Review: Under the Henfluence by Tove Danovich

I have no interest in having chickens myself but I am fascinated by them in theory. Plus I’m always happy to learn about new things so I can be that irritating person at dinner parties boring everyone with facts that I think are interesting and everyone else is over hearing about. I do, however, think that the facts in Tove Danovich’s non-fiction book about her own adventures with backyard chickens, and all the things that she learned about the hobby chicken industry along the way would be interesting to everyone.

When Danovich and her husband moved to Portland, she was able to start her long wished for backyard flock of chickens. She was enchanted with the fluffy little chicks she raised, and curious about the industry that brought the little peepers to her. Weaving anecdotes from her own girls with what she learns by interviewing people in the chicken industry, including people who show chickens, those who run a rooster rescue, own the hatchery, and more. While she celebrates the love of chickens and backyard flocks, she is not insensible to the terrible conditions that currently exist, especially at the industrial level, contrasting it with a far gentler history of chicken husbandry practiced by past generations. The horrors are hard to read (and might convince some to stop eating chicken altogether) but they are tempered by the delight of things like chicken training classes and the realistic, if somewhat sobering, picture surrounding the conservation of feral chickens in Hawaii.

The book is well researched and fact-filled. Danovich’s own experiences with her backyard flock are engaging. When she loses a chicken, the reader is crushed along with her. And both the personal and journalistic pieces are integrated together well, making this a fun and informative read. Those with a love for or fascination with chickens will definitely enjoy the read but those who just have a natural curiosity about the world will also be happily satisfied.

Merry Christmas and Happy Hanukah 2024

It’s been a year of ups and downs and while this letter isn’t as funny as it once was thanks to kids growing up, it does have a return to vomit, which I know you’ve all missed in recent years. With that fair warning, here’s our 2024:

January: K. ran the humid, sweaty Key West Half Marathon this month. It was a disaster of a run but she was delighted to see the polydactyl cats at the Hemingway House (where she—shockingly—bought a book).

February: D. was busy earning frequent flyer miles this month with business trips to Chicago, Las Vegas, and New York.

March: D. loves the cold and snow so much (HA!) that he went back to Chicago a couple of times this month, including over K.’s birthday. Still debating if it was to get out of giving her a gift or if the quiet of an empty house was the gift.

April: K. got D. tickets to a 3-day music festival that was this month. How to know you’re getting old? You definitely buy the more expensive tickets so you can have access to the private porta-potties, and the free beer, but mostly the porta-potties.

May: K. ran a marathon relay with friends. They took 3rd (of 3, but who’s counting?). K. and D. took a quick trip to Maui for work but they had to leave early to get to Ohio for T.’s college graduation. K. spent the last day of the trip seasick and puking over the side of a small adventure raft so she wasn’t entirely sorry to leave. After graduation, T. moved home, dumping his piles of stuff in the dining room and K.’s office, making it look like we live in an episode of Hoarders. When he and D. headed back to NC, K. went north to Michigan for the summer, where she ran a 10K with her sister. S. won their age group. K. wasn’t last (essentially a win as well) but she is holding a grudge that the fudge prize was not shared with her and was instead taken home to Florida to be shared with family who didn’t run the race.

June: T. sailed in Regionals this month and spent the rest of the month (and much of the summer) looking for a job.

July: D., W., and R. all came up to Michigan over the 4th joining K. and T. It was noisy and wonderful.

August: W. moved into a new apartment in Coral Springs and good parents that we are, we still haven’t seen it. T. sailed in an offshore weekend race in the Atlantic this month. Apparently it was rough seas, which K. was grateful to learn only after T. was safe on shore again since she’d already envisioned A Perfect Storm in her catastrophizing brain. Oh, and everyone on the boat was seasick (so it wasn’t just K. in Hawaii). K. and D. went to Ireland and Scotland for their 25th anniversary trip which Covid had delayed since 2020. Dave did his best to contribute to a nationwide Guinness shortage but he and the friends we traveled with for the Ireland leg were just not up to the task. There were only one or two instances of wrong way turning/driving (and a ton of backseat driving by K. the control freak) so all in all, a success.

