A Push

For the life of me I can’t remember any cutesy names for classes we took in high school. English in college was Lit Trad and the science classes for non-science majors were called names like Baby Bio. So I think it’s quite charming when my junior refers to her AP US History class as “Apush.”

Of course, junior year is a push. A push to start thinking about college. So when I’m not perusing college websites and helicoptering my daughter to start coming up with “the list,” I’ve been reading books about the admissions process, both fictional and real.  

Admission by Julie Buxbaum

Chloe is a senior, excited about her admission to her dream school. Sure, she did miraculously better on the SAT than she would have thought. Yeah, her essay was kind of meh. And maybe she shouldn’t have used that picture where she was really tan. When the FBI arrives one morning, she realizes all wasn’t on the up and up. Her mom, a B-list celebrity, may be headed to jail, and now Chloe’s a pariah on social media and at school. The question driving the action - Was Chloe complicit?

Blind Sight by Meg Howrey

Luke spends the summer in California getting to know his biological father. When he’s not running or going to celebrity parties, (yes, his dad is also a Hollywood actor) he’s crafting the perfect college essay.

The Admissions by Meg Mitchell Moore

Angela, a high school senior, wants nothing more than to be accepted to her dad’s alma mater, Harvard. Her mother Nora loves the adrenaline rush of her high-end real estate job, but doesn’t have enough hours in the day to attend to the stress of her oldest, the orthodontia of her middle, and the reading problems of her youngest. But slowly the secrets the parents have been keeping are revealed and the perfect life is no longer sustainable – if it ever was.

Unacceptable by Melissa Korn and Jennifer Levitz

If the plot of Admission (see above) seems familiar, it’s because it comes straight from the true college admissions scandal promulgated by Rick Singer. Korn and Levitz explain how the parents, coaches, and teens themselves all play a role in exploiting the system. Following how the individual strands get woven together is almost as fascinating as watching how they unravel.

Slade House

It’s hard to top the news for scares these days. But if you are looking for something to read while you hide out from the trick or treaters this weekend, here’s a look back to a post I wrote in 2016.

David Mitchell’s Slade House opens in 1979 in a voice reminiscent of characters from Mitchell's Black Swan Green. (This isn’t so bad, I thought.) Nathan and his mother have been invited by Lady Norah Grayer for an afternoon of music at her city residence Slade House. After some trouble finding the address, they step through an iron gate into a beautiful garden. Lady Norah’s brother Jonah befriends Nathan and they begin a game of chase around the house. After being frightened by a dog, Nathan runs inside and finds himself face-to-face of a portrait…of himself hanging on the wall. Nathan wakes up and finds himself with his father in Rhodesia. Has the previous scene been a dream? Or is this his dream now?

Mitchell keeps us guessing until the next section opens in 1988 when another unsuspecting guest of Slade House finds himself dreaming awake and sees his portrait on the stairs. Nine years later a group of college students in a paranormal society seek out the house hoping to find the guests who have disappeared in years past. They too meet their end at the hands of the crafty twins.

There is some comfort in the repetition. Upon meeting each new narrator, the reader expects he or she also will meet his or her demise.

Breathing a sigh of relief, we find the final narrator not at Slade House, but a local pub. She is meeting an informant who tells her the life histories of the Grayer twins. In true Mitchell fashion, we get an action-packed final section in which the twins’ weakened power is overrun by a time-traveling avenger.   

All in all, although there were a few hair-prickling scenes, I haven’t had nightmares and have had no trouble falling asleep. Though if someone invites me over for afternoon tea, I will be more than a little wary.