FROM BEDSIDE by Fred Goldstein is the embodiment of that dynamic.

A 29 year old high school English teacher in Cherry Hill, NJ, bored to tears with the state curriculum and second-guessing his career choice, Goldstein finds inspiration in  Steven Estep, a 7th grade student with an easy smile and sharp sense of humor.

Steven, recently diagnosed with bone cancer, is quickly bed ridden.  Goldstein volunteers academic and moral support, beginning a journey to provide Steven the best and most exciting education possible, recruiting help from the director of the CIA, Bill Bradley, Julius Erving, Mike Schmidt and a host of other high profile individuals.

But this story isn’t about the fundraisers, the publicity; it’s about a courageous thirteen year old boy who quickly becomes an adult, and a young teacher who also must grow up fast.

This teacher was my teacher.  Mr. Fred Goldstein taught me 7th grade English at Beck Middle School in Cherry Hill, NJ.  He was humble and funny and witty and smart and he didn’t yell at me when I accidentally spilled my baseball cards on his floor.  He taught me to love books and to write with a purpose.  He taught me to think for myself, to challenge authors and debates classmates.  And years later, he tutored me for the SAT.  He was everything you could ask for in a teacher, and everything I wanted to become.

Reading about his work with Steven — the strides he made in Steven’s life, and most importantly the impact Steven had on him — made for a truly magical book.  Which, as an English teacher, is about the greatest gift you can give.

Read other Bookanista Reviews:

Veronica Rossi loves Legend

Shana Silver serves up a Maureen Johnson double feature of The Last Little Blue Envelope & The Name of the Star

Scott Tracey is awed by Anna Dressed in Blood

Bethany Wiggins howls over How to Take the Ex Out of Ex-Boyfriend

Carrie Harris is in a frenzy over Stupid Fast

Gretchen McNeil is spellbound by Witch Eyes

Carolina Valdez Miller and Shelli Johannes-Wells are passionate about Possess

Enter Jaycee Amato, a female, a good-looking one at that, and braver than Nick.  Jaycee’s wish: get out of town.  It’ll work for Nick. What follows is a road-trip to satisfy Scooter final wish.

The Pull of Gravity by Gae Polisner is more than satisfying.  The tension and humor in Nick’s voice, Scooter’s innocence, Jaycee’s longing . . . it stays with you long after you’ve put it down, which is an important quality of any novel, but especially for a coming-of-age story that is as bold as its characters. Polisner’s unflinching look at friendship in the face of illness is to be admired.

I, for one, will never forget it.

Check out this week’s other Bookanista Reviews!

Elana Johnson sings out for Chime

LiLa Roecker thinks Epic Fail is a great success — with giveaway.

Scott Tracey is entranced by Daughter of Smoke and Bone

Carolina Valdez Miller marvels at The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

Carrie Harris is spellbound by Possess

Life is an endless high-wire act for 14-year-old obsessive-compulsive Rene. He can’t step on cracks. The coins he picks up must be lucky ones. He has got to wear the correct number of rubber bands around his wrists. Closing his locker is impossible without tapping it three times with his pinkie. Slipups result in any number of doomsday fantasies, from humiliation to disease to outright murder. Then he befriends Gio, an unconventional classmate who has his own vocabulary (“b’noodles” means awesome) and takes the nervous Rene on an unannounced seat-of-their-pants road trip to New York City. The feedback loops of worry—perhaps unavoidably—can be a bit maddening, but Blackstone keeps things fresh with insight and wit. He is also skilled at creating fully realized adult characters: both Rene’s loudmouthed father and depressed English teacher are achingly real and believably troubled. This debut might suffer from competition with other similarly themed titles, but it’s still pretty darn b’noodles. — Daniel Kraus

