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This book is a collection of 30 different essays by women from all different walks of life—including some celebrities (Sheryl Crow, Camryn Manheim, Mariska Hartigay)—reflecting on the lessons learned from various life-defining moments. Most of the stories fall under the three categories of hardship, humiliation and heartbreak. Each woman reflects on what brought her to the her life-changing moment and how things proceeded from there. Each essay ends with a brief “note to self” about the primary lessons they learned.

As with all books of this ilk, the essays are wildly uneven. Also, it becomes difficult not to “compare” the hardships and heartbreaks to each other. Is it really so awful to become “ugly” when someone else writes about seeing their mother shot dead by their father? Other times, you feel like the person was bringing the problem onto themselves a bit (as with the women who couldn’t leave cheating spouses). The other problem was that the short essay format forces each woman to condense their experiences—sometimes shortchanging the agony and difficulties they faced. (The essay on the woman whose young son died comes to mind.)

Despite these shortcomings, the book held my interest as the various obstacles faced vary wildly and satisfied the voyeur side of me. It is amazing what difficulties people can face and end up being stronger as a result. If this type of book is your “thing,” then I’d recommend it. Otherwise, I think it ended up being show more a weaker read than I was expecting and I was disappointed. show less
The Risk of Darkness is the third book of the “Simon Serrailler mystery series” (though, honestly, I think it could just as easily be the “Lafferton mystery series” as Simon often seems like a minor player in his own books). This is, to be honest, one of the oddest mystery series I’ve ever read, which is part of the attraction for me. In the first book, Simon barely made an appearance, and the ending was so shocking that I had to reread it to make sure I read it right. The second book dealt primarily with a child kidnapping case, which was left unresolved. In this third book, the child kidnapping case is picked up again as we find out “whodunit” (the answer isn’t one you could have figured out, but the “who” is particularly interesting).

As always, we get involved in the happenings of Simon’s family, particularly his sister Cat. (And let me tell you, Susan Hill isn’t afraid to knock off her own characters. No one is safe!) We also see Simon having strong feelings for a woman (sadly, not the oft-used and abused Diana)—whose attraction might be her very unavailability. Finally, a major story thread is the death of a young wife, whose crazed and bereaved husband goes off the rails as a result. As with the previous two books, we flip back and forth between all these plot lines and get into the heads of all the characters (from a murderer to a victim to the murderer’s family and everyone in between).

Part of why I like this series is that I never know show more where Hill is going to take it. Any one could die at any moment. New story lines are introduced and may or may not be continued in future books. Simon is a bit of a cad who has some major character flaws and often seems like a cipher in his own series. Hill writes fluidly from the points of view of children, men, women, victims, criminals, and the police. She gives minor characters story lines that continue from book to book. You never know who might appear in the next book or what minor plot point might turn out to be critical. It is a unique series (and if you’ve read another like it, please let me know!), and I’m intrigued about where she will take the fourth book, The Vows of Silence. If you’re looking for a well-written, unusual and unpredictable mystery series, this would be worth checking out. show less
About three chapters into this book, I knew I was in for a treat. Morton has written a sprawling, meticulously plotted novel that spans decades, interweaves stories and is filled with good old-fashioned storytelling. It felt delicious to read … kind of like slipping into a hot bath and settling in for a long soak. (Perhaps that is why it took me an unprecedented 10 days to read!)

The story—which alternates between three different time periods—deals with the issues of identity and family ties. The main story concerns a 4-year-old girl who is found alone on a dock in Australia—seemingly alone in the world after arriving on a ship from England. Adopted by the harbormaster after no one claims her, the girl grows up unaware of her origins, until her adoptive father reveals it to her after his wife’s death. Shocked and unbalanced by this news, the girl pursues the mystery of her identity and biological family—using only the meager clues left to her. Upon her death, the mystery is taken up by her granddaughter, who has a tragic story of her own. Shifting between the present day, the mid-1970s and the early 1900s, The Forgotten Garden unfolds slowly and carefully—with Morton interweaving each story line seamlessly.

