Fond of Fonts

This young adult novel is very well written and relatable to this day and age. Protagonist Norah Dean is a teenager who has a consistent relationship with her antagonist--an invisible illness. Norah suffers from anxiety, but its not that simple and has many forms to it. Norah's everyday routine of introverted seclusion in her home is interrupted by a new neighbor--Luke! A handsome young man who holds interest in a very special young woman. Clearly, this hints towards an eventful plot. This story holds a number of different dynamics: family life, romance, and above all--living and surviving with a mental illness. Louise Gornall introduces another take on a teen-romance novel that holds more than physical barriers between the potential lovers. Gornall's insight of living this herself gave validation for the tone and syntax with the story. I'd highly recommend this book to anyone interested in a romance story with non-traditional, but relatable qualities.

  If you're looking for poetry that not only puts your emotions on edge and thoughts in a spiral, but makes you want to tell your own story and experiences, these two are for you! Amanda Lovelace is a phenomenal poet--her words struck me with her first published collection The Princess saves Herself in this One . I found her ability to divulge her past and present experiences by using poetic diction to be so moving and relatable to my own thought process. I've been writing more poetry and Lovelace's first collection inspired me to do so (besides other poets). Her most recent collection came out earlier this month, the second collection The Witch doesn't Burn in this One . This collection holds even more past and present experiences, but also current emotions that I'm sure a number of female poets have expressed as well (along with women in general). I've found Lovelace's voice to be loud in her first collection, but even louder in her second one. I beli...

I walk by your old house and the door is moved from the neighbors drive to the front yard But there is a new path leading to new stairs and I stare and can’t see the old pool because its torn down I remember the feel of the stoned path to your back porch and my bare feet smacking against them. I remember your garage and that damn shed and the broken chain-link fence near it where we used to sneak and hide in the game I remember kick ball and the sensor light that came on at night telling me to go home and return the next day. Now there are foreign cars in the driveway and a woman I don’t recognize decides to sweep the back patio like there’s dirt surrounding it But it’s my memories my past your house your ghost. But you aren’t a ghost because you aren’t dead— just counties away at some school with other friends that aren’t me and we haven’t been friends for nine years since something happened between me and yo...