BLACKSTONE, Matt. A Scary Scene in a Scary Movie. 256p. CIP. Farrar. 2011. Tr $16.99. ISBN 978-0-374-36421-2. LC 2010021743.  Gr 6-10- Rene has no friends, but his compulsive rituals keep him occupied, ensuring his prevention of all disasters for himself and the universe at large. At almost 14, his life at school is spent observing the Devilblackcoats, the Bigbulletholes, the Smartypants, Cutters, Likegirls, and the Angels. Fitting in with none of the groups and liking the Angels but invisible to them, Rene decides that Gio could be his first friend as he witnesses him being kind to the unfortunately named teacher, Richard Head. Rene reports that his own mother thinks he’s nuts since, “I washed my hands until they were red and raw, talked to myself in public, ran away from anything numbered thirteen, smelled my hands more than forty times per day, ate my animal crackers in a specific order, and made creepy smiley faces out of napkins–even when I didn’t want to. ” As Rene connects with both Mr. Head and Gio, his life is turned upside down. His highly unusual, practically unique voice and character have charm and humor and yet are clearly not in the normal range. At one point, without consulting the girl, he decides in his own head to offer marriage, plans the wedding, and then finds himself tripped up by never getting an opportune moment to mention any hint to her. Quirky and surprisingly upbeat, it’s Rene’s voice laughing at himself and yet taking his needs seriously that will lure readers into his head and into his heart.    –Carol A. Edwards, Denver Public Library, CO

Animal crackers.  They’re a great snack, but they aren’t great company.

Real animals make better pets.  Dogs are a man’s best friend, but I am allergic to dogs.  I am allergic to cats, guinea pigs, ferrets, gerbils, parrots, sheep, horses, and goats.  So I chose bugs.

This summer, the last one before high school, I kidnapped fireflies on weekends and caterpillars on weekdays.  I kept the fireflies in a jar until they went to sleep—permanently.  I placed the caterpillars in the bathtub, where I tucked them in at night by covering their bodies with tissues.

Finding a bathtub full of caterpillars was a red flag for my mom.

“I’ve made an appointment for you to see the school psychologist,” she said.  “Several appointments.”

If I don’t like talking to people I know, why would I talk to strangers?

I have a Batman cape that I wear when I’m anxious.  My mom says I shouldn’t wear it to those meetings.

She thinks I’m nuts.  She’s had her suspicions ever since I was a kid, when I washed my hands until they were red and raw, talked to myself in public, ran away from anything numbered thirteen, smelled my hands more than forty times per day, ate my animal crackers in a specific order, and made creepy smiley faces out of napkins—even when I didn’t want to.

I still do all those things—they are still part of my daily missions—because if I don’t, I might die of AIDS, or someone close to me might die of a heart attack, or some stranger outside of my small town in Southern New Jersey might get blown up in a bus—and it’d be all my fault and I’d never live it down and I’d bury myself in my room for years and years and years until my Batman cape worked its magic or I became a superhero who didn’t have to worry away death and cleanliness and guilt that never goes away, no matter how hard you scrub.

I don’t tell my mom these things because I don’t want to upset her.  It’s not like she has the time to deal with me anyway.  She works two jobs: one as a hotel receptionist, the other as a part-time nurse.  She doesn’t get home till around 10:00 p.m.  Sometimes, she doesn’t come home at all.

“Follow my example and work hard, Rene,” she always tells me.  That’s my name.  Rene.  It’s a boy’s name and a girl’s name, which is great if you’re getting a sex change.  (I’m not.)

“Time is money,” my mom says.  “Work hard for what you want.”

I know what I want.  I’ve worked and worked for it my entire life, but it still hasn’t happened.  Not even for a day.

I want everyone and everything to leave me the hell alone.

Shawn Goodman’s novel starts with Shavonne, trapped in her cell, after stealing her teacher’s sandwich and then elbowing her in the face.  Shavonne is already in deep trouble, has been for awhile, when she’s forced to explain her most recent crime.  Enter Mr. Delpopolo, a man with plenty of his own problems.

What follows is unflinching look at the flaws in a juvenile justice system that grants far too much power to guards and not enough support to its inmates.  Shavonne may be not perfect–often times, admittedly, she’ s violent, selfish, and uncaring–but she’s real and raw and forgiving and unforgettable.

As a high school teacher with more than a few former students locked up at some point in their teenage years, I found this to be a truly fascinating read.  I can’t wait to share it with my students next year.

And….while you’re here, check out these other great Bookanista posts:

Elana Johnson celebrates A Scary Scene in a Scary Movie

LiLa Roecker adores Torn

Christine Fonseca is crazy about Cryer’s Cross – with giveaway

Beth Revis interviews Goddess Test author Aimee Carter – with giveaway

Carolina Valdez Miller delights in Texas Gothic AND Bad Taste in Boys – with giveaways

Jessi Kirby is giddy about Hourglass

Shana Silver fawns over Forever

Jen Hayley is hot for Wildfire

Stasia Ward Kehoe jumps for Bumped

Veronica Rossi devours Bad Taste in Boys

A SCARY SCENE IN A SCARY MOVIE is about Rene, an outcast teen with obsessive-compulsive disorder, a very real and frightening condition (especially for teens, as it’s in those teenage years that symptoms first manifest), but it’s also a very universal one.  We all have our quirks, our “things,” our obsessions that we cling to for comfort, including me—and other quirky writers.

