Omnivoracious

YA Wednesday: Margaret Stohl Talks to Leigh Bardugo

Leigh Bardugo is one of my favorite new teen authors and her Grisha Trilogy is not to be missed.  The second book, Siege and Storm, is one of our Best Teen Books of June and if you thought you were eager for book two after Shadow and Bone (and if you haven't read it yet, what are you waiting for!?)  just wait until you get to the end of this one! 

Margaret Stohl, author of another of our favorites, the Beautiful Creatures series (with Kami Garcia) and the recentlyhttp://www.amazon.com/dp/0316205184/ref=blogs_omni_link_YA released Icons, sat down with Leigh Bardugo to discuss Siege and Storm, and the Grisha Trilogy.

Margaret: Let's talk about the Darkling. You've written arguably the greatest villain-as-love-interest we've seen in YA. It's as unlikely as if you'd written a version of Heart of Darkness where Kurtz is the hottie. Did you have an inspiration for the Darkling in your own mind?

Leigh: First of all, thank you, and second, I may require "Kurtz is the hottie" on a T-shirt. But I'm always wary of the term "villain." The Darkling believes he's doing the right thing for his people and his country, and I think you could make a case for most of the choices he makes, even the despicable ones. He was inspired by every really bad badboy I ever fell for in fiction. I'm not talking about the wounded, pouty guy who's just looking for the right girl to give him an excuse to be a hero, but the truly dangerous guys with an agenda—Flagg (who appears in various guises in several Stephen King books), Raistlin (Dragonlance), the Hound (George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire), and…okay, I'll admit it, Jareth the Goblin King from Labyrinth. (I don't know what his agenda was but it involved very tight pants.)

Margaret: Is it a risk, allowing a character so dark and powerful to be desirable? Do you see any strange responses to the Darkling from your readers?

Leigh: I'm sometimes surprised by how easily my readers let him off the hook. They seem to hold Mal and Alina to a higher moral standard. But honestly, I think the Darkling's appeal is realistic in its own way. Charm is a powerful weapon, so is beauty. I think it's worth asking why we respond so strongly to those lures.

Margaret: Is it a truth? Does it speak to another darkly honest aspect of real relationships?

Leigh: Maybe. It's always easier, at least in the short term, to give up authority to another person. We see this play out between Alina and the Darkling, and in a bigger way across Ravka. We want heroes, we want saviors, we want great leaders, but it's always dangerous to put yourself or your future so fully in someone else's hands—whether it's a love interest or a ruler.

Margaret: Is it a trend? 

Leigh: Antagonists as love interests? I don't know. Maybe it's that we're getting more characters who don't strictly adhere to archetype. Personally, I like heroes who struggle and make mistakes, who have to work at being good. And I like villains who don't just walk around twirling their mustaches. That kind of makes it sound like all villains are hipsters. Watch out, Portland.  

Margaret: The other great love of Alina's life, Mal, is the opposite, loyal and true and supportive. In real life, would you fall for the bad or the good guy? Darkling or Mal?

Leigh: Girrrl, you know the falling is easy. It's everything that comes after that's hard. And that's part of the struggle at the heart of Siege and Storm. Mal is loyal and true and he would do anything for Alina, but he has his own demons to fight and his own journey to make. I'm not interested in characters who only exist for each other.

Margaret: Your books are so clearly about power—supernatural, political and emotional. I find myself writing about these same issues compulsively, both in the Beautiful Creatures novels and Icons. Are these core issues for you personally, or is this part of a larger teen narrative for you?

Leigh: Both, I suppose. We point to coming of age stories and say that they're about finding your place in the world, discovering who you are and how you relate to authority, but it's not like that's a finite process. We still have to question what kind of power we give up and be sensitive to the kind of power we wield. We still keep learning and trying to get more comfortable in our skin. Maybe there's some magic moment when you wake up and say, "I have arrived. I am an adult and a badass and I'm going to go brew some tea and dispense wisdom." But I haven't gotten there yet.

Margaret: Can you send your trusty Grisha wizard beautician over to my house to live in my closet and fix me up every day?

Leigh: If only the Tailor made house calls. Genya would be in high demand.

Margaret: Do you have one? Does that explain your own radiant good looks?

Leigh: Ha! You should see me right now. I haven't had a full night's sleep in a week and there may well be corn in my hair.

Margaret: Will you sing a little something for us? 

