Wednesday, December 19, 2012

Waiting on Wednesday

This meme is 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.

The Imposter Bride by Nancy Richler. The book is being released by St. Martin's Press on Jan. 29, 2013.

Amazon says this about the book:  An unforgettable novel about a mysterious mail-order bride in the wake of WWII, whose sudden decision ripples through time to deeply impact the daughter she never knew

The Imposter Bride blends gorgeous storytelling and generation-spanning intrigue in the story of Lily Azerov. A young, enigmatic woman, Lily arrives in post-WWII Montreal on her own, expecting to be married to Sol Kramer. But, upon seeing her at the train station, Sol turns her down. Out of pity, his brother Nathan decides to marry her instead, and pity turns into a deep—and doomed—love. But it is immediately clear that Lily is not who she claims to be. Her attempt to live out her life as Lily Azerov shatters when she disappears, leaving a new husband and a baby daughter with only a diary, a large uncut diamond—and a need to find the truth.

Who is Lily and what happened to the young woman whose identity she stole? Why has she left and where did she go? It's up to the daughter Lily abandoned to find the answers to these questions, as she searches for the mother she may never find or truly know.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Review: The Blue Notebook by James Levine

Sometimes you find a book that you know tackles an important, scary, or terrible issue but it's hard to make yourself face reading it because you know it's going to rip your heart out and make you face the evil of the world.  James Levine's The Blue Notebook is one of those books.  Tackling the horrific topic of child prostitution and abuse in India, this novel is difficult to read, graphic, and unfortunately more real than not.

Narrator Batuk is take from her small village to Mumbai and sold into prostitution by her father when she is just nine years old.  She lives in a tiny "nest" on the street and she must solicit business from here, retreating behind a curtain to service her customers, or as she calls it "making sweet-cake," in order to ensure the continued happiness and wealth of her keepers, a large woman named Mamaki Briila and the more distant Master Gahil.  Batuk details her story and experiences in a small blue notebook she keeps hidden and with a stub of a pencil inadvertantly dropped one day by Mamaki Briila.  She tells of her early life at home as the apple of her father's eye and how unexpected it was for her, seemingly secure in her father's love, to be so callously sold into prostitution.  She talks about her unspoiled beauty and the sale of her virginity to the highest bidder.  She writes of her experiences in various underground places designed to make her compliant, sexually skilled, and appreciative of the tiny nest she calls her own when the novel opens.  She captures her fellow sex workers, especially her best friend Puneet, a beautiful boy who is eventually castrated to preserve his youthful beauty.  And she writes of learning to be exceptional at her job as a way to minimize how much she must do: the better she performs sexual acts, the sooner the men who visit her will be satisfied, pay, and leave.

There is a detached resignation to the writing here with Batuk telling her tale matter of factly and from a remove, even as she lives with the horror daily.  And while the distance might be necessary so as not to overwhelm the reader, it also serves to minimize the emotional impact of the story, making the tale less visceral and less immediate.  Batuk's life is in fact horrific and given that she was sold by her own father at such a young age, she has had less than no input into her own fate and prospects.  She is completely owned by others and will be deemed disposable once she can no longer attract paying clients.  Her voice here is not particularly true to her experience.  The mix of maturity and naivete works but her eloquence and educated language are completely unbelievable no matter how smart she is given her upbringing and exposure thus far in her life.  There are many graphic acts of violence and sex detailed and reading them is not for the faint of heart, especially as the depravity escalates.  In the end, while this novel shines a light on the exploitation and abuse of innocents, it offers no hope for the future of those trapped in a hell not of their own making.

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

Monday, December 17, 2012

It's Monday! What Are You Reading?

This meme is hosted by Sheila at Book Journey.

Books I completed this past week are:

An Extraordinary Theory of Objects by Stephanie LaCava
The Crying Tree by Naseem Rakha
Saturday Night Widows by Becky Aikman

Bookmarks are still living in the middle of:

My Bookstore edited by Ronald Rich
A Different Kind of Normal by Cathy Lamb
Fresh Off the Boat by Eddie Huang

Reviews posted this week:

Just Kids by Patti Smith
Turning Pages by Tristi Pinkston
Forgotten by Catherine McKenzie
Heading Out to Wonderful by Robert Goolrick
The Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap by Wendy Welch
Moranthology by Caitlin Moran

Books still needing to have reviews written (as opposed to the ones that are simply awaiting posting):

The Blue Notebook by James Levine
Let the Great World Spin by Colm McCann
Sad Desk Salad by Jessica Grose
You Tell Your Dog First by Alison Pace
Charlotte Street by Danny Wallace
Seducing Ingrid Bergman by Chris Greenhalgh
Buddy by Brian McGrory
His Mistress by Christmas by Victoria Alexander
The Lighthouse Road by Peter Geye
Happily Ever Madder by Stephanie McAfee
Rules of Civility by Amor Towles
I Married You For Love by Lily Tuck
The Book of Neil by Frank Turner Hollon
How to Tame a Willful Wife by Christy English
Never Hug a Nun by Kevin Killeen
An Extraordinary Theory of Objects by Stephanie LaCava
The Crying Tree by Naseem Rakha
Saturday Night Widows by Becky Aikman

Monday Mailbox

Whenever the doorbell rang this week, I was certain that it would just be the last gifts I'd ordered for Christmas and yet sometimes I was wrong. Three times;it was a gift for me. ::squeal:: Books! Yay! This past week's mailbox arrivals:

Saturday Night Widows by Becky Aikman came from Crown Publishing.

