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Marie at 1 Write Way

  • A Different Kind of Book Review: Eating Bull by Carrie Rubin #MondayBlogs #bookreview @sitting_bulls

    June 6th, 2016

    Hello, dear friends.  I’m on a roll.  Make that a whole-grain roll. Here is another “different kind of book review,” this time of Eating Bull by Carrie Rubin.  Carrie is not just a writer but she’s also a physician and public health advocate, a powerful combination evidenced by her novel.  I’d add humorist as well since she’s quite adept at that humor so particular to the medical professions.  You have been warned.

    Without further ado, a different kind of book review of Eating Bull …

    ***

    Maggie stared at the plate of garlic french fries that the waitress had just placed in the middle of their table, after also depositing a black-bean burger with Provolone cheese in front of her, a quarter-pound Angus burger with blue cheese in front of Mary, and one with Brie in front of Melissa.  Beside each of their plates stood tall glasses of iced Coke Zero.  “Save room for dessert, ladies!  Today we have several kinds of cheesecake!”  The waitress trotted away from them, her blond ponytail bouncing away, her petite figure hugged gently, almost lovingly, by stretch denim.

    “Bet she doesn’t eat here.”  Melissa scowled, shrugged and then took a bite of her burger.  Melissa was thin too.  No matter what she ate or how much she ate, she had always been and, no doubt, always would be thin.  She was thin to the point of angularity, but aside from a couple of bad spells when she stopped eating because of stress, she had, best as her cousins could tell, a healthy appetite.

    And for that, Mary and Maggie harbored some resentment toward her.  They both “watched” their weight and seemed to be in a perpetual struggle to just maintain the status quo.  For Maggie, that meant walking an extra mile or two whenever the waistband of her favorite jeans was a bit too snug for comfort.  For Mary, it meant fasting until she get her jeans zipped without having to lie on the bed.

    Maggie hadn’t touched her food yet and was still staring at the fries, their delicate garlic scent making her stomach grumbled.

    Melissa looked her.  “It’s like that line in the book: ‘Like a dog in search of a bone, he longed to scamper after the scent.’  All the smells in this restaurant conspire to make us hungry, or think we’re hungry.”

    “Oh, but we are hungry.  It’s been, what, six hours since breakfast?  I don’t feel guilty about ordering this food and, Maggie, you shouldn’t either.”  Mary wiped away some blue cheese that frosted the side of her mouth. “Just skip supper tonight, or have something light.”

    Melissa snapped her fingers in front of Maggie and her cousin jerked back to awareness.

    “Sorry, I was just thinking.  Thinking of why we had decided to discuss the book here.  I mean, it’s about obesity and serial killers for goodness sake and we’re sitting here with the vehicles of death ready for consumption.”  Maggie popped a few fries into her mouth and then picked up her burger, eyeing it for the best line of attack.

    Mary snorted.  “Vehicles of death!  Well, I get it.  I have to admit, after reading Eating Bull, I didn’t think I’d ever have a burger again.  Thank goodness, we don’t have any fast-food places in this town.”

    Melissa nodded and scarfed down a few fries.  “But that’s only because we have too small a population.  Even when the slopes are open, most skiers stay across the lake, not here.  And there you do see places like Mickey D and Burger King.”

    “Well, since we’re here and we think we can rationalize eating burgers while discussing the novel, what did you think of it?”  Maggie had chosen Eating Bull for their book club so she could rationalize steering her cousins to do the discussing while she ate.

    “Oh, I loved it,” Mary mumbled through a mouthful of fries.  She swallowed, then took a big gulp of soda.  “I don’t think I’ve ever come across a thriller that made me laugh.  Carrie Rubin has that kind of humor you hear among medical and public health professionals, all very tongue-in-cheek but still spot-on.”

    “Yeah, she has that unflinching perspective.  How did she describe one character?  “Her wide ass an egg crate of dimples”?  Egad, I had to drop the book and then my pants to check out my own butt when I read that!”  Melissa laughed out loud, something she rarely did.  Her cousins stared at her for a moment, incredulous that, of the three of them, she’d be the one worried about what her ass looked like.

    “Out of context, some of her descriptions may seem harsh, like when Jeremy describes his presence as like “an orca in a kiddie pool.”  But it was Jeremy thinking that about himself, so I felt okay about laughing, but then I also felt sad.”  Mary pushed around the fries with her fingernails, as if unsure whether to have any more.