Why the giveaway: A SCARY SCENE IN A SCARY MOVIE aims to demystify obsessive-compulsive disorder. You can too!!!

How to win: The week of A SCARY SCENE IN A SCARY MOVIE’s release, from Monday, July 4 – Friday, July 8, tweet your obsessions with the following hashtags: #myobsession #ascarysceneinascarymovie.

Examples: I double check the locks #myobsession # ascarysceneinascarymovie

I park in the same parking spot #myobsession # ascarysceneinascarymovie

I touch my cap after every pitch #myobsession # ascarysceneinascarymovie

I change seats if my team is losing #myobsession # ascarysceneinascarymovie

(Here’s a shortened link to include in your post: http://t.co/C9k9KEv)

Each and every time you use those hashtags, you’ll be entered into the contest and assigned a number.  On Friday evening, at 8pm EST, 10 random numbers will be selected by my 10^th grade students in the Bronx.  Winners will be notified via Twitter messages, and books will be mailed Saturday.

Hopefully our commentary will show teens that OCD isn’t as scary as it may seem. I mean, unless you’re Ryan Seacrest, you’ve panicked at some point in your life, sweating through your shirt, so on some level we can all relate to Rene.*

*Except for Ryan Seacrest. (With his oceanic name, his suave hair, and a job that makes other people panic, I can’t imagine him ever freaking out. I don’t think he’s human. But I can’t prove it. Yet.)

If you, like me, grew up as a performer, you are likely to have accumulated a bunch of obsessive little habits by the time you reach some form of adulthood.  You pick up classic rules of superstition, like dancers wishing luck backstage with the word “merde” (It’s French for, uh…maybe just look it up!), and never saying the title of “the Scottish Play” (By Shakespeare…you can ask Google or Bing, if you’re so inclined) aloud in a theatre for fear of dire consequences.  And you are inspired to create pre-performance rituals of your own. I suppose you can say I have been thoroughly schooled in anxiety-growing techniques since childhood. Here for your enjoyment are some of my current quirks, both personal and writerly.

3 ODD BITS

1.       I keep a two-dollar bill in my wallet.  Have for decades.  I got the bill on a date with my then-boyfriend (now husband).  We were touring Monticello and they gave them out as change.   Many years later, I discovered he kept his, too! Are we matched or what (or maybe it’s dangerous have two such compulsive people in one house)?

2.       I find the number 13 to be lucky and it always bums me out that there are no 13^th floors in hotels.  Maybe I’m just contrary.

3.       I talk too fast (especially when I’m nervous) so, before I embark on any public speaking engagement, I eat a Werther’s Original caramel in the odd belief that this will somehow slow me down.  (I seem to have quite a collection of food fetishes.  See #2, below.)

WRITER WEIRD

1.       I wake up around 4:30 every morning (I do not need an alarm clock for this—just happens) and jot down a few lines about my writing plans for the day.  Then I try to go back to sleep.

2.       I believe I write better if I have a small dish of bittersweet chocolate chips and unsalted peanuts on my desk.  When the writing is going poorly, the dish is empty before noon.  If I’m on a roll, the chocolate can sit there for a week.

3.       I never allow myself to write the words “the end” on a manuscript until I really believe I’ve finished telling the story.  Sometimes it is years before those words are entered into a document.

On a serious note, despite the sleep deprivation, chocolate weight-gain, and so on, I try to remember to be grateful for my habits because they make me who I am and, I hope, in some strange way, enable me to be a more thoughtful, more compassionate person and writer.

Thanks, Matt, for inviting me to post today, for your terrific debut novel, and for bringing this conversation about OCD and anxiety out into the “movie spotlight.”

Stasia Ward Kehoe’s debut YA novel, AUDITION, will be published by Viking on 10-13-11.  Visit her online at www.stasiawardkehoe.com.

In A SCARY SCENE IN A SCARY MOVIE, Rene won’t move if the time adds up to 13 (8:41 is bad luck because 8 +4 +1=13), he sniffs his hands when he’s nervous, he jumps over cracks in the concrete, and follows the same routes to and from school.

