In the Woods and The Likeness by Tana French

I decided to do one post for both of these books because they are sequential in a series and that’s how I read them. It’s been ages since I’ve read books in a series without a break in between, but once I read the first one I immediately read the second. I’d only read one Tana French book before these, so I was excited to return to the start of the Dublin Murder Squad series. I can see why these books are so popular but I’m also a little surprised by it. These stories aren’t your straight-up detective stories; there’s a lot of personal, psychological mess in there and an element of what I’ll refer to as the fantastical. They’re so heavy that I don’t think you’d call them enjoyable–not like a fast-paced NYT-bestseller that you can put down when you finish and it doesn’t linger in your mind.

In The Woods wasn’t as good for me as the other two DMS books. In general, I didn’t find Rob to have many redeemable qualities. He’s kind of a jerk but plays off being a jerk by using his baggage as an excuse. I couldn’t buy it. By the end of the book I was so ready to put his head through a wall. I was totally on board with everything that happened to him and very pissed off about everything around him that he fucked up. The story itself was interesting (although I did have my suspicions about the responsible party about halfway through the book) and French’s writing is what saved the book for me.

In The Woods also made me invested enough in Cassie’s story that I immediately started The Likeness. I found Cassie to be far more likable and redeemable than her former partner. The plot was unique–so much more than a detective story or thriller, which was refreshing. As Cassie gets wrapped up in what she’s doing and loses sight of the end goal, so did I. French does a great job of putting us in Cassie’s mind so that we have the same tunnel vision she does. Her desire for belonging and purpose is also a universally familiar one. I appreciated the ending for Cassie’s sake, too.

I’m not sure I’m ready to read the next book in the series, though. I’ve met Frank twice now–once before his feature story and once after it in The Secret Place–and I can’t say I like him very much. I generally don’t take to manipulative bastards. I’m hoping that when I do get to read Faithful Place that Frank will come through with more layers.

Have you read the Dublin Murder Squad series? What are your thoughts on these imperfect characters?

Beartown by Fredrik Backman

**THIS POST CONTAINS SPOILERS. A GREAT WAY TO FIX THAT IS FOR YOU TO READ THE BOOK BEFORE READING THIS POST. SERIOUSLY. GO READ THE BOOK. I’LL WAIT.**

“Late one evening toward the end of March, a teenager picked up a double-barreled shotgun, walked into the forest, put the gun to someone else’s forehead, and pulled the trigger. This is the story of how we got there.” So begins Beartown, one of the most amazing things I have read in a long time. It’s taken me several days to put my thoughts together about this book. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect going in. Everything I’ve read by Backman I have loved, but I’ve loved the sweetness. Beartown‘s reputation is deservedly darker than anything else Backman has written. He lets you know on the very first page, with the very first sentence, that this is no Ove or Grandmother.

The whole thing starts off innocently enough. The story jumps through several different perspectives, almost too many to keep track of, and you wonder where this is going. We’re inside so many different characters’ heads and privy to so many thoughts. There’s so much of it that it takes half the book to get through one day, to the night of the defining event. That’s the thing about Beartown, though–it is its people. You can’t understand Beartown without understanding its residents, every single one of them. So yes, the book is wonderful. Yes, Backman is a wonderful writer. Yes, it’s a bestseller for a reason.

My relationship with this book, though, is absolutely defined by my experience as a sexual assault victim and anti-violence advocate. Basically, I think this book should be required reading for every human because it does such a good job of addressing rape culture. So often, rape in popular culture is done for drama. I am thinking specifically of Game of Thrones and Thirteen Reasons Why. It’s shown in a way that seems so fantastical, so far removed from your daily life, that it does little to change the way we think about sexual violence. It’s a plot device rather than a social issue. And when it is done well, it’s almost always by a woman who has some sort of experience with being victimized. So it’s especially exciting for me as an advocate when a male writer tackles it without fucking it up.

Some have criticized Backman’s writing style as simplistic and childish. I interpret it as minimalist and it works incredibly well for this story. Here’s the thing: we hide behind language so often when we talk about sexual violence. How often do people try to avoid saying the word “rape?” In the media it’s referred to as “unwanted/forced sex,” on college campuses it’s “sexual misconduct,” in conversation it’s “the incident/that night/the attack.” Backman doesn’t back down from it. His stark descriptions don’t give you the chance to ignore it the way the characters try to.