    “Yes, there’s the humor, the dark humor, but I was also impressed with how sympathetic she made the serial killer.”  Maggie pushed aside her plate, her burger half-eaten.  “I don’t know if schizophrenic is the right word or not, but he hears a voice, something telling him what to do.  He’s a very sick man and at the extreme end of the spectrum on health and fitness.  Jeremy was at the other end.  His mother, Connie, somewhere in the middle.  I thought of her as being like the rest of us.  She didn’t need to be perfect.  She just needed the tools and the support to live a healthier life.”

    “What did you think about Sue the Warrior?”  Mary smiled as she asked.  She had really liked the character of Sue but she wasn’t sure why.  They had nothing in common.

    “She was a warrior, wasn’t she?  Almost to the point of pissing me off though.”  Melissa pushed her plate away, a limp piece of lettuce being the only remnant of her burger.  “I mean, she had an uphill battle, trying to take on the fast-food industry, and I could understand why she wanted to.  As a public health nurse, she knows it’s just not fair to expect that you only need self-discipline to control your weight and be healthy.  It’s easy for people who have quick access to healthy food and safe neighborhoods, but near impossible for people like Jeremy.  Every time he walked to school, he ran the risk of being beat-up by bullies, and the only safe places for him are the fast-food places.”

    “Every time Jeremy thought of going to the vending machine, I wanted to yell “No, don’t go!”  But I understood the pull.  What’s the point of denying yourself your comfort food when you already feel like a failure?  But why did Sue almost piss you off?”  Maggie looked directly at Melissa, willing herself to not look at the chocolate peanut butter cheesecake being delivered to the table in front of her.

    “Well, maybe I’m being a little harsh.  It’s just that she was so focused on “the greater good,” that she lied by omission, keeping her husband out of the loop, endangering her life and their home.  Even keeping information from Connie.  She was playing with fire and sometimes she was just too righteous about it.”

    Maggie nodded, practically ducking as a triple berry cheesecake entered her peripheral vision.  The colors of the cheesecake also reminded her of the first killing scene in the novel. She might have to avoid red and yellow food for a while.

    Mary made a loud sucking sound with her straw and then quietly burped.  “Overall, what I really liked about this novel is the complexity of the characters.  Everyone has flaws.  Sue isn’t perfect and that makes her believable.  An imperfect warrior, if you will.  Jeremy is a sweet kid but also a coward, although understandably so.  Connie is a good mom but has lousy judgment about men.  Darwin, well, he’s a serial killer so I guess no redeeming qualities there.  But everyone else has their pluses and minuses, even the minor characters.”

    “And the novel’s not preachy, either.  Sue is preachy, but the novel overall is not preachy.  There’s a good, well-paced plot.  I also like how she wrote from different perspectives, Sue, Jeremy, and even Darwin.  It’s always creepy to get inside the head of a psychopath, but the why of his killing people is critical to the story.”  Maggie looked around for their waitress.  She waited to pay the bill and get out of there.

    “And it ends as it should end, but Rubin keeps you on the edge, especially in the last few chapters.  I swear, even though I figured out who Darwin was early on, part of me still felt unsure until almost the end.  So many people seemed capable of being Darwin, which is a scary thought by itself.”  Melissa raised her hand and snapped her fingers, calling out “Check, please” as their waitress dropped off one amaretto cheesecake and three forks to a table of three young women.  For a moment, she thought … and then she thought not.

    Mary piled their plates, a habit long held over from her summers waitressing at this same restaurant.  “At least, this isn’t a fast-food place.  I’ll grant that most of the food is high in calories, but at least it’s cooked fresh and you can make substitutions.  I can’t believe I worked here after school.  That was almost thirty years ago.”

    “Yes, well … .” Maggie smiled up at the waitress as she handed her the check.  “I am glad Jake is keeping this place in the family and not caving into super sizing everything and offering deals for more food than is safe to eat.”

    As they stood up to leave, Melissa directed her cousins’ attention to the table of three women sharing a slice of cheesecake.  “Next time,” Maggie said.  “No burgers but we could have coffee and share one of those.” The other two smiled as they followed her out of the crowded restaurant.

    ***

    Well, my friends, I hope you enjoyed this review and will waste no time in picking up a copy of Eating Bull, available at Amazon.  Bon appétit!

