a lot of “winning” of Amy, and it was Amy who had to go to Poe’s house for the big romantic gesture and reconciliation. And, if I’ve accomplished my goal, you believe her (and Poe believes her, which is a more difficult prospect) because of all her small turning points coming up to that — how she looks for Poe, and thinks of Poe, and is deeply, deeply, fundamentally hurt when she thinks Poe doesn’t trust her — which hurts even more because of how nakedly honest he’s been to her– so hurt she makes herself vulnerable to Darren. That what is going on here is something more than gratitude, and might need to be explored.

Which brings us up to Tap & Gown, where the story is far from over.

I feel that I’ve perhaps wandered far from the original purpose of this post, but what can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic. I love it all, the character perfection and the gut punch moments and the big romantic gesture and the tiny, infinitesimal moments that add up to a love story.

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What It Is: Through the Wardrobe: Your Favorite Authors on C.S. Lewis’s the Chronicles of Narnia.

Place You’re Likely to Find It: Border’s Book Stores (Exclusively), either in the YA or children’s sections, shelved with the other Narnia books, OR under B for Herbie Brennan (who edited the collection). Alternately, your local Borders may have a special display at the front of the store for the Narnia books and tie-ins in preparation for the movie. You are unlikely to get any help from the employees, as the book is NOT listed in the system, either by title or ISBN. This has been the case at several Borders I’ve visited in various states. The Borders in Boston where I most recently saw the book had it listed as being written by C.S. Lewis. If you have trouble finding it, try to get a hold of the YA or Children’s Books specialist in the store. I don’t think you can buy it online, either.

What It’s About: A bunch of YA and fantasy authors writing essays about the Narnia series. My essay is called “King Edmund the Cute” and talks about the character of Edmund Pevensie.

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What It Is: The paperback of Secret Society Girl, my first novel and the first book in the ongoing series.

Where You’ll Find It: Any bookstore, shelved in the literature/fiction section. The easiest way to find me is to look for the massive Jodi Picoult shelves and I’m usually right before it. I heart Jodi Picoult. Alternately, fine online retailers. And finally, I hear you can still find them in Target book sections.

What It’s About: Smart, sassy Ivy League co-ed Amy Haskel gets tapped into the previously all-male secret society Rose & Grave, and that’s just the start of her adventures.

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What It Is: Under the Rose, my second novel and the follow up to Secret Society Girl.

Where You’ll Find It: Right next to Secret Society Girl. You’ll be more likely to find it this summer, however, than you will now. Meanwhile, your best bet is fine online retailers. I’ve also heard people had good luck at Target.

What It’s About: From Publisher’s Weekly: “Picking up where last year’s Secret Society Girl left off, the novel follows the misadventures of Amy Haskel, who, having endured the initiation only to unravel a misogynistic plot set on destroying the first class of Diggers to include women, is looking forward to putting her troubles behind her. But things begin to sour when all the Diggirls receive a mysterious letter warning them of the society’s impending implosion. To make matters worse, Amy’s ex-boyfriend has a hot new girlfriend; her roommate starts dating a society member with commitment problems; another society member is dying to get under Amy’s ceremonial robe; and Amy’s senior thesis looms. When the Diggers realize they have a mole, Amy is intent on finding the culprit.”

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What it Is: The World of the Golden Compass, edited by Scott Westerfeld

Where You’ll Find It: In the YA or Children’s section of your local Borders (exclusively), with the Philip Pullman books. Alternately, in the YA section with the Scott Westerfeld books. Like the Narnia book, this book is not listed in the computer system in the store, so it is unlikely employees will be able to help. You used to be able to order it online, but the link appears to be broken now. (Seriously, this is the best picture I can find of it now!)

What It’s About: Another essay anthology. Mine is called “Ghost in the Machine” and is about the concept of daemons and why I named my laptop Pantalaimon.
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What It Is: Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl I Learned from Judy Blume, edited by Jennifer O’Connell.

Where You’ll Find It: I know nothing about a paperback release for this book, so your best bet is fine online retailers. Or, you may get lucky in a store.

What It’s About: An essay anthology by women’s fiction writers (including Megan McCafferty and Meg Cabot) about what Judy Blume meant to us growing up. My essay is called “Brave New Kid” and it’s about how I identified with Sally J. Freedman.

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And, coming up:

What It Is: Rites of Spring (Break), the third book in the Secret Society Girl series.

Where You’ll Find It: Starting on June 24, 2008, you’ll find it in bookstores all over. Check the new release tables, and if that doesn’t work, check next to Jodi Picoult. You can also pre-order it now — today! — online at these fine online retailers and have a book delivered to your door the day it’s out!