Leigh: Always. I'm like Jane Krakowski's character on 30 Rock. "Who me? Sing? I couldn't poss—GIVE ME THAT MIC." But seriously, if you'd like to, listen to the Shadow and Bone-inspired song, Winter Prayer. Also, I take requests.

Announcing Around the World in 80 Books

We believe that books can take you places. And in that spirit, we've picked our favorite transportive classic and contemporary novels, memoirs, biographies, and travel books to prove it. Our selections for Around the World in 80 Books represent all seven continents (even Antarctica!), so whether you're jet-setting this summer or traveling from the comfort of your armchair, these books will be the perfect company for your journey.

Some of our picks include:

North America

• Wild by Cheryl Strayed
• The Beautiful Mystery by Louise Penny

South America

• Bel Canto by Ann Patchett
• One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Deep in the Heart of Texas: Philipp Meyer on the "The Son"

Philipp Meyer's 2009 debut novel, American Rust, earned numerous accolades (including a 2010 Guggenheim Fellowship) and marked him as a writer of exceptional potential. With The Son--a 150-year saga of family, oil, and power set against the birth of Texas and the modern West--Meyer has seemingly fulfilled that promise. He took time to answer a few questions about the new book, including some of his unusual things he did during the course of his research, and violence as an inseparable reality of North America's past.

The Son is available May 28.

The Son is an immense novel, spanning generations, a wide swath of Texas (and American) history, and incredible cultural change. Did you always intend for it to be this ambitious, or did it grow out of a more particular idea?

I always knew it was going to be an ambitious book. The problem, when I began writing it, was that I didn’t know nearly as much I thought I did about the history of Texas and the history of the American West. And the more I learned, the more I realized I didn’t know, and the slower the writing became. There were a lot of moments of slapping my head and realizing I needed to research a whole new period of history before I could write the things that belonged in the novel, and at some point I realized that the book was basically going to take place over two hundred years. That was exciting but also a bit depressing—I was thinking I’d finish this book in three years, like my last one. It ended up taking five years.

 

The Son is thoroughly entertaining (and revelatory) in its period detail and vernacular, especially Eli’s experience with the Comanches. How much—and what sort of—research was required to achieve such a level of realism?

There was so much research that it all became a blur. I know I read at least 350 books, though I likely read more; I took weeks of animal tracking classes, spent a month at Blackwater (the private military contractor) learning combat skills and soaking up the warrior culture for the sections on both the Comanches and the early Texas Rangers; I taught myself to bowhunt and killed several deer, ate them, tanned various deer hides. I shot two buffalo (whose meat was destined for restaurants and grocery stores) and because the Plains tribes sometimes did it for survival purposes, I drank a cup of warm blood from the neck of one of the animals. Not recommended. And I spent months in the woods, mountains, and deserts of Texas—I slept outside, hiked, or hunted almost everywhere the book takes place, took careful notes on and pictures of all the plants and animals I saw, then realized that the ecology of Texas had changed so enormously over the past 150 years that my notes weren’t necessarily valid. So had to go back to the historical and archeological record to research about exactly how and where and why it changed—the plants and animals I was seeing between 2008-2013 were not necessarily the plants and animals that were there in 1850 or 1870 or 1915.  Texas used to be a much wetter place—much of what is now desert or brushland was grassland in 1850. The landscape has changed radically in a very short period of time.

 

There’s a lot of violence in this book, and scenes that might make some readers uncomfortable. That’s part of the tale, of course, given both the era and setting. Did you have any reservations about not holding back? Is there intent to the way you want readers to face that violence?

I’m reluctant to talk about this too much, and to make too big a deal of it, but here goes:

I’m not sure the book is any more violent than any other book set in this time period, but I made an effort to not glorify it or gloss over it. A lot of books about the American West, about our creation myth, are full of blood and gore but there is no real sense of loss—they are like Quentin Tarantino movies. I wanted to address that tendency. I wanted the reader’s sympathies to shift from one side of the conflict to the other. I wanted the loss on both sides to be real.

That said, the politically correct part of me definitely considered toning it down—especially the scenes of combat between the Comanches and the various settler groups. But doing so would have come at such a cost to truth and accuracy that I couldn’t bring myself to do it—the historical record was too clear. The Native Americans were at war for their very survival and the European-American settlers were at war to make their fortunes and expand their country. Neither side committed any atrocity that has not been committed at some other period in history—whether earlier, during the Spanish Inquisition, or later, during the big wars of the 20th century. And I was careful that whatever violence there is in the book—whether committed by Texas Rangers, ranchers, or settlers, by Comanches or U.S. soldiers—was based on real events. It was not me imagining how things might have been.

