Tag Archives: book review

Newsday Tuesday

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Favorite Tweets:

(Sorry about the non-picture tweets.  My internet sucks sometimes. Thanks, Time Warner).

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Favorite Search Terms:

  • the man who walked between the towers book literacy: My FAVORITE children’s book to share with my high schoolers.
  • ricardo nuila’s dog bites: Can someone explain to me what this means?
  • short films on petticoat discipline: Is this a weird porn search or do these actually exist as manners classes?
  • spell to make him have a bowel movement while cheating with another woman: HOLY COW.  I’m a little scared of this search.

Book News:


Meta Meta Meta Meta Meta | Metaphor For Identity

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The Blazing World by Siri Hustvedt

This book review should really be titled: When the world doesn’t know how to categorize something, they pull out the “meta” and the “feminist” and slide the remote into their back pockets to watch it all unfold.

This might be the weirdest book I’ve ever read.  On reading reviews, it’s been toted as the newest in “feminist literature,” and has been compared to Woolf’s A Room Of One’s Own.  On the other hand, it’s a philosophical diatribe on the underground philosophies of intellectuals hidden because of their own strokes of identity.  That’s what I think this book is about at its core.  Identity.  How we use it to function in everyday society and how we remove it to function with ourselves.  Many bloggers have claimed that this is a work of “meta-fiction” with the novel acting as a work of art that is spoken about within the text.

While I love deep thinking and all that bullshit, is this where fiction is going? I love a layered novel where it takes some critical analysis to really tap in, but I don’t want to dig to China to be able to read something that is supposed to be for pleasure.  I think there is an elite class of fiction readers that will find this book utterly breath-taking.  I was quite taken with it in the beginning, I read almost one-hundred pages in one sitting because I couldn’t sleep one night.  I was fascinated by the cutoff meandering of the novel, there were connections between characters, but then each had their own brief story in Burden’s life.  It sometimes made me wonder how those people on the public transport change your life in the blip of their turning conversation towards you and opening their jacket to pull out a harmonica. (Our free buses are a bit odd in Raleigh and my nephew likes to have deep bus conversation with the army fatigues to his right).

Amazing illustrations by Jari Di Benedetto @ Tumblr

The Blazing World by Siri Hustvedt is not a book that you can just read for pleasure.  It’s a book that wants to constantly educate you as you read. Not only is it told from the perspective of too many voices including the journals of the main female character, Harriet Burden, but it’s almost a collection of the odd sorts in society thrown together to solve a mystery.  Harriet Burden is a NY Artist who was married to an art collector (that had a gaggle of men and women on the side even though “it has nothing to do with his love for her) and she’s never really achieved any sort of recognition for her art.  She decides to take in the fringe society to a studio hotel that she’s created and make certain men into little puppets in her game.  There are three different men, with three different art shows that are supposedly Harry’s art, but their face.  It’s this idea that women cannot get coverage in the sophisticated and prejudice art world of NYC, so Harry Burden must pull the wolves over the eyes of the high society and show her art under the veil of strange men.

The first man is Anton Tish.  He’s a waif. Completely useless as a character other than being completely unknown to himself.  Harry uses him like a dish rag to dust off the good china.  Then, there’s my personal favorite, Phineus Q. Eldridge.  She finds him in an obscure newspaper when his show is critiqued by the staff.  He performs a one man autobiographical comedy act where he plays both the white man and the black man, one side of him is woman, one man, one side black, one white, and basically blurs the lines of any sort of boundary line that this American society has created.  He’s got the most interesting voice, but unfortunately the reader doesn’t get to spend much time on his interview because we’re always being wisked away by other diaries, other questions, other answers that don’t truly need answering, when the most interesting story is a young boy who cowers under the thrown spiral of a football released from his father’s hands.

Amazing illustrations by Jari Di Benedetto @ Tumblr

Sometimes, I just wish a book could be a book.  We wouldn’t have to go through all this education mumbo jumbo, chutzpah, or shenanigans that make books “great works of literature.”

It’s clear through the many stories, and fictional (yet factual) footnotes, the author wanted to prove how educated she can be.  With a PhD on Dickens (because how uncommon is that) she goes on to write a book that takes an FBI super agent filled to the brim with literary and humanity decor to uncover the true heart of it.  I like to think I’m a pretty smart girl, but there were moments in this book when I just didn’t care enough to go on.  There was no connection to these characters and everything is kept at a safe arm’s length.  I’m sure this is going to be one of those books that is reviewed by the New York Times as avant-garde and brilliant, a sly form of new age literature for the literary feminists, but I just don’t get it.

