Paranormalcy

Paranormalcy by Kiersten White

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

This was sweet and funny, and I had a good chuckle or two while reading it. I wouldn't say it is ground breaking, but I did enjoy it for what it was...that is a paranormal fantasy with a lot of humor. And of course there is some good kissing, and I always like a good kiss.

I especially appreciate Evie because she doesn't seem to take herself all that seriously, and she has a pulse and a personality. I think lately that when I've read YA fiction with a fantasy/paranormal bent, I've been disappointed because the novel took itself too seriously, or the characters weren't likable. That's not a problem here.

I would have liked to see more development in the plot and less focus on trips to the mall. I think that's what kept me from giving this four stars. I wanted more back story for Evie. We get the bare bones of her history, and I felt a little shortchanged. I want to know more about her and the other main players...like Raquel, Lend and Lend's family, the faeries and other creatures.

I think it's a hard balance to strike, on the other hand, and sometimes you read something and feel like all the author is doing is explaining back stories and histories and that can be dull. But in this case, I think a little bit more would have helped me connect more to the story.

I also wanted more action/longer action sequences. Evie is a paranormal hunter. She goes out and finds werewolves, vampires, hags, etc., to "bag and tag" them. And I wanted to see more of her doing that. It seems like the scenes where she's capturing a paranormal pass by too quickly, and I wanted to see her really in the throws of the challenges one would face in such a situation. It's a development thing, I suppose. I just wanted more development.

I did really enjoy that Evie was a normal teenager and was excited about normal teenage things, like pink boots and prom dresses and getting excited about just being her age. Too many stories focus on kids growing up too fast, and Evie wants to be her age and do the things that kids her age do.

I am pretty sure if I had read this when I was a young adult, I would have wanted to be Evie. That's not a bad thing. She's a good character, in a good, clean story that is entirely appropriate for its intended audience.


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Not Going Away

This is just a little reminder to myself that I will blog regularly, if not daily.

And this is a little reminder for me...seen on a friend's FB page, an advert (aren't I just so British) for Nike right next to Penn Station in NYC (sigh for NYC a minute...okay). And it says:


So to my ever procrastinating self...Today is THE day!!!

The Piper's Son

This is it, folks. The year long experiment is up, and this is the end of the line. And I think this is a good way to say good-bye to the daily blogging gig.

The Piper's Son by Melina Marchetta

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Yet another Marchetta novel that somehow pulled me in just when I was thinking of giving it up for good. I don't know what it is about her stories or her writing, but I'm never convinced that I want to go down whatever road she's going to take me on until I'm well into the story.

Here's the thing. This is drama-rama folks. Plain and simple, and that is what Marchetta seems to do best. But she does it in a way that isn't overbearing, for the most part, and you feel like you connect to these characters, despite the drama...or maybe because of it. I'm not sure if I'm hooked because of the soap opera or if I'm hooked because I actually really like these people, but in the end, I suppose it doesn't matter a whole lot, anyway, because I kept reading until the end. And then at the end, she suddenly had me convinced that I wanted to read it all along.

There isn't a lot of plot to this story. It's more about people and every day life than it is about something. Of course, there are lots of little things going on, little conflicts. Now some might argue with me here and say that the conflicts are much more than that. They are much more than just little, that is; however, they aren't handled like serious climatic moments, and I don't know if that makes any sense whatsoever, but it's sort of like watching the way real life unfolds.

And yes, I did say it was sort of soap opera-esque. But that's more because there are lots and lots of feelings being expressed internally (and occasionally externally, too). But no one here is slapping faces and throwing martinis and screaming. It's dramatic because the internal dialogue makes it so. Tom and his Aunt Georgie are the central figures, and so mostly we see the story through their perspective. Tom's trying to reconcile with his old mates and his father, and Georgie is trying to decide if she wants to reunite with her old boyfriend and both of them are coming to terms with the deaths of family members. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, so you can imagine what I mean by drama.

But there is only one actual physical fight and most of the time, you could imagine similar problems in your own life. And you can probably see yourself having similar thoughts and feelings about how best to handle them. So yes there are lots of problems, and there is a lot of pondering. And you probably think now that the book sounds dull, but I assure that it isn't, especially if you like something that speaks to character. I always do. And Marchetta, if she does anything at all well (and you know I think she does), knows character.

P.S. But I guess all of this is just one really long winded way of saying that it's drama without the sappiness.

P.S.S. Oh...and I called this both young adult and adult fiction. It's certainly for the more mature reader.

P.S.S.S. And if you are going to read this, read Saving Francesca first. This isn't a sequel, necessarily, but it is a companion book, and it will make much more sense if read in order. You are welcome.


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And That's a Wrap (Almost)

Tomorrow my year mark is up. And that will make three-hundred and sixty-five!!! 365!!!!!!!!

Wow. And I'm going to have a book review for you tomorrow...as my last entry for this year-long experiment. Since that seems apropos.

But tonight I'm going to write about writing and why I love it.