It’s important to remember that people have been living in America for 15,000 years; thousands of cultures have risen and fallen here in that time, and, while no one was taking notes, it’s not that hard to guess that most were overthrown by force. In Texas alone, since the Spanish arrived and began writing things down, the Apaches came in and overthrew most of the other tribes and then the Comanches came in and overthrew the Apaches (and to some extent, the Spanish). The land we live on is quite literally soaked in blood; you can’t really understand American history, and what we come from, until you come to terms with that. And equally until you come to terms with the fact that, regardless of the winners or losers, the degree of brutality was basically equal on all sides. I think it’s easy to say that this brutality—the ubiquitousness of it—is the great point to be taken from human history. But that is not how I think of it. The point is that despite all that bloodshed, here we all are, still breathing, still falling in love and having children, still living our lives.

 

Both of your novels have a strong sense of geographical identity: American Rust in Pennsylvania and The Son in Texas. How does location shape your books? That is, does the story grow out of your experience of a place, or do you start with a story that you want to tell?

With the story. I didn’t grow up in Pennsylvania or in Texas. I just knew that this is where those books were going to be set. So I had to go and learn those settings. The location is crucial—you have to understand the economic history, the natural history, the philosophical history of a place before you can write about it. You have to know how the people look, speak, think, move, what they hope for, how they vote, how they eat, where they sleep, what they do for work.  You have to know everything. Not necessarily when you start the book, but definitely before the book is done.

 

Who are your greatest influences? Do you read for inspiration for your own work, or to take a break from your own work?

Overall my biggest influences, and the people who I see myself as learning the most from, are the modernists, basically Woolf, Faulkner, Joyce, Hemingway, Welty, etc. But I will read anything I find compelling. I’m going through a Vargas Llosa kick and right now and just finished a few books by Lobo Antunes. As a reader, there is nothing more satisfying than coming across an under-appreciated master, or a new book by an emerging master.  

As for the way I read, what happens when you cross the threshold after which you are a practitioner, or a working artist—whatever you want to call it—is that you don’t really read the same way. Probably not so different from the way a professional athlete watches a game. You are constantly observing, learning, zooming in and out on what people are doing. You’re not quite as lost in the magic of it, because you’re thinking: “holy ----, how did she/he do that!” Maybe that’s a loss. When I say it out loud, it seems like it. But in truth it doesn’t feel like it. I guess it feels like the natural evolution of my relationship to writing, or art, or the world. Somehow the pleasure of writing has supplemented or augmented the pure pleasure I used to get from reading. The amount of happiness is the same, but it comes from a slightly different place.

 

--Jon Foro

Writer's Blues: Bill Cheng, Author of "Southern Cross the Dog"

When eight-year-old Robert Chatham loses everything to the fast waters of the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, he lights out across the country, a refugee seeking shelter with (and from) a Homeric cast of misfits, hucksters, and ne’er-do-wells: the ladies of a "hotel" of ill repute; a piano player whose talent for the blues matches his seemingly supernatural powers of healing; a close-knit clan of trappers, living in swampland itself marked for flooding, behind the wall of a WPA dam. Wherever he finds himself, Robert's gripped and propelled by his fear of the devil closing in behind. Cheng's novel fits comfortably in the tradition of the Southern Gothic, but such simplification shortchanges the power and originality of its language, the artfulness of its voice. Southern Cross the Dog is one hell of a debut.

Cheng took the time to answer a few of our questions about his book, the blues, and the origins of the phrase Southern Cross the Dog.

You’re from New York, and Southern Cross the Dog is about as southern as a book can get. What inspired you to write about that part of the country?

I started this novel as a kind of offering to country blues music. I wanted to be able to re-create in story the kind of experience I feel when I listen to someone like Son House, for example.  For me, the only way to do that in a way that felt sincere was to set it in Mississippi, during the era of the prewar blues. Set the book someplace else and at some other time, and it would've been like I was trying to get around something. And you can't do that if you want to write a book you’re proud of.

Your story begins 85 years ago at the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, moving through the early 1940s. Was there something about that particular era that interested you, something that you could build a novel around?