Great literature causes great empathy.  With this book, all I had was a great headache.

The other problem with this book is that the publishers didn’t care enough to fix their ebook formatting errors before releasing the book for advanced reader’s copies.  There were numbers EVERYWHERE on the page.  They would be placed in the middle of words, in the middle of important sentences, even occasionally where another number should be and the reader is thinking she meant at the age of six, but then the next word is nineteen and we suddenly realize that was a mistaken six.  They always started over at forty and maintained pace throughout the entire novel.  Do you know how hard it is to actively try to skip over numbers that aren’t meant to be there.  I’m FUCKING disappointed in that. If your ebook isn’t legible, don’t put it on the market until it is because you have readers like me that actually want to invest some sort of body part into these novels in order to understand their value.

Image @ Tumblr

I would love to tout this book as something that inspired that fisted feminist that hangs out between my rib cage and just below my throat but other than the plot, nothing in this novel screamed feminist.  The author was obviously well-read, she wears the signature black turtleneck of someone trying to look profound, but also look like they could step into a dark bar and crouch into the fetal position on stage only to bloom into some sort of slam poet.  In these ways, this is feminist literature.  In the way that Harry is shut down until the faces of her art are young men of strangeness. Also, in the way that the final man, Rune, finds ways to squash any chance that she created the art and he was only the basket in which it came in.  He claims she has mental disturbances which we all know is the sure way to put your wife away so she can die in a mysterious fire. (Oops, too Fitzgerald for a second).  This is the claim that men have been making for centuries though, seriously? Here we have Joan of Arc burned at the stake, the Salem Witch Trials – that amusement park of hangings, Sylvia Plath sticking her head in the oven, and women who have served their lives in “rest homes” because their husbands were overburdened with the idea that women can do more than vacuum with heels on.  I understand all of this and where Hustvedt is going with her novel.  I’m just not sure the hyper intellect she put into it really works.

Other Reviews (because I’m always one of the few haterzzzz):

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This book is getting a lot of hype.  Have you heard anything? Are you planning on reading it?  Read any good feminist literature lately – I want your recommendations so bad, I’m willing to walk into the ocean with my pockets full of rocks. (Too early, still)?

 


Newsday Tuesday

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Favorite Tweets:

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Favorite Search Terms:

  • grunge poems tumblr: There’s only one this week.  I just want to know what came up when someone googled this because usually tumblr is two-line break up poems or inspirational poems set in a colorful sky.

Book News:


Newsday Tuesday

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Favorite Tweets:

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Favorite Search Terms:

  • slashtopher coleman: I’m kind of excited that people search Slash this way.  Play coming out soon?
  • “i’m in my zen mode” “sherman alexie: Sherman has a “zen mode?” Does it involve scraping tiny rakes across sand planes under bonsai trees.  From now on, I will always capitalize author’s names when I google them.
  • buttcrack mechanic: I’m just….just why?

Book News:

Catster_LetsTalk1_28

Comments on recent book news? The cat wants to know.  Thus…the speech bubble.  I really liked the adaptation of The Raven by Lou Reed, the article on Why that guy hates Dead Poet’s Society (valid points), and A Brief History of the To Do List because I, due to my Mother, am a list-maker.


Read This Blog About How I Hate Award Winning Books Awarded For Experimentation And Not Actual Merit. Longest Title Ever.

Once again, I’m the rare species that didn’t like a book.

The Spinning Heart by Donal Ryan

This story, The Spinning Heart by Donal Ryan,  is about the economic downfall of Ireland after the “Celtic Tiger” model.  I had to look up what that was as well and luckily other scholars were there to explain at Huffington Post.  The story is set in small town Ireland (I’m not really sure of the geography of Ireland, but aren’t most towns known as small towns in Ireland, much like North Carolina or Kansas).  A group of men in the town work(ed) for a “sketchy” guy named Pokey.  Who would trust a man named Pokey, I’m not quite sure (unless it was Hokey Pokey), but they do and they rely on his booming business to make ends meat.  Pokey has other plans and runs off without leaving any of the men a dime to their name and the story progresses from there.

