Here's to Books

The market is thirty minutes on horseback or an hour and a half walking distance. The first time I came to the market I was only thirteen years old. Liz had completely taken me under her wing and she treated me like her own child. I remember the fascinating smells and strange people, the bartering and trading of goods, the handsome young men trying to catch the eyes of passing maidens. I fell in love with the market and the things that happened there. The atmosphere was full of new beginnings and exciting ends, the noise and the chatter kept me wanting to return. I'm probably the only one that loves the market, most people think it's a bore, but the market is full of exciting things.

I dismount the white horse that I decided to call Lily and walked her over to the makeshift stables they had set up. I leave her in the hands of a trustworthy looking fellow and head off into the chaos of the market. I stand in the midst of it all and watch everything that's going on around me. 

The list, stay focused. Look at the list. 

I look down and read through the short list Liz had made for me when suddenly I am shoved down into the mud.

"You idiot! Did you not hear us calling?" I slowly raise myself from the mud searching for the list that was somewhere on the ground. My clothes are covered in mud and my hair is plastered to my cheek, but it doesn't bother me. I need to find the list that Liz gave me, what if she never asks me to return to the market?  I turn to see who is yelling at me and come face to face with a short, stocky man. His face is red from the strain of yelling at me, but I feel surprisingly calm. "Well, what do you have to say for yourself?" He puts his hands on his hips as he watches me search the ground. He coughs and I look at him, I stand a good inch over him which is impressive for I only stand five feet from the ground. 

"I think you should've shouted louder." I retort. The red in his face deepens and a low growl comes from his throat as he takes a step towards me, but a laugh comes from behind him; low and melodic, I am drawn to the sound. I look up to see a man sitting upon a horse looking down at the scene that is taking place. His brown hair hangs in curls that frame his angular face. Deep blue eyes smile at me and the fuming short man and I can't but stare in awe at this beautiful man.

"Richard, it's okay. I think this woman is right, you were being soft." I look at Richard who takes a step back from me and watches me with wary eyes. When I look back up the man his eyes are still upon me. He tilts his head to the side causing the curls to flow,

I wonder how soft his hair is, it looks like it's made of silk.

 "And what might your name be?" I look back to him beating myself for my wandering thoughts.

I look behind me to see whom he may be talking to and notice the market has come to a complete halt, everyone is watching us. I feel the flame touch my cheeks as I look back to the man sitting upon the horse, 

"Mae, Mae Gwennly." My voice doesn't seem to be working today.

"Well Mae Gwennly, I am truly sorry that Richard didn't speak louder. He is at fault and I'll make sure that next time he will be overly cautious around young maidens with their nose stuck in a list." He leans over and holds a paper before me. The relief my heart feels is instant as I notice he is holding my list, how he got ahold of it I will never know. I reach up and grab the paper from his hand being careful not to touch him.

"Thank you." I mumble and I begin to back away.

"Where are you staying?" He asks. I turn to see Richard looking up at him with utter shock. This man is being so forward, so blunt in front of all these people whom, might I add, are still watching in complete silence.

"Well that's a question that must remain a mystery, don't you think?" And with that, I walk away from his laugh and disappear behind the nearest stall. The embarrassment is finally over and I hear the man's horse trot away with Richard at its tail. Who was that man?

"Oh! Miss, I...I'm sorry. I thought..." The pounding of my heart overshadows the laughter coming from Victoria. I turn around with my back to the two lovers and stand straight as I wait for my orders of what I should do because honestly, I have no idea what to do.

"Good bye darling, I hope to see you again?" Victoria's singsong voice comes from behind me and I hear the bed rustle as her 'companion' leaves. 

"Of course, my dear." The door opens and the deep voiced male leaves the room. My face is a crimson color as I slowly turn to see Victoria still in bed trying to mask a small smile. Her curly blonde hair halos around her face and her cheeks are a soft pink. Her ice blue eyes pierce me and she holds my gaze for a moment before she begins to laugh.

"My goodness Mae, you look as if you're about to catch fire!"  I stand in my spot and try to calm the burning of my face. "Grab my robe." She points to the divider where her robe is carefully draped across the top. I grab it and bring it over to her and step back as she wraps the silk around her. I wonder what it would feel like to have silk around you, to be wrapped so tightly in cloth so fine. 

