Wednesday, January 27, 2010

Guess That Cover: The Answer

I know you were on tenterhooks all weekend waiting, wondering what the answer would be in BWWT's very first Guess That Cover! contest. Well, wait no longer! [pssst! Exactly what are "tenterhooks," anyway?]




How awesome is that title? Paula Danziger was indisputably the queen of groovy YA titles in the '70s and '80s. Other works in her ouevre are The Pistachio Prescription and The Cat Ate My Gymsuit. Paula ruled.

Friday, January 22, 2010

Guess That Cover!

You can judge a YA book by its cover! Or at least identify it.



Is it me, or is that guy a dead ringer for Tommy on Alice? (Did you know that Tommy was played by Philip McKeon, who was the brother of Nancy McKeon, who played Jo on The Facts of Life? It's true.)

Anyway, the object of this little game is to figure out which YA book this is. Post your guesses about the book's title (and it's a humdinger, I assure you) in the comments section. I'll post the answer on Monday.

Have a nifty weekend!

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Whatever Happened To...Kajsa Ceder

OK, I'm still on my 'Teen magazine kick. I just recently picked up six 1984 issues from eBay, and as I page through them I get a warm and fuzzy feeling. Tickle antiperspirant, Silkience shampoo, Ralph Macchio movies...so many things we thought would be around forever, then one day they just weren't. And hey, if it weren't for the full-page ad on page 34 of the June issue, I would never have known that Beat Street was released on my birthday.

One thing I've started to wonder about is this: whatever happened to the 'Teen cover models? These were girls (well, they certainly seemed to be women to me, back then...today they look like children) whom I yearned to be just like. Yeah, yeah, beauty's only skin deep and all that, but somehow I was sure that all my troubles would vanish if I could only look just like Catherine Gilmour.



Yep, that's her. Why couldn't I get my eyes to open that wide? Dumb droopy eyelids. Whatever happened to Catherine Gilmour, anyway? She was the 1979 Rose Bowl Queen, then she went on to be a model (mostly for 'Teen, from what I can surmise...she seemed to be on virtually every cover between 1981 and 1983), she can briefly be glimpsed in the background in a single scene of the 1982 movie Night Shift (as a prostitute), and IMDB lists some one-shots on a handful of TV series from the early '80s. Then, post-1986...nothing. She apparently dropped off the face of the earth. 

So this entry isn't about whatever happened to Catherine Gilmour because what the hey, I didn't want to do that much work. Instead, we're going to find out whatever happened to Kajsa Ceder - a darned nice-looking girl, even if she wasn't the one I hoped and prayed I'd be once I grew up (and I turned out to look about as much like Kajsa as I did Catherine...which is to say, not at all).

Here's Kajsa, circa 1984, exercising her little heart out.




Like the pants? They're parachute pants. YES. 'member them?

Anyway, because of her name, I was convinced Kajsa was an exotic Scandinavian who probably spoke only a tiny bit of English with the coolest accent imaginable. Maybe she could introduce me to ABBA!



The above photo is from a March '84 article titled "A Day in the Life of a Model." In typical 'Teen fashion, we get a few sentences assuring us that being a model is "a lot of hard work" (Kajsa sometimes has to get up early to do her own hair and makeup!), then several paragraphs listing in meticulous detail everything she's wearing on her face and bod ("Two Blondes mesh top, S-M-L, $24, and scarf. T.A.C.I. belt. Burlington Socks sweat socks. Sporto hi-top sneakers. To flatter her complexion, she uses Ivory Shine Free Oil Control Makeup and Shell Pink Shine Free Oil Control Powder Blush." Believe it or not, that's a tiny fraction of the info we're given about the artifacts she's bedecked with.)

Anyway, you probably don't want to know all that, right? But I'll bet you're dying to know (as promised above) Whatever Happened To...Kajsa Ceder!

 

Turns out Kajsa is now a pilates instructor with her own studio in Topanga Canyon (a well-known hippie/new-age/kooky artist enclave in the greater Los Angeles area).According to her website, "as a trained Holistic Lifestyle Coach she combines her unique passion for health and wellness with a classical approach to Pilates. She is also trained in Somatic Respiratory Integration which is the process of releasing trauma and transforming ones awareness through breath." Yes, but does she do it all wearing purple parachute pants?

Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Starring Sally J. Freedman As Herself (or: Are You There, Hitler? It's Me, Sally)

I love this book. Love, love, love this book. Love.





I first read Judy Blume's Starring Sally J. Freedman As Herself when I was eight or nine. A school library find, no doubt, since I know I didn't own it. I probably re-read it at some point during my early teen years, but I'm certain it's been a good 20, 25 years since I've picked it up. I remembered liking it, but I really wasn't prepared for just how much I would enjoy reading this.

The story takes place in 1947, and is told entirely from the point-of-view of 10-year-old Sally J. Freedman, a Jewish girl who is highly imaginative, talkative, and lovable. When her brother Douglas contracts nephritis, the entire family (sans Dad, aka "Doey Bird" as he's been nicknamed by Sally)  must move from New Jersey to Miami Beach for the winter to aid in his recovery. There, Sally experiences a new way of life: new schools, new friends, and oh, yes...a next-door neighbor who Sally is convinced is Adolf Hitler.