I have to say that I admire Morton’s skills in crafting this story. She does a brilliant job of mixing Eliza’s, Nell’s and Cassandra’s stories in a way that felt fluid and natural. We’d learn something in one time period and then go back and get show more the details in the next chapter. I really enjoyed this way of telling the story. It felt like historical fiction mixed with contemporary fiction mixed with literary fiction. The mystery at the heart of the book was also satisfying … I thought I’d figured everything out only to have Morton toss me a curve ball. I love when that happens!

The other aspect I enjoyed was how the Eliza Makepeace character is a writer of fairy tales, and we get to read these stories at different points throughout the book. I loved how the fairy tales shed light on the events of the story … without that always being immediate obvious to the reader. The only thing that could have improved the story even more is if they had included the illustrations that were created for the fairy tale book! (I suppose that is asking a little too much though.)

I totally get why people gush over Kate Morton. If this is the kind of books she writes, then sign me up for more! This was a very satisfying read, and I’d recommend to anyone who enjoys good old-fashioned storytelling that is crafted with care by the author. So, Morton fans, which one should I try next?
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THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION

I would not have thought that there was such a thing as a literary dystopia, but Peter Heller has managed to write one. At times lovely and poetic, at other times crude and violent, The Dog Stars is one of the most realistic and lovely postapocalyptic tales I've read. (It reminded me a bit of Laura Kasischke's In A Perfect World and, as Ti and Alyce both said, a lighter and gentler version of Cormac McCarthy's The Road.) The writing is often lyrical and gorgeous. The passages on grief and loss were some of the best I've ever read. In addition, the descriptions of outdoor pursuits like fishing and hunting made me think of Norman McLean's writing in A River Runs Through It. Yet for all the lovely parts, there are equal measures of stream-of-consciousness fragments that take some getting used to. There are also moments of brute violence that contrast sharply with the more lyrical parts. It is an interesting book, and I enjoyed it once I got used to its odd rhythms and pace.

As in many dystopias, The Dog Stars takes place in a world where almost the entire human (and animal) population has been wiped out by a virulent flu. Our narrator, Hig (an outdoorsman, pilot and poet), is eking out a living at a small airfield in Colorado with only his dog Jasper for company. His closest neighbor and ally is Bangley, a taciturn weapons expert who lets his guns do the talking for him. Together, Hig and Bangley have carved out a life and routine for show more themselves. Hig patrols their "territory" from the air in his 1950s Cessna, while Bangley provides firepower and tactics for dealing with the less than friendly strangers who sometimes visit their lonely outpost. This is a world where you shoot first and ask questions later--an approach that doesn't naturally fit Hig and his lack of commitment to Bangley's methods often get him into trouble. With Bangley being such a closed down person, Hig's best friend and constant companion is Jasper, with whom Hig talks to as if he was a person. After life-changing events shake up Hig's world, he decides to leave the relative safety of the airfield and go past his "point of no return" to chase after a long-ago radio transmission he heard years earlier.

The things I liked most about this book was how grounded and realistic it felt. Heller really seems to have considered what might work and not work given the situation he created for his characters (how long gas would last, what kind of food would be available). It felt like Hig and Bangley were the type of people who could survive in such a world. In addition, I liked how Hig and Bangley form a kind of symbiotic relationship that becomes richer and deeper over the course of the book. But what makes the book work most of all is Hig's voice--his confusion, ambivalence, practicality, optimism and poeticism made him a deeply likable character. You want things to turn out for him. Although it takes awhile to get into his head and the rhythms of his thoughts, you'll like what you find there. If you're looking for a dystopia written for grown-ups, this would be an excellent choice.