"Mae, it would be a shame if you were to mention this to anyone. I wouldn't want to lose my favorite little servant." She pinches my cheeks as she walks past me, but her eyes hold a warning I wouldn't dare contradict. Victoria is known for her cruelty, having fired her last three maids I stand to be the longest lasting one. I would like to say she has a liking towards me, but with Victoria, you never know what she thinks. 

"N-no ma'am." 

"I mean I truly would hate if Liz lost her position, it would be a shame." My chest begins to burn with anger and I try to push down the fury that rises. Victoria always knows the soft points of a person, what matters most to them. She walks behind the divider and drapes her robe over the top again. I see her silhouette slide into the warm water. 

"A shame, yes it would be." I repeat.

"Ah, yes. I'm glad we see eye to eye on this situation." I roll my eyes and walk over to the closet to begin to pick out her dress for the day. Her closet is the largest in the country holding over three hundred dresses. How they fit them all in here, I have no idea. It's a true masterpiece of packing in my opinion.

"Mae, I would prefer to wear a blue dress today. Scott loves blue, he says it compliments my eyes." I guess Scott is the man she was with this morning. I walk over to the blue section of the closet and begin to sort through them. My heart constricts with jealousy as I look down at my drab outfit consisting of a tan skirt and white blouse with a white apron. 

"Miss. Mae, which would you prefer? The green would compliment your eyes, but I think this soft pink would really go well with your figure." My maid walks out from the closet bearing two dresses, each a plain color but elegantly designed. 

"Whichever you think would look best I shall wear." My maid smiles and goes to put the green one back in the closet. After a few minutes of pulling and straining, the pink dress is settled on my frame. I stand before the mirror admiring the way it caught the light and fell across the floor. I look tall and slender in the soft blush color, and it causes my brown eyes to warm.

"Oh! Miss. Mae, you really do look beautiful."

"Mae! Would you come here with my dress!" Victoria's shouts are never ending and I rush over with a deep blue dress. I find Victoria waiting behind the divider.

"I'm sorry ma'am, I couldn't decide which one. I think Scott will enjoy this one."

"Don't you dare say his name." She hisses as she pops her head around the divider, "Consider yourself lucky that you even have the position you have after what you're father did." I allow myself to stand taller at the mention of my father, only Victoria knows what truly happened, how she found out I am not entirely sure. 

"Sorry, ma'am." I mutter as I begin to help her into the dress. 

It takes Victoria roughly an hour and a half every morning to get ready for her day. We start at six and end at seven thirty which is thirty minutes before breakfast. She stops in front of the tall mirror admiring the way the A-line dress hugged her figured and caused her blue eyes to pop. She then leaves through the front entrance to her room without a word. I stay behind to pick up the mess that was made from the morning, and last night. I was surprised to find Victoria with another man in her room. She is an awful person, but the shame she almost brought to her family I never thought she could be capable of. Some people just never understand the limits.

Once the bedroom was in order I head back downstairs to see if Liz has any work for me to do. I find her sitting next to the fire reading a book, which is strange because usually she is always doing something.

"Liz, I was wondering what needed to be done." I stand before her trying to decipher the front of the book.

"Mae, it's a Tuesday deary. It's market day. I was thinking you could go for me today, me old knees can't 'old out anymor. I would stop by the stables, if I were you, and see if Stephen 'as a 'orse you could use. 'E usually doesn't but ya never know." Liz never once looks up from her book as she talks. My heart flutters as she continues to read. The market, never have I been to the market by myself. Come to think of it, I've never left the estate without Liz. I run up to my room and grab my long coat off the hook, the only one I have. I rush downstairs and out the back door.

"Wait deary! I 'ave a list!" I rush back and grab the list from Liz and head towards the stables. Once there I find Stephen sleeping on a pile of hay.

"Come on Stephen, you can sleep when you're dead. I have to go out today and I hope you have a horse that could help me." Stephen slowly sits up rubbing his eyes and looks at me with a puzzled look.

"You, going out? Are you sure you can handle that? You're not going to...you know..." He looks off into the distance with a blank expression on his face, his eyes widened as he tries to mimick the expression I normally wear.

