Heather Seggel

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Biz Stone is cocky. Charming. A self-described genius. In Things a Little Bird Told Me: Confessions of the Creative Mind, he offers readers a glimpse of how he got that way. If his name doesn’t ring a bell, consider that the “little bird” he’s referencing is the Twitter logo—he’s the co-founder of the site, and the reason we now think in 140-character phrases.

The stories here are funny and insightful. In school, Biz couldn’t hold down a job and keep up with homework, so he established a “no homework” policy—and convinced his teachers to go along with it! When Twitter’s success earned him an appearance on “The Colbert Report,” a gift card in the show’s swag bag led to amazing things. Each of these yarns has a point for would-be entrepreneurs, encouraging creativity, collaboration and making your own opportunities rather than waiting for them to appear.

Stone is generous in his assessments of others and almost never snarky, so his story of meeting with Facebook’s Mark Zuckerberg stands out. Neither Stone nor Twitter co-founder Evan Williams wanted to be acquired by Facebook, so they tossed out an obscenely high value for their company, then bailed when they found themselves stranded in an unmoving cafeteria line. (They were later offered the amount they’d requested, but still turned it down.) Stone is social to his core, so Zuckerberg’s notoriously flat affect—he’s described here as pointing to some people and saying, “These are some people working”—was clearly not a love connection in the making.

If you have big ideas, or a sense that you could have big ideas if only (fill in the blank), Things a Little Bird Told Me can help you fill in that blank and bring your personal genius to the masses. It’s a wise and generous book, and also a lot of fun.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

Biz Stone is cocky. Charming. A self-described genius. In Things a Little Bird Told Me: Confessions of the Creative Mind, he offers readers a glimpse of how he got that way. If his name doesn’t ring a bell, consider that the “little bird” he’s referencing is the Twitter logo—he’s the co-founder of the site, and the reason we now think in 140-character phrases.

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When explosions rocked the finish line of the 2013 Boston Marathon, three people were killed and 260 injured, among them Jeff Bauman. Standing with friends to cheer on his girlfriend, who was running in the race, Bauman saw a man whose appearance and demeanor didn’t fit the crowd leave a backpack and walk away. Bauman was about to suggest to his friends that they move farther up the street when the pack exploded, taking both his legs with it. Stronger is Bauman’s account of his injury and recovery, and a tribute to working-class Boston resilience.

Bauman, with co-author Bret Witter, describes growing up among hard-working, hard-partying relatives and struggling to find his own path. Unable to afford college, he was cooking rotisserie chickens at Costco when the bombing occurred (a co-worker convinced him to keep his employee health insurance, which turned out to be a financial lifesaver). He’s apprehensive at being called a hero despite providing a description credited with helping to identify bomber Tamerlan Tsarnaev, and feels pressured to make appearances at multiple charity events, even though the travel saps energy needed for his own recovery.

Bauman describes feeling no hatred toward the Tsarnaev brothers, just sorrow that they chose to hurt strangers out of a sense of their own futility. Carlos Arredondo, the man who saved Bauman’s life (pictured in a famous AP photo in which he’s running next to Bauman in a wheelchair) had his own life changed by stepping up in a moment of crisis. His personal story is heartbreaking, but his friendship with Bauman seems to offer a glimmer of hope.

Bauman’s frank discussion of the long path to recovery, seeded with doubt, setbacks and small victories, makes Stronger both informative and inspiring.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

When explosions rocked the finish line of the 2013 Boston Marathon, three people were killed and 260 injured, among them Jeff Bauman. Standing with friends to cheer on his girlfriend, who was running in the race, Bauman saw a man whose appearance and demeanor didn’t fit the crowd leave a backpack and walk away. Bauman was about to suggest to his friends that they move farther up the street when the pack exploded, taking both his legs with it. Stronger is Bauman’s account of his injury and recovery, and a tribute to working-class Boston resilience.

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Heather Nill is living a dead-end life in a washed-up town. Prospects are so grim that the high school kids’ best hope of escaping is through a legendary game called Panic. Everyone pays in, and there can be only one winner, but it's not just a matter of facing down your worst fears—the stakes can be life or death. Heather’s there to support her best friend Nat, but at the last minute she decides to compete. The money’s a powerful motivator, but there’s more at stake, for her and everyone involved.