September: K. decided that she and D. should take a bicycle tour of Arthur’s Seat outside of Edinburgh but all that happened was that she proved Scottish 5-year-olds are better at riding bikes than she is. After a full Superman over the bike handles, she had two broken ribs and a wrecked shoulder. She did get back on the bike and finish the tour but had to make the acquaintance of the Scottish NHS later that night. T. dog and cat sat while the parents were gone, luckily not starting his new job with AC Talent, working for Weaver Consultants Group in Frankfort, KY, until they were back. He moved into R. and J.’s spare bedroom for a couple of months but left 90% of his stuff at home so we wouldn’t miss him too much (or be able to walk through the dining room). He’s a CQA Technician and uses words like “hot trash,” “sludge viscosity,” and “methane” when describing his job. Delightful, right?! R. and J. got engaged this month. This means K. has to help plan a wedding and D. has to open the wallet enough to pay for it. (Please stop laughing now and say a prayer we don’t kill each other over it!) Another way to know we’re getting old? D. went out to San Francisco to Dreamforce again. Even he is exhausted by all of the schmoozing and partying and K. can’t stay awake long enough to answer a phone call made on Pacific time.

October: This month we had to say a hard goodbye to our sweet 14 ½ year old Gatsby. The house is quiet and sad without her. K. and R. flew up to Mackinac Island to look at possible wedding venues and while K. was brave enough to get back on a bike, she crashed again. No hospital needed this time but she’s taking this as her sign to stay off of bikes forever. When she got home, she was walloped by her first bout with Covid, which D. must have picked up at Dreamforce and kindly shared with her.

November: T. finally moved into his apartment and invited K. to come to Lexington to help him (aka buy him a bed and some other furniture). Why is it that our kids always seem to end up renting places on the highest possible floor in buildings without elevators?! D. didn’t go because he was in Baton Rouge for the LSU-Alabama game with his neighborhood friends (aka the Band of Idiots). His back thanked him for missing out on the move. He also missed snuggling with R. and J.’s sweet new puppy, Fitz, though, so he had to make up for that over Thanksgiving. That puppy’s feet never touched the ground.

Every month: Sammy (8 or 9) hisses at us if we pet him on a schedule he has not approved and Ozzie (6) alternates between K.’s lap and managing D. at work by lounging on the computer keyboard or loafing on the back of Dave’s chair during Zoom calls.

As the year comes to a close, we once again hope that you are surrounded by peace, love, and happiness now and throughout the coming year.

Review: Burst by Mary Otis

Mothers and daughters, perhaps one of the most written about relationships in literature. Is it because the relationships between mothers and daughters can be so fraught, so difficult, so complex? Or is it because it can be so wonderful, so loving, so close? Maybe it's because it can be (and often is) all of those things. And maybe it's because it is so easy to see a daughter becoming her mother, whether intentionally or not. Mary Otis' novel, Burst, is a study in a close and complicated mother daughter relationship, a love story and a mirror, a desire to be different, and all that that entails.

Charlotte and Viva are mother and daughter, best friends, and co-conspirators against the world. Charlotte is a single mother who is troubled and peripatetic (Viva's description on her college applications). She lives on a whim, pulling Viva with her on her adventures as she struggles with an alcohol addiction that leaves her unable to provide for Viva without help from random old friends and her strict older sister, but never from Viva's absent father. Money is always an issue and Charlotte bargains for survival with things she shouldn't. Viva grows up delighted to be her mother's co-pilot in life but learning things from Charlotte that she shouldn't, especially the way that alcohol eases many things. When, as a child, Viva discovers a true talent for dance, there's a chance that she can escape her upbringing until an accident makes clear just how fragile her own life is.