I actually remember my first journal. I don't remember what it looked like, but I'm sure that it is somewhere in a box in my brother's attic. I know this; I wrote my first entry in red pen. And I committed the cardinal sin of journal writing. There were times I used pencil. GASP! I did not understand then that pencil was not permanent. Oops. And sometimes I wonder what I said in that early journal and if I'll be able to read it when I'm an old lady, and I want to reminisce about my youth.

Oh, but I do remember writing about McDonald's. That was my fave, and we probably went there for someone's birthday because that is what the birthday girl/boy requested, and my poor parents acquiesced to such desires as McDonald's, even though I am pretty sure they did not like it or want to.

So that is one reason that I love to write. I love to see what my ten year old self thought about life, and I love to see what I thought when I was eighteen, and I was just sure that I would live a certain life. Oh that life is far different from this life.

I also remember writing a short story for my ninth grade English teacher, and oh Mrs. Godfrey was just fancy. She dressed to the nines and conducted herself always the lady. When I got my short story back...a real nail biter about a babysitter and an earthquake...she had written the nicest note about how the story could become a book! A BOOK!!! (Can you imagine?) And wasn't that nice of her?

So that is what I learned next. I learned that I loved to write for an audience. And I love to tell a story.

But probably the best piece I ever did write (perhaps in my entire life, and I do not exaggerate) was a piece about my early childhood best friend. Our junior honors English class had to write character sketches on important people in our lives. It was probably the most personal thing I have ever written, and my teacher loved it because it was raw and real, and I discovered the importance of connection and passion. Writing is best when you know what you are talking about and you care about it. I wrote it because we had once been best friends, but then time went by and neither of us were prepared for the way things would change. I remember writing about how we were strangers now. And I must say, it was beautiful.

So the third thing I love about writing? I love honest connection. You can always sense that in a good writer.

I also remember writing a research paper on Langston Hughes. One of my professors allowed me to do an alternate writing project. I used poetry and letters and journal entries to tell the story, instead of the traditional sort of paper. Of course, trust a professor like Cutler to allow for it. I don't think most academecians would allow for such shenanigans. What a great guy for letting me. And I got an A...for awesome! He loved it, and I sort of hope that he encourages his students to write that way now.

Love number four: even research writing...ye olde academic staple...can be creative and exciting.

Another very kindly professor sat me down and explained to me how to organize my thoughts. He praised my ability to write, but he made it clear that I was all over the place. Like everywhere. And once I got it, I got.

My fifth love...writing is more than just a brain dump. It's a way to follow a logical thought pattern. There's no excuse for sloppiness. I learned to love taking pride not just in a well formed sentence but in the structure of the entire piece.

And now I'm learning something new about writing. I'm learning that writing a novel is much harder than I thought. I'm learning that I can write a mean essay of all types...personal, academic, etc. But I'm learning that writing a story is much more challenging and personal. I think I've shied away from it because I know it is hard, but maybe that is the very reason I should be writing it. Like it's the next step in the process as a developing writer.

I'm really glad that I did this, even though there were times I sighed and rolled my eyes and wished I had not committed myself to it. But I am glad I did it, most especially because I stuck to it. And I'm thinking now, that the next step is this. Now, instead of writing this particular blog on a daily basis, I should be writing my novel on a daily basis. I know, now, that I can commit myself to something for the long term.

In the end, there is this...I LOVE WRITING!!!

Two Year Crisis...

It's like a full blown existential crisis up in here.

Seriously.

Honestly, I really thought that the older I got, the more sure of myself I would become, but I feel like the exact opposite is happening. I feel like the older I am, the more UNSURE I am of myself. And that, my friends, is what rock bottom is. Rock bottom is having no clue what to do with oneself because one does not know who one is. (Say that last sentence with a British accent and pretend you are wearing a frock from Pride and Prejudice...because yes, I admit it. I am being rather dramatic about it.)

I really am serious when I say that I don't have a clue about an.y.thing. right now. I don't know who I am or what I am or what I am going to do with my life, and it isn't scary so much as it is bottomless. Endless. Like I really do not have any sort of clue whatsoever as to how I'm going to get a handle on myself. Or when that might even happen. Because I really do not know.

I find myself wondering if this is normal. I thought I would be over these crises of confidence a long time ago. I mean, that is what your twenties are for, right? That's the whole purpose of the invention of the twenties...college, first jobs, first loves and all that. You are supposed to have it down and be ready to roll come thirty. I think I had it figured out better when I was seventeen.

That's right. My teenage self gets it better than my thirty-six-year-old self.

Ugh. It isn't so much depression, although that is part of my life and I've come to accept it, but it isn't that so much. So much is wishing I could figure it all out and just get on with it already. So much of it is waiting to understand. So much of it is just wanting some sort of purpose. A drive. A goal. SOMETHING...ANYTHING!!!