What It’s About: For Amy, a week of R&R on her secret society’s private island should be all fun in the sun—and an escape from an on-campus feud with a rival society that’s turned disturbingly personal. But along with her SPF 30 and a bikini, Amy is bringing a suitcase full of issues to remote Cavador Key. Graduation from Eli University looms, not to mention buckets of unfinished business with a former flame and—most pressing of all—the sudden, startling transformation of a mysterious Rose & Grave patriarch from sheerly evil to utterly…appealing? Just when Amy thinks Spring Break can’t get any less relaxing, a wacky “accident” puts everyone on edge. And that’s only the beginning, as Amy starts to suspect that someone has infiltrated the island. With some major Rose & Grave secrets to be exposed, and the potential fallout enough to take down one of America’s most loathsome figureheads, what she can’t know is that the party crasher is deadly serious about making sure “Bugaboo” doesn’t get back to Eli alive….

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And, in 2009, at bookstores everywhere:

June: RAMPANT, a tale of killer unicorns
July: The fourth book in the Secret Society Girl series

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Today, we’re talking to Andre Norton Award finalist, Sarah Beth Durst. Her debut novel, INTO THE WILD, is an adventure that takes you into the heart of the fairy tale world. Years ago, the fairy-tale characters escaped from a magical entity called The Wild. But when The Wild begins to take over again, it’s up to Rapunzel’s daughter Julie (and her foster brother, Puss-in-Boots) to save the day. (Bonus: It’s out in paperback in one month!) The follow up, OUT OF THE WILD, is due out from Penguin Razorbill this summer. Visit Sarah’s website to find out more.

Sarah was one of my fellow contributors to the amazing new Teen Libris anthology, Though the Wardrobe, and I had a chance to chat with her about her essay, about Narnia, and about why she names lamp posts.

Diana: Tell us a little bit about your essay for THROUGH THE WARDROBE.

Sarah: I called my essay “Missing the Point.” It’s about why the Narnia books resonate even if you completely and utterly miss all the symbolism. Kind of emotional support for the clueless. You see, I was clueless for years and years. I read the Narnia books dozens of times as a kid without noticing the slightest hint of religious allegory.

Diana: I’m with you there! Not having grown up in a religious household, I missed the symbolism when I read the books at nine. In fact, I vividly remember recommending them to a Jewish schoolmate who told me her parents didn’t let her read “Christian propaganda” and I was shocked, since I never looked at them as anything other than fantasy books. I definitely see a corollary to the way other books might be viewed as “dangerous” or “instructive” by adults, but the kids just see them as pure fun.

Sarah: I’m also the kid who completely believed the frame story in The Princess Bride, told all my friends that Inigo Montoya and Princess Buttercup were real historical figures, and then tried to back it up with encyclopedia research. Needless to say, our encyclopedia didn’t mention them. Of course, our encyclopedia was so old that the section on space travel said that maybe someday man will land on the moon…) Anyway, I thought there should be an essay for those of us who are allegorically-challenged.

Diana: Ha! I actually wrote into the publisher, as Goldman recommends, to get the “missing love scene.” However, I never received the response that details the various and sundry legal problems Goldman (and the hilarious lawyer, Kermit Shog) dealt with. So you’re not alone in your beliefs! What is your favorite Narnia book?

Sarah: I love, love, love the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. As a kid, I used to check my closet pretty much daily in case it spontaneously opened onto another world. (I also checked it for monsters, but that’s just plain common sense. Everyone knows monsters are attracted to the smell of shoes.) I don’t check the closet quite as often any more, but I do call the lamppost outside my house the Faun Tumnus Lamppost. I think the images and moments in that book imprinted on my brain so early and so strongly that they still, on occasion, influence how I see the world.

Diana: I was always a Dawn Treader girl, myself. That’s certainly the one I read the most (I still read it at least once a year, to this day). What Narnia character would you like to be and why? If you were to fall into a Narnian book, which one would it be?

Sarah: I’d like to be the talking lion in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I don’t mean Aslan — way too much pressure and expectation there. I mean the random minor character at the end of the book who is overjoyed to help the heroes in the climactic battle. That would be me: not the hero, but totally thrilled to be hanging out around so much magical stuff. Plus it would be fun to be a lion.

Diana: I totally remember that lion, how he frolicked around while Aslan released the other stone creatures from the Witch’s castle! Great choice!

Sarah: As far as which book, I think I’d want to be in Narnia during The Magician’s Nephew. Safely before the White Witch begins her winter (I wouldn’t like being there in the cold) and safely before the world is destroyed and everyone dies but we’re supposed to be happy about it (I wouldn’t like being there in an apocalypse).

Diana: Do not get me started ranting on The Last Battle. And, speaking of things that tick me off about the series, How do you feel about the “new ordering” of the books, and the so-called logic behind it? Are you a “Publicationist” or a “Chronologist”?

Sarah: Publicationist!!! Reading The Magician’s Nephew first is like watching a making-of documentary before you see a movie. If you’re re-reading the books, then chronological is fine, but for new readers… One of the coolest moments in the Magician’s Nephew is when you learn the origin of the lamppost. This totally loses all its coolness if you have no idea about the significance of the lamppost.