It’s not just the way he writes the rape itself, either. It’s the world he builds that allows that rape to happen–a world, of course, very much like our non-fictional one. I wonder if I was more sensitive to it in the first half of the book than other readers might have been, but again, I find that Backman’s writing style basically shoves rape culture in your face. Like a cream pie, only not nearly as sweet. I underlined so many passages in this book it was like being in school again. I was on vacation with family, didn’t have my normal purse with me and kept having to bug my mom to borrow her crossword puzzle pencil so I could mark things.

“Their coach teaches them to go hard into close combat on the ice. No one stops to think about how to switch that attitude off when they leave the locker room. It’s easier to pin the blame on her: She’s too young. Too attractive. Too easily offended. Too difficult to respect.”

“‘And the final isn’t just about hockey. It’s about what sort of man you want to be. A man who goes out and grabs what he deserves, or one who stands in a corner waiting or someone to give it to him.'”

“‘For me, culture is as much about what we encourage as what we actually permit…That most people don’t do what we tell them to do. They do what we let them get away with.'”

“…[I]n the doorway stands a father, thinking that the girls will survive this. They’ll be able to deal with it. That’s what he’s afraid of. That that’s what’s going to make the rest of the world go on thinking that everything is okay.”

It’s been a long time since I have read a contemporary fiction and felt seen and understood as a sexual assault survivor. Is it a difficult topic? Yes. If you ignored the spoiler warning, might you be reconsidering whether or not you want to read this book? Yes. And that’s okay. We’ve done a terrible job as a society making rape something we can talk about. That’s also exactly why you should read this book. Or reread it, whatever. You should be uncomfortable, because rape is a terrible thing. But we can’t not talk about it, because–as Backman shows us–that culture of silence condones rape in a way too few people realize.

Now, aside from all that, can we take a moment for Benji appreciation? I love Benji. As a lovestruck bass player put it, “Benji isn’t like anyone else at all. How can you not love someone like that?” However much he is described as a fuck up, it’s clear that he has one of the strongest moral compasses of any character in the book. He’s observant, insightful, and for all his delinquent ways, upstanding. He doesn’t care that he and Kevin have been besties forever–as soon as he sees what Kevin has become, he is unapologetic about turning his back on him. I’m almost terrified to read Us Against You because I really, really want Benji to be okay. I want to give Benji a hug and tell him how amazing he is. Fortunately, he has some badass sisters who take care of that for me.

And that’s Beartown, or at least what I can articulate about it at this point. I probably could write a whole paper on it, but I’ll leave that to the English majors. It’s a jumble of emotions, and I loved every second of it. I think Ove still ranks as my favorite Backman, mostly because I can confidently recommend it to pretty much anyone without a trigger warning attached, but Beartown is a very, very close second.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay by Michael Chabon

This book reaction has been a couple weeks coming. Life has certainly been chaotic and draining, which has distracted me from being able to put my thoughts about this book in order. Also, the World Cup has been happening. (Anyone else?)

Here’s the story of how I first heard about this book: Christmas 2017, I had this idea of getting each of my family members a book for Christmas. Since I had no idea where to start with this, I decided to be sneaky and ask for “recommendations” from them to get an idea of the books they had been reading and enjoying. My sister specifically mentioned this book and how it’s one of her favorite things she’s ever read. I had never known about its existence before then, but I made a mental note.

Fast forward a month and I’m browsing in one of the best little used bookstores that I’ve been to once and talked about a million times, Footnote Books in San Diego. In one of the piles of books squished into a corner I unearth an early edition of The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay for five bucks. Um, yes, please. (When I finally got around to reading it, I saw that this copy was originally purchased for $15.30 at Borders Books and Music and boy, was that a blast from the past.)

So, long story short, I loved this book. In my humble opinion, it is absolutely deserving of all the praises and awards it has won or been a finalist for. It’s not an easy read. Despite moments of humor and levity, it addresses some serious issues and let’s be honest: a World War II book is never a lighthearted one. I was also surprised at how much I liked it because I tend to gravitate more towards books with female protagonists and written by female authors. I guess the story was compelling enough that I just didn’t care or didn’t notice. I also didn’t have many qualms with how Chabon wrote Rosa. And it’s rare that I don’t have a lot of issues with a male writer’s take on a woman’s perspective.