The Great Mississippi Flood was a great starting point, from a storytelling perspective. There's a largeness to it, and its impact shadows the characters throughout the book. For Robert and his family, the flood marks them in a way that's irreparable. The flood and the Mississippi River also occupies this amazing space in the music. There are so many songs about the river, about the levee camps, and about the flood. The idea first came to me when I was listening to John Lee Hooker sing and play "Tupelo." It's absolutely haunting.

How did you conduct your research for not only the finer details of the culture, but also the language of the period?

I think there’s a misconception about how writers research and how the research is used. Or at least, on my part, I don't think I do the work of going to a library for a long period of time, digesting the information, writing the book so that it is faithful to reality.

The small facts that open up the world of a novel are important and can be like manna to a writer, but the real value in research, in sitting with materials, is that the path of your research reinforces the writer's path through their novel. By which I mean, the way you direct your research tells you what it is you want your novel to be about. You're discovering the world of your novel, not the real world as it can be represented in a novel. 

But to answer your question, I read aggressively everything I could about blues and blues music. I listened to blues music for close to a decade before I started the book.

Southern—or Southern Gothic—is a literary genre in itself. Did you have any trepidation in stepping into such a rich tradition?

I didn't really think about it going in—which I think was lucky; it would’ve been paralyzing otherwise. Now that the book is done, I’m a bit cautious of comparisons that are being made now. They’re very complimentary and gratifying to hear, but they also saddle a young writer with a terrible responsibility.  Excruciatingly beautiful books have come out of this part of America, but I can't say sincerely that my name has any place next to giants like William Faulkner or Flannery O'Connor. 

Does one book set in the American South now make me a southern writer? Is it enough to admit me into one of the richest American literary traditions? It's one book. When it’s put to me that I "wrote a book about the South" I think on some level that's wrong. I didn't write a book about the South. How could I have? To me, the book is about something different. Something more.

That said, are there southern writers (or writers of the South) whose work you admire most?

It almost seems besides the point to go on about William Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor or Cormac McCarthy. Their contribution to the world of letters will be felt from now until the last eye has fallen across the last word of the last book. But I would like to single out the late Larry Brown and the New York-born Peter Mathiessen, whose books are visceral and exciting and make me proud about wanting to write books.

What is the meaning of the phrase Southern Cross the Dog, and what is its importance to the novel?

Where the Southern Crosses the (Yellow) Dog is a place where two railroad lines—the U.S. Southern and the Yazoo Delta—cross in Moorhead, Mississippi. The place is referenced in blues music, and in my mind, it seems to reference a place of final rest and peace. A kind of coming home. Which is, in a sense, what I believe Robert Chatham wants.

Music—especially the blues—pervades the book. Was that a starting point or something that grew naturally? Do you have favorite blues musicians?

It was a starting point. It was more than a starting point. It was there before I even conceived of the book. It was there for years, settling inside of me, carving me up in quiet unknowable ways. 

As for favorite blues musicians, I have too many. Far too many. I think Lightnin' Hopkins might make it on top of the pile. Big Bill Broonzy, certainly. The problem with naming names is that I’ll always come up with another likely candidate for first place. I list a slew of them in my acknowledgments.

This is your first book—how long did it take to write? Was it a larger (or more difficult) project than you imagined?

About three years to get a first draft. During the editing phase, I think I cut about a hundred pages out of the book, and then fed some more pages back in. The book wasn't an easy book to write, certainly, but that’s part of the joy of being a writer. Solving problems. Working on sentences. Building worlds and populating them. Difficult is good. It keeps things interesting.

Are there more novels coming from you, and will they all be this dark? Are you interested in nonfiction projects, as well?

Hopefully there will be more novels coming from me. Knock on wood. And I hope they won't all be dark, but my writing does tend in that direction. I think I'm pretty light-hearted in person though. As for nonfiction, I like doing essays, op-eds, journalism pieces—that sort of thing. It's a different discipline, requires a different kind of thinking, but I like seeing what comes out. 

What are you reading right now?

The Tilted World by Tom Franklin and Beth Ann Fennelly. It's also set during the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, and it looks like it has a more central role in the book than it does in mine. I've only just started it, but it promises to be an amazing book.

See more Amazon Editors' Picks for May.

