It's wild to think that My Life with the Lincolns will be out in the world in less than two months! I recently received two copies of the hardcover; it looks gorgeous and feels so good in my hands. With everything that's been going on, it's been hard to think about book promotion, but my mom always assumed the role of my de facto publicist (sometimes to my great embarrassment, I must admit), and I know that she would want me to do whatever I could to get the book out there. If she were still alive, I wouldn't be surprised if she were to don a Lincoln hat and wear a sandwich board of the book cover over her chest! So, in her honor, I will share a few things...

An awesome blurb from Julianna Baggott, author of Ever Breath and The Prince of Fenway Park:

"Gayle Brandeis has written a richly complex novel in the voice of her brilliant, courageous, funny, young heroine Mina Edelman. Through her whip-smart perceptions, we watch one family struggle through the turbulent 60s -- the Vietnam War, feminism, and some of the most heated moments of the Civil Rights Movement in Chicago. Just as Mina sees deep connections between the nation's struggles in the 60s to those of Lincoln's presidency, readers will naturally draw correlations to present-day America -- essential ones."

My first review, a decent one from Publishers Weekly (although I think they make the book sound deathly serious; of course it deals with serious issues, but it's actually quite funny):

My Life with the Lincolns Gayle Brandeis Holt, $16.99 (256p) ISBN 978-0-8050-9013-0

In her first novel for children, adult author Brandeis entwines two historical periods through the voice of narrator Mina, who is convinced that her family members are the Lincolns reincarnated (“my three main tasks were: 1. Get through age 12 without dropping dead [like Lincoln’s son, Willie]. 2. Stop Mom from going crazy. 3. Stop Dad from getting shot in the skull”). Mina’s overexuberant father invites Mina along as he joins the civil rights movement in 1960s Chicago, and they are soon participating in marches and prayer vigils, while becoming increasingly involved with a black woman and her son. Brandeis doesn’t sidestep the brazen and discomforting inequality that existed, nor the often violent reactions to integration. She weaves in tidbits of Lincoln’s life, while subtly showing readers how history repeats itself (even as Mina works to avoid just that). Familial tension, heightened by disagreements over their involvement in “the movement,” leads to an emotional climax at—where else?—the Lincoln Memorial. This strong showing should leave readers with a trove of Lincoln trivia and gratitude for the contributions of civil rights pioneers. Ages 10–up. (Mar.)

And a link where you can hear the first couple of minutes from the audio version of the book.

It's not a sandwich board, but I think my mom would approve.

Receiving the bound galleys of one's own book is usually a thrilling experience. It's when the book really feels like a book for the first time. When I received the galleys for Fruitflesh, my first published book, I was so overcome at the sight of my name on the cover, I thought I might pass out or throw up. This time is different.

I recently received the galleys for both My Life with the Lincolns, my YA novel coming out in March, and Delta Girls, my novel coming out in June (you can see the cover here, now that I have a digital copy.) Of course it was exciting when they each showed up on my doorstep, but it was also bittersweet. For those who haven't seen the posting on my other blog, my mom committed suicide six weeks ago, one week after my son Asher was born. I had dedicated Delta Girls to her but hadn't told her; I had wanted to surprise her with it when the galleys came out. Now I deeply regret not telling her, and not sharing the manuscript, which she had wanted to read, with her earlier. I see the simple dedication--"For my mom"--and it takes on a whole other meaning now, and it breaks my heart. I never imagined she wouldn't be here to see it, herself, or that it would become a memorial of sorts.

We never know how much time we have with our loved ones; it makes me want to pull all of them even closer now.