It’s “contemporary literary fiction” as it’s written from the point of view of every single character associated with the story within this small town.  Each “chapter” is in a different voice brought on from one of the townspeople that was mentioned in chapters before or will become important in the latter of the novel.  I wasn’t particularly interested in any of these voices, other than Bobby Mahon.  He and his wife are only really given two “chapters” to speak.  I think the narration was interesting and I knew as soon as I discovered it was told this way that this one would be a hit because for some reason people just latch onto things like that.  I normally do love it when an author gives different voices their own chapters, but not this way. (See: Feast of Love by Charles Baxter)

Abbeyleix | Irish Heritage Towns

You have to have a character poster board set up on an easel next to you in order to read this one.  I’m sorry that I don’t remember minor characters mentioned in the second vignette or “chapter” that come up in the nineteenth.  It was hard for me to remember who was who and at one point I thought two of the characters were living in the same schizophrenic body because it sounded to me like they were, turns out I was wrong…I think.  I’m still not really sure about that one.

This book is the literary equivalent of getting on a ferris wheel and hearing the same story about how riding the ferris wheel was from every family in each of the round bobbing ships.  There was no need for the author to really go deeper into the story because he was so reliant on the characters different cues to tell the true effects of how it all unfolds.  From reviews, I was ready to pick up a deeply sad, character-driven book, but this was not it.  I had no emotions while reading and even stopped ever so often to play a quick round of Candy Crush so that I could take a break from the monotony.

Irish Flocks

I further have a problem with everyone speaking about the “quality of writing.”  This book does not have beautiful, literary writing.  At most, I highlighted two phrases and not because of their writing quality, but because of their idea quality.  This didn’t make me want to call the mayor about hanging wreaths of these words around town.  It was a story, driven by character voices, who I would not want to have lunch with.  That’s not just because they live in sad times when they’re all a bit lost, but because the majority of them weren’t likable and I wasn’t truly able to get to know them.  I call books like this “ducks” because the author  hasn’t developed the actual characters enough to give them more stock on the page.  Not sure where “ducks” comes from, but that’s just my nickname for them.

Image @ I Heart This

I don’t believe that my dislike comes from my need for “linear storytelling.”  I believe that this was just poor storytelling that someone could have planned out in a short story and had a greater impact on the reader because that kind of story would have given rise to feelings. OR as my darling students call it, “make you feel some type of way.”  This book didn’t make me feel anything but the need to play more Candy Crush and get over the level slump that I am currently in.  I didn’t feel like I got to know the troubles of Ireland any better, I didn’t feel connected to most of the characters unless something in me matched or found itself in something in them (like that poor wanton woman, or Dylan’s mother who was preoccupied with herself).

Lastly, I find it unnerving that people say “love the language” because this man is writing in the slang and grit of his own language.  This is the language he hears everyday.  I could write a novel in the voices of my students and it would sometimes be decipherable and most of the time the reader would have to look up the words on Urban Dictionary, but I know that language because I’m immersed it in everyday.  Yes, in an American head, this language seems foreign and beautiful, but it is the language of the writer and for that, is no extraordinary feat other than him deciding when to add more slang and with whom, because slang in language can sometimes go too far.  I can’t think of an example, but a lot of Southern novels overuse the Southern dialect so that the reader begins to feel trapped within the language.

Corny Titles.

I would much prefer if this book would be performed for me rather than having to read it for myself.  Maybe then, with blocking, characterization, and the mooning looks on actors faces, I would be able to get into this “some type of way feeling” other reviewers claim to have.

If the ominous “they” are going to continue to give awards for books of experimentation and not actual literary merit then I’m going to have to stop reading award winning books and just read books that I can hang trophies from.  I love experimenting.  I hate when books are given awards for that experimentation that doesn’t always work.  For example, this book, and Goon Squad with the forty pages of powerpoint slides.  THAT IS NOT A BOOK. THAT IS A PRESENTATION.  I DIDN’T ASK TO BE PRESENTED TO.

And while I’m at it, what a corny title.

And fivehundrethly, read a few of the reviews from Goodreads.  Most of them give generic reasons for liking the book rather than actual cold hard evidence of why the book was so good to them.  I find that oddly unsettling.

Catster_LetsTalk1_28

Is there any experimentation that you just can’t handle?  What have you thought of recent award winning books? Did you read this one and have a totally different opinion because sometimes…I suck, too.


Exactly What Is The Allure of The Used Bookstore?