But this is my thought. Long ago in a far away place, when I heard that woman talking about her husband looking for work near on two years (TWO YEARS!!!). I thought to myself, no way...no how. And maybe this little existential crisis of mine will be just that. Because I thought that and so now I need to understand what two years actually means. That's what I hope, anyway. Two years and I'll be able to get on with my life. Please...let it be.

Your Grandma Runs Faster Than Me

And some other musings...

I'm telling you, she does. So the last few days I've decided that since the temperatures are in the balmy 40s and that since the sun is out and shining with all its winter might, that I might as well take advantage. Taking advantage means running out of doors. And when I say running, what I mean is jogging. And when I say jogging, what I mean is that there are speed walkers who could outrace me. On their bad day. No, on their worst day.

I'm just not what you would call fast. My last three outdoor jaunts have averaged around an eleven minute and forty second mile. 11:49 today. That's just a little bit better than five miles an hour, and so I know I do not lie when I say that your grandma can run faster than me.

It was causing me some severe frustration.

I can run faster on a treadmill, and I try to take comfort in that. The other day I ran about three and a half miles and then walked off the last half mile, and I did it in less than forty-three minutes. If I push myself, I can run four miles in under forty minutes, meaning that my time is significantly better on that darned machine, like by seven or eight minutes better, but it just isn't the same, you know? And of course, the treadmill does some of the work for you, and blah blah blah.

But then I decided that I am going to accept it. At least I am out there making the effort, and there is something to be said for that. I can't worry that probably better than half the people I know who NEVER run could go out for a jog, including the old and infirm, and they would beat my time. Because the truth is, that isn't why I do it. I'm doing it for me, and for no one but me. And of course, I wish I could go a little faster, but then, I also wish I had a million dollars and a cute apartment in New York.

So I will have to accept it for what it is.

And then I'll have to go running tomorrow. And the next day. And maybe some day, I'll get faster. And that is just the way life goes, isn't it? You don't always get to choose how things will be. The only fatal thing, as C.S. Lewis would tell it, is to sit down and give up. And I refuse to do that.

Almost There

Oh, I am getting rather ready for this to be over, and in just a few short days...I won't have to worry about coming up with a fresh topic...or fail at coming up with a fresh topic, but whatever.

From today's funeral..."The atonement can heal your broken heart."

Lately, I've felt like my heart has been pretty broken. Broken over so many things, big and little, adding all up and just making me sad all the time. Sad to watch my friends who have fertility issues. Sad to watch my friends lose children. Sad to see other friends try to cope with the challenges of marriage and children and jobs. Sad to watch my own life as it spirals into a place so low...I mean, really low. I never thought it could be like this.

But then those words of wisdom, and suddenly, I feel like it will all be okay because I believe that is true. The atonement can heal my broken heart. And that is because of the unconditional love of my Savior. You know what's perfect? Christ's love. And why is that? Because it is given without strings. That is what Caleb and April have taught me. They have taught me an incalculably valuable lesson about how Christ loves. He loves with no expectation of us whatsoever. Me, sinful, prideful, unfocused, lost. Me, trying, working, making an effort. Me, succeeding, growing, becoming. All these stages of me, He loves. He loves me at my lowest and at my highest. And the atonement can heal my broken heart, whatever the cause.

The Spellman Files

Just a good time...I mean this was seriously a fun book to read.

The Spellman Files by Lisa Lutz

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

This is plain quirky, and I have to say, it's seriously delightful. Isabel Spellman grew up in a family of spies. Her parents run private investigation firm, and they have trained their children to surveil strangers, pick locks, and tail marks. But Isabel is tired of the business and she wants out of it. Her parents agree, but only if she will take one more case. Izzy agrees and of course, hijinks ensue. The only problem? Soon no one wants Izzy on the case, including her parents, but she refuses to let it go.

So it isn't so much a study in a good mystery or even a thriller. It's more a study in character, especially in Izzy's character. Izzy is a strange duck. She was a rebellious and unpredictable teenager, but now, as an adult, she has let go of her more rebellious and irresponsible tendencies...except, perhaps, when it comes to men. She's serious about her job as a P.I. but perhaps the families' dysfunctional relationship prevents her from reaching her full potential.

I mean, this is a family full of distrust. People spying on each other, bugging rooms, monitoring phone calls, following each other around town. And Izzy cannot stop herself from doing the same to her own boyfriends. It isn't until her kid sister goes missing that Izzy and her parents realize they will have to put their differences aside and work together.

I feel like I've been hitting the jackpot lately at the library, especially with gems like this and the Stephanie Plum series. I've been looking for something in the thriller/mystery genre...something different, fresh, funny. And The Spellman Files does not disappoint. I am sooooooo very glad there are four more books after this in the series. This was just a light, fun read, and I look forward to more of Izzy's antics.


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Courage

The friends got together tonight for a little dinner, and then we headed over to April's house to give her a gift and to let her know that we are thinking of her. I know I keep talking about her and Cindy, but I cannot help myself. They are just amazing. And hearing April tell us of her boy's last moments here on earth was beautiful.