Diana: Ah, a girl after my own heart. (I actually rant a bit about this in my essay.) How do you think that the Narnia books have influenced your own writing?

Sarah: One of the reasons that I’ve always loved the Narnia books is that the heroes and heroines are ordinary kids. Peter, Susan, Edmund, Lucy, Jill Pole, Eustace… none of them have special powers or are revealed as the long-prophesied Chosen One. I like that. Julie, the heroine of my novels, INTO THE WILD and OUT OF THE WILD, is completely ordinary. Okay, yes, she’s the daughter of Rapunzel, but Julie didn’t get any magical fairy-tale powers out of the deal. In fact, the whole fairy-tale thing just makes her life more complicated. You think your family is embarrassing? Wait until you have dinner with the seven dwarves. Anyway, I know my fondness for stories that involve ordinary characters facing impossible odds stems from the Narnia books.

Diana: That’s true. Modern fantasy does seem to be chockers with Chosen Ones. However, aren’t the Pevensies prophesized? Four thrones at Cair Paravel, etc.? Still, they have no special powers, and that makes it very accessible to you normal people who can’t do magic… Um, was that out loud? Moving on. How did you like the first Narnia movie? What are your plans for the release of Prince Caspian?

Sarah: I loved the first Narnia movie, and I can’t wait for Prince Caspian. My plan involves popcorn. Lots of popcorn. And a soda, but not a large soda because I don’t want to have to sneak out mid-movie in search of a bathroom. Very important to be careful of such things. I practically dehydrated myself to make it through Lord of the Rings. Anyway, soda or not, I’ll definitely be there!

Diana: Oh, I hate the mid-movie bathroom run! All the great scenes I’ve missed due to that! I really think we should re-instate the intermission for the long, fantasy epics. (Or the ridiculously long Judd Apatow comedies!)

Sarah: Thanks for all the great questions, Diana!

Diana: And thanks for coming, Sarah!

To all the readers: In honor of Sarah’s visit, I’m giving away a copy of her debut, INTO THE WILD. Leave your name and your favorite Narnian moment in the comments section to be entered into the drawing, and stay tuned for more Narnia coverage and giveaways.

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I currently have an essay out in an anthology called
Through the Wardrobe: Your Favorite Authors on C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia.

(I wish that was a direct link to buy, but since the book is a Borders Store exclusive, you can’t get it on Amazon or BN.com. However, I’ve seen copies in just about every Borders store I’ve visited recently, so run run run and pick up yours!)

It’s edited by bestselling fantasy author Herbie Brennan, and you can usually find it in the Young Adult section of your local Borders. Here’s the isbn:

ISBN-10#: 0979233135
ISBN-13#: 9780979233135

• Why is Prince Caspian the ultimate teenager?
• What does Narnia have to do with the Nazis?
• How come C. S. Lewis has such a big problem with lipstick, anyway?

Step through the wardrobe … and into the imaginations of sixteen friends of Aslan as they explore Narnia, from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe to The Last Battle, from the heart of Caspian’s kingdom to the Eastern Seas.

Join in on the adventure, the battles, and—of course—the celebrating!

Find out:

• How in Narnia (like in our world), bigger isn’t always better
• Why Edmund Pevensie is totally crush-worthy
• What tea and Turkish Delight have to do with religion
• And why it’s okay to have an occasional temper tantrum

With Essays From …

• Herbie Brennan
• Deb Caletti
• Diane Duane
• Sarah Beth Durst
• Brent Hartinger
• Susan Juby
• Sophie Masson
• Kelly McClymer
• O.R. Melling
• Lisa Papademetriou
• Diana Peterfreund
• Susan Vaught
• Ned Vizzini
• Elizabeth Wein
• Zu Vincent and Kiara Koenig

My essay is called “King Edmund the Cute” and it’s about my vast love for the character of Edmund Pevensie.

A recent review of the anthology has this to say about my essay:

“Don’t let any of the essay titles fool you! Diana Peterfreund’s essay “ King Edmund the Cute” may seem like it’s about one of those raving fan girl crushes on a literary character of Edmund Pevensie, but instead it ends up being in the end a thoughtful, insightful analysis of the character.”

The same site interviewed our Benbella series editor, the fabulous Leah Wilson:

JS: Do you have a favorite essay in Through the Wardrobe? If so, why?

LW: It’s very dangerous to play favorites, but I will mention two I think were particularly inventive: “King Edmund the Cute,” a fantastically engaging, smart account of Diana Peterfreund’s childhood crush on Edmund Pevensie; and “Eating in Narnia,” a topic that’s been well-covered but that Diane Duane treats in a very fresh, charming, and earthy way, starting with the insight that Narnia, unique among fantasy worlds, is a place you’d actually want to go for dinner.

Oh yeah. You know you want to read it now!

All next week, there will be special blog posts celebrating the release of this book, with appearances by me fellow contributors, and giveaways. Stay tuned!

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