Before I start this, I want you to know that I’m eating alone in the biggest Panera that I’ve ever seen.  To alleviate any of my feelings of weird awkwardness, I chose a seat right next to the “Employees Only” door and behind a barrier wall that blocks off the annoying couple talking about baby monitors and running shoes, and my macaroni and cheese.  There is, however, a large man in a ball cap and Bill Cosby sweater eating with his wife that makes eye contact with me approximately every three minutes.  OH NO, a couple in yoga pants (yes, both people in yoga pants even the male) just came to sit directly opposite me.  If this isn’t the pure euphoria my anxiety needed then I don’t know what else I can do to heighten it.  I am writing in the midst of a bear attack.  The man has a very high voice, as if he’s talking a lot of Maroon 5 songs.

I could spend this whole blog talking about the people surrounding me on all sides.

It’s a war.

But I won’t, I will keep on subject.  This was just your warning.

Venn Diagram Example

Every time I’m home in “the big city,” I hit up at least one of my three favorite used bookstores: Edward McKay Used Books & More, Reader’s Corner and The Village Library.  They each definitely have their own appeal, but there’s something innate at the core of all three because all used bookstores have the same nature, they are after all a categorized new species.  I think it’s partly the smell, a taste of odd ownership, postcards and pre-hipster-era sepia photos, business calling cards, stained carpeting, and the stackage of bookage.  That’s the closest I can get to the “similar” part of the venn diagram.

Reader’s Corner Free Shelves

The Reader’s Corner is my favorite just because the inside feels like a wool sweater and they give books away for FREE, but you have to usually stand in the rain in order to find a good one.  It’s just a superstition I have.  Their FREE books are left under an awning on the whole front wall of the bookstore, on rickety wooden shelves.  They also have a collection of “Reading Is Sexy” bumper stickers next to the cash register, one of which my car, Prince Frederick III, dawns proudly.  These bumper stickers would be even more hilarious if you knew the goons who owned this bookstore.  I think that a clutch of old men operate and own the bookstore.  I’ve only ever seen the same old man behind the register, who embodies what I imagine the guys behind “Car Talk” on NPR must look like.  His face matches their voices, even though he doesn’t sound like them. He also has old cronies around the register with their spectacles hanging down their bulbous noses chatting away with him about the weather, the latest Lady Gaga outfit change, or the newspaper headlines.

You know that commercial where all the old men hang out at McDonalds and check out the old ladies?  That’s Reader’s Corner, except they’re not at all interested in the ladies hanging around the joint.

Bookshelves @ Reader’s Corner

They also know a hellofalot about books.  I can ask them about any book, even the most rare, or the ugliest and largest of textbooks and they will know within three minutes if they have that book available.  And the key to this is that there’s no organization in that place.  They just haphazard the books around, a brain hurricane, books laying in the rubble, or personal space of other books.   The books are categorized by genre, but other than that, you just have to search and find.  It’s basically a Black Ops mission every time you go because you have to pull books from the shelves to see the price or read the blurbs, or just find what might be peeking behind them because all the gems are hidden, obviously.

My favorite poster at Reader's Corner

My favorite poster at Reader’s Corner

This takes me to Edward McCay Used Books & More which is…a chain.  You can sigh now. However, it’s the BEST.CHAIN.EVER. The books are stacked in old milk crates, the handled cardboard trays that your bananas come in off the truck, and somehow, I get a faint whiff of potatoes from the bottom shelves so I have to infer that potato sacks sat in the toughest crates at the bottom of the book pyramid.  That might just be a strange “off the farm” used book smell though.  This is my favorite place to actually find the books I want.  Their authors are by last name and the shelves are all labeled extensively down to “Mystery Thriller” V. “Mystery Fantasy” V. “Mystery Mystery.”

My feet at Ed McKay's

My feet at Ed McKay’s (See what I mean about the carpeting?)

Ed McKay’s is basically a huge warehouse of crates filled with books.  It smells like someone’s attic, and the carpet stains could live in a horror movie.  I love it so much because each section smells different.  The “Dramas” that haven’t been touched in decades (only by college students who don’t want to pay the astronomical price of books from the campus bookstores) smell of dust and washed and dried crumpled paper.  Leave something in your pocket through the wash/dry cycle and smell it afterwards and you will know exactly what the “Drama” and “Poetry” sections smell like.  The “Young Adult” section smells like need and slick plastic.  The “Contemporary Fiction” section smells like cat dander and expensive coffee.  The “Romance” section smells like sweaty lipstick and my most favorite smell of the sections, “Biography” which smells of inspiration, longing and fresh out of the package pantyhose.