Panic is full of big scares, but the central horror is the daily reality these kids face. Life with addicted parents and meth-infested trailer parks, with little hope of relief, would drive anyone to take chances. Author Lauren Oliver (the Delirium trilogy) weaves together themes of jealousy and revenge, and puts these kids through some terrifying challenges. There are a series of twists leading up to an explosive finale that will have readers breathlessly turning pages. And in between the hard-won victories and awful consequences of the game, there are quiet moments of friendship, family and connection that are the real grand prizes in life. 

Virtually everyone involved with Panic has a secret, including Heather's friend Bishop, who’s not playing but is always around when the challenges are announced. Unpacking everyone’s motivations adds another layer to the mystery, but the book is best when it hews close to Heather and her resistance to change, even though it holds her only chance at happiness. Her conviction that she “was a nobody. Nill. As in zero” is the most formidable demon she needs to conquer in order to thrive. Panic is a thrill ride with a still point at its center.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

Heather Nill is living a dead-end life in a washed-up town. Prospects are so grim that the high school kids’ best hope of escaping is through a legendary game called Panic. Everyone pays in, and there can be only one winner, but it's not just a matter of facing down your worst fears—the stakes can be life or death.

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Blake Bailey has written notable biographies of authors John Cheever and Richard Yates, both difficult and brilliant men. While he was sifting through their lives, he was also reflecting on his own. The Splendid Things We Planned is the resulting portrait, a story of mental illness and addiction and the difficult orbits they force upon the healthy. It’s also a tribute to one family’s best efforts and inevitable failings.

Bailey’s older brother, Scott, was born while his parents were still in college. Re-established in Vinita, Oklahoma, their father parlayed his law school education into ever-increasing job responsibility while their mother followed her intellectual bliss and turned their home into a mini-salon for foreign exchange students and witty gay men. Young Blake took in scenes of infidelity and drug use, but his attention was generally on Scott, a handsome bully whose seemingly limitless potential gradually collapsed under relentless drug use and delusional thinking.

Bailey tells a difficult story with spare language that allows for some dry humor. His father remarries a woman who despises both sons equally, so he largely checks out where they’re concerned for several years. His mother dotes on her oldest boy, ever faithful that he’d turn back into the son she knew. “She missed Scott and wanted to talk about him, simple as that—to speculate about his motives, to retrace our steps to the exact point in time when everything went blooey.” Anyone who has lived with someone similarly ill will find this book painfully accurate when it comes to the mental gymnastics and survivor’s guilt involved.

The family as a whole is an eccentric bunch, and Marlies, Scott’s mother, keeps her dignity and a sense of humor while buying a pistol to defend herself against her son. If The Splendid Things We Planned is a damning portrait of mental illness, it’s also an unforgettable look at a family doing its best in the most trying of circumstances, those where no good outcome exists.

Blake Bailey has written notable biographies of authors John Cheever and Richard Yates, both difficult and brilliant men. While he was sifting through their lives, he was also reflecting on his own. The Splendid Things We Planned is the resulting portrait, a story of mental illness and addiction and the difficult orbits they force upon the healthy. It’s also a tribute to one family’s best efforts and inevitable failings.

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The Mirk and Midnight Hour blends historical romance, suspense and the paranormal into a novel that’s a Southern Gothic tale at heart.

Violet Dancey is left to mind Scuppernong Farm in Mississippi while her father fights the Yankees. Already heartbroken by the death of her twin brother, Violet is beginning to question whether the Confederacy is in the right when she finds a wounded Union soldier named Thomas in her old childhood hideout. Their relationship turns into a romance, but it’s risky business in more ways than one.

Author Jane Nickerson juggles a large and complex cast here, and there’s voodoo, violence, mayhem, laudanum addiction and telepathic communication with bees to keep the players busy, yet the book maintains an easy pace. There’s a scary climactic scene when Violet must come between Thomas and the people who have been treating his injuries, but most of the action here is slow-burning suspense. The contrast between a community bazaar and the war roiling in the distance adds to the eerie sense of a world on the brink of big changes.

Violet’s awakening to the politics of slavery after a lifetime of friendship with people her family owned is touching and handled gracefully, giving The Mirk and Midnight Hour extra depth and something to ponder after the thrills have worn off. It’s an exciting story—juicy, romantic and at times quite chilling.

 

Heather Seggel reads too much and writes all about it in Northern California.