About the Narration: Narrator Mark Deakins had quite a challenge as sentences were often choppy and fragmented. There were also times when I was a bit confused about whether something was a conversation or just Hig thinking. But Deakins did an excellent job and created a voice for Hig that felt authentic. His voices for the other characters (particularly Bangley and Pops) were terrific, and it was easy to tell when they were talking. Although this might be a book where reading it in print might be easier than listening on audio, it was a worthy listen.
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THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

This is a book about the ins and outs of the 2008 campaign (you know … the one where a young upstart named Barack Obama beat out Hilary Clinton for the Democratic nomination and went on to defeat John McCain and his running mate Sarah Palin). I’m not into politics AT ALL but I found this book utterly fascinating (which makes me wonder if I’m more interested in politics than I think or if it was just such an interesting campaign). I mistakenly thought it dealt more with Sarah Palin than it does (her part is only the last third of the book), but it didn’t matter—the battle between Obama and Clinton provided more than enough drama and intrigue. (And the whole John Edwards disaster was like watching a car accident in slow motion.) However, I did get the payoff I was looking for as the book provides a rather damning look into the selection of Palin and the realities of her candidacy. (If you didn’t guess by that last sentence, I’m not a big Palin fan.) Trust me … you don’t need to be a political junkie to enjoy this book. It was gripping from the start and, even though I knew how things turned out in the end, I was still on the edge of my seat as all the various aspects of the race unfolded. I listened to this book on audio, and Dennis Boutsikaris was the perfect choice of narrator. I’m hoping that the authors chronicled the 2012 campaign as I’d LOVE to read about it and find out the details and behind-the-scenes stuff show more that we don’t really get in regular news coverage. This will definitely be on my “best of the year” lists. show less
½
If you interested in the ins and outs of the funeral industry, this would be a great read. It has a lot of “insider” information and insights on the industry that I found fascinating. What kept the book from being really good is that Jokinen doesn’t have the sense of humor that would have elevated this book from “interesting read” to “kept me glued to the book from page one.” (In other words, he’s no Mary Roach.) Still, it is worth reading if you enjoy books of this type.
½
This is an immigrant coming of age story about a young girl named Kimberly Chang who emigrates to America from Hong Kong with her mother and lives a dual life of brilliant student and exploited factory girl living in horrible conditions in Brooklyn. I’m not completely sure why I didn’t bond with this book, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that many of the problems in Kimberly’s life could have been avoided had she just talked to someone! This drives me nuts in characters, and it annoyed me to no end in this book. However, if you enjoy immigrant stories, this might right up your alley. I read that the author immigrated to America as a young girl so I suspect much of book is based on her own experiences.
You’ve probably heard of Dr. Oliver Sacks—the neurologist whose collections of patient case studies have been the subject of various books and movies (including Awakenings). I’d been familiar with Oliver Sacks for years (my dad had many of his books) but never actually read any of his books. Despite the fascinating case studies described in the book (idiot savants, Left Neglect, memory loss), I found the writing off-putting and never really engaged with the book. I think it was a combination of Sack’s writing style (which might be too clinical despite being accessible) and my need for more personal details and depth than Sacks was able to offer.
½
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

Arthur Opp is a morbidly obese ex-professor who hasn’t left his Brooklyn brownstone for years. Kel Keller is a 17-year-old baseball prodigy whose education at a posh private school is at odds with his poverty-stricken home life. The connection between these two strangers becomes clear during the course of the book,with the narration alternating between Arthur and Kel. (I listened to this on audiobook, and, in a stroke of genius, they had two separate narrators for Arthur and Kel.) The book tiptoes up to the point where our two protagonists are on the cusp of a new relationship and then quietly shuts the door. This is a quiet book about loneliness, taking chances on other people, and moving out of your comfort zone. It is definitely worth checking out.
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