"Oh stop Stephen, I won't day dream if that's what you mean. This is a time I want to actually remember. Now, a horse please." I laugh as he bows low,

"As you wish your highness." He disappears into a stable and brings forth a white horse with black spots on its belly. I watch as he attaches a saddle and harness to the horse.

"This one is the best-behaved one we have, never had any problems with her." I watch as the horse calmly waits for Stephen to finish up and then I have the reins in my hand. The horse stands still as I mount it and begin to ride off.

"Bring me back an interesting story!" Stephen shouts as I kick the horse to take off. I only allow a little laugh but my heart pounds as I rush off into the morning fog hoping that today is the start of something grand.

Author's Note: So, I have decided to start this story and to be honest I have no idea what it's going to be about. I have a character and a place and that's it! So, I'm going to run with it and see where it goes (hopefully somewhere good!). I will be posting chapters randomly so, let's see! Leave comments and input (even some ideas if you, my dear reader, have any!) and here we go:)

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May 4, 1801

I never knew what my story would hold. I never knew what I would become. As a child, I dreamed of daring sword fights, mystical dragons,  and princes in shining armor riding upon a beautiful white steed. My dreams were lived both day and night getting me into more trouble than most. I was known as the daydreamer; the one with the doe eyes and unkempt hair; the one nobody talked to or spent time with. I lived a rather dreary childhood, rain and thunderclouds were a normal thing where I grew up, shouting and crying were a part of my normal activities. The shouting never came from me, I refused to talk after the incident. I felt no need for the world to hear my voice, to feel my presence. I didn't think anyone ever cared enough to hear me for who I was and to understand where I came from. My father was a good man, but not every good man is a good father. My mother was wonderful woman, and I truly believe that she deserved that title. She did her best with what life gave her, never letting one negative word leave her mouth and never letting a soul hear her shouts. I never thought my mother to be rude, or unkind, or abandoning. I thought my father to be those things and I soon found to be right. He left us when I was ten years old. My mother's heart couldn't hold out for much longer after that. She was shattered when she discovered that he was gone. Some people love that which is bad for them, and my mother loved my father. She was addicted to him, as strange as it sounds, addicted to the way he paid attention to her and the way he neglected her. She was always fighting for his attention and love. It became who she was and her life was spent trying to please him. So, when he left, she felt useless and unwanted. I was left with no father and a mother who could hardly leave the bed to go to the bathroom. A broken heart is a serious matter and I pray that I never suffer from one. A year after my father left, my mother gave up and passed on. She couldn't spend her days any longer knowing that no one loved her the way my father pretended to even though I spent every day next to her bedside. I've always found it strange that no matter how hard we try, our intentions backfire and those we love most think we hate them. I watched my mother's eyes turn from love to hate, and her words turn from grace to vile. I don't hate my mother for what happened, and I don't hate my father. I hate the girl who couldn't fix it...

"Mae, get down 'ere or so 'elp me!" I slam the journal closed and shove it under my thin mattress. Grabbing my apron off the hook next to the doorframe, I skip down the stairs two at a time while slipping it over my head. 

"Mae!" Lizzie stands in the middle of the kitchen with her arms elbow deep in pot of water. "Good 'eavens child, I thought I 'ad lost you to the dreamers." I let out a small laugh at her phrasing. My daydreaming is still a constant, and it still gets me into trouble.

"I'm sorry Liz, I was..."

"No ma'er, come over 'ere and 'elp me with this pot. Mistress wants it 'ot and steamy for 'er bath this morning." I rush over and help mix the soap into the water. We drag the pot over to the fire and hang it on it's hook.

"There, now let that sit for 'bout thirty minutes or so then you will need to take it up to Misses and 'elp 'er with 'er bath." I nod my head as Liz leaves the kitchen. I look around and take in the comforting site of the kitchen. It's plain and simple, something I've always preferred, with it's gray and tan color tones. A small pot of sunflowers sits on the windowsill trying to add some color to the dreary room. I don't think it's at all dreary, but Liz is one to keep things looking lively. 