Starting in the 1970s and running through the 1990s, Charlotte and Viva's relationship grows and changes after disappointments and with a more grown-up understanding. The reader watches with sadness as Viva comes to recognize her mother's demons, and to acknowledge that she cannot banish them. That she falls prey to the same demons and darkness feels inevitable even as the reader hopes that she can conquer hers. The time periods of the novel are beautifully drawn with the nostalgia of the time wrapped in the melancholy of the story. The plot moves between Viva and Charlotte (including Charlotte's past as an aspiring artist before Viva) allowing each character's feelings and motivations to be fully explored beyond their relationship to each other. This is a novel about disappointment and love and all the layers of a life shared closely. It was hard to read about all of the poor choices both Charlotte and then Viva make, afraid to hope for resilience. And yet the reader cannot help feeling sorry for the things that derail these women, to want a better outcome than we expect, and for there to be understanding, self-love, and forgiveness in the end.

Review Mercury by Amy Jo Burns

Who doesn't love a good dysfunctional family novel? In her novel, Mercury, Amy Jo Burns has created a quietly satisfying novel peopled with characters you could see sitting around your own table, some you like and some you don't but all of whom share a long and complicated history with you.

When seventeen year old Marley West moves into small town Mercury, PA, she is quickly claimed by Baylor Joseph, the oldest of the three Joseph boys and a local high school football star. Dating Bay gets her invited to dinner with the rest of the Josephs, parents Mick and Elise, and Bay's younger brothers Waylon and Shay. She is witness to the complex family dynamic as an outsider, and eventually a participant as well as a member of the family herself, as Waylon's wife. In fact, she becomes a lynch pin in the family, even as resentments simmer and tensions rise. When a body is unexpectedly uncovered in the attic of the local church thanks to a leaking roof, a roof that Joseph and Sons Roofing fixed years ago, old secrets and hurts will come to light, changing the truth of the past.

This is a novel chock full of private family drama, the weight of expectations, and complicated family relationships. Burns draws realistic characters, some of whom are not entirely sympathetic or likeable. The secrets they carry shape their characters, form the love/hate relationships they feel toward one another, and make the family how and what they are. Although the novel is told in third person, Marley is really the main character, the one who both forces change and acknowledges tradition as she comes into her own. This is a powerful, character driven story of growth, belonging, motherhood, and the traumas that form us.

Thanks to the publisher for a copy of this book to review.

Review: Annie Bot by Sierra Greer

Robots are having a moment, especially with the rapidly evolving AI tech happening right now. What is our world going to look like with this amazing and potentially troubling technology in ten years, twenty, more? Well, Annie Bot by Sierra Greer dows not answer this question, nor does it really even try, despite being poised to do so.

Doug has designed and paid for his "Cuddle Bunny" robot, Annie. She is modeled after his ex-wife, just whiter and bustier (and ostensibly more compliant). Her purpose is to please her master in all ways. She is to satisfy him sexually, keep his house, and follow his orders. In order for her to intuit his desires, she is programmed to be autodidactic, learning his reactions, needs, and wants. This keeps her in a pereptual state of varying anxiety as she strives to be exactly what he wants at all times. As she learns for his pleasure, she does start to acquire her own human-like desire to act for herself, which is in direct contravention of Doug's desires. Obviously this removes the novel from the realm of AI and robotics to the thornier issues of female automony and self-determination. Unfortunately neither issue is really handled in depth here.

