Donuts and Other Proclamations of Love
(Sprache: Englisch)
A sweet romantic story about donuts, food trucks, family, and first loves.
It's easy to look at high school senior Oscar Olsson and think: lost. He hates school, struggles to read, and wants nothing to do with college. But Oscar is anything but...
It's easy to look at high school senior Oscar Olsson and think: lost. He hates school, struggles to read, and wants nothing to do with college. But Oscar is anything but...
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A sweet romantic story about donuts, food trucks, family, and first loves.It's easy to look at high school senior Oscar Olsson and think: lost. He hates school, struggles to read, and wants nothing to do with college. But Oscar is anything but lost---he knows exactly what he wants and exactly how to get it. Oscar and Farfar, the Swedish grandfather who's raised him, run a food truck together selling rullekebab and munkar, and Oscar wants to finish school so he can focus on the food truck full-time.
It's easy to look at Mary Louise (Lou for short) Messinger and think: driven. AP everything, valedictorian in her sights, and Ivy league college aspirations.
When Lou hijacks Oscar's carefully crafted schedule of independent studies and blocks of time in the Culinary Lab, Oscar is roped into helping Lou complete her over-ambitious, resume-building service project-reducing food waste in Central Adams High School. While Lou stands to gain her Girl Scout Gold Award, Oscar will be faced with a mountain of uneaten school apples and countless hours with a girl he can't stand.
With the finish line in sight, a relationship he never expected, and festival season about to begin (for good), the unthinkable happens, and Oscar's future is anything but certain.
Lese-Probe zu „Donuts and Other Proclamations of Love “
Chapter OneGoat Cheese Poutine: The Promised Land
I still smelled like a deep fryer when I rolled out of bed at 6:00 a.m. that first Saturday in September.
We d been up late the night before, the last Friday Food Trucks of the season at Springettsbury Park, and we d been slammed the line snaking from our window to the other side of the gravel parking lot for a good hour, the deep fryer spitting out droplets of oil like angry hornets every time I dropped in another batch of munkar. Swedish for donuts.
I d already been in school nearly two weeks by that point, it already sucked, and now, with Saturday s festival in downtown York the last big one we d do for the year, I was looking at the endless slog of just school through the fall, winter, and spring.
Senior year. A hundred and seventy-two more days.
Ready, Gubben? Farfar called from the kitchen, where he d just finished packing up the last cooler from the emergency cook-fest the night before. Barely five hours before, really.
Ready.
Two travel mugs of thick, dark coffee waited for me on the island counter mine turned light by a healthy pour of heavy cream and sugar, Farfar s the color of roofing tar.
We thought we d prepped enough earlier in the week to handle back-to-back events, but we didn t plan on the Pee-Wee football scrimmage, overlapping with the free concert for that Eagles cover band, wiping out our entire stock of munkar dough. We were lucky we didn t blow a fuse that night, trying to reload for the festival in the morning.
Did you get all those extra kebab sauces I packed last night? I asked, taking a first, cautious sip from my coffee.
Already took the cooler down to the truck.
You shouldn t be lugging coolers down the stairs, Farfar. Seriously. I told you I d get them.
... mehr
Eh. He waved me off. You spent so much time dolling yourself up in the bathroom, I had no choice.
I held my arms out, stared down at my ratty clothes. Even after multiple washes, all my Hej Hej! shirts smelled a little like a deep fryer.
Not unpleasantly so, but still.
Farfar hefted another cooler into my arms, which nearly pulled me to the floor.
There you go, Gubben. You can carry this one down. Spare an old man his aching back.
Gubben (rhymes with Reuben) is actually Swedish for old man, but kind of like you d call a little kid big guy. It s what Farfar s called me since I moved to Gettysburg with him to this country with him when I was four.
Koopa laced between Farfar s legs, meowing and purring aggressively for attention, like she knew we d be out for the entire day. Whenever Koopa saw the coolers, her separation anxiety kicked in.
On cue, Farfar scooped her up in his arms.
Min lilla bebis sötnos, ja. Lilla kattkatt.
