Tomorrow's Sorrows

This... book......

I don't even know how to accurately finish that statement. A plethora of words couldn't express my adoration for this book. I don't normally cry over books (surprisingly), but this had me sprawled on my living room floor heaving the deepest sobs.

This reaction actually quite startled me. I don't have any personal connection with most of what Hayley Kincain experiences, but each page hit me like a ton of bricks. Each desperate cry for help from Hayley made my neck hairs stand on end, and a shiver creep up my spine. I'm not quite sure how Laurie Halse Anderson did it, but darn did she do it well.

From an ignorant standpoint, one might say she wrote this to express her inner demons, possibly tying her to Hayley. And upon further research, I have found this to actually be somewhat true. Anderson's father fought in WWII, and returned home with severe PTSD. This haunted Anderson for her whole life, but her family remained silent while she grew up. As she began her life as a writer, she puzzled for years on how to accurately portray her own emotions from being raised by a PTSD victim.

I would definitely recommend this book to any teenager or adult that I see. It shows the angst every teen experiences, and mixes in a little drama to the mix.

Update

So far, the only new character introduced is Trish, the "psychotic" woman who was put in charge during Hayley's childhood. As Trish reemerges into the Kincain's life, Hayley goes on a rebellious streak, fighting Trish tooth and nail. Everything around Hayley crumbles. Gracie's family structure, her relationship with Finn, and her school work.

Hopefully, Hayley can stand strong in such troubling times.

Personally, I am still in love with this book. Its enlightening perspective into Hayley's opinions really creates a connection between the reader and the protagonist. I can't wait to see how it ends.

OH NO!!!

Oh....my...gosh. My head can't even wrap around the entirety of the plot line in this book. Hayley Kincain is constantly barraged with responsibility from her teachers constantly on her case over lack of effort, from her guy friend trying to win her over, from her dependent father hiding behind liquor and marijuana, and from her stepmother, who attempts to reappear in her life against Hayley's will.
How is she ever going to find balance in her hectic life?!?!

I don't know the answer to that question yet, but I do have the answers to many more.

the impossible knife of memory features a large array of characters, from static to dynamic to the hardly mentioned. Our protagonist, Hayley Kincain, is joined by her close friends Gracie, Topher, and Finn as she carefully treads her way through the obstacle course that is high school.

Since I am running short on time, I'll make this quick.

The main conflicts ravaging Haley right now is her ability to balance her love life and everything else, her struggle with helping her Dad, and trying to resolve the imbalance in her friend Gracie's life.

Personally, I am really enjoying the gripping storytelling from Haley's point of view. I anxiously await the rest of the book.

Sierra's Review

Where to begin...

Well, for November, I shall (hopefully) completely read through the impossible knife of memory by Laurie Halse Anderson. Anderson is one of my favorite authors, mostly for her ability to tell the terrifyingly true insights of victims of anorexia and bulimia (Wintergirls), or that have sexual tension (Twisted and Speak). This may be one of my anticipated reads yet.

From what I can tell, the impossible knife of memory exploits the horrifying truth behind PTSD and the influence drugs and alcohol can have on a person. Throw in puppy-love to the situation and you have a recipe for disaster, the main dish in Hayley Kincain's life.

I chose this book for my independent reading project mostly because of my adoration for Anderson's writing style. She continues to educate her audience on a variety of issues plaguing the teenage generation of today. Hopefully, I get as enraptured in this book as I have with her past tales.

I'll keep you posted as I move along on the story.

A Lavish Feast

                                                                                 3.
The sun had just began to sink under the horizon when Hrothgar stood from his throne, and called for attention. He held his hand out, beckoning me to kneel before him. I lowered myself, and looked up into his vast blue eyes as he said, "My fellow Danes, it is with great pleasure that I honor Beowulf, thane of Higlac, the title "Hero of Denmark". I do believe I speak for all of us when I say that we are forever indebted to you and your men. We have lost many Danes over the course of fourteen years to Grendel, and we shall lose no more at the beast's hands!" Hrothgar gallantly held up Grendel's severed limb for all to see. The crowd went wild at the sight of the furry, limp appendage in their King's hand.

 "As a final token of our appreciation," Hrothgar boomed, attempting to silence the praise shared amongst the Danes. "We wish to send some gold and weapons with you to take back to Gaetland. Heorot will always welcome your people in."

And with that final affirmation, the men in the mead-hall erupted in simultaneous cries.

 "Hear, hear!" The Danes shouted, raising their goblets.

"Hear, hear!" My thanes sang, grinning from ear to ear.

