The Wednesday Salon 7.8.09

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Yep, I’m still on vacation but thought it might be nice to take a few minutes to check in and post a quick update. Hubs and I were up with the chickens on Friday morning to pack up the car and the pooch and hit the road. We made great time, and the dog was well-behaved for the entire drive, and we had a very entertaining lunch at Wendy’s in Marmet, West Virginia, where, I kid you not, at least 25 different women used the ladies’ room in the twenty minutes that we were there.

We started wondering if maybe all of the septic tanks in town were broken or something—Marmet’s not too fancy, you know— or if  the Wendy’s just had really awesome toilets that folks came from miles around to visit.  I can confirm from my eventual trip to the ladies’ room that it was not the latter. We never did figure out what all the buzz was about the toilets, but we had a great time imagining new town slogans.

Marmet: We got toilets.

Marmet: Come poop here.

Marmet: For when the shitter is full. (That one’s compliments of Cousin Eddie from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.)

I mean, for real. If you live in Marmet, I’m sorry if I offended you, but please explain to me what is so exciting about the bathrooms at Wendy’s. It’s not even the first place to pee when you get off the highway.

Incidentally, this is also a marmet:

Rockstar_MarmetRemember that scene in The Big Lebowski when he says, apropos of nothing, “Nice marmet”?

Yeah, I love that movie.

Can you tell I’m on vacation?

So anyway, following the excitement at the Marmet, WV Wendy’s, we continued on to St. Louis without incident. After a nice dinner with hubby’s parents, we crashed for the night and started recovering from 14 hours in the car. We spent the Fourth hanging out with family and then went downtown to see the fireworks at the Arch. As if the people watching at such a large public event weren’t enough, we were also entertained by the man next to us who called a few friends to tell them how “tight” and “unbelievable” everything was down at the “ark.”

That’s right. The ark. As in, the giant boat that some old dude filled with a bunch of animals when the world flooded. Or so the story goes.

Let’s do a quick comparison. This is the St. Louis Arch. The Gateway to the West. One of the most recognizable landmarks in the U.S.

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And this is one rendering of the ark. Yeah, I know Noah looks a little crazy.

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Easily confused? I think not. And before anyone starts asking whether the man making the phone call might not have been American or familiar with American culture and history, let me just say that the mid-Missouri twang was unmistakable, and the flag-printed polo shirt was, well, something that spoke for itself.

We hung out in St. Louis Sunday and Monday as well (we didn’t make it to Ted Drewes, Amy, but we’re going on our way back through town later this week), and we made our way to Kansas City yesterday morning. We’re here now visiting my parents and enjoying the incredible cuteness of seeing our basset hound frolicking with their basset hound.  A movie, some KC barbecue, and a whole lot of laziness are on tap for the next couple days.

And I should probably mention that I read The Hunger Games (loved it!) and Kevin Roose’s The Unlikely Disciple (also very good), and I’m now about a quarter of the way through The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, which is pretty enjoyable.

Now before it gets too hot, I’m off to enjoy a glass of sweet tea and some time with my book out on the back porch. Ahhhh, vacation, where every day is like a Sunday.

On Post-Publication Depression–Guest Post from Eve Brown-Waite

I’m on vacation this week, so I’ve asked Eve Brown-Waite, author of First Comes Love, Then Comes Malaria (which I totally loved) to take over for the day. Be nice to her!

firstcomeslove evebrown1

Rebecca invited me to guest blog and (silly girl!) said I could write about anything!  She  should have known that she was asking for trouble.  The reporter who interviewed me the other day asked, “You’re one of those people who fire off letters to the editor about everything, aren’t you?” (Now, that was more of a statement than a question, but I had to admit that she was right.) Anyone who knows me or has visited my website knows I can … and have … waxed poetic about my new and improved boobs, ladybugs (did you know you can kill them with chocolate?), Osama bin Laden (who you, apparently, cannot kill with chocolate), and at times, all three in the same article.

But my topic of the moment is something that rarely gets mentioned in all the annals and blogs dedicated to books, those who write them and those who read them. That is: Post-Publication Depression.

On April 14, FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MALARIA hit the shelves. It was my dream-come-true. And then came April 15 – Tax Day for the rest of America, but I found myself down in the mouth (and everything else) for an entirely different reason. Dan Fogelberg used to sing “And where do you go when you get to the end of your dream?” (And I feel like we’re close enough for me to admit that once upon a time, I was a HUGE Dan Fogelberg fan.) For me, the end of my dream was also the culmination of my 15-year, almost single-minded obsession with telling the story of what happened when I fell in love and followed my beloved – quite literally – to the end of the earth.