I will say that despite the title being The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, this was mostly Joe Kavalier’s story. Sammy is a hugely important part, obviously, but if this were a movie Joe would be the lead role and Sammy would be the supporting one. I found them both to be surprisingly human characters given the sometimes outlandish plot points. I guess by that I mean that their motives and reactions always seem proportionate to the comic book-level situations they find themselves in. There are also plenty of tiny little Jewish culture references that are probably only hilarious if you’re Jewish. For example, I laughed a lot harder at this quote than I probably should have:

“What, they’re all Jewish, superheroes. Superman, you don’t think he’s Jewish? Coming over from the old country, changing his name like that. Clark Kent, only a Jew would pick a name like that for himself.”

I mean, fellow Jews, am I wrong?

Anyway. Read this book. That is all for now.

The Boston Girl by Anita Diamant

Funny story: I found this book at the Half Price Books clearance sale on one of the miscellaneous tables. I think it was sandwiched between a 2011 SAT Prep book and Going Rogue by Sarah Palin. Or something like that. Basically it wasn’t where it should have been and I’m glad I noticed it among all that other junk.

I’ve committed myself to reading all the books by Jewish authors in my TBR pile, and Anita Diamant was a natural next choice. After having to take my time with A Reunion of Ghosts, it was nice to pick up something easy to read. Plus, this one speaks to the warmer side of me rather than the dark and twisted side of me.

The Boston Girl is the story of Addie Baum literally told by Addie Baum. The book is written as a transcript; that is, the basic premise is that Addie’s granddaughter is recording an interview in which Addie answers the question, “How did you get to be the woman you are today?” There’s not a lot of exposition and it’s written so conversationally that I breezed through it. The answer to that question also wasn’t, “I was shaped by untold horrors and hardships,” so I didn’t have to walk away from the story at any point to let my mind absorb it. Addie and her friends are interesting, inspiring women and I enjoyed getting to know them. The book has a chick litty feel but isn’t straight-up chick lit. It mentions some serious topics, but never in a way that dragged me down.

This is going to be a short post. Apparently, if a book isn’t soul-sucking I don’t have a a lot to say about it. I found The Boston Girl to be a pleasant read and I would definitely recommend it, but it’s not life-changing. I wonder if I expected it to have more impact since I lovelovelove The Red Tent so much and that one packs a wallop. I think about that book on the regular and recommend it to pretty much everyone I know, especially women. (If you haven’t read it–what are you doing with your life? Go read it right now. Right now!) And read The Boston Girl, too.

My Favorite Literary Fathers

In Honor of Father’s Day I have put together this brief list of some of my favorite book dads. It’s not that all of these dads are ideal dads. In fact, a couple of them really, really aren’t. But I love them for being dads in the only way they know how. I think of them often and quote them in random situations. Here’s to you, Dads.

Arthur Weasley (Harry Potter series by JK Rowling)
“‘Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.'”
Possibly the most obvious to include, Mr. Weasley is the dad we all want. He loves his kids and makes no secret about it. He’s comfortable with who he is and makes it clear to all his children that they should be and do what makes them happy. Let’s be honest–would Fred and George be the brazen delights that they are if they’d had a different dad? I highly doubt it. Mr. Weasley shows us it’s okay to be quirky, affectionate, proud, idealistic, and also that if you’re not a little bit afraid of your wife you probably picked the wrong woman.

Homer Noline (Animal Dreams by Barbara Kingsolver)
“God, why does a mortal man have children? It is senseless to love anything this much.”
For anyone else who has read my favorite book, Doc Homer might seem like an odd choice for this list. He’s restrictive, distant, and unemotional–not the traits you’d hope for in the single dad of two girls. What we come to learn throughout the book, though, is that Doc Homer’s seemingly dictator-like rules are born out of the incredible depth of love he has for his daughters and, therefore, his paralyzing fear of losing them. He’s not a great example of how to behave as a dad but we can still learn from him about family, pride, and love. His observations about his girls and the world are beautiful. I think about Doc Homer a lot on difficult days.