The Mirk and Midnight Hour blends historical romance, suspense and the paranormal into a novel that’s a Southern Gothic tale at heart.

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Casey Snowden lives for baseball, almost literally—his dad and granddad run a school for umpires, where Casey and his best friend Zeke spend all their time. It helps Casey forget his absent mother, who keeps calling to re-establish visitation, and provides inspiration for his future career as an award-winning sportswriter.

Author Audrey Vernick (Water Balloon) brings joy and good humor to a story with some tough realities at its core. The novel culminates in a day when the town comes out to heckle the students while they call a game, to give them a taste of what their jobs will entail. By then, Casey’s faith in his favorite player, his own objectivity and his assessment of his mother have all been challenged, yet he’s resilient. The economic downturn has slowed attendance at the family’s school, but when his grandfather asks if Casey wants to stay, he doesn’t miss a beat: “That’s like asking if I think my blood will always be part of my body.”

A subplot involving Zeke’s reality TV obsession is funny and dovetails with the main storyline in a surprising way. The story Casey decides to write for his school paper leads him to realize he’s not as objective as he’d previously thought, but he takes his lumps with humility. The umpire’s need to confidently make a call in the heat of the moment is something we could all stand to work on.

Screaming at the Ump will be a hit with baseball fans, but this non-fan found it smart, funny, compassionate and a wise look at ethics and integrity in sports and daily life.

Casey Snowden lives for baseball, almost literally—his dad and granddad run a school for umpires, where Casey and his best friend Zeke spend all their time. It helps Casey forget his absent mother, who keeps calling to re-establish visitation, and provides inspiration for his future career as an award-winning sportswriter.

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No part of Malcolm X’s life was free from conflict and contradiction, including his childhood. Raised in a spiritual and pacifist home, Malcolm grew up to espouse a more violent philosophy in pursuit of social justice and died violently himself. Malcolm Little tells the story of his early years as part of a large, loving family whose lives were torn apart by racial aggression. This lovely, inspiring book reveals how young Malcolm was able to draw on inner resources to find himself.

Author Ilyasah Shabazz, daughter of Malcolm X, writes affectionately about her father’s mischievous streak and endless thirst for knowledge. Whether he was planting peas in the family garden plot or listening to his father preach, young Malcolm was observant and reflective.

Using a palette of autumnal colors, illustrator A.G. Ford emphasizes Malcolm’s wide brown eyes, taking in everything around him and gazing at his mother, who read to the children from a book clutched in one hand while folding laundry or preparing supper. A Monarch butterfly makes a recurring appearance throughout Malcolm Little, and Malcolm’s mother explains that it was once a caterpillar whose beauty develops over time.

Then one day, the Little family home was burned to the ground. The fire burning against the night sky is frightening, but the flames echo the gentle colors of the butterfly. Later, Earl Little died at the hands of the Ku Klux Klan. The family was then separated, and Malcolm lived with neighbors in the community. Isolated at first, he very slowly regained his confidence and a sense of joy by remembering the lessons his mother passed along.

Malcolm Little is a terrific introduction to a polarizing historical figure and an inspiring tale that children can apply to their own lives. We all face adversity at one time or another; it’s how we respond that counts.

No part of Malcolm X’s life was free from conflict and contradiction, including his childhood. Raised in a spiritual and pacifist home, Malcolm grew up to espouse a more violent philosophy in pursuit of social justice and died violently himself. Malcolm Little tells the story of his early years as part of a large, loving family whose lives were torn apart by racial aggression. This lovely, inspiring book reveals how young Malcolm was able to draw on inner resources to find himself.

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Harbinger “Harry” Jones was in a childhood accident that left him externally scarred and broken inside. When he meets Johnny, their friendship leads to a spontaneous decision to form a band, which brings Harry out of his shell. Their burgeoning popularity is a pleasant surprise, but it opens up a subtle rift with his best friend. As The Scar Boys gain in popularity, their future grows ever less certain.

Author Len Vlahos wrote his own teenage band, Woofing Cookies, into the background of this smart, ambitious debut novel, and it’s clear he’s familiar with the rigors of the road, the triumph of a successful if tiny gig and the unfathomable miracle of a seven-inch record you cut with your friends. All these things give The Scar Boys richness and depth.

