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202 pages, Hardcover
First published July 20, 2021
Playing guitar helps me pass as human, and after today I really need the practice.For young readers, that is a relatable metaphor, one that captures well the emotional journey of middle school. Desperately wanting to fit in and constant, convincing anxiety of failure. For Jake, though, it's a more literal statement. His parents adopted him after he fell to earth as a blog of goo then transformed into a baby. All has been fine until recently, when he's lost his ability to control his form and has been randomly, accidentally changing into strange and surprising shapes.
"Jake," she says, very seriously, "I'm going to share with you my philosophy of life, the one and only thing in the whole universe I know to be true. I think you're ready to hear this."
I check my pocket for a pen to write down whatever Agnes says next. "Okay. I'm ready."
"If you are ever given a chance to climb through air shafts and toss smoke bombs, you absolutely must climb through air shafts and toss smoke bombs."
"That definitely does sound like your philosophy. Me, my philosophy is if you are ever given a chance to be dissected, you probably should avoid being dissected.”
"Ugh, Jake, that is a good philosophy," she says, deflated.
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I'm going to be a professional guitarist someday. I just haven't decided what kind yet. Maybe I'll join a metal band and be a guitar hero playing five-minute solos. Or maybe I'll be a singer-songwriter and play songs about lonesome nights or whatever. Most of those guys have beards, so I'll have to learn how to grow facial hair. Whatever kind of guitarist I am, I'll need to practice a lot and get really good. Fortunately, I like practice. It makes me concentrate on what I'm doing with my fingers. How they move. What color they are. What shape they are. How many of them I have. Playing guitar helps me pass as human, and after today I really need the practice.