In My Heck, the Books Are All Just Copies of Twilight

I own three bookshelves, which doesn’t sound like a lot, three being such a small number and all. But compared to the vast armies of people who own zero or less bookshelves in their house, yes, three is in fact a lot of bookshelves.

Yet, no matter how many bookshelves I add to my supply, I am in a perpetual state of always having more books than space to put them. This means small stacks of reading material inevitably sprout up in every available crevice of space. Beside my bed. Next to my comfy pod chair. Underneath that little plastic tray thing my roommate’s mom bought me to work on my writing in bed but is more often used to set ramen noodles on while watching “The Simpsons” on Hulu. There are books everywhere. If there is an earthquake, and you can’t find me, check underneath the books. At least I’ll die surrounded by something I love.

Anyway, so I don’t have enough books. Why don’t you recommend some to me already? Seriously, forty unread books in my apartment is not enough. That’ll only get me to September, MAYBE, so get on it, people of the Internet. Send your suggestions to makesteinhoread@gmail.com

My pile dwindled by another book last night when I finished “Fibble,“ the next installment in one of my favorite young adult series, written by the always amusing Dale E. Basye. I’ve blogged about it before but honestly, it’s worth mentioning again. I speak of “Heck: Where the Bad Kids Go,” a tale that is not afraid to send children into the nastier parts of the afterlife.

In “Fibble,” our dead brother and sister duo, Milton and Marlo Fauster, face another round of dead historical figures who want to make their afterlife miserable. This time, Marlo gets trapped in Fibble, the level of Heck for kids who lie. The head of Fibble? P.T. Barnum, who teaches his inmates the finer points of product placement and market manipulation. Meanwhile, Milton goes to Hell-ywood, where he and Orson Welles plan the next season’s lineup on Heck’s own TV network. This includes a show called “Teenage Jesus.” Maybe it was just the comparisons between Hollywood/Los Angeles and that infamous fiery underworld, but I got a real kick out of young Milton’s attempts to serve as Production Assistant to a fleet of demon filmmakers. As if that particular occupation weren’t trying enough.

There were times in reading “Fibble” when I thought to myself, “If this weren’t a kid’s book, this would be pretty darn controversial.” Mostly though, Basye manages to skate around any serious issues by taking the South Park route, and giving all religions the same unbiased comedic treatment. He also includes a lot of jokes about cat poo and teenage hormones to distract readers from taking any of the heavier themes too seriously. I always have respect for authors who aren’t afraid to sneak a little thought-provoking material into their children’s reading material. It’s a lot easier than thrusting a copy of “Crime and Punishment” in their face and asking them to figure out those moral judgments.

I’m going to guess that considering the references in all Basye’s novels, he’s got to be a fairly smart fellow. Or else he’s good at researching. Or at making people do research for him. Therefore, I have to believe that the decision to include both Orson Welles and William Randolph Hearst in this book was both deliberate and hysterical. I was really hoping that their paths would cross at some point in the book, but alas. Perhaps in the next one? Regardless, I appreciate any book that references both how fat Orson Welles was before he died, and how he had to make a Muppet movie to support his disturbing gravy habit. Okay, I made that last part up, but the guy was fat.

I will close by saying this. If there was an award for coming up with puns in the literary world, it would most likely go to Dale E. Basye. If colleges could give Masters degrees in punnery, Basye would be the Dean of the school.

Awkward conversations in book stores.

Dear. Mr. Blogadere,

If we are going to be friends, there are two things that you should know about me. One is that I read a ton of books. Two is that I become an arrogant, snobby, know-it-all pukefaced twit when it come to talking about them, though some of you might have already gathered this fact from the title of my blog. The truth of the matter is, I simply started reading early, and therefore, simply have had more time to cipher out what is an excellent read and what should be used to paper the bottom of a ravenous, over-sized parrot’s cage. This often makes life a bit on the awkward side for me, though. For example, back when I used to work for Lords Barnes and Noble as the head of the children's department, I’d encounter this little scenario.

Parent: I need a book for my idiot teen.
Me: Well, what do they like? Sports, shopping, wizards…
Parent: I don’t know! I am a bad parent and know absolutely nothing about my child! Just give me whatever you liked when you were a kid.
Me:….“Crime and Punishment?” How about “Oliver Twist?” That at least had a kid in it.
Blank stare from parent.
Parent: Oliver who?

I don’t say this to brag. Okay, I don’t only say this to brag. The point I’m making underneath the layers of self-satisfaction are that too often today children don’t like to read, and the books they do pick up are brain-numbing drivel. You know which books I’m talking about, so I won’t even say their names. That’s why I turn into a spastic twelve-year-old when I find good fiction for young adults.

CUE DALE E. BASYE, writer of an absolutely brilliant and clever series called “Heck: Where the Bad Kids Go.” Following the misadventures of a nerdy lad named Milton Fauster who dies in a giant marshmallow explosion, Heck shows what happens to bad kids when they die. What happens is a hilarious string of humiliations and classes with some of history’s most despicable humans. Lizzy Borden teaches home economics. Blackbeard teaches gym and there‘s a specific class and level of heck for every junior criminal. It’s Dante’s “Inferno” for kids, with as many types of humor as there are fiery rings in Mr. Alighieri’s underworld. A tapestry of toilet humor woven together with clever references to both wicked historical and literary figures through time. Just look at the main character’s name. Look at it and dare to say this book was not written by a nerd for other book nerds! Do you get it? Please say you get it. I’ll give you some clues. “Paradise Lost,” about Satan’s fall from Heaven was written by a man named BLANK and BLANK is the name of a play about a guy who makes a deal with the devil, and ends up going to Hell. See??? See how clever it is?????

I consider books like Heck a reward to young people for being smart. You read a lot and in turn learn a lot, you understand the references, you get to be in on the joke. You end up feeling SMARTER THAN EVERYONE IN THE ROOM!!! I can’t believe I’m writing this, but it’s kind of like what James Joyce and T.S. Eliot intended with the Modernist movement of literature. They purposely filled their work with references to history and other works of literature, to force readers into educating themselves in order to understand it. That having been said, DO NOT give your twelve-year-old a copy of “Ulysses” for Christmas. They will not understand it and feel like a big spazz when they can’t read French or Latin.

Thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot.

Try something a few steps down. Like “The Phantom Tollbooth.” Or Roald Dahl. Or Heck, by Dale Basye.

And if young people still don’t want to read…well… the world always needs more professional athletes.