So where do you go when you get to the end of your dream? Well, if you’re anything like me, you end up a bit like a fart in a blizzard. Which is a pretty stinky thing to be and gets you nowhere fast.  Now, really what I should be doing is getting seriously busy writing my second book (working title: THE LIGHTS ARE LISTENING: My Two Years As A “Spy” in the Former Soviet Union). But it’s hard to focus on writing when you are obsessed with the progress of your first book and constantly checking your Amazon rating, not to mention compulsively self-Googling (which is NOT as fun as it sounds).

So that brings me back to Post-Publication Depression. Or PPD as it might be known to mental health professionals, if it were indeed recognized by mental health professionals, which it isn’t. But that probably won’t prevent some enterprising drug company from coming up with a medication for it. I can just imagine the commercial for it:

Whinestop … the first medication approved for the attention deficit, malaise, anxiety, and obsessive-compulsive behavior associated with PPD. Possible side effects include spontaneous combustion, gastric implosion, leprosy and death. Whinestop should not be taken by pregnant women, those planning to become pregnant, those planning to impregnate, or anyone with a liver. Ask your doctor if Whinestop is right for you.

Yeah, I got a liver, but I don’t use it all that much. I’m going to go get myself a prescription for Whinestop. Well, just as soon as I check my Amazon rating one more time!

Rebecca and friends, thanks for having me.

Thanks, Eve. The pleasure was all ours.

Visit Eve at her website and at The Debutante Ball, where she blogs with several other debut authors.

June Reading Wrap-Up

By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be in the car with hubby and the hound dog, somewhere between Richmond and St. Louis. We’re heading off on a roadtrip to visit family, eat at all of our favorite restaurants, and enjoy our yearly tradition of seeing fireworks at the Arch. We’re armed with audio books, a pile of books from our personal TBRs, snacks, sodas, and a whole lot of hope that traffic and construction won’t be too crazy.

I read seven books in June and posted eight reviews (I read The Angel’s Game in March but waited to post my review on its release date this month), and I’m pretty happy with everything I read. Check it out (covers linked to my reviews).

anniesghosts sanctuaryofoutcasts angelsgame lastdaysofsummer

happenseveryday beowulfbeach purge jane eyre

It’s hard to pick favorites this month because everything was good. That’s a nice problem to have, you know? Last Days of Summer was definitely the most unexpectedly wonderful read this month, though, and Beowulf on the Beach? Well, it was pure awesomeness.

What was the best book you read in June?

It’s My Blogiversary!

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That’s right, folks! One year ago today, The Book Lady’s Blog was born…albeit, born under a different name (that turned out to be copyrighted and under which I only lived for a month or so before I got that happy ‘cease and desist’ email and had to change my domain and lose all of my stats…but no, I’m not bitter), but it turns out that I like this one better, anyway, so whatever. It’s good to be the Book Lady.

Now, 459 posts (I guess this is the 460th), more than 116,000 hits (plus the 8,000ish I had before I had to change sites…but no, I’m not bitter), and 5, 150 comments later, here we are!

And it’s been a pretty great ride so far.  Let’s reminisce…

I discovered LibraryThing last June, and it seemed like everyone there had a blog. I hadn’t ever really been to a blog before, but I started visiting them—I think The Literate Housewife was the first one I really followed routinely—and I liked what I saw.  Everybody was talking about The Gargoyle, and I had an ARC of it, so I figured: why not? And my first review was born.

(In a true example of coming full circle, I’ll be re-reading The Gargoyle next week for my July book club meeting, and I’m thinking about a re-review.)

Since then, I’ve reviewed 112 books, done my fair share of ranting about the Twilight series, made a few not-so-great decisions about handling misbehaving authors (you live, you learn), and formed some great relationships with fellow bloggers. I’ve felt welcome in the book blogging community—and that’s what it is, a community—from the very beginning. I’ve read wonderful books I probably wouldn’t have heard of otherwise; I’ve formed relationships with authors and publishers beyond what I ever could have asked for; and I’ve grown a lot.

Hell, I’ve even converted to using Twitter!

This blog started out as a way for me to record my thoughts about what I was reading and find a little creative outlet, and it has become much more than that. So, here’s to a fun first year and [hopefully] many more!

So I read Jane Eyre…

And I really don’t have much to say about it. But that’s not to say I thought it was boring.

jane eyre

I chose Jane Eyre as my selection for Ann and Michael’s Beowulf on the Beach summer reading challenge because I’d been wanting to read it for quite a while and could never quite get motivated for it. I’m glad I read it. I appreciated the writing, and I get why it’s a classic.