I smiled, and rose from my stance. The crowd embraced me as I attempted to pour myself a cup of mead. My mind raced with the thoughts of Higlac's reaction to my victory, and the spoils that would come with it. I sat down, and finally released the breath I'd been holding.

May Hrothgar prosper in all of his ventures, and forever live in solace.

                                                                                                                            Yours Truly,
                                                                                                                               Beowulf

Vanquishing Grendel

                                                                                 
                                                                              2.
We had finally made it to the magnificent mead-hall, and I paused to take in its full beauty. Heorot sparkled more than the shimmering waves that roll across the seas. It was truly breathtaking, and I could only imagine the king that ruled over this large village.

Once we walked in, it was clear why such a grandiose structure was needed for the village. Hundreds of men stood crowded in every nook and cranny of the hall. Scops sang over the rowdy, drunken men who swapped battle stories. Mead vessels clinked, sloshing the sweet honey all over the wooden floorboards.

I waltzed forward, humbly approaching the king, aged heavily from the stress of Grendel. Respectfully bowing, I explained my intentions to Hrothgar and sat anxiously waiting for his permission. He then stood, looking down at us from his high perch. His voice bellowed across the halls, shaking the very foundation. His arms spread in a welcoming embrace as he granted us permission to slay the beast. The crowd yelled in appreciation, and mead was shared amongst all. While the Danes sang their songs of praise, I sat, inspecting the scene, awaiting the darkness that would bring the foul monster. My nerves rattled, afraid of my fight with no weapons. I insisted that if Grendel used no weapons, then so shall I. I laid my sword down, and heaved a sigh.

I laid in the night, listening to the harmony of deep snores intertwined with the sweet chirps of insects. My eyes had grown accustomed to the dark, and I could make out each chair, now empty. My mates had crashed not long after the Danes returned to their homes, and I laid alone for hours, tense with anticipation.

I had been crouched in my corner for many hours, when the front door was torn from its hinges with ease. Two fiery orange bulbs pierced the blackness of the hall. The comforting chirps of insects faded, replaced by the scratching of the beast's claws and his deep breaths.

Knowing I would easily be spotted if I left my spot, I hesitated. Grendel crept his way towards my crew. He snatched up one of them, thirstily ripping him apart and consuming the entrails. He finished every last bit of my companion, and a fury rose from within me. I leaped at the hairy monster, pinning his arm behind his back. He screeched, releasing the most awful noise mankind has ever heard. Grendel flailed and thrashed wildly. He thumped against the tables, but I kept my hold firm. Goblets were thrown from the tables as they were overturned, and I tightened my hold. Again, the monster howled and clawed at the air with his free hand.

I yanked at his elbow, tearing it from his shoulder. He shrieked in pain, and tossed me off of his back. With his arm in tow, I stumbled back, eyeing Grendel as he slumped out of the hall. My men all huddled around me, ogling the furry limb in my hand, and giving me supportive pats on the back. I held up the arm, and released a victorious battle cry.

The following day, I presented my token to the King of the Danes, telling him of my ordeal. Elated, the king summoned his men to hold a feast for me tonight. I have decided to stay for the banquet, and leave first thing tomorrow. Hopefully, my victory will please Higlac and bring great honor for my fellow Gaets.

                                                                                                                         Yours Truly,
                                                                                                                           Beowulf

My Venture From Home

                                                                                   1.
The call of adventure sang sweetly to me in the mead-hall back home at Gaetland. After such a long hiatus, I sought nothing less than a fearsome foe to tangle with, an enemy to truly test my skills. I had quickly set my mead upon the counter and accepted the challenge. With the approval of Higlac, I had gathered my most loyal thanes, fourteen in all, and set sail towards Hrothgar's village.

'Twas only two days after we had shoved off that we had seen Heorot's glimmering beauty from our aqueous perch. We moored our vessel and unloaded our arms. No sooner than we had donned our armor, a man hobbled over, pointing his spear at our heads. He spat out words faster than we could comprehend, and I stood attentively, unwavering. I had explained our intentions of slaying the beast that ravaged their golden mead-hall. Upon examining my speech, he lowered his weapon, offering to escort us to Heorot and have his men guard our vessel until our safe return. We accepted his gracious offer, and trudged our way to Heorot.

Now, we only hope that Hrothgar permits us entrance into his village to fight off the demon Grendel that feasts upon Hrothgar's men. Soon, I may find myself locked in battle with this fiendish foe.

                                                                                                          Yours Truly,
                                                                                                            Beowulf