I was left with a feeling as we went away. That woman has courage. (Long aside here for a moment. Bear with me. It is strange to say "woman" because the whole time I was sitting there, I kept thinking how can this be happening? I mean, in my mind, we are all seventeen and carefree and how can she possibly be the mother of four boys??? It doesn't hurt that she looks just like the girl I knew then. She's so amazing. Did I say that already? Well, it is true. I cannot even tell you how much I hope I can be like her one day.)

Anyway, back to courage. It takes a lot of courage to let him go when she loves him so so much. And I don't think she would ever complain about a day, not a moment, of the sacrifice that went into raising him because she had such faith. In fact, I think it is pretty safe to say she wouldn't have called it a sacrifice at all. The blessing of his life is so much more. She is right! What a blessing to have a child, a spirit of God, a soul like Caleb in her home. I believe with all my heart that he is one of the valiant ones, chosen to come to April because she, too, is one of the valiant. She is one of the best...the best of the best, and it is a privilege to call her a friend.

I am learning, too, that I know little, if anything, of what it means to love unconditionally. We expect so much from those around us. And I think children like Caleb remind us that love should not ever come with the expectation of something in return...tit for tat as they say. It is something to be given freely, and that was what he was able to give to his family. He loved them without any strings attached, and they loved him back in just the same way.

I know Caleb was here for so much longer than anyone expected. But somehow his death is a little more painful because of the sweet, pure and unconditional love that he had for everyone. Words don't do justice to how much love I felt from April. I hope one day I get to experience that kind of love for my own child. I think it might be the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, the love of a mother. Oh I hope to experience it for myself.

I Woke Up Today

And I wanted to feel sorry for myself. Not because it is Valentine's day but because I was just feeling sad about not having a job and not having a car. I really really really want to move forward with my life and...it's REALLY starting to get to me. And then I read this from my friend Cindy's blog:

"Would I LOVE to change our circumstances right now? YES YES and YES. But I can't. So I count my blessings. There have been times in my life where I chose not too. I regret it. No good comes from it. So this trial, though the hardest thing I will ever face, will not beat me down. I will count my blessings and try my darndest to always count my blessings even in my darkest hour."

And on that happy note, I am going to say a few things about counting my blessings by way of saying this. I have lots of things to love.

I love Virginia. And I love Alexandria. This particular house is on my "dream house" list. I mean honestly. Just seriously.


Okay, so I love clothes. It's no secret that shopping is one of my faves.


You knew I would have to say baseball...and yes, this is Yankee Stadium. But you can't deny it. that is one amazing stadium.


Chocolate. Enough said.


Snow falling...winter!!! Oh how I wish I was skiing right now. Do you know what the mountains look like right now?


Running on this trail in the fall is, well, spectacular. Fall is my favorite season.


Can you believe how beautiful Black Hawk is? It is my favorite spot on earth. I love it.


Trees...and vacations in Alaska. You have no idea.


These two guys. I do have the most adorable nieces and nephews. Aren't they sweet?


She's a princess firefighter. I just can't stand how cute it all is.


Um, what can we say? The girl loves a bathing suit. She lives in them. And you can't beat the socks and crocs. They complete the ensemble.


She's pretty much the most perfect ballerina. Ever.


All I can say is, shut up, how cute is that? I love watching little kids run! They look like they are certain that they are the fastest thing on the planet.


More cuteness. These two sisters adore each other. And they love their cousin!


Cousins!!!! Aren't cousins your favorite?


I think it's the cowlick in the back. He's delightful!



So that is it. I wish I had pictures of all my friends and all my family, every niece and nephew, every brother, sister, in-law...But I don't have pictures of them all.

Anyway, as Cindy said, feeling sorry for yourself is just a waste of time. Being sad is a waste of time. I'm grateful for what I have. And I am lucky and have so much good in my life.

The Vow

I am a girl, through and through. I have been since I was four years old, and I discovered that I did not, in fact, want to be a boy. Up to that point, I thought that it was more fun to play in the dirt and run around without a shirt because that is what the boys did.

And then one day that stopped, and I discovered that I liked Barbie dolls better than Tonka trucks. I figured out that I wanted to play with my baby dolls. And, probably most importantly, I figured out that I had better keep my shirt on.

And so I went to see this show, and you could say that it is a sappy love fest Valentine's movie because it is. BUT...you know what, you guys? It was better than any chick flick I've seen in a long time. It wasn't unrealistic, you know? That's what I liked about it. A lot of chick flicks are silly and fun, and I like them, but they are unrealistic, and you can only take so much of that nonsense. Only so much, you know?

I'm not going to review it. I'm just saying, I liked this. I actually loved it. And that is that.

A Little Bit of Winter

Do you love snow? I love snow. I think it's the MOST beautiful thing.






I've been wanting a snow storm, and FINALLY!!!! I got one. How can you not love a good snow storm?

More Things I Love

Valentine's Day is almost upon us, and some sad things have happened lately. My friend Cindy Hansen's son has been diagnosed with a brain tumor that is essentially inoperable. You can read about her sweet Atticus here. And then my friend April's son, a little boy who was essential born without a brain, has now died. You can read about little Caleb here.