Harry tells his story to a faceless college administrator in an application essay, and his asides to this presumed audience are smart-mouthed fun. What makes this a standout, though, is Vlahos’ ability to capture the complex dynamics of male friendship. Harry and Johnny are best friends, but their trust is undermined by Harry’s insecurity. When Harry begins to stand up for himself, Johnny feels threatened and lashes out. It ultimately takes losing each other for them to see what they had.

With its song-titled chapters and an overload of firsts (kiss, tour, betrayal, vehicle) and lasts, The Scar Boys is a music-drenched, fast-moving story with a revealing male relationship at its core.

Harbinger “Harry” Jones was in a childhood accident that left him externally scarred and broken inside. When he meets Johnny, their friendship leads to a spontaneous decision to form a band, which brings Harry out of his shell. Their burgeoning popularity is a pleasant surprise, but it opens up a subtle rift with his best friend. As The Scar Boys gain in popularity, their future grows ever less certain.

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The Up Side of Down: Why Failing Well Is the Key to Success is true to its title, flipping an entrenched view of success on its ear. Author Megan McArdle argues for the value of failure, not just in business but law enforcement, job hunting, even love. Writers like to toss around the Samuel Beckett advice to “fail better,” but what does that mean in practice?

McArdle, a popular business blogger who landed her dream job (and her husband!) through a series of missteps and adaptation to the unexpected, talks to experts in multiple fields about failure in theory, then illustrates with examples from current events and her own life. When solar manufacturer Solyndra was tanking, no one was able to admit defeat and pull the plug on federal spending. Failure to heed the warning signs led to far worse consequences for everyone involved.

An innovative probation reform program in Honolulu shows how a failed system’s mistakes can point toward a solution. People in the program are drug tested and given the instruction to come forward if they violate their probation. Speaking up leads to a shorter sentence—and saves taxpayers a fortune by eliminating mountains of paperwork. 

McArdle, an outspoken libertarian, may rankle some readers with her contrarian opinions, but she makes her points with clear prose and dry humor. Entrepreneurs, the unemployed and even the lovelorn will find sound advice here.

The Up Side of Down: Why Failing Well Is the Key to Success is true to its title, flipping an entrenched view of success on its ear. Author Megan McArdle argues for the value of failure, not just in business but law enforcement, job hunting, even love. Writers like to toss around the Samuel Beckett advice to “fail better,” but what does that mean in practice?

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The more we learn about the human brain, it seems, the less we know for sure. In the 50 years he's focused on it, Dutch neuroscientist D.F. Swaab has studied the brain at every stage of being. We Are Our Brains is a “neurobiography” of the brain, but it reads more like a gazetteer—you can start anywhere and be assured of finding something interesting.

Brains was first published in the Netherlands, where it spent more than two years on the bestseller list, and it's easy to see why: Despite the complexity of the subject matter, Swaab makes it accessible and reader-friendly and admits freely that science can't always explain why things work because we simply don't know. In the case of electroshock therapy, “Perhaps it's a bit like when your computer seizes up: You switch the power off, switch it back on again, and hey presto, it works again.” Who knew that “Hey, presto,” was a diagnostic tool?

From early childhood development through the ravages of dementia, Swaab chronicles the life of the brain, and when his focus remains there, the book is a pleasure. Digressions into his personal views on recreational drugs, religion and homosexuality slow things down and are neither supported or refuted by his research as presented here. There should be plenty to say about the brain without such questionable asides.

Swaab is upfront about the limits of our knowledge, and wants We Are Our Brains not to be viewed as a source of answers, but instead as a spur to asking better questions. These could lead to medical breakthroughs, or just a greater appreciation for the world's most sophisticated and energy-efficient supercomputer, which happens to be resting between your ears. Whether We Are Our Brains or not is still open to debate, but Swaab's research helps illuminate the vast network of tasks and functions that fall under its jurisdiction, and it's an impressive list indeed.

The more we learn about the human brain, it seems, the less we know for sure. In the 50 years he's focused on it, Dutch neuroscientist D.F. Swaab has studied the brain at every stage of being. We Are Our Brains is a “neurobiography” of the brain, but it reads more like a gazetteer—you can start anywhere and be assured of finding something interesting.