Edward Bloom (Big Fish by Daniel Wallace)
“But he liked to leave me laughing. This is how he wanted to remember me, and how he wanted to be remembered. Of all his great powers, this was perhaps his most extraordinary: at any time, at the drop of a hat, he could really break me up.”
Edward is another one that, in practice, may not be the best dad, but as we get to know him throughout the book we, along with his son William, learn more about the incredible guy he is. In fact, the entire book (or movie) Big Fish is the perfect Father’s Day story. Edward tells fantastical tales about his life, and it’s up to William and the reader to decipher how much of himself Edward reveals in his stories. Ultimately, I think anyone would benefit from having a father who places such importance on imagination and identity.

Hans Hubberman (The Book Thief by Markus Zusak)
“Papa knew what to say, though. He always knew what to say.”
I had to include Hans because besides being one of the best father figures in literature, his epic dad-ness shows us that blood is not always thicker. He is the steadying, encouraging presence in Liesel’s life as everything around them goes to shit. Plus, I have a major soft spot for a dad who teaches his daughter how to read. I have some very early memories of my dad doing the same. Hans is never unrealistically perfect, either, making him all the more lovable.

Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there! Tell me who your favorite book dads are in the comments!

A Reunion of Ghosts by Judith Claire Mitchell

You guys, I loved this book. Loved. It.

It took me a while to finish, and I’m sure the people who follow me on Instagram are tired of seeing this book at this point, but I don’t care. I love this book.

My love is not blind, however. Not everyone will love this book. This will not become one of the novels I force on friends and family a la The Red Tent and Fried Green Tomatoes. The best genre I can put A Reunion of Ghosts in is “dark dramedy.” You have to be a bit of a cynic. You have to be comfortable with jokes about death and suicide that are also kind of not-jokes. You have to be a little bit twisted. If you are these things, I think you will more easily see the beauty of this book.

It’s been ages since a book has made me stop in my tracks. That’s why it took me so long to read this one. I was incapable of plunging on. I had to walk away to absorb what I read. I was also underlining passages. There’s a good chance that the last time I marked up a book for a non-academic reason was the last time I re-read Animal Dreams. And while I didn’t mark up the whole book or anything, there were passages that struck me so hard I had to run around my apartment looking for a pencil (I only underline my books with pencil, never pen–couldn’t tell you why). Here’s one of my favorite paragraphs:

“But you have no choice. You have to lunge forward. You keep your foot on the gas. You have to. This is life. Einstein said that time does not move forward like an arrow, but how can that be true? This life, the one we perceive, which is the one that matters, does exactly that; it goes relentlessly forward in one direction only, taking you with it.”

Funny, it seems like my favorite book quotes almost always have something to do with the journey/highway of life. So as dark and twisted as I am, I guess I can say I’m also a live-in-the-moment-be-happy-where-you-are-and-where-life-takes-you-John-Lennon-forever kind of hippie?

Layers, people. Layers like an onion.

I think my experience of this book, which is described on the back cover as, “A suicide note crafted by three bright, funny women,” is also colored by my job at a psychiatric hospital. I briefly mentioned my job in my post about The Professor and the Madman, but I truly wonder how someone without my experience would interpret this book. My job is, quite literally, to sit in a room with someone who is so depressed they want to die and convince them to get treatment so that, hopefully, they don’t want to die anymore. When you do that day after day, you begin to understand a little bit more about how someone can get to that place. So sitting through a book with a bunch of characters who either end up killing themselves or spend the whole book wanting to is…kind of another day at the office? But a beautiful, literary one.

Yeah, I know, I’m way more twisted than hippie.

So, I have I made you intrigued about this book or have I completely scared you away from it? I will say if you have ever read something like The Bell Jar and thought, “I love this, but you know what would make it even better? A quip and a limerick,” then I recommend giving A Reunion of Ghosts a shot.

Flirty to Dirty*: A Romance Addict’s Recent Reads

*I probably accidentally stole this title from somewhere because it’s just so cutely witty and I do not have that much faith in my originality.

I have previously discussed my relationship with the romance genre on the blog, and since I’ve been tempering the heaviness of my recent non-romance reads with quite a lot of romance, I thought I would say a little something about some of my recent favorites.