So probably a title such as the one above is confusing if these sad things have been happening. But you know what I love? I love the way these families have dealt with very hard things.

April, mother to Caleb, has selflessly served her son for seven years. She has done so without complaint and without expectation of praise or honor for her hard work and dedication. She has served him with a happy heart, grateful for the miracle that he was for their family, even when the doctors urged her to abort her pregnancy. She chose to see her son, no matter how he was delivered to her, as a perfect gift for her wonderful family. And indeed he was. He was a blessing to her and to her children, and I think he is a reminder that what we think of as perfect does not even come close to how beautiful perfect really is. I love April's faith in God rather than in man. There is no doubt that for everyone who knows her, her husband, or her family has seen that sort of faith in action. I'm sure her only regret is that they didn't get more time together.

I also love Cindy's example of strength as she watches her sweet boy suffer. She is so strong for him, and she loves him so so much. She does not lay blame on God for his suffering. She has faith that whatever must come will come, and she is grateful for the time they have together now. Her faith in the face of the most trying of circumstances helps me to see that I can overcome my trials and that I can do hard things. I've always known that others had difficult trials, but this particular situation, a mother losing her son, has touched my heart in a way that nothing else has. And because she is maintaining a faithful heart, I know I can, too. The truth? I cannot imagine a trial more difficult than watching your own child die.

I love the gospel of Jesus Christ. I love that I know...I KNOW...that Caleb is whole and well now, and that when the time comes, April will have the opportunity to raise him. I know that when Atticus' time comes, if it be too soon, that Cindy will have the same chance to raise her boy and to be with him again, without the pain of radiation and chemo therapy. Both boys will be whole and well.

What a great blessing to know such amazing women. I love them both very very much. Thanks ladies, for showing me what it means to be a faithful, gracious woman of God.

The House at Riverton

Ah, Kate Morton, you are a divine writer. But I am glad to be taking a break from you for a little while.

The House at Riverton by Kate Morton

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Well, now that I've read all of Morton's novels published to date, I have to say that this was my favorite. I loved all of them, but I think this one was the best thus far.

I suppose that came as a bit of a surprise to me. Usually writers get better with time, although I am not saying that I like her other two novels any less now that I've read her first. I'm not saying that her perfect prose has suffered any at all because it has not. The woman can write, period. In fact, she's probably my favorite modern author now, and that is not so much because she writes a good story (she does, in my opinion) but more because her voice sings off the page. The woman is a poet, pure and simple.

However, I liked this book most because it was less gimmicky and more authentic. The story is told by Grace Bradley, lady's maid to Hannah Hartford. Grace has reached the end of her life, and at ninety-eight she is ready to tell the story of Hannah's secret past, and of course, her own because the two are tangled together. This has all the trappings of The Distant Hours and The Forgotten Garden...a modern protagonist telling the story of an age that has passed. A mystery ensues and things end tragically. I am not really giving anything away here. Morton leaves enough clues, and if you've read her other novels, you know what is coming.

So what do I mean..."less gimmicky, more authentic" anyway? Just this. There are far fewer of the obvious allusions to Gothic romantic literature. The Hartford family story is tragic, but the tragedy is not so, so, SO melodramatic as it is in Morton's subsequent work. For example, insanity seems to be one of Morton's favorite ways to create drama. But here there is no insanity. Rather, the tragedy feels more organic, related to the accepted social mores and events of the time period, such as class separation and World War I, and the loss these families experienced as a result. So that is the first reason I liked this more.

On a side note, It isn't that I don't like Gothic literature because I do. I love it. But at times Gothic conventions can be heavy handed and rather theatrical, and there are aspects of such that I sometimes don't think translate well when written by current authors. Maybe it isn't fair to say that only Charlotte Bronte or Wilkie Collins should be using those conventions? I digress...

Oh, so I also fell in love with the narrator. Grace was the perfect foil for Hannah. Not only that, she felt more a part of the story than the narrators of Morton's other two books. But mostly, I loved Grace's story. Even though she is supposed to be telling us what Hannah did, I liked hearing about her life more. It was her story that left me feeling really sad because she was the one who made the real sacrifices for Hannah. She's a lovely character and the perfect narrator. I think that is because as a narrator, Grace is very staid. And that just served to make the story more believable on the whole.

The ending came, and some of those more dramatic tendencies came out, and of course, there is the twist that you didn't quite see coming, or you did because you are uber smart like that. Either way...a lot less "surprise...gotcha!" in this. Mostly, Morton sets the reader up for the ending, and I think I prefer that method. Moreover, some parts of the story were left a little bit ambiguous in the end, and personally I like some ambiguity. Every last detail doesn't need to be tied up in neat packages with ribbons and bows.

