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Browsing Tag: #bookclub
Do those two words conjure dusty corners and musty smells? Do you think of lamplight and heavy drapes and threadbare cushions on antique furniture? Do you envision leather bound tomes, heavy as bricks, piled on every surface and crammed into shelves that reach to the ceiling? Do you picture bespectacled old women, peering at you from under steel gray buns when a book from your pile slips to the floor, causing a disruption? Do you conjure up card catalogs and rainy afternoons and periodicals enjoyed by a large potted plant? Perhaps you are remembering hours spent in your school library among books on spaceships and whales with rainbow posters on the creme colored cinder block walls. Maybe you remember being slumped in a plastic chair at a round table with a chipped veneer finish, #2 pencil in one hand, the other in a fist at your hairline as you tried to determine what the differences are between porpoises and dolphins for your research paper. Or was it college, when you were there in your cubby, scratching out an outline to your thesis and some grad student was being helpful and surfing through ten weeks worth of newspapers from Chicago’s Great Fire on the microfiche to help you. You were taken into the archives by a lady who probably painted lines up the back of her legs during WWII. You’re tapping away on one of those newfangled Apple computers, the monitor the color of a cherry Lifesaver…
Book Club meets on the third Wednesday of each month. Oh, I remembered to go, it wasn’t that. I just misplaced the location. It wasn’t where I thought it was, but I was within a hundred yards, so I guess it counts. The book up for discussion was What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty. I read it a couple of years ago, and thought I would be good to go after reviewing my synopsis on Goodreads. Notsomuch. So I set about rereading it in the three days preceding Wednesday. That didn’t work out so well, either. I got pretty far, seeing as how all the underlining was already done (ha), and her books always read quick, she writes so easy. Sure, it’s chick lit, but it’s quality. Oh, here’s your link, before I forget- https://amzn.to/2BVbajw I loved Alice. That is, old Alice, circa 1999. Who wouldn’t love her? She is absentminded, easygoing, and perfectly kooky. She’s a bit timid and naive but everything has that new, unaltered, fresh feel of young love and your whole life ahead of you. See, Alice bumped her head when she fell over in her fitness class. She’d been this driven overachiever mom of three angels, pushing herself to be perfect at everything, and going through a divorce. She was 39. So the question was poised: Would you go back? Hell yes I would…
Today was the big day!! Book fair day! This rates right up there with Thanksgiving and my birthday for me. We go to the library, where Rhonda has carefully cultivated a selection of about twenty books for us to choose from. We vote for twelve, and the ones with the highest number of votes go on our list for next year’s book club picks. We’re the Pageturners, so there is always an eclectic mix of current literature, suspense/ thriller, classics, chick lit, fantasy, with maybe a YA or apocalyptic one thrown in. It’s a blast, especially if there’s a tie and the ones who want to read it lobby for more votes. This probably sounds super nerdy to those of you who don’t devour books like the four of us us do, but let me tell you, I look forward to this day all year. Then, we go to the eatery of choice and have dinner and drinks and discuss the previous month’s selection. January’s pick was The Night the Lights Went Out by Karen White. Of course I’ve been fiddle farting around for some time now and didn’t get it read. I’m about halfway, but I had it figured out, for the most part. It didn’t matter. I’m there for the food. I mean, companionship. šš¤£ We had a great time, discussing everything from Nazis to…
I’ll be the first to admit I don’t get out much (I hear Tracy and Rhonda muttering amen). But there’s a good reason for that. One, the majority of people annoy me. I had my fair share of the multitudes during my fifteen years of retail. Two, I’m happy at home. It’s cozy, it’s comfy, and I have everything I need. Namely books. Three, I have given myself a nearly unattainable goal of reading 75 books this year. I’m currently ahead of schedule by six, but I think that’s mainly due to being off Facebook for Lent. I have no doubt that I will be sucked right back into its addictiveness come April 2nd. Really, I’m dreading it. Just like everybody else, I’m friends with people I don’t follow. These people are the ones who will no doubt message me, wondering why I haven’t been sucked into their latest drama. Right now I can claim that I didn’t see it “because I’m not on Facebook” but that excuse won’t fly in two weeks time. And people don’t want to hear that I really just don’t care. ItĀ is rude, I recognize that. But I can’t help it. The truth’s the truth. ThereĀ ARE things I can’t wait to…
It terrifies and saddens me that I almost lived a life without Neil Gaiman. He is most wonderful and gifted and unique and I was thisclose to never knowing. If you need a vacation for your brain, if you want to slip into something more comfortable, if you’re tired of the pretentious books with parallel meanings and readers’ guides (why can’t they just say what the want to, for the LOVE), if you can’t stand the thought of another book hailed as a “gripping suspenseful novel with a twist, the likes of which have been unseen since Gone Girl” THEN READ NEIL GAIMAN. On second thought, just read him for the love of reading. Read for the childhood you think you’ve lost. It’s just there, around the bend. Step in. Step through the wall. Perhaps you’ll meet your hearts desire. Maybe you’ll catch a star. Buy it here I don’t know why it’s not showing the picture….it’s a pretty fantastic cover. There’s a unicorn in this book, for Pete’s sake.Ā A UNICORN…
