'So I say Thank you For The Books...' Featuring Robin Wasserman



Today we're welcoming Robin Wasserman as part of the UK Blog tour for her new novel, The Book of Blood and Shadow. (I'd also like to apologise to Robin for the lateness of this post due to a confusion over dates! Over to you Robin...
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I’m told that when I was a baby, my first word was “book.” (I should add here, as my parents always do when telling this story, that my first word didn’t happen until absurdly late, by which point my parents had resigned themselves to having a mute child. I suspect by my teenage years, they came to regret being wrong.) I don’t remember what first inspired my love of reading, or even whether “love” was the right word for it, because when I was a child, books weren’t just some random thing you loved, like cupcakes or roller skates or Oscar the Grouch.  Books were like food, like air, like my parents: Necessities of life. Pre-conditions of life. I loved reading the way I loved breathing. It would just never have occurred to me there was any other way to be.

My father was an English teacher who visited four libraries per week and took me along to each one; my mother was a former English major/almost-before-she-got-a-more-“practical”-mathish-type-job-librarian who never went anywhere without a book in hand.  And I was a shy kid who liked nothing more than to shut my door against the world and escape into a world of my own, or someone else’s imagination. So it’s no wonder I read, and read constantly: While I ate. While I brushed my teeth. While I was walking to school or down the stairs. While I took a bath (tricky but manageable, even with a library book—though don’t tell my school librarian). And I guess you could say that all those books turned me into a writer—not so much because they inspired me to write stories of my own, but because I came to see books as the only truly valuable in the world. So when people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, there was ever only one option: Writer, of course. Because writers made books. And I couldn’t conceive that, given the choice, any grown-up would bother to do anything else.

So I thank my parents for addicting me to stories at an early age; I thank my eye doctor for making sure I could read them (even if it meant wearing coke bottle glasses in nursery school), and I thank the people who wrote the books that changed my world, as only the books you read as a child can do:



The Velveteen Rabbit, Harold and the Purple Crayon, and A Child’s Garden of Verses (especially “The Land of Counterpane”), which showed me that if you told yourself the right story, you could make the world of your imagination come to life. 

A Wrinkle in Time, A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and Interstellar Pig (actually, everything Madeleine L’Engle, Douglas Adams, and William Sleator ever wrote), which made me laugh, made me wonder, and most of all, made me think. I spent most of my teen years reading nothing but science fiction and the occasional (under duress) fantasy novel, and for that I have these three books to thank.

The Westing Game, because it is perfect.

It, which may not be the best of Stephen King’s books, but will always be my favorite, because it is the book that gave me courage when I needed it—which, in my dark junior high years, was plenty.

These are the books—along with hundreds of others, all of which I wish I had the space to mention here—that let me escape from my boring and angsty suburban life, that showed me the possibilities of the universe, that let me breathe and helped me dream, and that eventually persuaded me that if I wanted my life to mean something, I would devote it to writing books of my own, and hoping that someday, somehow, one of them would change someone’s life. 




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The Book of Blood and Shadow by Robin Wasserman is published by Atom as a paperback original on the 19th January 2012, £6.99


It was like a nightmare, but there was no waking up. When the night began, Nora had two best friends and a boyfriend she adored. When it ended, she had nothing but blood on her hands. Chris was dead. Adriane couldn't speak. And Max, Nora's sweet, smart, soft-spoken Prince Charming, was gone. He was also-according to the police, according to her parents, according to everyone-a murderer. Desperate to prove his innocence, Nora's determined to follow the trail of blood, no matter where it leads. But Chris's murder is just one piece in a puzzle that spans continents and centuries. Solving it may be the only way she can save her own life.



Please do go and checkout the other stops on the tour!



Visit Robin's Website: www.robinwasserman.com/

1 comment:

  1. Oh what a sweet guest post! (I had the coke bottles glasses when I was 3!) I remember my aunt reading me her favourite picture book .. it was Stellaluna and it is still one of my favourite books ever.

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