     

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  • A Different Kind of Book Review: Silk for the Feed Dogs by Jackie Mallon #MondayBlogs #bookreview

    May 16th, 2016

    Hello, dear friends.  It’s time for another “different kind of book review.”  The novel I chose is Silk for the Feed Dogs by Jackie Mallon.  You might already know Jackie through her blog at https://jackiemallon.com/ And if you don’t, I suggest that you make your way over there now and have a look around.  I’ll wait.

    Jackie writes about fashion and most of her posts now link to FashionUnited.  Jackie has such a wonderful way with words that even if I don’t have a clue about the designer or design she is writing about, I still enjoy reading her posts.  And I always learn something.  Much as I felt upon reading her novel.  So, without further ado, a different kind of book review …

    ***

    Maggie pulled open the little drawers of the antique Singer sewing machine.  They were full of bobbins and feet for every possible stitch.  The apparatus for the zig-zag stitch was in its own plastic green box. The machine had been her mother’s, handed down by her maternal grandmother.  Maggie’s mom had sewn most of her clothes when she was little, the machine humming through the day, somewhat like the “whirr of the Singer, which was neurotic, and monotonous” that Kat’s mom had used.

    Maggie had finished reading Silk for the Feed Dogs by Jackie Mallon and felt obliged to reacquaint herself with her sewing machine, if not sewing itself.  Maggie was a knitter, not a seamstress, and she was reconciled to that, although … .

    Mallon’s novel about a young Irish woman named Kat who goes from an Irish dairy farm to a high fashion house in Milan reminded Maggie that once upon a time she had fancied finding herself in fashion.  Like Kat, she had had an eclectic but creative edge with the clothes she made for herself:  flowing kimono-style blouses made of gold curtain material; squares of old lace handkerchiefs stitched together for short summer skirts.  Unlike Kat, she couldn’t draw to save her life.  And then she got painful bruises from the knee press of the old Singer.  Finally, she picked up a ball of yarn and two knitting needles and never looked back.

    “But, Kat, oh, what a character!”  Maggie’s cousins had barely sat down at the kitchen table when she started talking about Silk for the Feed Dogs the night before, her selection for that month’s book club.  Melissa and Mary were in attendance, but Randy was AWOL, which was okay with Maggie since she knew Mary’s fiance wasn’t really interested in reading about the escapades of a young fashion designer in Italy.

    Melissa held a lemon mini-scone in one hand and pulled the book toward her with the other.  “I do like this cover.  It’s almost like a collage, and don’t you have an old sewing machine like that?”

    “Except mine has a knee press instead of a treadle.  That’s one of the reasons why I chose this novel.  Just from the cover you can tell this will be an intriguing story.  Why is this young woman asleep at an oversized sewing machine with fabric covering her almost like a quilt?”

    “I was hooked from the first line,” Mary interjected as she pulled the book away from Melissa and flipped through the pages.  “Ahem … ‘I heard the engine of the old red Massey Ferguson fart into life and I emerged running, scrambling to get my wellies on.’  This is how we meet Kat, on her family’s farm, about to help her ‘Da’ with birthing a calf.  Her mom gets a sewing machine that Kat wants no part of and yet she winds up going to a London art school for fashion design.”

    “And at a young age, too, which suggests to me that she had a calling, a real drive to pursue fashion as a career.”  Maggie suddenly felt wistful.  What was it like to have that kind of drive when you were only in your teens?

    “The juxtaposition between where she came from and where she went is profound, but …”  Melissa paused to take a sip of her hot tea.  Maggie and Mary waited, albeit a tad impatiently.  “But, it was too fast for me.  Literally from the first chapter to the second with no idea as to why she flipped from wanting no part of her mom’s sewing machine to being almost obsessed by clothing and fashion.”

    “Well, I felt that way too at first, but …”  Maggie paused to take a sip of her tea and then a bite of her scone.  Melissa raised her eyebrows.  “But, she does weave bits of her childhood life into the novel and she has phone conversations with her mom throughout.  I got the sense that she was a headstrong young girl who was pretty much encouraged to do anything she wanted.  Yet, her family eked by.  Remember, she could only have one cat when she was growing up because they couldn’t afford to feed more.  But sewing was a part of her mother’s life and I think Kat just inherited that gene, even if she fought against at first.”

    “I agree, Maggie.  She presents the question, how did she go from this to that, but …”  Mary paused and took a sip of her tea and then just stared at the few remaining scones as if trying to decide whether she wanted another.  Maggie stifled a laugh and Melissa rolled her eyes up to the ceiling.  Mary looked away from the scones.  “But she lets the reader figure it out by weaving, as you say, bits of her childhood into the narrative.  This novel is about her adventures in the fashion world.  Perhaps there will be another novel about her childhood.”