"Good morning Miss. Mae, how are you on this lovely morning?" I can't help but let a small smile make an appearance as I turn to see Stephen waltzes through the kitchen door. He holds brown paper packages under his arm and a mischievous smile takes permanent residency on his face. I walk over to the sink and begin to peel the potatoes for breakfast.

"Good morning to you Stephen. I am quite well. You seem in a good mood." 

"Ah Mae, it's a wonderful day. Just simply wonderful!" I hear him make a few more turns on his heel until he comes to a stop next to me. He leans against the counter and watches me peel the potatoes expectantly.

"Any more letters?" I look over and see his smile broaden, "Ah, so that explains it. What is it this time, has she declared her undying love to you?" I turn and place my hand on my hip, looking up to Stephen I realize I am a good four inches shorter than he. When did he grow up so fast?

"No, quite the contrary, " He lets out a contagious laugh, "She called me a pig! But, I think it's a start!" He kicks off from the counter and heads out the back door that leads to the backyard. 

"When will he ever learn?" I smile to myself. 

I finish the potatoes and take the pot off the fire to let it cool down a bit. When I first started, carrying the pot was only a dream to laugh at, but now I find it quite easy to carry the pot off the fire and up the stairs to the Mistress's room. I started when I was young, eleven to be exact and Liz has been a great teacher. She now completely trusts me with running the entire estate when she has to leave, but might I add she hardly ever is gone. Liz is the housekeeper and has been for the past forty years. This entire estate has been known as the best in all of England thanks to her, but don't tell her that, she tends to be quite prideful. I met Liz the first day I arrived, she was the one that helped me off the carriage. 

The rain pounds on the carriage window as I cower into the corner trying to hide from the thunder above. I hate thunderstorms, my entire life has been lived under a one. The carriage rocks back and forth causing me to close my eyes and eventually  fall asleep. When I awake, I find that I am in a comfy room laying on the most luxurious couch I have ever seen. The velvet seems to melt as I let my hand caress the fabric. I look around the room at the dark purples and shining golds that are so rich it's almost too much to bear. I stand up and begin to walk around the grand room taking everything in from the floor to ceiling windows, to the plush rug. I feel a small smile form and a laugh bubble up. So this is where my story takes me, this is where it all starts. 

"Girl look at me." The voice is pompous and short. There was a shrill quality that scratches against your eardrums. I turn and see a woman dressed in the finest clothes I have ever seen, a deep blue dress with crystal patterns. She stands straight and tall not once wavering. I stare at her trying to match her form, but knowing that I cannot even compare. 

"Dear Lord Liz, is this really the one you picked out?" I turn to see a younger looking Liz, her hair brown instead of gray and her eyes vibrant and colored. 

"Yes Misses, she's the one I was 'oping to 'ave as my right 'and girl." Her thick accent was alarming but I instantly knew she was on my side. 

"Very well, take her at once to begin training. I would very much enjoy a bath this dreary morning." The woman leaves the room, her heels clicking on the marble as she briskly walks down the hall. I look at Liz and she watches me with a small smile,

"I 'ave a good feeling about you Miss. Mae. A real good feeling." 

"Mae, come on deary, please focus." Liz pokes my shoulder as she moves to help me with the pot. I shake my head and continue lifting the pot towards the door and up the stairs. I walk up the three stories to the mistresses bedroom and arrive at the servants entrance to her room. I take a deep breath and open the door, of the seven years I've been here at Pinely estate I will never get used to being the mistresses personal servant. The opened door reveals a spacious room with no light. I walk over to the metal tub that rests behind a divider and pour the water from the pot into the tub. I then walk over and open all the curtains.

"Miss, it's time to wake up." I turn to look at the young girl whom I have known all my time here but freeze in my tracks because this time, it's not just her in the bed, but also a young man.

So here's my favorite sereis...in FANART!! These are some of my favorite sketches and paintings of these amazing characters. Please, enjoy!

Q: Looking back at the finished product, is there anything you'd change about Eleanor and Park?

A: No. I don't think so. Maybe a word here or there. There are a few of them...But my process is to think hard about my books when I'm writing them, and then to try and let them go. There are a few things I might change now that I've talked to hundreds of readers and I've seen how people respond to the book. But if I were to try to rewrite or revise the Eleanor and Park now, I'd ruin it.