But man, is it ever plot-driven. I had no idea there would be so little character development and so many extensive descriptions. The action is almost “blink and you miss it,” as Jane spends a hundred pages talking about day-to-day life and then makes a major revelation in just a few sentences. And she does that several times.

It also doesn’t help that going into this, my first reading of Jane Eyre, I already knew two important plot points: the big secret and how it ends. Now, I did enjoy seeing how the story unfolded, and I tried to be objective and think about whether a moment would have had tension if I hadn’t known what was going to happen, and the answer was usually yes. Brontë takes forever to build up to things, even after she’s given us plenty clues, and the revelations—quick as they are—are thoroughly satisfying.

If not for the antiquated language and all of the 19th century obsessing about propriety and social strata, I might have forgotten how old this book is, and that’s a good thing. Brontë’s writing is significantly less affected than that of many of her peers (Mr. Dickens, I love you, but I’m looking at you right now), and it allowed me to get pulled into the story rather than tangled up in phrasing. Jack Murnighan also points this out in Beowulf on the Beach by saying “it takes a masterful hand to write prose that feels so uncrafted,” and I couldn’t agree more.

Reading the chapter on Jane Eyre in Beowulf on the Beach definitely made me appreciate how difficult Brontë’s life was and, because of that, how amazing it is that we have this book at all.

Many young people screen themselves from their agonizing lives by reading books; the Bronte sisters did so by writing them.

I’m all for overcoming odds and making lemonade out of lemons and all that good turn-your-frown-upside-down stuff, so I’ll give Ms. Brontë her due props. But I still can’t say I loved her book.

I know Jane Eyre is a favorite for many of you, and I’d love to know more about why—maybe I missed something, or maybe knowing the big secrets ruined it, or, well,  maybe 160-year-old gothic romances just aren’t my speed.

Teaser Tuesdays: Perfume

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Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

  • Grab your current read
  • Open to a random page
  • Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
  • BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
  • Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

This week, I’m reading Perfume by Patrick Suskind. If you follow me on Twitter, you know that I’m completely enamored with this unusual story—that I can’t stop talking about— about a man who has no scent of his own but an incredible sense of smell. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille devotes his entire existence to cataloging all of the scents in his world in pursuit of creating or capturing  the one that will give him unending pleasure.  And he’s willing to do just about anything to get it.

Here are a few lines from page 42:

This one scent was the higher principle, the pattern by which the others must be ordered. It was pure beauty.

Grenouille knew for certain that unless he possessed this scent, his life would have no meaning. He had to understand its smallest detail, to follow it to is last delicate tendril; the mere memory, however complex, was not enough.

What are you reading this week?

Book Review: Purge by Nicole Johns

purgePublished April 2009 by Seal Press

I finished this book almost two weeks ago, and it has taken me that long to wrap my head around writing this review. Purge:Rehab Diaries is Nicole John’s multi-format memoir of living with and seeking treatment for an eating disorder. It is a story not wholly unfamiliar  to those of us who grew up with Prozac Nation, Girl, Interrupted, and Wasted, we members of the Reviving Ophelia generation, but it is told with honesty, raw vulnerability, and a not-at-all-glamorous level of ugly truth that makes it stand out from the rest.

In Purge, Johns presents not just her reflections on her struggle with Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS), characterized by binging, purging, overexercising, and restricting, but treatment notes from her doctors and therapists, documents from her rehab program, and diary entries she wrote when she was in the thick of it. She presents her story with painfully vivid descriptions because she feels that “the readers deserve to know the truth” and because she hopes to dispel myths about eating disorders that she feels have been perpetuated by other authors.She wants us to know that an eating disorder presents a lifelong battle, one that may not always seem worth fighting.

Eating disorders are a subtle suicide, and I am choosing to live.

I don’t want to say too much about the contents of this book because I feel like it is one of those things you really have to experience on your own. You have to read Johns’s words, allow her to draw you into her world and her distorted, anxious thoughts, and get into her head. You have to feel the hunger and the worry and the constant pain, fear, and disappointment. But don’t worry—she’s not going to make you conjure it up yourself. She puts you right into her shoes.

One impenetrable Midwestern night, you are desperate because you are trapped in your life. There is no way out, so you binge on and purge an entire tube of Pillsbury rolls (half-cooked—you are too impatient to wait for them to bake), an entire box of chocolate Malt-O-Meal, a pint of Godiva ice cream, and a mug of chai tea. Though you know that constant purging and starving leads to dehydration, you don’t rehydrate when you’re done.