The entire book is in the form of protracted letter(s) to American Airlines by Bennie Ford. Bennie has found himself stranded at an airport (thanks to those nice folks at American!) and is writing to express his displeasure. Along the way, we learn about Bennie’s life and why it is so critical that he makes his flight. I listened to this on audio, and Mark Bramhall has this giant, booming, Southern-inflected voice that came to personify Bennie for me. It was a top-notch narration (which felt more like a performance than a narration), and I think audio might be the way to go on this one. At turns funny and heartbreaking, the story was surprisingly involving.
As a first-year sociology grad student at the University of Chicago, Sudhir Venkatish took his research on life in inner-city gangs to extremes when he befriended JT, the leader of a division of the Black Kings in Chicago’s notorious Robert Taylor projects. Venkatish ended up spending 7 years (!!) observing the intricacies of gang life and the lives of the urban poor, and this book documents that experience. I imagine that Venkatish went far beyond what was required for his thesis, and the line between sociologist and friend often blurred. The result is a fascinating look at a world that many of us probably know nothing about. I admire Venkatish’s work, which shines a light on the contradictory life and strange interdependence of gangs and the communities they live in.
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

A collection of six short stories dealing (tangentially) with the 1995 earthquake in Kobe that killed 6,000 people, After The Quake is unusual and subtle. The stories don’t deal directly with the quake but reference it and its aftershocks as they reverberate through the lives of the characters. Most of the stories were somber and understated, but there was a really weird one (Super Frog Saves Tokyo) that highlights Murakami’s weird side that everyone talks about. Still, it is the sadness and the longing and brokenness that linger after you’re done reading and not the giant talking frog. I suspect this might be a good introduction to Murakami, but since I’m still a Murakami neophyte, I’m not sure.
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

Larson found two fascinating but disparate stories that happened concurrently (the creation of the 1893 World’s Fair in Chicago and a serial killer who was murdering women just blocks from the fair site) and wove them together without letting one overshadow the other. This is how I like my history (weird, accessible, contextual), and I see why everyone raved about this book. Scott Brick was a brilliant narrator, but since I listened on audio, I had to Google photos of the fair and the killer to get the visuals that Larson so eloquently described. You know when the building of a fair and the building of a killing room are equally riveting that you’re in the hands of a good writer.
½
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

First things first, this is not a book for the faint-hearted or the easily offended. I listened to it on audio when I was walking my dogs and there were times when I felt myself blushing from what I was listening to … ON MY HEADPHONES! I kept thinking “If people only knew what I was listening to now, they’d be shocked.” This is some hard-core, graphic writing … and hearing it read out loud makes it seem even more so. (By the way, Michael Kramer has the perfect voice for the material … with a kind of WTF/seen it all, done it all attitude.) The basic story deals with a love triangle between two pot dealers and their girl and what happens when they run awry of a Mexican drug cartel and the girl gets kidnapped. The writing—despite its bluntness and graphic descriptions—was good and often very funny. But this is by no means a “feel good” book. And if people in SoCal are really like the characters in this book, then I’m staying the hell away.
As with all collections with essays by various authors, the results are somewhat uneven. However, I can’t imagine anyone who lives in or has traveled extensively in the United States not being interested in how the states they have lived in or visited are portrayed. I was thrilled that Anthony Bourdain took on my home state of New Jersey (and did a good job with it), and I thought it fitting that Oregon’s entry was one of the few in the form of a “comic” strip (which prominently featured rain and umbrellas). Looking back now, the essay I remember the most fondly was Dave Eggers’s take on Illinois. Although I read this book straight through, I think the better approach would be to read one or two states a day—or just dip your toes in every so often. In addition to the essays, there are little factoids about each state that were interesting in their own right.
½
Wild is Strayed’s memoir of her 1,100-mile solo hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. However, don’t be fooled into thinking this is a travel narrative or a serious backpacking story. It is not. Strayed basically went on the trail with very little preparation and information. In fact, she was so ill-equipped for her hike that I imagine serious outdoorsman grimacing in displeasure and judgment whilst reading it. If you take your outdoor literature seriously, you will HATE this book. With that out of the way, let me tell you what this book IS about. It is about Strayed losing her way after her mother’s death and the break-up of her marriage and her somewhat misguided attempt to find herself by undertaking a ridiculously difficult physical challenge. There are those of you (I’m looking at you, Jill and Ti) who hated this book because of Strayed’s behavior (on-trail sex, drug use, lack of preparedness, whining), but I’m not one of those haters. I see Strayed as a damaged, confused young woman who had reached the end of her rope and didn’t know how to find a way out. Rather than heading down the bad path she was on, she chose to step out of real life and take on this quest. The fact that she succeeded is a testament to her strength and perseverance. I think this trip was a crucible where Strayed entered a confused girl and came out a woman. If you like blisteringly honest memoirs about people doing foolish things but with a big and honest heart, then this a must-read. show more If however, you can’t stand the follies of the young and foolish or people who venture out into nature without knowing what they are doing, then steer clear as this book will annoy you to no end. show less
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION

Bel Canto was my first Ann Patchett book, and I loved it. I then read a few more and didn’t love them. I’d written her off as “not for me” when everyone started raving about this book. Being easily influenced and because Hope Davis was the narrator, I gave it a listen. The book has an almost dream-like quality, and I found it quite involving. The basic plot it this: Researcher Dr. Marina Singh ventures deep into the Amazon to find her former mentor Dr. Annick Swenson—who has been isolated in the Amazon researching a potentially lucrative new drug for their mutual employer—to get some answers about the fate of Marina’s office mate, who preceded her into the Amazon but never returned. Patchett manages to spin a fantastical tale that also feels grounded in reality. Part of me could imagine such a world existing, and I fell under the same enchantment as Marina. The characters were always surprising me (particularly Dr. Swenson), and I’m glad I took the chance on Ann Patchett again.
One of the main reasons that J.J. Keeler wrote this book documenting her struggles with OCD is to dispel the myth that OCD is limited to excessive hand-washing, tidiness and order. The disease can take many forms, and not all OCD sufferers have the “classic” symptoms the public associates with the disease. (Seriously, how many times have you heard someone say “I’m so OCD … I have to organize my spices alphabetically!”) In Keeler’s case, her OCD took the form of harming obsessions—recurring fears that she had caused harm to someone. Keeler addresses her OCD experiences honestly and with humor —often adopting a light tone that somewhat belies the difficulties of her disease and all the things she experienced. However, from the point of view of the reader, this sense of humor is a welcome relief and makes the book an easy read. If you or someone in your life has OCD, I’d urge you to check out this book to get an “insider’s” perspective of what the disease is like and some of the forms it can take. Keeler also includes practical and helpful information about the disease to help raise awareness and help others facing the challenges of OCD.
A funny, sarcastic book about a woman preparing to commit suicide (yes … you read that right), Losing Clementine is Ream’s debut novel and it is good! Clementine is a successful artist who lives with her beloved cat (in fact, one of her pre-suicide tasks is finding a suitable home for the cat). Her primary relationships center on her confusing interactions with her ex-husband, her rivalry with a fellow artist, and the recent firing of her supportive assistant. Tired of being depressed and dealing with various mental health issues, Clementine decides “enough is enough” and gives herself 30 days to get her affairs in order. However, as she tidies up the loose ends of her life (including the fate of her absentee father), she finds that life may have more to offer her than she first thought. I know it sounds like an oxymoron, but this book is really quite life-affirming, and I suspect you’ll enjoy exploring Clementine’s psyche as much as I did. I’m excited to see what Ream writes next as this was a great start to her career.
If you’re not familiar with the character that Stephen Colbert plays on his Comedy Central show (that of a “well-intentioned, poorly informed high-status idiot”and a “self-important right-wing commentator” … in other words, a parody of folks like Bill O’Reilly), then this book is going to confuse the heck out of you. If you’re “in” on the joke, then I think you’ll find this book hilarious … though I really do wish I’d listened to it on audio instead of the print version. I kept imagining people who actually believe the right-wing stuff that Colbert is skewering picking up this book and thinking “Yeah! All right! This guy knows what he is saying.” (The book itself is an extension of the Colbert character’s political and social beliefs from the show.) I think Colbert is fearless in his commitment to his character, especially when I suspect his own personal views are likely very far from his Doppelganger. One part that is worth of the price of admission is the transcript of Colbert’s 2006 White House Correspondent’s Dinner speech, where he mocked George W. Bush and his fellow Republicans right to their faces with a brilliant satirical speech. How gutsy and fearless is that? If you’re a Colbert fan, I suspect you’ve read this already. If not, what’s stopping you?
Oh dear. I just didn’t like this book AT ALL. I know that many bloggers (including my beloved Sandy) are Koryta fans, but this book didn’t do anything for me. The basic story is that a troubled ex-filmmaker (whose Hollywood career is over and who now makes a living making memorial films for funerals) is hired to make a documentary about an eccentric old billionaire. Unlike most of his subjects, the only material he has to work with are a tiny bottle of water and the name of his subject’s hometown. located near French Lick, Indiana. When he travels to West Baden Resort (a real place … see Sandy’s post for more about it) to research his subject, strange things start to happen and long-buried secrets start to surface. I suspect that Koryta is trying to do Stephen King-type thing here, but it just didn’t work. To pull off a good horror story (especially one with supernatural elements), you have to scare the reader rather than make them roll their eyes. Sadly, I was rolling my eyes all over the place and almost quit reading several times. (The only reason I kept on was because I kept thinking “Surely this is going to get better at some point.”) Although part of the problem was that I read this book directly after the masterful Broken Harbor, I’m still not sure I would have liked this book even if I’d read it after something mediocre.
½
In my opinion, Tana French can do no wrong. She’s a master of creating suspenseful, psychologically fraught thrillers. Each book features a different member of the Dublin Murder Squad, and our narrator in this one is Scorcher Kennedy. Kennedy and his new partner (a rookie on the murder squad) take on a disturbing case: a family murdered in their homes, with only the wife surviving and clinging to life in the hospital. As with all of French’s books, the book isn’t just about the case, it is also about our detective’s past, present and future. (In this book, Kennedy has a prior connection to Broken Harbor and a sister with mental health issues who occupies a rather large space in his mental space.) And, as with In The Woods, French explores he unique relationship between partners working a murder case. I just can’t tell you satisfying I find Tana French’s books. They are multi-layered, complex, suspenseful and impeccably crafted. It is difficult to believe this is only her fourth novel. I think what makes her so talented is her ability to wring suspense and dread from the most banal things, such as a detective reading a series of Internet chat room postings. She takes you deep inside her character’s psyches, and when these psyches belong to homicide detectives and murder victims, you’ll find many intriguing and dark things. The other thing I loved about this particular book is that just when you think you know where things are going, French changes it up on show more you. One last note: The Irish economy and its impact on people’s mental health plays a large role in this book, and I think most readers would find this a cautionary tale about what can happen when the economy goes south and the toll it can take on families. show less
½
I kind of feel bad for J.K. Rowling. She had phenomenal success and garnered millions of fans worldwide with her wonderful Harry Potter series. (And, I might add, she had the courage and willingness to end it after seven books instead of going on and on like some authors and ruining a perfectly good series.) So now, when she dares to write a completely different kind of book (a Muggle book about Muggles doing Muggle stuff), I don’t think she’s getting a fair shake because it is almost impossible to read this book without thinking of the Harry Potter books. As HP fans will quickly realize, this is nothing like the Harry Potter books. (I think my friend said it best when she said “it’s a book about the Dursleys.” If Harold, Shirley and Miles Mollison couldn’t pass for Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley, I’ll eat my hat.) So let’s forget Harry Potter and talk about this book.