Well, I am one of the most routinized people ever. I like to do things the same way, every time, and it does make me a bit frazzled if things happen out of order, or too fast. The best example is my morning routine. I do the same things, in the same sequence, every working day.

If my husband calls and needs me to bring him something, it throws me all off. If I have to wake my daughter up later than normal, I’m totally discombobulated. I may forget to brush my teeth, because if it’s not done right after I shower (while I check my email for the first time that day), it might not get done.

Sad, but true.

I’ve forgotten to pack a lunch because I didn’t do it as soon as I came downstairs. I’ve been late because I have to take the same route to work, even though it’s packed (and I mean, PACKED) with construction.

What can I say? I like routine. I like the comfort of knowing what comes next, and how long that activity is going to take. I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I have my morning routine down to about 45 minutes from rolling out of bed to rolling down the driveway.

Do you have any routines that you follow religiously? Maybe we can get together and compare…

It’s distracting.  It’s  real.  It’s serious.  And very scary, especially for teenagers, for it’s in those teenage years that the symptoms of OCD first appear.

But what’s universal about OCD is that we all have our quirks, our “things,” our obsessions that we cling to for comfort.  Over the next four weeks, I’ll be  hosting discussions on both the universality of OCD, as well as the seriousness of the actual disorder.  I’d love to hear about your own quirks, your “things,” your obsessions that drive you (and your loved ones?) bananas.

It’s only right that I go first.

I’m an avid sports fan.  Born in a suburb near Philadelphia, I’m hopelessly in love the Phillies, Eagles, Flyers, and Sixers.  I have a long and sordid history of bizarre behavior when it comes to rooting for my team on TV.   If my team falls behind, I change seats on the couch.  Or change my snack from tortilla chips to pretzels.  Or switch from water to juice.  Or change t-shirts.  Or lay down on the floor, as long as there’s a rug there (gotta draw the line somewhere).

If my team is ahead, I like to stick to what’s working: the certain snack, the winning beverage, the lucky seat.  I avoid boastful phrases like “we got this,” “it’s over,” for fear that the tide will shift.  Not until the game is over–really over, after the final buzzer/bell/pitch/whistle/horn–will I rejoice.

Luckily for me (and my wife), I’ve gotten better.  The years have mellowed out my sports craze.  But every now and then, usually in the playoffs, when the game gets tight, I play the mental game: the seat, the chips, the t-shirt . . . it all becomes a factor.  If only the Phillies would appreciate all the work that goes into their playoff victories!!!

Outside of the sports world, I’m a huge fan of blue Precise V7 pens, I enjoy a morning workout, I usually park in the same spot at school, and I’m a sucker for the same breakfast: an “everything” bagel with butter.

The good news–and what separates these idiosyncrasies (or, yes, compulsive tendencies) from the serious disorder–is that my life will go on if I can’t find my favorite pen or the bagel store is closed or I overslept my morning alarm, and if someone takes my parking spot, I don’t hike up the stairs to hunt down the driver and demand that he immediately move his car or else I’ll crack him with a knuckle sandwich.

But some people do.  They don’t use the term “knuckle sandwich” because it’s old and corny and sounds like something only my grandpa would say, but they do stress out and panic if things aren’t just so.  And they do this every waking second of the day.

The sad thing is that even though everyone has their quirks, their “things,” their obsessions, very few people talk about them, so people with the actual disorder think they’ve completely lost their mind, which is scary for anyone, but especially for teens, for whom identity is so critical and confusing and fragile.

If you’d like to share your own quirks, please comment or feel free to reach me via the contact link above if you’d like to guest post.

Hopefully, these features over the next month will highlight the idiosyncrasies that we all share, and lessen the stigma (and fear) that OCD sufferers feel on a daily basis.

“Blackstone makes a bold and idiosyncratic debut with this boisterous novel about a 14-year-old boy with obsessive-compulsive disorder. The author effectively renders the messy, noisy interior world of Rene Fowler, who lives alone with his single mother and struggles to not just survive but enjoy the chaos of high school. Rene is wedded to his routines and his habits (perpetually smelling his left hand, wearing rubber bands on his wrists, not moving if the time adds up to 13–8:32 or 5:44, for example), and relying on his Batman cape for security. He also has a serious crush, red-haired Ariel, his ‘angel,’ and a new friend–a ‘freakishly tall,’ social butterfly, Gio. When Rene’s long-estranged and boorish father returns home, Gio and Rene run away to Manhattan, where they come across Ariel, and their paradise/nightmare adventure there takes up the last third of the book. Rene’s honest, often humorous voice is as compelling as it is exhausting. Blackstone succeeds in creating a singular teenager who happens to have OCD; readers will emerge with a close understanding of the mind and heart of someone with this disorder.”   Ages 12–up. (July)

It’s no secret that zombies are cool.  Super cool.  Like Justin Bieber.  Blue jeans.  Peanut M & M’s.  And Britney Spears back when she was cool.

