Fan Club Friday - "family" by Micol Ostow

So as you know, I've always been an avid reader. I used to walk down the hallways in middle school like a pinball in a machine, my nose in a book as I walked, bouncing off the shoulders of the other kids passing by. But since I've had the baby, a read that would normally take me one or two days can now take one or two weeks. And that's okay when it's a book you're not really into, but when it's a book like Micol Ostow's family, it can really drive you mad.

family is loosely based on the story of Charles Manson and the Manson Family murders of 1969, so you can imagine why it tortured me to have the characters living with me for so long. As the main character Mel, a broken girl from an abusive family, runs away to San Francisco in search of anything to help make her whole again, she encounters Henry, a handsome and charasmatic man with a family of other broken souls more than eager to welcome her.

Besides this intriguing plot line, the entire book is written in episodic verse, a daunting endeavor but one that Micol pulled off brilliantly. For me, that helped lure the reader into the trance that I imagine Mel and the other girls had to be under in order to, without question, do Henry's bidding.

The book is divided. There are three main parts, but also numerous stand-alone pieces, too short to be considered chapters, almost like small pieces of poetic prose. I loved all of the breaks throughout and think it is genius in relation to Mel, who is also broken and busted up by years of living with a negligent mother and sexually abusive "uncle."  Each piece takes us in a new direction, some giving sneak peeks of what's to come, others taking us way back to "mirror Mel," and some living in the now. Swept along in the cadence of the story, we sway, we swoon, we feel chosen, just as Mel does. We believe that there is "no i, no ego, no before" and that "everything belongs to everyone." We are charmed by Henry and yet, from our outside perspective, we are worried... for Mel, for the singer, for anyone that displeases Him.

family is a refreshing example of dark YA fiction that will haunt you without succumbing to the paranormal trend.

Micol is a good friend of mine and a major reason that I finished my own YA novel, met my agent, and eventually got published. I admire and respect her and love her work. You will, too. Go get this book!

Throwback Thursday - MJ Getting My Groove Back

I just want to say that the King of Pop may be dead, but his moves live on.

For Christmas this year, my mother-in-law got me the Michael Jackson Dance Experience game and it's so boss. Although I've only played a few times, I know that if I were to really use this thing, I could not only get in shape, but much like Stella, I could get my groove back.

What happened to your groove, Alecia? you might ask yourself. 

Well, kids. I got married, turned 30, and had a kid.

But truthfully, I used to kill it at the club. And even if you were with me at these clubs back in the day and remember it differently, you'd have to at least agree that in my mind, I straight killed it. The dj dropped the beat and I dropped the junk in my trunk, workin' tracks from Snoop to Beyonce like I was getting paid. I longed for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Couldn't wait to put on some fancy clothes from Express or TJ Maxx (yeah, I said fancy) and go man huntin'... um, I mean dancing.

What I really remember is the workout. You get a good track going and weave into the throng of keyed up 20 somethings and next thing you know, your hair is sticking to your forehead and your quads are burning. I would wake up the next morning feeling like I'd gone to the gym and so, I never went to the gym! 

To this day, I break out random dance moves on my family when they least expect it. It always cracks my husband up, especially since there is rarely music to accompany such outbursts. And my baby usually likes it. (Note: Only once did I make him cry, but I have since retired such percolation.)

But as far as the club scene, my life looks a little different. Now I drop the baby in his jumper and assume the position in front of our TV. MJ and his sparkly white socks shimmy across the screen and I choose a song (difficulty level EASY). Knox bounces with glee as I try to keep up with the master and look like a person who was thrown into an anti-dance prison camp and had the rhythm beaten out of her. And after one attempt at Smooth Criminal, I'm out of breath and call it a day.