The hook on which everything hangs is Sally's unique perspective. Starring... is not a plot-driven book, but rather a character study and even something of a social critique. For instance, Sally's confusion about her father's remark that he had to pay for their Florida apartment "under the table" ["Sally tried to picture her father under the table in Miami Beach. Probably the apartment landlord, Mr. Koner, was with him. Daddy would take out his money and hand it to Mr. Koner. He'd count it, nod, and then they'd both crawl out from under the table together."] humorously addresses the very real hardship of the post-WWII housing shortage.

This is the thrust of the entire book. Sally makes sense of things as best she can, but she is just like the rest of us -- some things simply don't make sense. How could anybody possibly explain to Sally why her Tante Rose and cousin Lila died at Dachau? Sally understands the specifics of the event -- we are startled when she casually suggests to a friend that they "play Concentration Camp."

          "You can be the concentration camp guard. You hand the pretend soap to Tante Rose and Lila and tell them to go to the showers."
           "Why do they get pretend soap?"
          "Because it's a trick. They're not really going to get showers, they're going to get killed in a big gas oven."
           "I'm going home," Betsy said. "I don't like this game."

 But Sally doesn't really comprehend the horror of the holocaust any more than we do. In her game-playing and especially in the vividly imaginative stories she is forever dreaming up (all of which star herself), we sense Sally's yearning both to understand why things happen as they do, and to control the world around her (more than one fantasy involves her either being or rescuing her late cousin Lila, whom she has never met yet still identifies strongly with).

When old Mr. Zavodsky, a neighbor in the apartment complex, offers her and her friend candy, Sally decides that he is actually Hitler in disguise. Sally's assumption is obviously and laughably wrong: even when she eavesdrops on Mr. Zavodsky's telephone conversation (oh, the lost joys of party lines!) with someone named Rita, who pleads with Mr. Zavodsky, "Papa, I wish you'd come to live with us...Murray wants you and so do the boys," it only convinces Sally that "Rita" is actually Eva Braun, and Murray and the boys are fellow Nazis. 

But I don't want to make it sound as if the entire book is about Hitler, Nazis, and the holocaust. This isn't remotely the case, though Sally's childish attempts to make sense of the senseless add gravitas. Actually, much of the book is a light-hearted stroll through the past, a world in which children name their pet kittens "Margaret O'Brien the Second," older brothers scheme about how to get to see Jane Russell in The Outlaw, and sitting on your father's lap so you can give him his "treatment" ("a sliding kiss, three quick hugs and...a butterfly kiss on his nose") is the most important thing in the world.



Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Who's That Girl? part deux

There were actually two correct guesses yesterday (one in the comments section and the other via Facebook), which I found surprising. Personally, I would never have known who this girl grew up to be if not for the caption under her picture.



Yep, it's Halle Berry! I ask you, how cool is that? Since I hail from the midwest, I know that I saw this back in '84 when it was first published, never realizing that this pretty young girl from a suburb of Cleveland would go on to not only be a Bond girl but also to win the Academy Award for Best Actress (one of only two women in the history of film to do so...can anybody guess who the other one is?). And, yes, it must be admitted that she also won a Razzie for Worst Actress when she starred as Catwoman.

And the really funny thing? I don't think Halle even made it to the finals in the 'Teen Great Model Search. Wonder whatever happened to the girl who actually won the contest?

I feel a book review coming on. Check back in tomorrow for another trip to the virtual bookstore (or public library, if you prefer).

Monday, January 18, 2010

CONTEST Who's That Girl?

Ah, the joys of reading 25-year-old teen magazines (which in my experience, were read almost exclusively by pre-teens. By the time you turned 13, the content was usually too immature for you, right?).

Besides the ads for Jovan Musk and the articles about those new-fangled "personal computers," there are also some of the most amazing "Oh my GOD!" moments to be had while paging through these pulpy treasures. Over the weekend, I experienced just such a moment while thumbing through the February 1984 issue of 'Teen magazine. Thus the contest before you now. Can you guess who the lovely young miss in this picture is? She's one famous chick now.




According to the text, she's 17, from Ohio, and she's one of 16 Great Model Search February Winners hailing from the midwest. And that's all the info you're gonna get. Let's hear from you via the comments section...who's that girl?

Friday, January 15, 2010

Taking Terri Mueller (or: How to Ruin Suspense Via Ill-Advised Marketing)








"Was it possible to be kidnapped by your own father?" queries the cover of Taking Terri Mueller by Norma Fox Mazer.

Perhaps more importantly, "Is it possible for the marketing division of Avon Books to ruin the first half of the book you're about to read by giving away the Terrible Secret on the cover of the book itself?!?"

Why yes. Yes it is.

You see, Taking Terri Mueller is a 189 page book, and Terri doesn't figure out just why her life is so strange until page 90-something. But the reader knows all along exactly why Terri's life is so strange because of the incomprehensible decision to give away the whole megillah in big blue letters right above the book's title. This marketing decision is rendered even more puzzling when you open the book and see this: "Winner of the Edgar Award - Best Young Mystery Novel."