Get it here. You’re gonna want to, trust me. Of course I’ve known of Rebecca for years. I’ve had it on my TBR (that’sĀ “to be read” for those of you not down with fanatical reader lingo) list forĀ over a year. I was going for it last year when I changed my mind to Jane Eyre for whatever reason. They’re similar, in that they’re both that of the Gothic Fiction variety, but that’s where the similarities end. This book gets right down to it, and there’s less of the fawning over the dashing Maxim de Winter, thanks be to God. Not that there’s less love, there’s just much more compelling drama andĀ livelier characters. Mrs. Danvers took shape in my mind immediately as a former coworker of mine, Judy. I won’t go into that here. I don’t want to say too much, you should read it and wonder as I did. I had no trouble at all envisioning Manderley, the author is quite talented (obviously) at spinning a vivid portrait of the glorious estate. I wanted to sit under the chestnut tree, and walk along the shingle beach, and eat a scone in front of the library fireplace while rubbing Jasper’s silken ears. Yes, I would like to send for a new frock from London. And freshen those flowers while you…
This is a book about a lie that never ends. I like almost all books set in the south, so it’s no surprise I enjoyed this one (makes me wonder why it took me three and a half years to finally reading it after I purchasedĀ it).Ā I wonder if I would have rated it five stars if I hadn’t read it on the coattails of The Stranger in The Woods, but I don’t think so. There were a few discrepancies that I find hard to ignore, mostly with the weather. I find it hard to believe that it was chilly enough on Christmas Eve in Florida to warrant a fire. And the heat is barely mentioned, although I know for a fact Florida is positively stifling in the summertime. And Lord at the bugs. But anyway. The book lags for the first third, and to me, didn’t become truly compelling until about halfway. However, don’t write it off because it’s worth a read. And it goes fast! I love how the maid is named Blanche, I can see her clearly. I love how Miz Ora Beckworth grows and develops even as she ages outwardly. I absolutely ADORE her sharp tongue. I wish I had been witty enough to use her one-liner: “Nice day, idnnit?” “It was.” She taps all the Southernisms right on the head, right down to the closeness of families…
Here’s the requisite amazon link I love it when I finish a book in a day. I could have read it in a few hours, had I been fully committed and devoted, but Easter. Not that my family is unaccustomed to me having my nose stuck in a book the majority of the time, I do try to pretend to be in the mix of things on holidays. I always read the one star reviews on Amazon. Always. I find they are more honest than the gushing five stars. Also, you can tell by the grammar and spelling whether their opinions are valid. Additionally, a surprising number of people don’t seem to understand the star system, or perhaps they get too excited and hit one when they mean to choose five. Whatever. The disparaging reviews came from two types of people: Gossip mongers who read primarily tabloids who found the research about hermits through the years tedious, and people who thought the book was an invasion of privacy. ………the question begs to be asked: Sooooooo why did you buy it? Obviously Mr. Finkel planned to capitalize on the story. He may have donated some funds to Christopher’s family, but from what I read, they would have instantaneously rejected it. I found the book fascinating, as I knew I would after coming upon an article about him on Facebook last year. From that moment I had hoped a book would come out…
Jane Steele well, there’s supposed to be a picture there. That’s your link to buy, by the way. The book ends with these wise words (don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare spoil it for you!): “We tell stories to strangers to ingratiate ourselves, stories to lovers to better adhere us skin to skin, stories in our heads to banish the demons. When we tell the truth, often we are callous; when we tell lies, often we are kind.” That resonated with me, as I’ve always had a passion for the truth, and also why so many people can’t stomach me. Which is fine. I’m not gonna tell you I think your baby is cute (unless it really, really is. And they have to be something truly spectacular for me to remark upon it), or that you’ve a nice steed, or that you look good in that dress unless I really mean it. Naturally, this earns me more than a few enemies, as people are coddled and stroked and told all manner of lies all the livelong day. I went into this book thinking it was going to read like Jane Eyre had metamorphosized (WordPress doesn’t recognize that spelling, but I googled it to make sure I was correct) into Stephen King. Unfortunately, that is not the case. All of her are murders are SUPREMELY justified, if I do say so…
Pageturnerās Book Selection November About a GirlĀ by Lindsey Kelk I’ll admit I groaned when this one was announced. I thought I was above reading chick litāBritish chick lit, at thatāin my ripe old age. But obviously, I have forgotten how much fun it is! Itās pretty much the story of any up-and-coming girl in the city. Girl has entry-level advertising job, where she is desperate to advance. Girl is secretly in love with her best guy friend for going on ten years. Girl works her fingers to the bone with ad agency only to be made āredundantā & let go. Girl is now without purpose & is sitting on a park bench in London, all āwoe-is-meā when a Nazi sympathizer tries to rob her, only to learn she has nothing to rob. Not even a phone. Nazi sympathizer converts to Tess sympathizer & gives her the latest phone heās ripped off somebody. At least now she has a phone. Girl goes home to the apartment she shares with Satanās mistress, Vanessa, to drown more sorrows with her girl BFF, Amy, & biscuits (read: cookies. Weāre in England, you knockers). The trio of besties go to Tessās parents for a family function, girl gets blind drunk & snogs boy best friendā¦and moreā¦& boy best friend morphs into a wanker afterwards. Girlās mother is mortified that she lost her job, slept with Charlie…