    “Oh, that would be wonderful!”  Maggie leaned forward, apparently finished with teasing Melissa.  “This was such an entertaining novel.  Mallon is an exceptional writer, don’t you think.  Listen to this.”  Maggie took the book and flipped to a dogeared page.

    ‘Fields with low-growing crops were crinkly like raffia, those mowed smooth were like cashmere, and one farm of land was so raked and tailored right to its sharp corners defined by trim hedgerows that it reminded me of a Max Mara wool crombie with fur collar that I’d admired recently in a magazine.’

    Melissa nodded.  “From that passage you definitely get the idea that fashion is in Kat’s blood.  I don’t even know what a Max Mara wool crombie is … .”

    “Right, I had to look some of that up,” Maggie interrupted.  “But that’s fine because I’m not a fashion designer, not even into fashion, not any more anyway.”

    “And while there is a lot about fashion in this novel, the characters practically pop off the page:  Kat herself; Edward, her gay friend who entices her to Milan; Lynda, the crazy fake designer in London and her codependent assistant Celeste; Signora Silvia, Eva, Paola, and Arturo, and all the Italian men who tried to seduce her–”

    “With some succeeding,” Melissa interjected with a grin.

    “Yes, if it weren’t for Randy, I’d probably would have booked a trip to Italy after reading Silk.”

    The cousins went silent for a few moments, each contemplating their misspent youth in a small town in northern New York state where Italian men were nil.

    Maggie jerked herself out of her reverie.  “And then she gets this amazing assignment at the House of Adriani, the top fashion house.  I never knew how hard people had to work at these places and how you have to keep checking your back for knives.  She achieves her dream and then, well, it’s interesting what she does then.”

    “Yes.” Mary sat back in her chair, the mood in the kitchen suddenly somber.  “I came away from this novel with a deep respect for Kat.  She doesn’t always show good judgement, but who does and, besides, what kind of story would it be if she did.  But she had a moral code that she wasn’t going to compromise for anyone.  And you feel that it was a code she was raised with, instilled by her father and mother.  Her loyalties are put to the test a number of times, but she has integrity and a strong sense of fairness.  She understands how the fashion world works.  She just has to decide if she could work within such a system.”

    Maggie gave a soft laugh.  “If it had been me, they would have chewed me up and spit me out the first day, if I ever even got that far.”  She looked up to see both Melissa and Mary frowning at her.  “When I was in junior high, I wanted to be a fashion designer.  But I can’t draw and my imagination only went so far.  I definitely didn’t have the focus or skill set that Kat has.  Still, it was a fantasy and that’s one of the things I enjoyed about this novel.  For the time it took to read it, I could vicariously enjoy a world that I know I will never be part of it.”

    “And isn’t that why we read novels?”  Melissa poured some tea into Maggie’s cup.

    “Isn’t that why we read at all?”  Mary reached for the plate of scones.  She’d take the last cinnamon scone.

    ***

    I hope you’ve enjoyed this review, but no doubt, you’ll enjoy Silk for the Feed Dogs even more.  Head over to Amazon to pick up a copy now!

     

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  • The Storms in Life

    May 13th, 2016

    Jill Weatherholt shares a beautiful story she received recently. Her timing is perfect for me because of my own family’s struggles right now. If you or someone you love is experiencing a challenge right now, especially a health challenge, you might find comfort in this story too.

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  • Pre-Order for Legends of Windemere Fantasy Series Bundle #2 is Available! #fantasy #ASMSG

    May 9th, 2016

    Hey, all you fantasy fiction fans! You know who you are. Charles Yallowitz, fantasy author extraordinaire, has TWO great book bundles for you. Check them out :)

    Charles Yallowitz's avatarLegends of Windemere

    Cover Art by Jason Pedersen Cover Art by Jason Pedersen

    Now Available on Amazon Kindle For Pre-Order!

    *This Book Bundle contains volumes 4-6 of the LEGENDS OF WINDEMERE fantasy series.*

    The destiny of Nyx, Sari, and Luke Callindor has been revealed, but that does not make their lives any easier. With old enemies still on the hunt, a new threat is stepping out of the shadows to indulge his sadistic desires. From battling the magic-devouring Krypters in Hero’s Gate to facing a demonic curse that has befallen one of our heroes, the champions will be pushed to their limits and beyond. Can the arrival of two more destined warriors improve their chances or will it bring them one step closer to failing like their predecessors?