The book starts with the death of Barry Fairbrother (which brings about a “casual vacancy” on the parish council). The rest of the book focuses on the fallout from Barry’s death and the maneuverings to fill his vacant seat. Moving from character to character (and there are lots of characters), Rowling takes us into the hearts and minds of the various citizens of Pagford—from its teenagers (Crystal, Fats, Sukhvinder, and Andrew) to its grown-ups (Miles, Samantha, Kay, Gavin, Tessa, Harold, Shirley, Parminder). The plot is relatively simple (how will the vacancy on the parish show more council be filled?) yet also intricate and complex. Every little thing that happens builds on something else, and, at the end, Rowling weaves all the pieces together masterfully. It isn’t a happy, fun or uplifting book. It is set squarely in a world where things don’t always work out, people fail each other, and relationships aren’t always satisfying. But, for all the misery and anger and cruelty in the book, I saw moments of hope and forgiveness and growth. Personally, I liked the book and was never bored by it. I could see why people who read this book solely because of their love of Harry Potter might be intensely disappointed. It is nothing like the HP books, but it is a good read on its own merits. So, if you can forget everything you already know about J.K. Rowling and go into this book with an open mind, you might find a novel worth reading. I know I did. show less
Hello. I’d like to introduce you to my new literary BFF, Caitlin Moran. Last year, after listening to Bossypants, I thought I wanted to be BFFs with Tina Fey. However, after reading this book, I decided to switch to Caitlin because she’s freaking hilarious, fearless and talks about womanhood in the most down-to-earth and life-affirming way I’ve ever read. I love her! I agree with her! I admire her! I think she’s simply fabulous, and I want you to get to know her too. (However, if you’re not down with some potty language, Caitlin might not be your cuppa as she doesn’t shy away from a good old-fashioned curse word.) I really admire her openness (the chapter on her decision to have an abortion was fearless) and her take on feminism and what it means to be a woman in today’s world. I’m sure she’s not for everyone, but I just loved her to pieces—so much so that I’m currently reading her latest book, Moranthology, which is a collection of her columns from The Times. If the idea of “Tina Fey, Chelsea Handler, and Lena Dunham all rolled into one” (Marie Claire) sounds like a woman you’d like to get to know, then get this book immediately!
½
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