In bed, you can’t sleep. Your heart is skitterting erratically. You wonder if you’re dying. Maybe you won’t wake up in the morning. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

If that is what one night with an eating disorder feels like—at least with Johns’s powers of description—I can hardly imagine how day-to-day life felt. It’s no wonder Johns felt “at war with [her] body” and “always hungry.” When she enters treatment, she contemplates the difficulty of making someone who has never had an eating disorder understand what the experience is like. A therapist asks her how she is feeling that day, and she responds that she feels “fat.” Though the therapist contends that “fat” is not an emotion, Johns makes a pretty strong case.

How do you explain to someone—who has never had an eating disorder—that fat is a feeling?

…’Fat’ is code for feeling scared, angry, ashamed, hurt, and sad all in on. It is code for I don’t want to talk about it; just leave me alone.

Knowing that her experience is not representative of all eating disorder sufferers, Johns also presents stories about her fellow patients and her interactions with them. She describes participating in a variety of therapeutic activities and working to assess and challenge her faulty thinking about her body image. She tells us that her parents will not allow her to tell anyone where she is—they’ve made up a cover story and are lying to her extended family—because they are ashamed and disappointed, and she reflects on the ways in which their lack of support compounds her struggle.

Purge is not an easy book to read, but once you get into it, it’s impossible to put down. I tore through it in just a few sittings, and I got the general idea, but I found myself going back to re-read sections and see exactly how Johns phrased things for several days following my initial reading. This book is almost deceptively simple in that respect—there is a lot more to it than there first appears to be, and that depth combined with Johns’s willingness to really lay it all out there make Purge a great and important read for anyone interested in women’s issues and eating disorders. 4 out of 5.

Visit Nicole Johns’s blog to learn more about her and Purge:Rehab Diaries.

Special thanks to Eva at Seal Press for sending me this book to review.

Recommend Your Favorite YA/Teen Lit Blog

I don’t read many YA or teen novels because they’re generally not my thing, but I’d love to know more about them so I can be a more well-rounded reader and so I can recommend great books and blogs to the educators I work with.

If you write a YA or Teen Lit blog, or if you know of a few great ones you’d like to share, please leave a link and/or a brief description in the comments here.

I’ll cull the responses for a post in the next week or so, and I’ll be passing a list of the recommended sites along to a client who is teaching for middle and high school reading teachers.

Thanks for helping me expand my horizons!

The Sunday Salon 6.28.09

tssbadge1 This Sunday morning finds me a bit surprised that it’s Sunday. My days were all off this week—I spent all day Thursday convinced that it was Friday and was then horribly disappointed when I realized I had another day of work standing between me and the weekend—and I had a pretty lazy day yesterday, which made me feel like it was Sunday, so I’m just all kinds of disoriented. Don’t you hate that?

It’s going to be another hot day here, so I’m hunkered down on the couch with hubby armed with season two of The X Files on DVD, my latest read—Perfume by Patrick Suskind—a pitcher of fresh lemonade, and a snoozing basset hound on the floor nearby.  The first load of laundry is already going, we’ve taken a lazy “every man for himself” approach to meals today, and I’m doing my best to forget that we leave for a weeklong vacation on Friday, so I can pretend there’s really nothing else to do.

There wasn’t much on TV this morning, so hubby and I just watched a special on the Smithsonian Channel about the star-nose mole. I think it’s going to be a weird day. I mean, how could a day that begins with this creature not be at least a little bizarre?

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Sorry. I just had to share that.

This week, I reviewed Happens Every Day by Isabel Gillies and Beowulf on the Beach by Jack Murnighan, who is the object of my newest literary crush. I also discussed the books that evoke summer for me.

I finally finished my first reading of Jane Eyre last night (woohoo!) and will be reviewing it, Purge by Nicole Johns, and This Will Kill You by H.P. Newquist and Rich Maloof this week. I’ll also be celebrating my first blogiversary on Wednesday, though I’m not sure I’ll have time for a formal celebration in the midst of my vacation preparations.  It’s hard to believe I’ve been doing this for a whole year already!

Right now, I think it’s time to rustle up some breakfast, make a second cup of coffee, and decide whether it’s too early for a nap.  What are you up to today?

What did you read this week?

Book Review: Beowulf on the Beach by Jack Murnighan

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Published May 2009 by Three Rivers Press (a division of RandomHouse)

I’ve always considered myself to be pretty well read, but in the years since I graduated from college, I’ve begun to realize exactly how many of the classics I missed out on, and I’ve been looking for a way to incorporate more of them into my reading. I want to re-read some of the ones that I didn’t quite “get” as a teenager, revisit the ones that left indelible impressions, and fill in the gaps by (finally) picking up the ones I’ve always been ashamed to admit I haven’t read.