Book Bargain

Book Bargain

I don’t make these things up.  BUT, Mental Floss studies them.

Book Nerves

Book Nerves

The spirit of Ed McKay’s is also why I like it there.  They let you sell your books in for trade money so I’m constantly doing that with my non-keepers.  The staff there are tattooed, dyed, pierced, and all dropped into a dryer bin of flannels.  They wear large rings that cover most of their middle knuckle, which throws the customer off from their delicate yet brilliant nail color of the neon or just plain black fashion.  Sometimes they look and sound like they’re going to a funeral and other times they’re wearing comic book tights and whistling.  I’ve smelled them too, but I won’t go into that.  I just have a strong nose.  They have hair colors that I would love to try, but would probably be fired, and they must have a stock pile of beanies in a back closet somewhere that occasionally infects the entire staff with lice.  This isn’t to say that I don’t like them, they’re always friendly, always really welcoming, and I wouldn’t want to buy books from anyone else than the “others.”  Because I’m an “other” and I prefer to talk books with “others.” You know, people that society has deemed “too much” or “too delicate” or “too fine” for most of its activities.  There’s a “muchness” about “otherness” that I like.  I used to think I was just a closet nerd and preferred to be alone, but then I started calling myself “mysterious” like a want advertisement and then I finally just admitted, I’m an “other.”

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Ed McKay Shelving

We’re our own species too, which is why we hang out in scarves and toting messenger bags in used bookstores.

My last favorite should be everyone’s favorite.  If you read this blog, you better be regularly hitting up your local library.  The Village isn’t the closest library to me, but it’s the biggest, so I go there.  It has its own elevator and its own coffee shop.  RIDICULOUS. Plus, they carry every Mary Roach book that exists and they let me hide all of Ted Hughes’ poetry collections because I’m still angry with him about Plath.  There’s a cozy seating area, the children’s giant room always has paintings and a large, tissue paper version of “The Very Hungry Caterpillar.”  To this day, I plan on asking for that hungry caterpillar for my child’s room when I become a woman who actually believes she has those instincts and owns one of those countdown clocks.  For now, I’ll just continue to be selfish.

Village Drop Off

Village Drop Off

The best part about The Village is that its on the ritzy part of town so wearing sweatpants into the library is a thrill.  It’s like going to church in ripped jeans.  The bobbed hair cuts and gold button suits stare you up and down.  How dare you step into their marble book room.  MWAHA. It’s always worth it to aggravate the authorities.

What are some of your favorite used bookstores and more importantly, what do they smell like?  I want to know what I’m missing here in other states so when I retire, at 297, I can take a used bookstore road trip and write a book. I’m probably using you at this moment, but no really, I want to know what you think.


Newsday Tuesday

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Favorite Tweets:

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Favorite Search Terms:

  • i’ve always imagined heaven to be a kind of library: You and me both, googler.
  • burying book in the wall ai weiwei: This is a history lesson I must google to get…now.
  • johnny depp high school girlfriend: Yep, you got my blog.  OW OW! It’s filled with useless facts like this.

Book News:


This Book is About As Riveting As Watching a Moss Colony Grow.

The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert

Not only is this book heavy handed with botany that at times seems relatively interesting if you believe in spending your life peering through the eye tackle of a microscope, but it is about as boring as watching the growth of a moss colony.  And if there’s one thing I know, it’s moss. My family seems only to be able to grow the fertile little kiwi hairs instead of grass. Thank you, Elizabeth Gilbert, for taking all of my beliefs away that you could actually write fiction as beautiful as a story about yourself.  I stand on the side that you are a one hit wonder with the likes of Vanilla Ice, Harper Lee (who thankfully decided to quit her trial run of writing a book equal to or better than To Kill a Mockingbird), the cast of Seinfeld (New Adventures of Old Christine….seriously), I would love to say the Buffalo Bills, but they have yet to win a Superbowl even though they played in four consecutive, and that band that no one remembers who sang “Tainted Love.”  Someone, anyone…wikipedia that for me.

