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{#48 Word count 100. Write a eulogy for a famous fictional character. Only reveal who it is at the end} She was the hottest trick in shoe leather, all the beaus of the county after her. And no wonder, with a seventeen inch waist! But she married Mister Charles Hamilton to provoke her true heart’s desire. Shortly thereafter, widowed by the war, she moved to Atlanta to join her sister-in-law and aunt. She nursed injured soldiers at the hospital near the depot for a time and delivered her SIL’s baby with little to no help from her simpleminded darkie. She finally left Atlanta with her stolen mule once the Yankees began to burn it. She, her SIL, the newborn baby, and maid waited out the Union Troops under a bridge in a flood. Upon returning home she found that the farm had been seized by Union Troops and all their livestock and crops had been ransacked and stolen. Her mother dead, and her father gone batty, she was forced to be at once both the lady of the house and the overseer. She shot a Yankee deserter who broke into the house while her family picked cotton in the scorching hot red clay fields. Flat broke, father now gone as well, she and her mammy fashioned a dress of curtains to beg for tax money for the farm from a wealthy gentleman she had befriended in Atlanta, but all was in vain. It was…
Sometimes I think I’m doing all right, that I’ve got my act at least on stage, if not together. These are generally the times I’m comparing my life to the people you see in the news who have their heads stuck in pickle jars and the like. Other times, I embrace the fact that I’m batshit crazy and there’s simply nothing that can be done for my affliction. Today I thought I was doing alright. I even remembered to accessorize. Of course, when I got to work things took a nosedive, but that’s par for the course. My confidence was restored later, though, when the secretary of a large corporation requested a contract that I was reasonably sure I sent over last week. Digging through email archives, I unearthed it, and sent it back to her, along with the one from our insurance agent. She wrote back, apologizing profusely, blaming a lack of coffee on her slip. I was only too glad to soothe her, saying I was just glad I wasn’t the only one who goofed and felt crazy. It’s always nice when people who seem so professional are just as nutty as the rest of us. I have discovered this is nearly everyone. By the time we had finished our little conversation, she was signing her emails “Cait” instead of her full name with initial credentials 🙂 In celebration of making…
You know when you are wanting some greasy salty potato chips but you don’t have any, but you’ve got a pack of plain saltines, and since they’re the closest thing you’ve got, you eat them even though you know they’re not going to be nearly as good? And you bite down only to discover they’re stale? That’s how this book was for me. A poor, tasteless, substitution for what could have been a rich, colorful story. I typically prefer Southern literature above all other genres. I even had the pleasure of meeting this author the other day. I’m just so thankful I had already purchased this Kindle book for $1.99. Because I probably would have cried my eyes out had I paid $26.95. Poor Ella May. Poor children. Poor Yankees, millworkers, law dogs, displaced mountain people, and all small minded individuals. There was a whole lot to root for in this book, but it’s all heartbreaking. Her story needed to be told, but I just feel like we learned about her in jumps and starts and it was hard to remember who was who as we read different perspectives from chapter to chapter. I still don’t know what to think, but I’m apt to believe all the same problems still exist. I’ll give you the link for ease of you reading other opinions, but…
If you’re one of those readers who has to have a character you identify with, or at least like, this book is not for you. Come to think of it, Gillian Flynn is not for you. The book dragged for me in the middle, hence the four stars. Otherwise, probably her best one. What a tangled web of deceit she weaves! But beyond depressing. What is it with these families in Kansas murdered in their house? Maybe it’s just because I finished In Cold Blood the other day. I do appreciate Gillian Flynn for giving us answers and tying up loose ends…even if they aren’t the answer or the ending you want…
It’s a little embarrassing how much I loved this book, most especially after I was so sure I was going to hate it. Nothing like being wrong. First of all, THAT COVER. *stars in my eyes* I haven’t figured out how to do all the fancy italics and emojis on here, so you’ll just have to inject your own enthusiasm and implied meanings. This book took me by surprise by how good it was and, of course, the sexual overtones that popped up out of nowhere that ended up being the entire premise of the novel. Â If you make it through the first chapters (which seem totally out of sync with the rest of the book…not sure what purpose they served) you’ll be gone up the river with them by page 50. I suppose I’ve never given much thought to anthropologists and what their work encompasses, besides being completely filthy all the time. Ick. Not for me. And a struggle for Bankston, our male protagonist, as well: “‘And I am bad luck in the field, utterly ineffective. I couldn’t even manage to kill myself properly.’” But he does get sick, as he says this. It’s almost like he brought he omen on himself, as no mention has been made to his poor health. “The spangles returned at that moment from all sides, and my eyeballs ached suddenly and painfully. The…
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’s “to be read” for those of you not down with fanatical reader lingo) list for 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 and 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…
Well, it took me a month but I did it. I listened to all the people who said I would love it, and indeed I did, once I got past the initial hump. These big books…they gotta hook you and drag you under. I channeled my reserves, like when I committed to The Goldfinch and The Witching Hour. This book literally has it all. While I would still probably classify it as chick lit, there’s something for everyone, if you keep an open mind. Time travel, sci-fi, fantasy, suspense, war and adventure, romance, and religion. It’s a lot to put yourself through. I read the majority in three days’ time, and I’m feeling the exertion. But I’m glad it’s behind me and i can gush with the rest of the population, “It’s so good!!” Because it is. And Jamie Fraser is most definitely worth sacrificing hot baths and penicillin for…
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 purchased it). 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…
Buy Me on Amazon (But if I were you I’d rent it from the library….I am a horrible salesman) One thing’s for sure…I would have been a crappy secretary in 1952. I mean, let’s face it, I’m not the greatest in 2017. My typing “skills”, be that as they may, is my left hand does almost all the work, and I peck with my right index finger occasionally. And I have to look, unless I’m typing STRAW or “Thank you for your interest. Please see the attached quote Brian prepared for you. Don’t hesitate to contact us with any questions.” because I have typed those words thousands of times. My hair is constantly a mess, no matter if it’s tied up in a knot or down. The only time I wear gloves is if it’s in the single digits. My back is rarely ramrod straight, and it would never occur to me to cross my ankles. Demure is not in my vocabulary. The only thing I would excel at is my telephone etiquette, as I’ve never had trouble with volume 🙂 The deafest customer never had a problem hearing me at Co-op. All that aside, this book had great premise, but came off reading like a sixth grade romance novel. Neither story was plausible, as she strove to hard for parallelism between Darby in…
You like twisty plots? Warped characters? Page turning suspense? Then this is what you need to pick up. Right freaking now. You can’t figure it out, I promise you that. What an insane read. Unbelievable. This is the best book I’ve read in forever. And it’s drawn out and it makes you want to scream at Louise for not handling things differently; a kind of “Don’t go in the basement with the guy wearing the hockey mask” type of helpful advice, but you won’t be able to put it down, I assure you that. And you wonder…as far fetched as it sounds…could it happen? Don’t the best books make you wonder that? Make you second guess all the things you think you know? I mean, if it rocked Stephen King’s world, isn’t it good enough for you? And look, the author is wonderfully private: Everybody’s talking about the ending. Don’t you want to know?? Buy it here NOW  …
