Dr. Bird's Advice for Sad Poets

Dr. Bird's Advice for Sad Poets

Evan Roskos

Language: English

Pages: 320

ISBN: 0544439538

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

* “Self-deprecating humor abounds in this debut novel that pulls no punches about the experience of depression and anxiety for its teen protagonist. . . . Captivating introspection from a winning character.”—Kirkus Reviews, starred review

Sixteen-year-old James Whitman has been yawping (à la Whitman) at his abusive father ever since he kicked his older sister out of the house. James’s painful struggle with anxiety and depression—along with his ongoing quest to understand what led to his sister’s exile—make for a heart-rending read, but his wild, exuberant Whitmanization of the world and keen sense of humor keep this emotionally charged novel buoyant. A Morris Award Honor Book.

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Table of Contents Title Page Table of Contents Copyright Dedication Epigraph 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. Acknowledgments About the Author Copyright © 2013 by Evan Roskos All rights reserved. For information about permission to reproduce selections from this book, write to

willing to fill in the details. I want outside sources. I want someone to construct the truth. I want to know what Mrs. Yao suspects. Mrs. Yao busies herself in an unconvincing fashion. “I heard she threw a laptop at you,” I say. “No! That’s not what happened, really. Who would say such a thing?” “It’s what I heard. That she threw a laptop at you.” She asks me my first name. I tell her, and then there’s a pause. I feel my phone sitting in my pocket and think about trees. I picture Jorie in a

of me. There aren’t many people who would even think of putting photos and poems together for any reason other than maybe if they wanted to burn things. So, I feel like maybe you and I were meant to know each other!” She smiles a smile I believe and then darts off to class before I can ruin it by saying something goofy. 18. THE GLOW OF MY CONVERSATION with Beth doesn’t fade. The malfunctioning parts of my brain try to find reasons to be discouraged, but the fact is that Beth sees me as

I close the book and lay it aside and fall back on my bed. I press my palms against my temples and breathe. What did Dr. Dora say? I can call her but not for this. This is just a panic attack. The trees. The trees. I look up at my ceiling and breathe. I try to imagine each picture as part of its original whole and also part of the whole of the tree on the ceiling. Each picture has multiple dimensions. Or multiple existences. Is this helping? When I stop breathing and try to come back into

trees. I feel like my life has become a string of desperate confessions. “But none of this is really what matters,” I finally say. “Because everyone has problems, right? I want to fix something. I want to know why Jorie’s life got dismantled.” “I’m afraid you have to ask Jorie.” “Miss Tebler, everyone has a different piece of a story and none of the pieces thread together. Or maybe they do and you’re the final thread.” Her hands have reclasped. “James.” Miss Tebler looks over at her

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