So her next novel is supposed to come out at the end of this year? (Don't quote me on that.) And that's perfect. I've read three of her novels in the past five or six months, and so that is a lot of Kate Morton. Trust me. While her books are very very readable, they aren't light, either. That will give me enough time to cleanse my palate and anticipate something new from her.


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First Time Up

I've often thought of the first day I taught in my own class as a full time teacher. I remember thinking how afraid I would be, but when I got up and started talking, it was a match. I don't get the jitters when I teach. I didn't the first day, and I still don't now.

So some things you know are just a match for you, you know?

And so I've been reading The House at Riverton by Kate Morton. I'm almost finished, and I am really excited to review it. It is her first published novel. I have now read all three of her books...published to date, that is because I think she has another coming out this year...and guess what folks? Her first time up? I think it's her best.

I LOVE it. It's less sensational, a bit quieter. She uses her same formula - the current story of one character learning about or telling the story of a former era. But she uses less of the gimmicks, and so the story feels more believable. I'll go into more detail for the review.

And I guess it just goes to show you that some people are a natural the first time out at certain things. I don't know that I am a Kate Morton when it comes to writing fiction, but reading this gives me hope that I can write something really good the first time out, if I am willing to give everything I have to it.

And I am telling you...this book is sensational.

Oh Sweet and Blessed Spin Class

So I head out to spin class tonight. Just an FYI. Everyone says that spin is so great and such a good work out, and I've been a few times and said to myself. "Meh. Whateves. It was alright, but it wasn't that hard."

Um, I stand corrected. Because tonight was another story. I mean, I was sweating like a dog and working really hard, and at one point the instructor said, "Just go as hard as you can. You can rest when you get home." And so that is what I had to keep telling myself the ENTIRE time. "Go hard. You can rest later. You can rest later. You can rest later." And I was, indeed going as hard and as fast as I could.

So I guess it depends on a few things. One, I think I had the tension thing figured out on my bike, and I was cranking it up high enough to get a work out. But I also think it depends on the instructor, and this particular instructor, he was legit. For real, you guys. He was legit.

Paper Towns

Thought provoking book, if at times frustrating. Still, I do recommend it.

Paper Towns by John Green

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I really can't decide what I think of Paper Towns because I cannot decide what I think of one character - and that particular character is central to the story.

I'll start by saying that I can see why people get on board with John Green. Not only is he an excellent writer, style wise, he knows how to keep a story going, and I have to admit that the plot was pretty compelling, and I read it in about three sittings, so obviously I was into it. Anyway, I would give the writing five stars. It's really good, and my only real beef, aside from some excessive vulgarity, was what came after the climax and during the denouement, which I will come to in a moment.

So here is the rundown. Basically these two kids grow up next to each other. Quentin is your basic boy next door. Sort of nerdy, really nice...an over all good kid. Margo is the popular queen bee, and she rules the social strata of the high school. Then one night, just after midnight, she shows up at Quentin's window, ready to have an adventure. Hijinks ensue. And then the next day, Margo is missing. But she's left some clues behind, and Quentin is determined to follow her trail of crumbs.

Now the story is captivating. But here is my beef. I do not like Margo. The other characters are fine. I'm not sure I love them, but I do like them. However, because I don't like Margo and I ABSOLUTELY. DO. NOT. GET. HER. APPEAL., I was a little put off. Why chase after a girl who does not care one iota, by all clues given, about anyone but herself? We are supposed to believe that her parents are selfish and unconcerned with her well being, but there is just too little evidence of this. A few explanations and one or two actions don't prove to me that they are horrible people.

And then Margo is supposed to be this deep, complicated girl, who cleverly gets revenge on her little minions...the other popular people who inhabit her social realm. But tell me this. Why does a smart, complicated girl surround herself with bimbos and meat heads? And why, most importantly, is she surprised by their bad behavior when she knows perfectly well what sorts of people she has decided to befriend? Smart people know that when they take the risk and pick up the snake, they run the risk of being bitten by the snake. Then...ugh...she acts like it is impossible to extract herself from this toxic environment and the ONLY solution is to run away. She must run away from her horrid parents and her horrid friends and her horrid life. Is she suicidal? Will they find her somewhere dead because she just couldn't take her poor, tortured existence anymore? Oh brother. I'm not making light of suicide, but I almost feel like here, Green isn't quite taking the topic seriously enough because Margo isn't developed adequately for me to buy ANY of this.

Instead, she becomes an egomaniac...no a megalomaniac. And these four really nice kids go chasing after her even though she isn't close to any one of them except, maybe, for Lacey, but it sounds like that relationship is pretty strained. And just FYI, Lacey is supposed to be this really mean girl, but she ends up falling for one of Quentin's nerd compatriots, and she seems really thoughtful, her one flaw being that she always points out Margo's "curves". In the end, I liked Lacey more than I liked Margo...by a long shot. And I really do not think that was Green's intention.

I will also say that it requires some suspension of disbelief because either all the teenagers in this book are stealth ninjas, expert at avoiding any and all adult supervision/consequences when they are off on their exploits or the adults here are just entirely oblivious. I think all teens know how to get away with some shenanigans, but this is a bit much for me.