SEAL Camp by Suzanne Brockmann. If I could pick any characters who could be real life people that I’m friends with, it would obviously be everyone from HP, but Brockmann’s SEAL Teams are a close second. SEAL Camp is a long-overdue continuation of her Tall, Dark and Dangerous series (the first book was published in 1996!). I loved getting to revisit these characters and meeting Jim and Ashley. Jim is dealing with some actual real-life-style shit and I’m pretty sure I’ve met Ashley before. Brockmann is very open and vocal about her politics, so she also includes some very up-front scenes addressing sexism, rape culture, and domestic violence that I think she did very well. I recommend pretty much anything she writes, especially the TDD or Troubleshooters series. (My particular favorites are Forever Blue, Hawken’s Heart, and Get Lucky from TDD; and The Defiant Hero, Gone Too Far, and Force of Nature from Troubleshooters.) Fair warning: while I often laugh out loud at some of the descriptions and dialogue, many of Brockmann’s books include some heavy subject matter including rape. They are not what I would call fluff romance books.

The Duchess Deal by Tessa Dare. I had been hearing about this one for ages from romance lovers and I finally gave in. Since discovering Courtney Milan, I have opened my mind to other feminist writers who do historical romance. The Duchess Deal is clearly inspired by both Beauty and the Beast and Phantom of the Opera, which just made the whole thing too easy because I love those stories. Ash is the epitome of the gruff, I-don’t-do-love romance hero. He just has some baggage that makes him believe he’s unlovable, so he did that thing where you swear off love so your heart can’t be broken. Emma is sassy, independent, and smart, and knows how to throw some verbal barbs. The banter between them is squealing-laughter-inducing. I immediately bought and read Any Duchess Will Do just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke and I really like Tessa Dare. Which I do. Because that book featured a nerdy heroine whose dream is to open a lending library of naughty books. I mean, come on. *swoon*

Wanna Bet? by Talia Hibbert. After discovering this author, I immediately gobbled up three (or was it four?) of her books in two days. I don’t read a lot of contemporary romance because I tend to find the plots pretty useless and they seem to feature a lot of girl-waiting-around-for-guy story lines. But Talia Hibbert’s plots, though certainly plenty silly at times, are written well enough to make me feel like I’m reading a book and not just a porno script. That’s a feat, because the sex scenes are practically porno-level dirty–in a good way. Consent is an ever-present part of the X-rated bits, so even when venturing into more taboo territory (like dom/sub play) it is way less gross and much more romantic than Fifty Shades could ever hope to be. Wanna Bet? is one of her heavier ones, but still so entertaining. And if you’re craving more diversity in your romance, all her heroines are black women. Wanna Bet? also features a non-white hero (he comes from a Muslim family).

I also recently started reading Eva Leigh (aka Zoe Archer) and am working my way through her Wicked Quills of London series, which features working women writers. So basically, ball-bustingly smart women galore stories.

Are you a romance reader? What are some of your recent favorites?

The Professor and the Madman by Simon Winchester

Any Drunk History fans out there? Did you see the one about the guy who was in the insane asylum and sent in a bunch of stuff to help make the Oxford English Dictionary? Isn’t that such a crazy story?

Well, if that episode intrigued you, here’s an entire book about it!

One of my closest bookish friends found this buried in one of the stacks of books at Footnote Books in San Diego when we were there to see Hamilton back in January. Having read it herself already, of course (the girl reads about a book a day, I kid you not), she shoved it into my hands. I inherently trust her recommendations, but this has been sitting on my shelf waiting for me for quite a few months since then. After reading several books lately that have left me feeling just a little bit down, I was looking for something a little more fast-paced and easy to deal with. So of course I looked at the book about a crazy dude and the biggest book project ever in history and thought, “Perfect!”

It really was, though. I probably have a higher tolerance for “crazy*” people than some because that’s literally my day job (I do intake at a psychiatric hospital). I was fascinated by Minor’s story and the progression of his illness because his life is sadly so similar to a lot of my patients’. What’s great about the book, though, is that it’s about Minor’s brilliance as well as his madness. He was so fortunate to have found purpose and a comrade in Murray.