    Get this bundle now & it will magically appear on your Kindle on June 1st!

    .

    .

    .

    That’s NOT All!
    Starting tomorrow Bundle #1 will be 99 cents for…

    View original post 23 more words

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  • Meditation on Life and Mom #MondayBlogs #MothersDay

    May 2nd, 2016

    My mother is one of 12 children.  She is 92 now.  In all likelihood, she’ll see her 93rd birthday in late October.  She was a middle child, but now she’s the oldest, having survived six of her siblings.  The youngest girl, my Aunt Edith, is in hospital now.  Dying.  From cancer that appears to have metastasized to her bones.  She is 83.  The circumstances of my aunt’s decline are sketchy.  We had seen her last October, as feisty and full-bodied as ever, but, frankly, looking a little older than my mom.  My aunt has had knee surgeries and other ailments; my mom, nothing but a cold here and there and a bit of skin cancer that was quickly dealt with.

    My mother considers herself blessed.  She has no explanation for why she is so healthy relative to all her siblings, why she almost seems to grow younger as they continue to age.

    Talking with my mom over the phone can be a surreal experience.  On one recent call, I just listened as she discussed her sister’s deteriorated condition, interspersing bits of details and questions (collapsed lung, lesions on her bones, dehydration, eating more now, where will she go next, why didn’t the doctor know) with observations on the variety of birds she feeds, the gray squirrels that entertain her (don’t forget, there’s also a red one), the lilies she planted last week showing shoots already, the two chipmunks that accidentally drowned in a bucket she keeps outside to catch rain (and that was too bad because she thinks chipmunks are cute).  I could have listened to her forever.

    There was dying (my aunt), living (the birds and squirrels), death (the chipmunks) and birth (the lilies)–all in ten minutes or so.  I wasn’t marking time.  Perhaps without intending to, she gave me perspective.  Things don’t make your life.  Life makes your life.

    My mom lives in a double-wide which she loves, although it’s beset by boxelder bugs and mice.  She lives quite frugally and she’s says it’s by choice, but really, it’s how she has always lived.  She wouldn’t know how to splurge if given the opportunity.  I sometimes call her Moneybags because every so often she hands out large checks to her children and grandchildren.  She’s “spending down,” trying to make sure there’s nothing to quibble over when she’s gone.  I roll my eyes.  The money is appreciated but it’s listening to her talk about her birds and squirrels and the occasional woodchuck that I’ll miss.

    I’m feeling pretty philosophical right now and wish it could be my constant state, but it takes effort.    For now I’ll just hold close her short monologue, replay it in my head whenever I feel bitter or tired or sorry for myself.

    It might work because this morning we saw a fledgling pileated woodpecker  in our backyard, the first one I’ve seen in many years.  I couldn’t wait to call my mom and tell her.

    https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:PileatedWoodpeckerFeedingonTree.jpg#file
    https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:PileatedWoodpeckerFeedingonTree.jpg#file

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  • Another Monday #MondayBlogs #JoanObsorne

    April 18th, 2016

    My friend and fellow blogger John Howell likes to commemorate Fridays.  For some (insane) reason, I’m hung up on Mondays … beginning of my work week, beginning of the race to the weekend, beginning of my hopes that I’ll end the week with both my mind and body intact (and usually it’s just one or the other … you guess which).

    And lately … I’ve been on a Joan Osborne kick. I have a couple of her CDs but since the local radio stations play the same crap music over and over and Borders exists no longer so the one store in town where I could sip a coffee and browse through the music section is gone … I’ve gone unaware of just how much Joan has produced.  The following clip from YouTube is a twofer:

    And if you want something that will get your hips shaking …

    Comments are closed as I’ll be too busy hip shaking my way through the work week :)

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  • Still Here But Not There #Mondayblogs #Nature #Mindfulness

    April 11th, 2016

    It’s been so long since I’ve been on my blog, I almost forgot my password.  WordPress recently “congratulated” me for having first registered with WP eight years ago.  My, my, how times flies.  Except … I have posts going as far back as November 2007.  Oh, I don’t want to be snippy, but my head is so full of computer code right now, it’s hard not to try and make mincemeat out of WP.