But here is my real issue with the story. The ending. At the end, the didactic explanation of the outcome through a series of metaphors as expounded upon by two teenagers was...??? You know? I mean, come on. Teenagers are often much more thoughtful and smart that we give them credit for, but this was just a bit too much. Grown adults don't talk this way, let alone know how to cope with a situation as extreme as an eighteen year old running away from home and all that follows. And then to sum up all reasons for such complicated behavior in a few metaphors? Sorry, once again, I don't buy it. Don't get me wrong. The metaphors were beautifully written. They just seemed rather heavy handed.

So why, then, the four stars? It isn't a bad story. It's a great story, if we only look at the way the plot develops. It is a great piece of writing, if we are talking about style alone. Mr. Green does indeed have a way with words. And for those reasons, I really did enjoy the book. I liked it quite a lot. But if you ask me about the characters, they fall short of real enough for me to buy their actions, most especially Margo. And even though this story is told through the eyes of Quentin, it is ultimately her story. I did not like her at all.

I will say this. It made me think...a lot. And I'm still thinking about it. A lot. So I do recommend it. And maybe you will like Margo or feel like you understand her. Me...not so much.


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Mysterious...

When I get sick with the flu, I have the same symptom every time. My shoulder sockets ache. I don't know if others experience this particularly delightful symptom, but I can be certain that something is going down when my shoulder sockets start to ache and my neck hurts and everything between my upper shoulders feels warm and painful to the touch.

So this has been happening a lot of late. Followed by absolutely no other symptoms. I keep thinking, this is it. I'm going to get sick. And then nothing happens. No sore throat. No runny or stuffed up nose. No stomach ache. Just the achy shoulders. I don't understand. It's a mystery.

I'm sitting here. I'm watching some Jay Leno and his headlines. I'm hardly laughing...although it is mildly amusing. And my shoulder sockets hurt a lot. Part of me just wishes that since this has happened several times over the past three months that I would just get sick. Am I crazy? Probably, and the minute I do get sick, I will regret ever wishing that, but right now I'm tired of the symptom and I want it to go away. And if getting sick means it will stop, well???

A Long Way from Chicago

Another delightful story for the younger set.

A Long Way from Chicago by Richard Peck

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Told more in the style of vignettes rather than a continuous story, A Long Way from Chicago is the story of Joey, his younger sister Mary Alice, and their adventures when they travel each summer to visit their Grandma Dowdel. Grandma Dowdel is not your typical grandma, and the kids find themselves learning from her unconventional relationships with her small town compatriots.

I loved the stories because they were sweet and the characters are endearing, most especially their grandmother. I also like the vignettes. Each summer gives the reader a glimpse into the workings of this small town. Grandma Dowdel is a somewhat surly sort, but she has a big heart and a way of quietly helping those around her. I love the way she puts people in their places through subtle manipulation. And the ending was especially brilliant. I won't spoil it, but it did bring a tear to my eye.

However, I couldn't quite bring myself to give this five stars. As is often my beef with juvenile literature*, I wanted more development of the characters. Peck is a great writer, but I found myself comparing this to Gary Schmidt's Okay For Now, and because Schmidt's story is so well developed, I could not help but feel that this fell a little short for me. Perhaps if they had had a few more adventures with Grandma Dowdel, I would have absolutely loved it. I certainly would have enjoyed a few more stories.

As it is, though, I really enjoyed it and highly recommend it. It's a quick, sweet little read full of charming anecdotes about life in a small town.

*I suppose this borders on YA literature, but I think my eight and nine year old nieces and nephews would get a kick out of it.


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Almost Over...or More Pictures

Once when I was traveling with my sweet Aunt Vicki, she told me that I needed to take more pictures with people actually in them. She was right. Unless you are a professional photog, her advice was good. Vacation pics look best when someone is actually in the pictures.

And I'm thinking now that this experiment is almost over, pictures would have been good. More of them. I'm not the best about taking them...not the way I used to when I was younger. But I could have easily planned more posts with photos since having an iphone makes being a photog easy. And then again, it's just always nice to have pictures. We all like pictures.

But this is almost over. Before the end of this month, my year long blog challenge will be over. I'll still be posting, but it definitely won't be every day. Maybe, when I'm not reviewing a book, though, I'll post more pictures.

Surprises

I don't know what it is with my siblings and surprises but they like to keep things a secret. Yesterday my younger brother called me and asked me if I could come and pick him up. He was driving from Texas to Provo so that he could move a friend. But I couldn't tell Mom and Dad.

My sister-in-law, Carol, did the same thing in November. She showed up for her grandfather's funeral and then suddenly was just walking through the door for Sunday dinner. My sister-in-law Leah showed up in October when my mom was coming home from Texas. Leah was just with her when my mom walked through the door.

I like that they come, and it is fun to see them, but what's up with the need to keep someone out of the loop? My dad could NOT have been more surprised. My brother just casually walked into the living room after having taken a shower. And then my mom was very surprised when there he was, sitting on the couch. It was pretty funny to watch.