The world of the novel is essentially our world so there's no impact of sentient robots other than as sexual toys. Annie herself is so human-like as to be pretty indistinguishable from an abused wife to a controlling husband. Yes, she does need to be plugged into an outlet to recharge and her back unzips for maintenance but that's it. This, coupled with her somehow legitimate emotional range and increasing ability to think for herself (despite programming tweaks), makes her a superficial symbol of a world that does not value women for more than sex and housework. Owner Doug is controlling, abusive, and nasty while Annie is naive and sympathetic. Doug's punishments for Annie are devious and horrible but serve the plot. What doesn't serve the plot are the inconsistencies in what Annie can and cannot do based on a free will that only appears periodically. There were many uncomfortable sex scenes dominating the first half of the book, which did cement the misogny here but really didn't continue to add to the story beyond that. And the second half's about face into therapy and a carefully controlled freedom for Annie feels incongruous given what went before. Even if Greer didn't want to fully examine robots and AI's impact on society, she had the germ of a great novel investigating the objectification of women, desire, unequal power dynamics, freedom, and identity; too bad she didn't flesh it out. In the end, I was grateful the novel was short because it dragged much more than it should have given the topics at hand.

Waiting on Wednesday

This meme was hosted by Breaking the Spine and is meant to highlight some great pre-publication books we all can't wait to get our grubby little mitts on. I'm choosing to continue the tradition even though she has stopped.

Libby Lost and Found by
Stephanie Booth.
The book is being released by Sourcebooks Landmark on October 15, 2024.

The book's jacket copy says: Libby Lost and Found is a book for people who don't know who they are without the books they love. It's about the stories we tell ourselves and the chapters of our lives we regret. Most importantly, it's about the endings we write for ourselves.

Meet Libby Weeks, author of the mega-best-selling fantasy series, The Falling Children--written as "F.T. Goldhero" to maintain her privacy. When the last manuscript is already months overdue to her publisher and rabid fans around the world are growing impatient, Libby is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's. Already suffering from crippling anxiety, Libby's symptoms quickly accelerate. After she forgets her dog at the park one day--then almost discloses her identity to the journalist who finds him--Libby has to admit it: she needs help finishing the last book.

Desperately, she turns to eleven-year-old superfan Peanut Bixton, who knows the books even better than she does but harbors her own dark secrets. Tensions mount as Libby's dementia deepens--until both Peanut and Libby swirl into an inevitable but bone-shocking conclusion.

Review: The Road to Dalton by Shannon Bowring

Every person you meet is living a life that is simultaneously public and private. We see the surface of people but can't see into their hearts and minds unless they let us in. This is true in big cities and small towns alike. People are people everywhere. Shannon Bowring shows us this in her devastating, heartbreaking, and yet somehow hopeful, debut novel The Road to Dalton.

Set in 1990 small town Dalton, Maine, this is the story of a handful of people in the town whose lives are intertwined in so many ways and whose actions, big and small, impact each other and the town as a whole. There's Richard, the town's dependable only doctor who has never loved his job but who holds so many of the town's secrets, Trudy, his wife, the town librarian who is best friends and more (a fact conveniently ignored by Richard) with Bev. Bev is married to Bill, who might or might not know about Bev and Trudy. They have one son, Nate, who is married to his high school sweetheart Bridget, who is suffering quietly from severe post-partum depression after giving birth to their daughter earlier than expected. There's Rose, a waitress at the local diner, who is being abused by the deadbeat father of her two boys, and there's Greg, a young teenager who is confused by his feelings about himself and his closest friends. These struggling people are all a part of the tapestry of the town; some are fraying and ome are pulled too tightly but all are important to the overall story.

Although there is a major event that effects all of the characters lives, this is a character study with an ensemble cast. Even before the major event, so many of the characters stand at a crossroads in their lives, facing huge decisions and changes that will change everything for them. Each of them are shaped by very personnal and interior secrets they all keep to themselves quietly. Bowring writes her characters skillfully, showing the push and pull of community, empathizing with the heavy and hard things that they are facing: post partum depression, suicidal ideation, domestic abuse, marital problems, job/life dissatisfaction/apathy, homophobia, and more. So many of these characters cannot live their lives openly, with joy and fulfillment and yet there is still hopefulness in the end, quite a feat for any writer but certainly one for a debut author. Readers who like quiet, complex novels and don't mind slower pacing will find much to enjoy here.