Moss @ Mountainmoss.com

I’m too tired after making it off the Tahitian island where my last bit of ending anticipation was driven in by sixty more pages of Roger the Dog and conversations indebted to long pauses of useless explanation.  If you think that was the longest, most boring and confusing sentence you’ve ever read, then that might be a reason to pick up Elizabeth Gilbert’s new novel (NY Times Bestselling novel) The Signature of All Things.  At first, I was giving her the benefit of the doubt.  I found myself connecting with the main character Alma, really the only character that the story follows whole-heartedly, because she was her father’s favorite.  I have an ornament that says so, so it must be true.  She also had the curse of being so smart and so dull-looking which caused her story to be a long and arduous one of no travels until she was well into retirement and therefore spending most of her life in a closet masturbating, or a carriage house studying choice examples of botany.   Yes, you’re delicate senses read that right.  Here is a woman who spends her life yearning to earn her own “Krull the Warrior King,” hoping to use her own mating weapon to save the world of some endearing, sexy, botanist, only to be left with her own intellectual stimulus as a vibrator. (Sorry for being explicit.  My mom is going to die).  Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against plants, but I struggle to comprehend why it was necessary for me to read 513 pages of plant descriptions in order to get to the final page of this book.

AN AWESOME DRAWING BY KELLYCREATES ON TUMBLR: pink Alstroemeria

I can’t even remember what happened in the beginning.  I’ve been reading this solidly for almost two weeks because every time I would begin reading it, I would wake up in the darkness of my living room having had a fine nap filled with dreams of actual book-worthy excitement.   I know I should be applauding this story of a woman searching for enlightenment when the only thing women were allowed to be searching for was sheets, and their seventh child, but I can’t get over how much I lacked interest in this story.  It was fine historical fiction, but I was led on by interviews with Gilbert.  She said she researched endlessly the life and travels of Captain Cook, but he was in and gone in three pages flat.  I love Gilbert’s TED talks on inspiration and creativity.  I loved Eat, Pray, Love although the movie (much like this recent novel) was a journey I shouldn’t have ever taken.  However, this fictional reinvention of an intellectually driven woman wasn’t quite like reading a thesis from the biology department, but if you removed a few of the lyrical language moments, it could have been.

Sick drawing by Nicoma Nix Turner (Click the picture for a link to the site)

I was fond of a few characters, Prudence, for example and surely Retta, who is truly the only lively thing on the page.  Speaking of Retta, the only truly enjoyable character, is glared down by whiteness to live out her life as a woman “criminally insane” and put away by her husband.  I know this happened in reality.  I also know that Retta had a bit of flair, but did Gilbert have to lock away my favorite character in the whole book just because she had some personality that was later stomped on by white walls and straight jackets.  These are things to think about when you write characters.

Orchid Drawing by The Lotus Tile @ Tumblr

JK Rowling just broke every Potter’s heart when she said that Ron and Hermoine should have never been an item and Hermoine was always meant for Harry, but you can’t take something like that back when you’re writing a book.  It’s like killing off the only redeemable character.  Why rid this novel of its only funky character just to make her husband single again for when Alma discovers the truth about her sister Prudence.  That’s not fair to poor Retta who just wanted to live inside a dress with poofy sleeves and hug everyone. Henry, Alma’s father,  was sly and booming, a true father of a house and his wife was disastrously cunning and dry, but I didn’t want to hang out with any of these people.

Tahiti Image from Blog about Cooke

I think it’s fair to say that this book had moments of brilliance, but it can be summed up in a brief sentence: a woman filled with sexual frustration, sets out to discover herself in identifying and studying mosses, but is taken down by a man of divine promises (See: “A Good Man is Hard to Find”) and finds refuge once again in the idea that everything must have a comprehensive answer that she will discover mostly in the world of botany.  The true problem with this novel lies in my unflinching lack of care for these characters, this time period as told by these characters, and my disappointment of the editor who did not encourage Gilbert to shorten parts that weren’t necessary. However, thank you so much Penguin for letting me get my hands on this one so that I could use the word “vibrator” in a blog.


Newsday Tuesday

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Favorite Search Terms:

  • correct clothes for teaching: This was me for the entire summer of 2012. I hope I had something for you to look at.  Look on Pinterest or the blogosphere.
  • living bamboo maze: I hope this maze can be found somewhere near me so MAU and I can go.
  • poem anis mojgani she covers her body with tea cups: I haven’t heard of this one, but now I’m really interested.

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Newsday Tuesday

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