Still...I'm not sure I get it. Those siblings of mine.

Swept Off My Feet

Overheard at the gym today. And in my defense, no, I was not eaves dropping because...1. I had my earbuds in and was listening to music; 2. I really avoid any contact with anyone at the gym (read, I ignore people), unless I know them because I don't come to the gym to hang out and chat it up; 3. the guy was talking super loud (see number one, reference to my earbuds); and 4. the guy was working out right next to where I was.

Guy 1: I just want to be swept of my feet.

Guy 2: Oh yeah?

Guy 1: Yeah, but that won't happen because I'm so bleep picky. Unless she's a bleep Victoria's Secret model.

Stay classy guy one, stay classy.

Let me break this down for you.

1. I did not know that guys wanted to be "swept off of their feet." I almost did a double take when I heard that. Am I sexist? I don't know, but NEVER in my life have I heard those words coming from the mouth of a guy/man/boy that I know. I know a few. I've dated a few. I have a few brothers/uncles/cousins/friends. It isn't that I think our male counterparts don't want to fall in love. Of course they do. We all do. But swept off of your feet? Really? Strange...are you a seventeen-year-old girl?

2. I know this was not meant for my ears, and the guy was young - early twenties would be my guess. People say stupid things. But being swept of your feet requires "hawtness" and that alone? I have never met a Victoria's Secret model. Maybe if I met Heidi Klum I would think she was a lovely person, inside and out. She seems super cool on Project Runway, after all. So maybe we'd be bffs. But that isn't the point, is it? I have no beef with the beautiful women of the world. But is that what we've come to? That you fall in love with someone because that someone is "hawt"? Oh brother. Please tell me that this is NOT what the world is coming to, I beg of you!

3. What does picky mean, anyway? Please do not misunderstand me. I want to be attracted to whomever I end up marrying, and who doesn't? But a guy need not be Matt Damon/George Cloony/Brad Pitt/Channing Tatum for me to think he is attractive. Kind is attractive. Ambitious is attractive. Funny is attractive...oh funny is probably the most attractive. Smart is attractive. There are a lot of things that make someone attractive, and actual physical attraction is only a small part of that. So am I picky if I want a guy that makes me laugh? Am I picky if I want a guy that makes me think and that I can talk to? Or is picky only about looking "hawt"? I really really hope not.

4. What happens when you age and your relationship is based on physical attraction? Please someone, tell me that. Is that the only reason we have relationships with the opposite gender? I really and truly and completely hope not. I think people want to be loved for more than that. Most especially, I think we should love others for more than that.

It's Love Month...

And I'm not going to be sad because I am single. I really prefer to think of Valentine's Day as a day to celebrate all those things that you love about your life and all those people in it that make it better. And so as a precursor to Valentine's Day, I am going to write a little bit about something I love.

I love lots and lots of things, of course, but I want to just extol the virtues of books for a moment. I love them, obviously. I read them once in a while. They've offered me so much over the years.

The love affair started with the likes of Little House on the Prairie and Anne of Green Gables. I remember the shade of summer and the back porch. I think if ever I was lost somewhere, you could probably find me curled up with a book.

When I was a girl, and sort of awkward and I didn't have much of a social life - junior high is the absolute worst time in the entire world - I took a great deal of comfort in books. Books offered lots of distraction and plenty of escapism. I really wanted, then, to live in New Jersey. I had no idea. But that is where The Babysitters Club resided, and so of course I wanted to be there and I wanted to go to the Jersey Shore, and of course, all of this is because I did not know about the Jersey Shore, but then again, this was pre The Real Housewives craze and all the nonsense that ensued later, so what can I say? I think that The Babysitters Club is pretty perfect reading for young girls...it's jut good, clean fun.

And of course, my mom really wanted to be get into the classics, and maybe she feared I was brain damaged because I just didn't want to read Jane Eyre. But when I did, oh boy, that book changed my life forever because it was pretty much the most romantic story I've ever heard of, and I wanted to be Jane. It was soon after that I discovered A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, a book I read only for the title...isn't it just the most beautiful title? Oh it is. And so I think I read that five times. There were many others...Gone With the Wind, The Great Gastby, Huckleberry Finn, To Kill a Mockingbird. Let's not forget To Kill a Mockingbird, my favorite book in all of high school. And then there was 1984 which was horrible and fascinating and probably the most provocative book I had read to date.

College was nothing short of perfect for me, even though I thought, for a time, that I would not major in English. Why I ever contemplated anything else is beyond me now, but I got over it. I got smart. The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Sun Also Rises, Madame Bovary. Honestly, it was probably the best time ever because I was learning so much and talking to students and professors who shared a passion for what I loved.

I think as I've gotten older, books have become many things to me...mostly a chance to escape and a chance to inhabit another world, for a moment. I love stories, really, and I love being told a good story.

So here is to the first day of love month...I love books!