“Unfamiliar Spirits”

http://writershouses.com/guest/unfamiliar-spirits

“Drawers and Shelves”

http://writershouses.com/guest/drawers-and-shelves-unfamiliar-spirits-part-ii

“A Final Offering”

http://writershouses.com/guest/a-final-offering

Hi Ivy,

My name is Daisy Gomez and I am a part of Access Youth Academy/Surf City Squash. Renato let me borrow the book you wrote and I really loved it. He told me to try to e-mail you on what I felt about your book. There is not much to say…I just really LOVED your book. Reading your book, I completely forgot that magicians do not exist because of the way the character, Toby was described. The plot was so interesting, I could not put the book down. I read it cover to cover and loved every single page of it. The ending was…not expected. I was both shocked and sad that the book had to end that way. It was really nice how at the end Mel compares Toby to her brother. It was a treat to read your book and I hope that soon there will be another one coming out.

Sincerely,
Daisy Gomez

This has been a crazy couple of weeks. I’ve read, it seems, in all varieties of locations — Barnes & Noble near Lincoln Center, The Harvard Club of NY, and a dingy bar in Williamsburg where it was too dark to see the text and I was followed on stage by a woman playing music from John Hughes movies on the accordion. Sadly, I don’t have pictures of that moment. But, hey, it was a blast. I want to thank everyone for coming out. It’s been a pleasure reading for you, reading to you, and simply traveling around. Here are a few photos from BookCourt book launch and Barnes & Noble.

Even though my bike was stolen, I wasn’t deterred from BookCourt. I began stopping in on my way home from school, walking a block out of my way, even on the coldest days, even when it was dark out and I was late getting home, to read in the children’s section tucked away in the back of the store. My bedroom was filled with books, but there was something about the store, especially the backroom, that drew me in.

Every June one of my parents would take me to BookCourt and help me select my summer reading. We’d choose books, that despite being serious, since I didn’t have to read them for school, I’d consider fun. My mother leaned towards classics and my father snuck in some things I’m not quite sure are traditional middle school fare—Pynchon, Vonnegut, and Heinlein—most of which sailed well over my head.

Every once in a while, when I was writing The Art of Disappearing, and things weren’t going as well as I wished, I’d visit BookCourt. I’d stand outside the store and look at the new releases in the window and imagine my book being one of them. I’d imagine high school classmates and teachers noticing my name and buying my book. I’d hope that children picking out their summer reading, might one day select my novel.

Tomorrow my book will be in the place I’d always envisioned it. I cannot imagine a more fitting location to launch my novel than the bookstore which had no small part in inspiring me to write.

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