Okay, so while you're still scratching your head over giving away the mysterious part of the mystery on the front cover, let me just say that this is still a riveting book for its first half. Yes, I know I said they "ruined" it, but that was merely hyperbole for humorous effect.

Here's the gist: Terri, age 13, is just beginning to realize how truly strange the life is that she and her father lead. She has no memory of her mother, who died (so her father says) in a car accident when she was 4. All she can remember is life on the move with her father - every few months they pull up stakes and go off to another state. Dad makes a meager living doing handyman jobs and carpentry for cash. Terri has a long string of best friends, left behind suddenly at the string of schools she's attended. They live in dumpy rent-by-the-month apartments or sometimes in the camper over the flatbed of their truck.

Terri and her father have only each other. There is no other family, save for her father's sister, Aunt Vivian, who visits once a year. But at this year's annual visit, Terri finally begins to ask herself why. Other kids have aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents...why doesn't she? Why have they never visited Aunt Vivian? Why does Aunt Vivian call from a phone booth? And who are the man and boys in those snapshots Terri saw in Aunt Vivian's purse while fishing out her pack of Players?

Even though you know (thanks a heap, Avon!) what Terri's father's Terrible Secret is, it's still compelling to watch it all unravel as Terri asks him more and more difficult questions and finally takes matters into her own hands by breaking into the lockbox where he keeps important papers. What she finds in there forces the truth to come tumbling out in a way that will change all of their lives forever.

After this point, the novel loses some momentum, but it doesn't cheat by positing easy answers to the situation. Terri continues to love her father, even as she realizes how reprehensibly he acted. She longs to see and know her mother, but it isn't all smooth sailing there, either. Nancy, Dad's well-meaning girlfriend, is caring, but confused and ultimately ineffectual. Aunt Vivian, who undoubtedly loves Terri, also loves her "baby brother" and will stand by him no matter what he's done.

Ultimately, Terri can't look to any of the adults to solve her problems, or offer anything other than their own emotional baggage and rationalizations. She must find the strength and wisdom within herself to go on in the face of calamity...a hallmark, I think, of many young adult books of this period. Perhaps at no other time have adults in print been so universally condemned as ineffectual (at best) than in the YA novels of the 1970s. No doubt this was a reaction to the perfect, wise sages who inhabited kids' books in all the preceding decades, but in its way, it was almost as false. I mean, surely Terri might have one competent, helpful adult in her orbit? A free-spirited artist neighbor who wears handpainted silk scarves? A hip English teacher? But no.

Nonetheless, Taking Terri Mueller is an enjoyable rainy day read: compelling for its first half, interesting for its second, with (it must be said) a bit of a letdown due to the ambiguous ending (need I add, another hallmark of the era). Oh, and extra Groovy Points (tm) for Terri's best friend being named Shaundra, a moniker so funky it's even misspelled more than once as Saundra. Now that's '70s.

Entering the Bookstore

Remember when you were 8, 9, 10 years old, being dragged to the mall by Mom (who was inevitably shopping for bras or something equally boring/embarrassing)? If you were lucky you didn't have to get new shoes and have your toes pinched by the guy with thinning hair then parade up and down the industrial carpet at Tom McCann's, but then again, you knew you'd be tormented by having to walk right past the syrupy-sweet smell of Karamel Korn that you weren't allowed to eat because it would rot your teeth.

But there was a carrot on a stick that kept you going...an oasis in this vast desert of consumerism that probably had "park" or "parke" or "center" or "centre" as part of its name: Waldenbooks. Or maybe for you it was B. Dalton. Or Brentano's. Whatever the name, the important thing was that you could nearly always count on escaping to the bookstore for a sweet reward to the vicissitudes of shopping with Mom.

And where did you head? Well, since you, like me, were a "pre-teen" (that's what we were called in the days before the word "tween" was invented), you probably made a beeline for the YA section. "I'm a young adult?" you reflected with satisfaction. "All right! Now we're talkin'!"

Once in that sacred corner of the store, you gloried in the book covers: candy-colored teen models with apple cheeks on the "Sweet Dreams" romance series by Bantam; depressingly realistic oil-painted teens (usually amidst a bleak urban landscape) on the Laurel Leafs by Dell; those distinctive water-colored Garth Williams renderings of Ma, Pa, Laura, and Mary on the Little House books by Harper-Collins.

Ahhh. Bliss.

Well, with this blog I aim to recapture at least some of that feeling. You're once again a pre-teen in the YA section of the store, and Mom's going to allow you to pick out one of these books to take home. You'll pore over the cover illustration, read the back blurb, and finally crack open the book to read that all-important first sentence.

OK, not quite. What will happen is this: I'll be focusing on one '70s/'80s-era YA novel each week. You'll get to see the cover and then read a summary and my reflections on the book. If it's one I read as a pre-teen, I'll do my darnedest to give you a then-and-now perspective. I invite your participation in the form of comments. 's okay? 's alright!