(Interview with Rainbow Rowell in the back of Eleanor and Park collector's edition)

Rainbow Rowell casts a spell on her readers with her relatable character in Eleanor and Park. Eleanor, an average teenage girl full of spunk and personality, moves to a new school hoping that things would be different with her mother and step-father. She is instantly thrown into a reluctant friendship with a boy named Park whom she accidentally met on the school bus. On a road of unexpected events, Park ends up showing Eleanor what's worth fighting for, not only each other but also your own life.

CAUTION: the contents of this book are hot.

Rowell is a professional when it comes to playing the heartstrings. When I read this book, I instantly fell in love with Park. Granted he did come across rude when I first met him. But, Rowell easily soothes your fears about Park and redeems him through his quirky yet relatable personality. (This book is just so relatable!)

Eleanor is this realistic character that makes you wonder if she actually is composed of flesh and bones instead of sentences and paragraphs. But Rowell adds just enough spunk to Eleanor to create a memorable character. Even with all of Eleanor's difficulties in life, she becomes a fighter and an example in the literary world and (especially) in Park's life.

Now, the worst character would be the step-father, Richie. Definitely the Umbridge of Eleanor and park. He's the character that a reader see every day in (possibly) their lies or their friends lives. That makes Richie a ten times more hated character because he holds an evil inside of him that is common to our normal lives.

And then comes the mother who strives to be a good mother but is held back by Richie. (Hello Mr. Unwanted.) She's a relatable character, yet she still manages to make the reader upset. We find ourselves asking questions such as; how could you let your kids live with a monster like Richie? Or, how could you stand to live with a monster who treats you that way? But then you realize how sticky the situation really is. She loves Richie, she needs the house and food, she needs the money to support her kids and Richie provides all of this. So Rowell leaves us with a pity character. One we wish we could rescue. 

Let's tie all these characters together and we get an emotion roller coaster that only heads up (Oh Augustus...) and for the better too. Rowell leaves us with a memorable ending and a mind/heart splitting one. It leaves you questioning and wondering. It's not your typical ride off into the sunset on a white horse. The ending is an unexpected change from your normal love novel, and it's a fresh air type of change. So, I will end it on that note. Go out, get the book or borrow that book (whichever). Read it and just remember...three words are all it takes to make a beautiful book.

"Eleanor was right: she never looked nice. She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something."

~Eleanor and Park~

Hope you enjoy this fan art!

(I did not do these and I take no credit! I don't know the artists...so, please enjoy!)

It was a pleasure to burn...the spark notes. This book has reached far beyond my expectations. I sat in my AP Literature class at the end of school and I watched as my teacher passed out a book. My first reaction when I saw that it was Fahrenheit 451 was a solid...

NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

I was less than thrilled to see that I had to read this book, especially after my teacher had told us that this book was at a ninth grade reading level. For someone who breathes books, I was quite distraught.

But fear not, for this simple review will get better!

Once I began my reading I couldn't put it down. The story of Montag and his journey to truth was an unexpected surprise, a pleasant surprise. The characters were understanding and the reader could easily relate. Bradbury created a dystopic world in which I was easily able to transport myself to. A world that revolved around my passion,

Books.

Montag, being an awry fireman, burns books in the hopes of eventually eradicating them. But, as one would only hope, he discovers, with the help of a young girl, that life isn't all that it seems in this society. That maybe, just maybe, there is something better than what Montag has been told his entire life, and that secret may lie within the very books he burns. With the help of some unexpected friends, Montag goes on a life-changing journey trying to discover whether or not books hold the answers he searches for. I will not ruin the ending and I don't want to reveal too much of the story, so I am going to leave it at that.

But, may I suggest some additional Literature to read before you travel through this wonderful book. Plato's Allegory of the Cave is a great read along. Granted, it is quite confusing at times and you must read it with an open mind (for better understanding look at the link below);but, it helps you to be able to comprehend and understand Montag's confusion and the chaos of the world in which he lives. The literary parallel between the two works are uncanny. Not only are you able to understand Montag's world better, but also the reality of the one in which we currently live.

Spark not or Read it?

Definitely a read.

http://faculty.washington.edu/smcohen/320/cave.htm