The title pretty much says it all. One day, an older gentleman named Harold Fry decides—unexpectedly and without any prior planning— to walk across England to say goodbye to an old friend, who has just written him to tell him that she is dying. Harold’s journey is definitely unlikely (he is not one for grand gestures … or even walking, for that matter) and certainly a pilgrimage (defined as “a journey or search of moral or spiritual significance”). Going in, I expected this to be a quirky, charming little story without much depth. Although it starts off in this vein, it quickly takes on much more depth and breadth than I ever expected. I was amazed at the skill with which Rachel Joyce wove her tale—adding in layers of complexity and depth and emotion that ended up making this novel one of the most emotional I’ve read this year. By the end, I was deeply moved by Harold and Maureen’s story—much more than I ever expected. Jim Broadbent did a masterful job of narrating; you can tell he has acting experience because he brings Harold to life, with all his doubts, humility, regrets and spiritual questioning. Don’t be fooled by the simple little cover and the quirky title. This is a novel of great depth and complexity, and it will get under your skin in a most unexpected way.
½
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

Jenny Lawson—better known in the blog world as The Bloggess—shares her life story and tales of mischief and mayhem in this humorous and (mostly true) memoir. Her life seems tailor-made for blogging—from her taxidermist father to her crippling anxiety attacks (which are horrible to live through but make for good comic moments), Jenny Lawson is a gifted storyteller. She can take the moments that we all would like to forget, mix in bit of exaggeration, and spin it out as a comic tall tale that is (mostly) true and pretty darn funny. Her long-suffering husband Victor (recipient of more than a few Post-It notes) features prominently in many of the stories, as does her taxidermist father and his various “projects.” Moving from her childhood to her current life, Jenny leaves no stone unturned—speaking honestly about her childhood, marriage, anxiety and blogging career. As a narrator, she is probably best-suited to tell her rather rambling stories, but she talks fast and you’ve got to keep up. If you’re looking for a fun and fast-paced read/audiobook, this would be a good choice. I will admit, though, I grew a bit tired of it after a bit.
½
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

Joshilyn Jackson writes Southern women’s fiction and she does it well. Her books are funny and full of brassy women but have a core of heartache and pain at their centers. This book is no exception. A Grown Up Kind of Pretty focuses on the Slocumb women (Jenny, Liza and Mosey)—all of whom have a secret or two. When a small grave is dug up in the backyard, it sets off a chain of events that leads to a new kind of understanding between them—while also putting their future at risk. If you’re already a Joshilyn Jackson fan, this continues her winning streak. If you’ve not read any of her books before, this is a great place to start. It gives you a sense of Jackson’s writing style and introduces you to some of her more memorable characters. (That Liza!)
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