--Jon Foro

YA Wednesday: Marie Lu Talks to Rick Yancy About "The 5th Wave"

Rick Yancey's new book, The 5th Wave, sucked me in and pulled me under from the first page to the last with it's terrifying and thrilling story of an alien invasion like you've never seen.  We made it our Best Teen Books of May Spotlight pick, and past Teen Best of the Month author, Marie Lu (Legend trilogy)  is also a big fan.  In this Omni exclusive, Lu chats with Yancey about The 5th Wave, movies, and, of course, aliens.

Marie Lu: Everybody loves aliens--myself included! But in your opinion, how has Hollywood gotten the “alien invasion” idea wrong?

Rick Yancey: I understand that movies are made by humans to be watched by humans, and depicting anything less than total victory over the bug-eyed swarm would be a bit much to ask for. The simple and, to my mind, undeniable truth is that life forms thousands, if not millions, of years more advanced than us probably wouldn’t view humans as anything special, or at least nowhere near as special as we view ourselves. I think we would be more like pesky insects to them, which raises the question (from their angle): Can we coexist, like humans do with cockroaches, or should we simply drive the disgusting infestation from existence? So I don’t believe that, if they find us, it’ll play out anything like the stereotypical alien drama.

They won’t come to teach us anything (Contact) or save us from ourselves (Close Encounters, The Day the Earth Stood Still) or pluck leaves and go home (E.T.). And they’ll be smart enough and careful enough not to damage too much of their new home (Independence Day) and they will remember to take their flu shot (War of the Worlds).

ML: The 5^th Wave has been optioned for film, which is hugely exciting! Anything you can tell us about it?

RY: Under the terms of my contract, not much! I can tell you producers Graham King (Argo) and Tobey Maguire are on board, which is totally cool.

ML: Alright, the alien invasion is nigh and you're in survival mode. What would be in your survival kit?

RY: Toiletry kit (seriously, you’d want to keep yourself groomed. It grounds you. Also you better have a way to keep your teeth clean. You don’t want a bad tooth – check out Castaway if you doubt me). Basic first aid stuff, including penicillin and antibiotic ointment. A means of making fire. Solar-powered flashlight. A good hunting knife. A handheld mirror (to check yourself out and also to check around corners). A compass. Water bottle. And (speaking only for myself) enough medication to ensure an overdose in case the absolute worst comes upon me. If my end was inevitable, I’d make sure it was on my terms, not the alien bastards’.

ML: The five waves you outline in the book scare the bejeezus out of me. Which one frightens you the most?

RY: By far the 3^rd Wave: the super-virus developed by the Others from Ebola Zaire. I won’t go into all the details here – there’s plenty in the book – but if you’ve ever read The Hot Zone, you know what I’m talking about. A slow, agonizing, horrifying way to die. Your organs liquefy. Your brain turns to mashed potatoes. The other waves are terrible, but they’re quick.

ML: Can you give us a sneak peek at what we’re going to see happen in Book 2?

RY: Did things seem a little desperate in Book 1? They get worse. We still haven’t seen the depths to which the Others will sink in order to rid the Earth of the human infestation. And we haven’t yet seen the heights to which the human spirit can reach. Certain characters introduced in Book 1 will come to the fore--and others will face the ultimate test. The Others will give their answer to Cassie’s defiance. 

Sunny Days and Summer Books

With warm weather finally setting in and the end of school just over the horizon it's finally time to start thinking about all the books we want to read this summer.  Will this be the year I finally read Dante's Inferno?  Maybe it will be Dan Brown's new book, Inferno, or maybe both...  My summer reading plan (because, yes, I have one..) is to mix it up with books that I meant to read, but didn't, and the best of the new releases, so I'm going to hit our Summer Reading store for ideas. If you need some ideas, too, below is a sampling of our Editors' Picks for readers of all ages during (at least in Seattle) the best months of the year.  What books do you want to read this summer?

Best new books (for adults) to read this summer: 

Bad Monkey by Carl Hiaasen: Hiaasen is back at his wickedly funny best in a new tale about greed, corruption, and comeuppance in Florida--and the Bahamas--thanks to a cast of characters that includes a Bahamian voodoo witch, a kinky coroner, and a very bad monkey.

And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini: The bestselling author of The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, has written a new novel about how we love, how we take care of one another, and how the choices we make resonate through generations.  Can lightning strike a third time? For Hosseini, it does.

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman: His first novel for adults since Anansi Boys, an imaginative and poignant fairy tale about childhood, memories, mystery and magic.