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When Ingrid Ricks' parents divorced, her devout Mormon mother married an abusive creep who made home the last place Ingrid would ever want to be. Her father was a traveling salesman, always chasing down a dream, and when he invited Ingrid to join him on the road for the summer, she jumped at the chance. When their summer plans went sideways, Ingrid was forced to rely on herself for stability and grow up before she finished high school. Hippie Boy chronicles her abbreviated childhood among adults who had their own share of growing up to do.

Hippie Boy—the title was an affectionate nickname bestowed by Ricks' father, on account of her long, tangled hair—was a best-selling self-published eBook, and deservedly so. Ricks is tough but fair when it comes to describing her family, and her frank honesty lets readers see past any failures to the love that ultimately unites them. Her mother endures a terrible second marriage because she simply doesn't want to be the one in charge of things, but flourishes in every way once she finally throws the bum out. Her father bends the truth when it suits him (“Dad was special that way. He could talk his way out of anything.”) and is flaky and inconsistent, but keeps his word to Ingrid in one crucial instance that shows his good heart clearly. And stepfather Earl? Well, let's just say it's a relief when he gets his walking papers.

Hippie Boy juxtaposes the stifling confines of an abusive and oppressively religious home with the thrill of the open road and its anonymous motels and rest stops. It's a story of family unity and a declaration of independence in one, and a keen, clear-eyed take on both. Fans of Haven Kimmel and Mary Karr should welcome Ricks warmly as a new, distinct voice in memoirs.

When Ingrid Ricks' parents divorced, her devout Mormon mother married an abusive creep who made home the last place Ingrid would ever want to be. Her father was a traveling salesman, always chasing down a dream, and when he invited Ingrid to join him on…

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Here’s a neat trick: a dual-authored story about two prospective college roommates who never meet over the course of the novel. Roomies tells Elizabeth (“E.B.”) and Lauren’s stories through the emails they send during their last summers at home. For E.B., the move is cross-country, away from her single mom and soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, and toward the gay dad who abandoned her after coming out. Lauren is just moving across the San Francisco Bay, but her family is so large it’s like leaving a small island nation. She really wanted a single room for just this reason.

The emails between the girls offer a gentle contrast between how we present ourselves online versus who we are IRL, and how much we try to read into correspondence when there’s nothing else to consult for clues. E.B. and Lauren are both going through changes common during the last summer before college, but they sometimes fail to empathize with one another because their surface differences seem so vast. Before they even lay eyes on one another, the girls come close to opting out of the shared dorm. Roomies is a bittersweet and hopeful story of change.

Here’s a neat trick: a dual-authored story about two prospective college roommates who never meet over the course of the novel. Roomies tells Elizabeth (“E.B.”) and Lauren’s stories through the emails they send during their last summers at home. For E.B., the move is cross-country,…

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Chasing Shadows opens with an act of violence that is startling in its realism. When Corey and his twin sister Holly are shot by a stranger, he dies and she is left in a coma, straddling the surreal Shadowlands and her real life in a hospital bed. Savitri—Corey’s girlfriend and Holly’s best friend—is racked with guilt, leading her to take more and more dangerous chances. She wants to save Holly and find justice for Corey, but her self-sacrificing nature leads her right to the edge, which is where these “freerunners” like to be. That overconfidence comes at a great cost.

Author Swati Avasthi (Split) teamed up with artist Craig Phillips on this book—Holly and Savitri are comics-obsessed, and portions of the story are told in panel illustrations. The drawings add nicely to the story and help to literally illustrate Holly’s descent from grief into mental illness.

Because it has elements of mystery, thriller, graphic novel and coming-of-age story, Chasing Shadows sometimes feels adrift among genres. The characters practice freerunning, a street sport similar to parkour, where vaulting over walls and obstacles gymnastically is commonplace, but the sport isn’t described in depth. Corey dies in the first scene, but we don’t get to know him through the surviving characters, which feels like a missed opportunity.

These are not deal-breaking issues, though. When Savitri and Holly team up to solve the murder, their changing relationship packs as much suspense as a whodunit. And the book is brutally frank about mental illness and our ability to refuse to recognize a loved one’s deterioration until it’s too late to intervene. Chasing Shadows has some flaws, but it features diamond-sharp storytelling and terrific artwork.

Chasing Shadows opens with an act of violence that is startling in its realism. When Corey and his twin sister Holly are shot by a stranger, he dies and she is left in a coma, straddling the surreal Shadowlands and her real life in a…

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