Despite some of the more difficult scenes to read about (like, um, self-mutilation), I found this book to be a fast and enjoyable read. I also love the way it’s written. Winchester’s prose is elegant and intellectual, the perfect fit for a book about the making of the freaking Oxford English Dictionary. Like, it wouldn’t make sense if someone with my kind of writing style had done it, you see? Winchester’s style does the Dictionary justice and makes you feel smart when you read it. And isn’t that why we read books? To be entertained and feel smart?

*I know that “crazy” is not the best term and that my use of it here may seem insensitive. What’s weird is that we use a lot of “bad” terms pretty irreverently in my field. I think it’s a coping mechanism the way soldiers will joke about getting blown up–you kind of have to be able to laugh about it because it’s a reality that you deal with all the time. But that’s a discussion for another blog. I just wanted to acknowledge it since I’m putting it out in the wide world of web.

People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks

This wonderful book was a recommendation from my aunt via my mom. That is to say, years and years ago my aunt–a writer herself–recommended it to my mom and at some point my mom suggested it to me. It was a title on my want-to-read list on Goodreads for ages and ages, but also not one I actively sought out. I found this slightly battered copy at (where else?) the Half Price Books clearance sale.

I don’t think I’ve mentioned my aunt on the blog before. She’s a pretty cool person. When she was younger she was one of those bohemian, artistic, altruistic types that befriended future NGO directors on trips to South America or Africa or wherever else. She’s always been a writer and even co-authored a series of books for children. But it can be hard to judge her book recommendations, especially filtered through my mom because none of our tastes in books are exactly alike. Usually, though, if it’s something they both really liked? Odds are I’m going to like it, too.

I spent most of this book trying to think of what other, inferior book it reminded me of plot-wise. I’m still not entirely sure. I think maybe Labyrinth by Kate Mosse, which I found unsatisfying. Beyond the plot though, I put People of the Book on a level with some of my long-time favorites that I constantly force on other people to read: The Red Tent and The Nightingale, for example. They’re books that touch on old things but also have themes that are so relevant right now. Coming from a Jewish family, People of the Book was always going to hit me in that certain way.

I kind of wish the book had been longer. The vignettes tracing the origins of the haggadah were almost too short. Brooks could have written entire separate novels focused on each of those. In fact, I think the name of this book is a little backwards. The characters are the people who belong to the book, not the other way around. As fascinating as each mini-story was, ultimately, the protagonist is the haggadah and the power it holds over the people who stumble into its path.

Jewish or not, I think this is a beautiful book and I would absolutely recommend it. I can’t even be that quippy or sarcastic when talking about it because it’s just that lovely. I know you’re disappointed by the lack of snark, though. I’ll try to do better next time. Meanwhile, rest assured that this one comes with a triple seal of approval from me, my mom, and my aunt. It’s coveted, that triple seal. It’s only right to take it seriously.

Chocolat by Joanne Harris

You know how they say the book is better than the movie? Well, I say that it depends on the book and the movie.

I’m ashamed to admit that before I found the book at the Half Price Books clearance sale, I had no idea that the movie Chocolat was based on the book Chocolat. The movie is one of my favorites (and includes Johnny Depp before he could only play weird and over-the-top roles) so of course I had to see what the book was about. I would say it’s a good example of how a book and a movie can be related, but also entirely different from each other. In the case of Chocolat, if you expect the movie to adhere religiously (ha, ha) to the book, you’ll be disappointed. The movie is a stylized/Hollywood-ized version of the basic storyline. Again, not bad, just different.

The main difference I noticed is that while the movie is really about Vianne, the book is about the town of Lansquenet. Oh, sure, Vianne is still the central character and narrator, but the beauty of the book is that we see so much more of how the town affects Vianne instead of the other way around. The Hollywood version of the story is also much more forgiving to its characters–they all have their transformations and have a happy ending. I wouldn’t say the ending of the book is unhappy, per se, but that “lightening of the spirit” mentioned in the movie doesn’t necessarily happen across the board in the book.

The book surprised me. It expected it to be fluffier. It wasn’t fluffy, but it was still sweet. I’ve decided I love both the book and the movie equally–just differently.

Side note: Whenever I watch the movie I come prepared with massive amounts of my favorite foods and sweets because it’s impossible to watch the movie and not suddenly crave all the chocolate. I thought I might escape that with the book since I’m not seeing that amazing hot chocolate getting poured into a mug. Um, no. The descriptions are just as mouth-watering. So come prepared.