    Yes, sadly, my absence (or, at best my filmy, flimsy presence) is due in large part to my workplace.  It’s been a hellacious time with projects being delayed and then coming due all at the same time; with little nonsense fires that takes several people (including moi) to put out because, you know, leadership (or the lack thereof) don’t have a clue; with regular duties that get put off because of the projects and then the thousand mea culpas that I feel obliged to give because it’s “Nobody’s Fault But Mine.”  Okay, that is just the title of a song I like, as sung by Joan Osborne.

    I’ve been surfacing here and there in the blogosphere, trying to keep up with friends and failing (as usual) but … I can’t stop trying because there’s just so much good stuff being written and shared.

    Unlike this post.

    But there is light at the end of my workaday tunnel and I expect to (eventually) be back up and writing and reading and commenting … eventually, as I say.  I may never regain the energy or even the will to be a daily blogger as I once was or even a weekly one.  It’s not that I don’t want to write.  I do. I do. I do.  I just don’t feel compelled to engage with you all on only my platform when visiting you on yours is so much more fun.

    More importantly for me right now, I’m trying to get some balance in my daily life by engaging in mindfulness (and I do hope you all aren’t sick of hearing about mindfulness yet).  Spring has come to my corner of the US and I make a daily effort to get out and walk about, even if it’s just around my building.  The sun is warm but the air is cool in the shade and often I pick up my pace and make my way (with determination even) to a large pond uphill from the complex where I work.  Often my efforts are rewarded with sightings of hawks, red-winged blackbirds, egrets, blue herons, squirrels, rabbits, pond sliders, and lazy cats gazing out windows.  Recently, I was fortunate in coming upon a wood stork feeding in a clump of tall grass that bordered the pond.  I approached slowly, quietly, but the nervous large bird took exception to my presence and flew off.  And I was fortunate that for once I thought to use the video function on my iPhone.  Please enjoy and see you all around and about again.

     

     

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  • Dolls Behaving Badly – a review

    March 8th, 2016

    Thank you Susan Toy for posting another one of my reviews! This one is not a “different kind of review,” but it is about a book I truly loved: Dolls Behaving Badly by Cinthia Ritchie.

    islandeditions's avatarreading recommendations reviewed

    dolls_behaving_badly_proof

    Dolls Behaving Badly
    by Cinthia Ritchie

    Purchase copies here

    Ritchie has written a uniquely structured novel that uses a diary format, employing first-person narration, letters, and recipes. The structure adds considerable depth to what would otherwise be an ordinary story of a single mom trying desperately to support herself and her young son in an economically depressed small Alaskan town. Much of the novel reminded me of the TV show, Northern Exposure, except there is no outsider to pass judgment on the quirky, eccentric characters. Instead, the reader immediately feels the normality of the community: the bill collectors demanding payment often do so with dry humor; the crisscrossing of romantic relationships raises few eyebrows; and seeing and talking to ghosts seems a natural result of stress and loneliness.

    Ritchie draws an Alaskan territory that is otherworldly beautiful and yet cruel at the edges. The cold darkness of winter seeped…

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  • Town Father – a review (2)

    March 8th, 2016

    Thanks to Susan Toy, I get to reread one of my favorite book reviews! I hope you enjoy the read as well. And by the way, I believe Town Father by Kevin Brennan (subject of the aforementioned book review) is on sale!

    islandeditions's avatarreading recommendations reviewed

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    Town Father, Or, Where Graceful Girls Abound
    by Kevin Brennan

    Purchase copies here

    A Different Kind of Book Review

    Maggie assayed the kitchen table, using her index finger to count the settings. There were only the four of them tonight, but still she wanted to count and be sure she hadn’t overlooked anything. It was her night to “host” the book club she and her cousins had formed. The core of the club included herself and her two cousins, Melissa and Mary. Lately, Randy, Mary’s boyfriend, had been joining them.

    Well, he’d been joining them because he was already there, already spending weekends at Mary’s house. Maggie smiled. She was looking forward to hearing Randy’s take on Town Father, Or, Where Graceful Girls Abound, the latest novel by Kevin Brennan. She had thought of him a lot while reading the novel, imagining him as Henry. Strangely, though, she didn’t…

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  • You’ve Got A Friend #CaroleKing #ShaniaTwain #CelineDion #GloriaEstefan

    March 5th, 2016

    A classmate in my online course, Literature and Mental Health (FutureLearn) shared this YouTube video with me. I love, love, love Carole King and love, love, love this song.  Just have to share it with all my friends.

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