Editors' Picks for Kids and Teens to read this summer: new books you won't want to miss and some favorites from years gone by.

Books for Kids: 

Paperboy by Vince Vawter (ages 9-12): In this coming-of-age novel, an 11-year-old boy living in the segregated South throws the meanest fastball in town, but talking is a whole different ball game. One summer can change a life, and for this young man a paper route brings a run-in with the neighborhood junkman, a bully and thief, that puts his life in danger.

The One and Only Ivan by Katherine Applegate (ages 8 and up): Winner of the 2013 Newbery Medal, Ivan is a gorilla who lives a predictable life making art for the visitors to the Exit 8 Big Top Mall from behind glass walls, but everything changes when a new baby elephant arrives and he sees his world through her eyes. 

Pete the Cat: The Wheels on the Bus by James Dean (ages 4-8): Pete the Cat has quickly become a beloved new picture book character and this time he brings his groovy, laid-back style to a classic. As always, singing is required.

Books for Teens:

The 5th Wave by Rick Yancey (teen): The Passage meets Ender's Game in an epic new series where aliens arrive on Earth and it's nothing like you've ever seen before.  Don't let the young adult category fool you--this one is nearly impossible to put down whether you're 14 or 45.

The Moon and More by Sarah Dessen (teen): Luke is the perfect boyfriend: handsome, kind, fun. He and Emaline have been together all through high school in Colby, the beach town where they both grew up. But now, in the summer before college, Emaline wonders if perfect is good enough.

Divergent by Veronica Roth (teen): Summer is the perfect time to start a new series and if you haven't read Divergent yet, put this one to the top of the list.  The first book of a dystopian trilogy filled with electrifying decisions, heartbreaking betrayals, stunning consequences, and unexpected romance, it all comes to an end this fall with the third book, Allegiant.

YA Wednesday: Team Levithan & Cremer

In the last few years we've seen great examples of two popular authors coming together in one novel and giving fans the best of their combined talents--Will Grayson, Will Grayson and The Future of Us are among my favorites, what are yours?  David Levithan (Every Day and the aforementioned Will Grayson, Will Grayson) and Andrea Cremer (Nightshade series) seemed like an unlikely pairing to me, that is, until I actually read Invisibility (one of our Best Teen Books of May) and watched the video below. 

Now it all makes sense.  Invisibility is the story of what happens when a boy who has been invisible to everyone (including himself) is seen for the first time by a girl who's tough exterior hides a multitude of secrets.  Don't be fooled by the familiar he-said, she-said style, this one is anything but cliché and the twists are surprising and exciting all the way to the end.  Here is an exclusive video of Cremer and Levithan goofing off (check out Cremer's great boots!), teasing each other, and talking about Invisibility:

 

The Language of Science Is Language: Lee Smolin and "Time Reborn"

All things originate from one another,
and vanish into one another
according to necessity...
in conformity with the order of time.
   -- Anaximander, On Nature

My second favorite book is called The Life of the Cosmos. Originally published in 1997, it details physicist Lee Smolin's ideas about cosmological natural selection, a mind-expanding intellectual panorama depicting the universe itself as a manifestation of deep laws that trigger self-organization at literally all scales. Beyond physics' usual fundamental forces and constants, Smolin's natural laws suggest that even the cosmos itself emerges from -- and resembles, though not exactly-- its predecessors.

Inspiring for reasons that are as poetic as they are scientific, Smolin's thinking bridges physics, biology, and even philosophy. With his latest book, Time Reborn (hardcover | Kindle edition), Smolin suggests a radical reconception of the nature of time. With his trademark sincere and curious reverence for nature, Smolin kindly entertained a few questions for Omnivoracious readers.

***

How do you think about conveying your ideas to readers not instinctively drawn to science?
Everyone is interested in the question of what time is because how you think about time affects everything we think about our own lives. Are our futures determined already? Are our experiences of willing, choosing, imagining, and inventing all illusions because the future is already written? Or are they true and real and in fact deep hints as to the nature of reality? Is it already fixed what kind of life my child will have or how bad global warming will be, or does what we choose to do really matter? These are the questions my book addresses, and I offer a hopeful answer explained in a way that all can understand.

Michael Pollan's Favorite Cookbooks

After transforming the way we think about our  relationship with plants and the world-altering impact of what we eat, Michael Pollan invites us to rediscover the elemental pleasure of transforming raw ingredients into meals--through grilling (fire), braising (water), baking (air), and fermenting (earth)--in his fantastic latest, Cooked.