Maybe you’re like me, or maybe you don’t exactly want to read the classics, but you want to want to.  Whatever the case, look no further. Jack Murnighan’s Beowulf on the Beach is the perfect motivator and companion for your journey. The subtitle—What to Love and What to Skip in Literature’s 50 Greatest Hits—says it all. Murnighan, a writer and literature professor with a Ph.D. in medieval and renaissance works, tells it like it is. He loves the books he’s selected, and he wants to spread the love and help readers understand and appreciate why the classics are so important.

These books are dazzling, but that’s not how they’re normally taught or perceived. And if you don’t go back to the classics as an adult, you might never know how much better they are when they’re read for pleasure, not for a test. As long as the so-called great books stay locked up in the ivory tower, people don’t see how gripping and meaningful they can be, and their kaleidoscopic glories get squandered.

Murnighan breaks his discussion of each book into six sections: The Buzz, What People Don’t Know (But Should), Best Line, What’s Sexy, Quirky Fact, and What to Skip. This organization gives the book a nice structure, and I found myself looking forward to discovering what he’d have to say about each book. Although I was initially skeptical about the What to Skip section—I’m a ‘read every word’ reader and don’t believe in skimming—I quickly came to appreciate the value in Murnighan’s honest approach and his great sense of humor.

I mean, really. How can you not like someone who is willing to describe Odysseus’s wife Penelope as someone who has a “myriad of suitors trying to get some of dat,” or who tells you up front that “what the Old Testament lacks in conventional reader-friendliness it more than makes up for in diversity and sheer, fascinating, almost incalculable weirdness”? And that’s just in the first twenty pages!

Throughout Beowulf on the Beach, Murnighan is funny, irreverent (he refers to Jesus as “His Shagginess” at one point), and passionately committed to the cause of converting readers to the classics. He reminds us of the importance of reading slowly, digesting each work line by line, and re-reading when it’s necessary. His love for these great books is palpable and impossible to ignore, and he wants us to learn how to read them in a way that will make us love them just as much as he does.

I set out to read Beowulf on the Beach as a companion to Jane Eyre, which I’ve chosen for the BoB-themed summer reading challenge hosted by Ann and Michael of Books on the Nightstand. I figured I’d enjoy the book, knock a previously unread classic off my list, and move right along. Instead, I’m walking away with a lengthy list of books that, for one reason or another, I’ve never read and now feel prepared to tackle and a renewed desire to re-read some of the ones I’ve loved.

Murnighan says that “if there is a single classic that deserves a second chance now that you’re an adult, it’s Great Expectations,” and I’m willing to take him at his word. I’ll be happy to spend some time with Pip and Miss Havisham again in the near future. I might even embark on chunkster like Moby Dick, which gets Murnighan’s vote for “single greatest novel ever” or Ulysses, which he says we should read for three reasons: “We can’t be as smart as Joyce, we can’t notice as much as Joyce, and we can’t be as funny as Joyce.”

And you can bet your bottom dollar that I won’t pass up an opportunity to return to One Hundred Years of Solitude, which Murnighan calls “the novel that arches above and beyond all others, covering them in its eclipse like a sequoia does a sapling” because of “the humanity it incarnates, the wisdom, love, humor, imagination, joy, and sex that it contains, its ability to strum you like a zither and make your heart sing out beautiful.”

Murnighan has a lot to say about One Hundred Years of Solitude, but if this doesn’t make you want to run out and buy the first copy you can find, I don’t know what will.

I’m convinced there’s no book that can teach us more. It doesn’t merely tell, nor at times even show, it embodies, instantiating not only all the glory that’s in there, but making us realize the staggering fact hat a human being could write such a work, could make something with that much feeling, something so full of everything that makes our lives fuller. To know that such a man was out there and that he could give us such a work restores hope to even the most jaded among us.

Wow oh wow oh wow.  If it’s possible to have a literary crush on someone, I have one on Jack Murnighan, and I’m ready to make this the bookish summer of love. Seriously.

You know there’s at least one classic you want to read and have been making excuses about. Go buy it. And Beowulf on the Beach. And read them together. Why?  Because Jack Murnighan makes the classics seem not just accessible but inviting, exciting, and unmissable.

Go on. You know you wanna.

While you’re at it, you may as well sign up for Ann and Michael’s summer reading challenge, visit the Books on the Nightstand YouTube channel to view videos of Jack reading from Beowulf on the Beach, and follow Jack on Twitter.