Every year my reading list has several books that were recommended to me by friends.

“Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares” is the first that also came with the explicit statement that I was one of the characters.

My friend Brooke initially told me the Dash character reminder her of a young version of Caleb, the main male character in my book.  But when I told her that I had started reading, she tweeted back with the hashtag #youaredash.

The story by Rachel Cohn and David Levithan has a fun premise: Dash finds a notebook left on a bookstore shelf by a girl named Lily.  Inside is a dare.  He plays along, and leaves the notebook for her to continue the game.  The two teens alternate narrating chapters, revealing to the reader more about themselves and their lives just as they do to each other through the notebook.

This sounds like a tremendously interesting way to meet someone.  Though with my luck, she would turn out to be some kind of psychopath who hates Taco Bell, puppies and baseball.

I recommended the book to two other friends, but neither has finished yet so I can’t tell you if they agree with Dash = me.  I can say that at a bunch of times during the story, I certainly could see similarities in the way Dash thought about or reacted to something.

The most clear example came late in the book.  Dash is reading the latest entry in the notebook and reflecting on Lily’s words.  “I wanted to ask her…not to be snarky or sarcastic.  Because I really wanted to know if there was a difference…”  The context of the quote isn’t that important, but a few weeks ago I used almost this exact phrasing in a conversation.

There’s another scene with Dash & Lily in a secret room at the bookstore.  When Dash — self-described as “horribly bookish” — sees a complete set of the Oxford English Dictionary, Lily says he “swooned, with the palpable bliss of Homer Simpson exalting, ‘Mmmm…donuts.'”  I’m not pining away for an OED like Dash, but the sentiment is right.

At one point, Lily’s latest clues lead Dash to the mittens section at Macy’s.  In probably my favorite thought of his in the entire book, he notes that mittens are an evolutionary step backward: “Why, I wondered, would we want to make ourselves into a less agile version of a lobster?”

But really this story is about relationships, and both Dash & Lily have a lot to offer on that front.   Lily tells Dash that what she wants for Christmas is to know there’s someone out there for her, and to find that kind of meaning in her life.  He responds: “You want meaning?  Well, the meanings are out there.  We’re just so damn good at reading them wrong.”

I responded by nodding.

He continues the analogy, talking about how we learn to speak with first sounding out the letters c-a-t, then saying cat, then understanding that the word is connected to an actual animal.  “A lot of times in life we’re just sounding things out.”

Dash’s ex-girlfriend tries to temper his expectations for love, cautioning him to not expect a perfect girl to walk into his life.  “No one is ever who you want them to be.  And the less you really know them, the more likely you are to confuse them with the girl or boy in your head.”  Dash lets the idea of Lily build up before he actually meets her, and is extremely disappointed when she happens to be uncharacteristically drunk at that moment.  “What a wasted girl.  What a wasted hope.”

Nodding again.

Lily has her own insights.  When she thinks she’s screwed up with Dash, she writes: “I feel like you may be a special and kind person.  And I would like to make it my business to get to know special and kind people.”

I couldn’t agree more.  She also has to go see a film version of “Gramma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” as part of a Dash dare, and wonders why there’s so much blame thrown at the reindeer for the incident.  “Because we all know that if that happened in the real world and not in the movies, then the Wildlife Service would go hunting for that reindeer and do away with the poor antlered guy when it was probably Gramma’s fault for getting in his way like that!”

Even her initial placement of the notebook next to a copy of “Franny and Zooey” is noteworthy, even if the scheme was initially the idea of her brother Langston (who wanted her to have something to do while he hung out with his boyfriend).  Langston says, “If there’s a perfect guy for you anywhere, he’ll be found hunting for old Salinger editions.”

When I was first writing my own story, I chose “Zooey” for the main female character.  I named her after Zooey Deschanel, who herself is named after the Salinger character.  I thought that was a funny string, though I have since changed my character to be Sophie instead.

Dash wants to focus on that personal side of life, and not so much what happens day-to-day.  “I was attempting to write the story of my life,” he says.  “It wasn’t so much about plot.  It was much more about character.”

I think that’s a good outlook.  So am I Dash?  In some ways absolutely, and others not at all.  He describes himself as “persnickety” noting that “delightful and persnickety are not a common blend.”  His best friend’s mom calls him “finicky.”  I’ll let you know how the other reader-friends think Dash and I line up.

Nobody is perfect.

Author Jess Walter clearly knows this, and not only crafts characters who all have their own issues, but introduces them with those faults.  Instead of setting up a pattern in which those people are superhuman until proven otherwise, he leads character introductions with imperfections.

It is only fitting then that his novel is called “Beautiful Ruins.”

In this story, Walter shows how his characters work to overcome their individual and collective challenges, making some beauty out of their ruins.

One of the main characters is film producer Michael Deane, whose first impression on people is a “man constructed of wax,” Walters writes.  “After all these years, it may be impossible to trace the sequence of facials, spa treatments, mud baths, cosmetic procedures, lifts and staples, collagen implants, outpatient touch-ups, tannings, Botox injections, cyst and growth removals, and stem-cell injections that have caused a seventy-two-year-old man to have the face of a nine-year-old Filipino girl.”

This is a man of supreme self-confidence, self-importance and vanity — qualities that end up affecting the lives of every one of the other main characters.  It is his decisions and ideas that alter the life of aspiring actress Dee Moray, the child she later has, the small-town inn keeper Pasquale who houses Moray for a while and falls in love with her, the writer who also stays at the hotel and for whom Dee falls in love, and finally, Deane’s assistant later in life.  Just a few decisions change all of their lives — some for the better, others not.

Walter tells this story in a pretty fascinating way, using changes to fill in back stories while also pushing each one of the characters forward in time.  The two naturally eventually catch up, but it takes stories told through plays and movie pitches to get them there.

Along the way, the characters reveal so much that is deep inside of them, and by extension all of us.  When Pasquale first sees Dee, a beautiful American actress at his why-would-anyone-come-here part of the world, he is completely taken by the experience:

“Then she smiled, and in that instant, if such a thing were possible, Pasquale fell in love, and he would remain in love for the rest of his life — not so much with the woman, whom he didn’t even know, but with that moment.”

Don’t we all have those moments, those times we think back on and remember with complete fondness no matter what has happened with the pieces involved since then?

Of course, life isn’t always easy, and in these “ruins” there is plenty of doubt and longing for something they can’t — or don’t think they can — have.

Walter tells a story of Pasquale as a kid on the beach seeing a woman drop a ring.  After some hesitation, and only after seeing his mother looking on, Pasquale does the right thing and chases the woman down to return it.  Later in his life, he gains even more perspective with more experience of his own desires and losses:

“Pasquale saw now what she meant — how much easier life would be if our intentions and our desires could always be aligned.”

And yet, as Dee describes after first reading a sad story by her later husband-writer, just knowing that other people are going through something similar, or at least have similar feelings, can make your own problems feel more manageable. 

“You find this story sad in my hotel?” Pasquale asked. “Oh, no, it’s very good,” she said.  “It has a kind of hopelessness that made me feel less alone in my own hopelessness.  Does that make sense?”

Yup.

I read this book as part of a monthly book club at the TV station where I used to work.  They call it “A Book and a Cook,” and I’m pretty jealous we didn’t have it around when I was there.  The weekend morning crew (my peeps) led a Facebook discussion about the novel last weekend, and soon will be airing a Skype interview they did with the author.  The “cook” portion involves a chef who whips up a dish inspired by the story.  What more could you want in life?