Pollan contends that learning to cook elevated our ancient ancestors from lone animals into increasingly intelligent, civilized groups--and gave us the fuel for expanding brains--it's one of the essential acts that made us human. Now, we spend scant time doing real cooking, but we've become obsessed with watching people cook, a paradox that signals longing for that lost experience.

In his own quest to close the seed-to-table loop, he spent three years learning to cook with great pit masters, chefs, bakers, and “fermentos,” making Cooked a lively, passionate exploration of the elemental appeal of making a meal.

In the spirit of diving back into our own kitchens with renewed gusto, we asked Pollan to send us his favorite cookbooks.

The Everlasting Meal by Tamar Adler: As much a philosophy of everyday cooking as a cookbook (though the recipes are terrific), Adler's book shows us how to cook beautifully with the most modest of ingredients and skills.

A Platter of Figs by David Tanis: A former head chef at Chez Panisse (and now a columnist for the Dining section at the New York Times), Tanis offers a gorgeous cookbook with perfect, elegant menus to suit the season. A mainstay of our dinner parties.

The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters: All of Alice Waters’ cookbooks are wonderful, but this once is the most readily approachable and offers the essential recipes for everything from a great vinaigrette to salsa verde, roast chicken and polenta. Reminds me of The Elements of Style, and just as necessary.

Tartine Bread by Chad Robertson: An inspiring book for the bread baker--my favorite primer on bread.

The Art of Fermentation by Sandor Katz: The definitive volume on all the arts of fermentation, from yogurt to kvass, sauerkraut to pickled anything you can imagine.

How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman: If it’s not already in your collection, you’re either already a great cook or in deep trouble. The basics on everything, and indispensable.

YA Wednesday: "Rapture Practice"

What if you didn't see a movie until you were fifteen?  Or were forbidden to listen to popular music when you were a teenager?  Sounds a little like Footloose, but, in fact, that was Aaron Hartzler's life.  And we get to read about it in his fantastic book, Rapture Practice.  

Hartlzer grew up truly excited for the Rapture, playing the piano in church, and following the plan his parents, particularly his father, laid out for his life. The snake in Aaron's Garden of Eden came in the form of bible camp--as unlikely as that seems--and the apple was The Hunt for Red October. 

Hartzler's coming-of-age memoir is funny, laugh-out-loud funny at times, and his slide into "sin" is fraught with a combination of thrill and guilt because his love for his parents and desire to please them is 100% genuine.  We picked Rapture Practice as our YA Best Books of the Month spotlight for April and after reading it I wanted to hear more about that first movie experience, so we asked Aaron Hartzler to write a little something for us.  The picture of the ticket stub you see below?  That is THE ticket.  Read on...

Unless Jesus comes back in the next two minutes, I am going to break one of Mom and Dad’s biggest rules. My cheeks are hot. I feel out of breath. A drop of sweat trickles down my back, but the girl behind the glass doesn’t even look up at me. She has no idea what is happening in my head, what a big deal this is for me. She couldn’t be less interested.

I slide a five‑dollar bill under the window. She hands back a small yellow ticket between neon nails so long they curve.

“Enjoy the show.”

I take a deep breath.

I take a look over my shoulder.

I take the ticket.

[From Rapture Practice by Aaron Hartzler]

I didn’t see a movie in a movie theater until I was 15 years old. My mom and dad felt that most movies were not pleasing to God, so I wasn’t allowed to go. And yet, when I stood on that curb at the theater with all of my friends from camp that summer, all of those warnings were no match for the thrill of taking my seat in a darkened room, and watching the opening credits. My heart was racing, and my hand was sweaty as I clung to that little yellow ticket stub.

I saved the tickets for every movie I saw that summer. They looked like little carnival ride tickets back then—the kind you win playing ski ball and trade for prizes. This was before they printed the name and date of the film on the ticket, so I wrote it on each one. Eventually, I lost the rest, but I still carry that first little yellow ticket around in my wallet. It’s a symbol of the day I started to make my own decisions—for better or for worse; the day I knew my life was going to be different than the one that had been imagined for me by others. That little yellow scrap felt like more than just a ticket to a movie; it felt like a ticket to freedom.

Looking back, I’m certain that it was.

--Aaron Hartzler