But to Kate Grable, a high school biology smartypants, zombies aren’t so cool.  They stink.  Really, they do: their breath smell like rotten beef.

They bite.  They barf.  They take a chunk out of her lip.  They infect her family.  They ruin her school.

And that’s just where the fun starts, as Kate tries to unravel a medicinal mystery and breath life back into a team of beef-smelling, beefy football players.  Aaron Kingsman, quarterback and object of Kate’s desires, aligns with her (the consolation prize to the whole zombie thing), as the two of them seek to remedy the sordid situation at their school.

Carrie Harris’ BAD TASTE IN BOYS is a compulsively readable story with a host of super cool zombies–sorry, Kate, but they are pretty cool–and a strong supporting cast, including the suave Aaron and Kate’s dopey brother.  But the best part, the best part, is Kate’s quick witted sarcasm, which starts on page 1, setting a nice balance of comedy and horror.

For summer laughs and chills, reserve your copy today.

Release date: July 12th.

************************************************************************

While you’re here, check out other Bookanista reviews:

Elana Johnson marvels at Moonglass

Christine Fonseca raves about It’s Raining Cupcakes

Shelli Johannes-Wells chats with Pure and The Summer of Firsts & Lasts author Terra McEvaoy

LiLa Roecker and Carrie Harris have a passion for Possession

Beth Revis admires the audiobook of Anansi Boys

Carolina Valdez Miller is giddy over Moonglass – with giveaway

Megan Miranda swoons over Strings Attached

Shana Silver delves into Divergent

Sarah Frances Hardy gabs about Gossip from the Girls Room

Stasia Ward Kehoe glories in a guestanista review of The Rendering

(It’s not a typo! I’m on there! The day after my book is released!)

JULY 6
Tara Altebrando, Dreamland Social Club
Matt Blackstone, A Scary Scene in a Scary Movie
Christopher Grant, Teenie
Alissa Grosso, Popular
Sarah Darer Littman, Want to Go Private?
Gae Polisner, The Pull of Gravity
Melissa Walker, Small Town Sinners

LIKE MANDARIN’S Grace Carpenter, like the 14 year olds in my school, knows what’s to come–and she isn’t such a fan.  Washokey, Wyoming doesn’t offer much in the way of excitement, nor does her family, whose biggest pride and joy is pageantry. Grace, bookish and bored, sleepwalks around her sleepy town until Mandarin Ramey–dangerous, pretty, promiscuous–inexplicably chooses her as a tutor.   What follows is an unforgettable journey of discovery, love, and loss between two unlikely friends.

The characters are skillfully drawn, the plot is well-paced, and the story couldn’t be more REAL.  Whether you’re from the badlands of Wyoming or the boogie-down Bronx, every teenager can relate to wanting to be someone else.  In LIKE MANDARIN, Grace actually gets that chance, but how fragile it is.  How fleeting the opportunity.  How strange and perfect and frustrating Mandarin proves to be.  How difficult and enchanting and wonderful it is to be like Mandarin.

And what a pleasure it is to read this wonderful book.

Check out other Bookanista reviews!

Elana Johnson visits Dark and Hollow Places

LiLa Roecker gets silly over Spoiled

Christine Fonseca has a passion for Possession – with giveaway

Shannon Messenger marvels at Moonglass – with giveaway

Jamie Harrington adores Invincible Summer

Shelli Johannes-Wells is in the grip of Possession

Scott Tracey bathes in Blood Magic

Carolina Valdez Miller interviews Invicible Summer author Hannah Moskowitz

Jessi Kirby praises Playing Hurt

Bethany Wiggins delves into Divergent

Shana Silver presents a Guestanista gushing over Between Here and Forever

Carrie Harris sings out about Shift

Rosemary Clement-Moore applauds Abandon

Sarah Frances Hardy enjoys Me Jane

Corrine Jackson delights in The Duff

Stasia Ward Kehoe discusses Displacement