It’s time for Day Five of The 12 Days of Books!
Book Five is a new title from Broadway vet and author Jenna Gavigan, Lulu the Broadway Mouse! This book is a perfect gift for that theatre child in your life.
Here’s the official book blurb:
Not to brag (well, this is my story, so I guess if I’m going to brag, this is the place to do it, right?), but my house is the most beautiful, most magical, most jaw-droppingly fabulous place in the world. (If I’m going to brag, I may as well full-out brag, right?)
How do I know these facts, you ask? How am I certain that my house is all these things and more? Sure, it’s the only place I’ve ever lived. Sure, I’ve never been off Forty-Fourth Street, let alone the island of Manhattan. Sure, you’re telling yourself that “my house is the most beautiful, most magical, most jaw-droppingly fabulous place in the world” should be categorized as an opinion, rather than a fact. A fact needs to be proven, right?
Hold on a second. This is a novel, not some scientific document. It’s a story, my story, so if I say something’s true, it’s true. But to appease all you science lovers out there, I’ll give you a bit of information about my house and you can come to your own conclusion—you can deduce. (Ugh, I sound like that know-it-all Amanda. More on her later . . .)
On my house’s ornate, hand-painted ceiling hang four prizewinning pumpkin-sized crystal chandeliers. In my house’s biggest room there are precisely one thousand four hundred forty-seven blue-green velvet seats. There are more than a dozen rooms full of makeup and wigs and costumes, and the people who inhabit these rooms are the best, most interesting, most loving people you’ll ever meet. Sometimes, it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop (literally, there are hundreds of pins of different varieties all over the building), but gloriously loud at other times with the sounds of instruments and singing and (sigh) applause. I mean, really, is there anything more twitterpating than the sound of applause?
If you’ve yet to guess what kind of house I live in, then this may not be the story for you. But please keep reading because some grown-up already bought the book for you, and they (and I) will be heartbroken if you don’t finish it.
My house? It’s a theatre. A Broadway theatre. (And yes, it’s theatre not theater. I’m not being fancy, it’s just correct.)
I know what you’re thinking. This narrator is bluffing. She’s a liar. She’s a fraud! People don’t live in Broadway theatres. Sure, they work in theatres. They sew costumes, move scenery, or play the trombone. They (big sigh) perform onstage. But people certainly don’t live in Broadway theatres.
Well, dear reader, you are correct. People don’t. But mice, mice certainly do. She’s a mouse, you say? Excellent powers of deduction, dear reader. ’Tis true. I’m Lulu the Mouse, and the Shubert Theatre at 225 West 44th Street in New York City? It’s my house.
Now that you know my address and my name, you really only need to know one more thing about me in order to read my story.
It’s the thing I daydream and nightdream about.
The thing I wish for and hope for and practice for.
The thing that makes me . . . well . . . different from other mice.
I want to be on Broadway. I want it more than anything in the world.
Read my review here, and click here to order your very own copy today!
Live, Love, Learn,