First off, I have to say I was unprepared for Anna Quindlen’s voice. I think that, somehow, I had decided she sounded like Hope Davis (since Ms. Davis read Quindlen’s excellent novel Every Last One.) This made no sense of my part, but I was quite taken aback when she started narrating and I realized she had a kind of gravelly Noo Yawk (or Philly?) kind of voice. I just wasn’t expecting it, and it took me almost a full chapter to get over it and listen without thinking “Wow … this is what Anna Quindlen sounds like?” Of course, I might be the only one with this reaction but I had to mention it.

Anyway, with that out of the way, let me tell you about this book, which is basically musings on aging and reaching your mid-50s and beyond. It is basically a “here’s what I’ve learned over the years” book, but Quindlen is so gifted at talking like regular folks or your best girlfriends that the book never feels preachy or saccharine. Instead, she strikes just the right notes of “Jeez, we were dumb when we were young, weren’t we?” and “I’ve still not figured it out but I’m not stressing about it anymore.” Relating her own life experiences and roles (sibling in a Catholic home, student at an all-women’s college, “token” girl reporter for the New York Times, serious journalist, married woman for 35+ years, mother of three, novelist), Quindlen somehow manages to take her unique experiences and make them feel almost show more universal. Even though I’m not in my 50s yet, I could understand where Quindlen was coming from and loved hearing her views on the aging process. If you’re the target audience for this one, then I think it is a no brainer—find it and read it. If you’re not quite there yet, I still think you’ll find much of value in the book but, like wine, it will get better with age. show less
The subtitle of the book provides the perfect summary: “A Memoir of Marriage, Asperger Syndrome, and One Man’s Quest to Be a Better Husband.” David Finch has written a blisteringly honest account of what it feels like to have Asperger Syndrome and how this condition affects your life, especially a marriage and relationship with children. Finch has a good (albeit often sophomoric) sense of humor, and that makes the book quite readable. However, I wish he could have co-written it with his wife, Kristen, as I would have LOVED to have gotten her view of matters. (She sounds like a saint, to be honest.) In the beginning, Finch says something along the lines of “having Aspergers kind of makes you like a really typical insensitive guy … only more so,” and that did seem true. Many of his accounts seemed like jackass stuff that guys do and women complain about (complete cluelessness about feelings, insensitivity, inappropriate jokes, etc.), but Finch is good at conveying that, while “normal” guys might be operating at a volume of 3, guys with Aspergers operate with the volume turned up to 10. If you’re interested in what it feels like to have Aspergers or have someone in your life with the condition, I imagine this would be a must read book. I found it quite interesting, and I think Finch was brave to share his story and provide the world with an insight of what it feels like to live with this type of mind.
THIS IS A REVIEW OF THE AUDIOBOOK

My first Neil Gaiman book was American Gods, about which I felt lukewarm. After my review, Gaiman fans said this book would have been a better introduction. Wanting to give this beloved author another chance, I listened to this on audio. (Count Neil Gaiman as one of the authors who is well-suited to narrating his own books. He did a bang-up job.) I listened to this around Halloween, and I was thinking of making it a “mother-son” listen. However, after the first chapter (which has a very chilling massacre of a family), I decided that my rather sensitive son might not be up for it. Although things got considerably lighter after the opening scene, I would caution parents that Gaiman doesn’t hold back on the scary stuff … this is, after all, a book about a boy raised by ghosts in a graveyard. The Man Jack (who we meet in the first chapter) was a frightening character, and I know my son would have had nightmares about him. However, for more mature kids (perhaps in the 10- to 12-year range or more mature 8- and 9-year-olds), I think this book would be a great introduction to horror as it is often mixed with humor and things turn out pretty much OK in the end. This certainly was a better introduction to Neil Gaiman, and I’m willing to take on another book. Any suggestions?