His gray ponytail swung over her gray face while he prattled on in his ridiculous Swedish baby talk, Koopa yowling and batting at the end of his hair.
That s enough, I said, straining with the handles of the cooler, loaded down with dough and backup fruit filling. It s getting uncomfortable.
Aww, Gubben, there is enough love to go around. The two of them snuggled up close to my face, Farfar babbling Swedish baby talk to both of us now, Koopa purring like an outboard motor, burrowing her gray face into mine.
That s nice. Thank you, I said, blowing cat hair from my lip.
Farfar gave Koopa one last nuzzle with his short-trimmed beard before setting her on the floor, Koopa twisting and yowling incessantly between F
Eh. He waved me off. You spent so much time dolling yourself up in the bathroom, I had no choice.
I held my arms out, stared down at my ratty clothes. Even after multiple washes, all my Hej Hej! shirts smelled a little like a deep fryer.
Not unpleasantly so, but still.
Farfar hefted another cooler into my arms, which nearly pulled me to the floor.
There you go, Gubben. You can carry this one down. Spare an old man his aching back.
Gubben (rhymes with Reuben) is actually Swedish for old man, but kind of like you d call a little kid big guy. It s what Farfar s called me since I moved to Gettysburg with him to this country with him when I was four.
Koopa laced between Farfar s legs, meowing and purring aggressively for attention, like she knew we d be out for the entire day. Whenever Koopa saw the coolers, her separation anxiety kicked in.
On cue, Farfar scooped her up in his arms.
Min lilla bebis sötnos, ja. Lilla kattkatt.
His gray ponytail swung over her gray face while he prattled on in his ridiculous Swedish baby talk, Koopa yowling and batting at the end of his hair.
That s enough, I said, straining with the handles of the cooler, loaded down with dough and backup fruit filling. It s getting uncomfortable.
Aww, Gubben, there is enough love to go around. The two of them snuggled up close to my face, Farfar babbling Swedish baby talk to both of us now, Koopa purring like an outboard motor, burrowing her gray face into mine.
That s nice. Thank you, I said, blowing cat hair from my lip.
Farfar gave Koopa one last nuzzle with his short-trimmed beard before setting her on the floor, Koopa twisting and yowling incessantly between F
... weniger
Autoren-Porträt von Jared Reck
Jared Reck is also the author of A Short History of the Girl Next Door. He lives in Hanover, Pennsylvania, where he's an eighth-grade Language Arts teacher. Learn more about Jared on Twitter at @ReckJ.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Jared Reck
- Altersempfehlung: Ab 12 Jahre
- 2021, 320 Seiten, Maße: 14,9 x 21,5 cm, Gebunden, Englisch
- Verlag: Knopf Books for Young Readers
- ISBN-10: 1524716111
- ISBN-13: 9781524716110
- Erscheinungsdatum: 19.07.2021
Sprache:
Englisch
Pressezitat
Delightful, with deep, delicious layers and a savory-sweet ending. I gobbled it up. Wendelin Van Draanen, award-winning author of Flipped and The Running DreamThis book is a literal warm hug for your soul. Reck s storytelling is an immersive sensory experience and his characters burrow into your heart. Not only will this book make you hungry, it will fill you with joy and leave you wishing to revisit Hej Hej, Oscar and his Farfar time and again. Erin Hahn, author of You d Be Mine and More Than Maybe
"A big-hearted look at the way food, love, and family are inextricably linked. This book is a bittersweet tale of following your passion, finding deep connections in unlikely places, and learning you can do more than you even imagined. It is as warm and satisfying as a donut straight from the fryer!" Peter Bognanni, author of Things I'm Seeing Without You
"It's been a long time since a book's final sentence filled my heart to bursting, but this one did it. Disarmingly poignant and full of warmth, Donuts and Other Proclamations of Love is a compelling story of found family, delicious food, and all the ways we carry our ever-evolving dreams with us." Nina Moreno, author of Don't Date Rosa Santos
"Likable, well-rounded characters keep readers turning pages. Kirkus Reviews
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