Six young widows finding strength in each other and their shared experience, this one sounds like it will be fanastic.

Farewell, Dorothy Parker by Ellen Meister came from Putnam.

A movie critic looking for inspiration from Dorothy Parker inadvertantly gets more than she bargained for when Parker's ghost inhabits her life. I've always loved Parker's wit and snark so I am really looking forward to this one.

Vanity Fare by Megan Caldwell came from William Morrow and TLC Book Tours for a blog tour.

A newly single mom finds a job freelance copywriting for a bakery and she could just find a happily ever after too.  How could this not be fun and fantastic?  Plus the punny title makes me smile.

As always, if you'd like to see the marvelous goodies in other people's mailboxes, make sure to visit Suko's Notebook as she is hosting this month's Mailbox Monday and have fun seeing how we are all doing our part to keep the USPS and delivery services viable.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Sunday Salon: Busy week in review

It's been a busy week here.  I had my usual week of driving to kid activities: four days of dance for R. at a studio 30 minutes from home, 4 separate soccer practices or games (winter training, indoor, futsal, and 3v3) for T., and the last tennis clinic of the session for W.  I also had a tennis match and 2 lessons of my own to keep me busy while the kids were in school plus our holiday Bunko party complete with Dirty Santa gift exchange. But that sort of stuff is my usual weekly crazy.  No, this past week the usual crazy has ramped up to spectacular crazy.

I managed to finally decorate the house for Christmas.  Nevermind that I then discovered that the top two layers of branches on the prelit fake Christmas tree no longer work.  I poked those suckers in anyway and am going to just go with our own version of a redneck Christmas this year.  I thought about doing that Pinterest craft where you glue together small mirrors and hang them in the tree so that they multiply the lights but then I realized that they can't multiply lights that refuse to shine.  So its a good thing I didn't waste my time on that craft (although I did pin it for next year because hey, Pinterest is like the Dollar Store of the internet: if you don't pin it now, when you go back to get it, you might never find it again and seriously I have always envisioned myself as someone with her shit together, another Martha Stewart if you will, despite ample evidence to the contrary).  I'm almost entirely finished with my present shopping.  Wrapping, now that's another story entirely but I may invoke my dad and husband's genius ideas of simply folding the top of the shopping bag over and taping it shut.  Can you picture Christmas chez K. now?  A partially dark Christmas tree sans ornaments (did I mention I haven't yet convinced the kids to decorate the tree) with piles of Target and Walmart bags artfully arranged beneath it.  As an added bonus, amazon boxes require no taping shut to stay secret before Christmas day.  Festive, no? 

I also managed to successfully threaten my children so that they would cooperate long enough to take a Christmas picture for our cards.  Thanks to the evil input of my friend C., I told them that if they didn't let me take a decent picture, I'd take pictures of them sleeping and put those snaps on a card to send out.  The 15 year old thought that was fairly creepy sounding although the 10 year old was ready to buy into it as a choice.  I did take the pictures as collateral and even had the perfect tagline for the card: And Visions of Sugar Plums Danced in Their Heads.  Sadly no one was drooling the night I snuck in to take the pictures but that's what photoshop is for, right?!  Since I finally had the actual picture, I also managed to order the cards.  Unfortunately, the delivery date for them could very well be after we leave to spend time with my family.  I guess folks will be getting post-Christmas cards from here this year.  At the rate my last minute laziness is overtaking me, our 2013 cards (provided the Mayans are wrong) will actually turn into 2014 Valentine's Day cards.

Aside from Christmas related chaos, there were other add-ons to the routine.  First I fielded a phone call from the assistant principal at the elementary school telling me that my youngest has been discussing a girl's boobs with one of his buddies.  He also passed on a nasty rumor about said girl but the a.p. was quick to reassure me that they know he didn't actually start said rumor.  Well, golly.  That's a relief.  :-P  Given that the boys were told that their comments could be considered sexual harassment, I then got to explain what that was (and admit I was unclear as to why the a.p. was using the term so incorrectly but to suggest that plain old bullying, which is what this was in my book, was just as bad and that if I heard anything further on this or any other bully situation that T. would not be sitting down for a week and would be grounded indefinitely).  This raising kids thing can really suck eggs.  At least that was the only bad thing of the week, as long as you don't count the foul, smelly porta-potties at this weekend's soccer tournament (and heaven knows I'm trying to wipe them from my memory).  More entertainingly, W. and R. had a club outing to an ice rink and we (D. and I) got to watch numerous crashes and tense wall clutching as so many of the kids hadn't ever had skates on their feet ever before.  And all of this was accomplished while trying to maintain their high school dignity and to flirt.  Truly giggle worthy.  The things that pass as Friday night entertainment for old married folks.  ;-)  Date night with D. and then a Christmas party at one of his former colleague's house where I knew no one (an introvert's worst nightmare but a legitimate Christmas gift to my husband from me given that he knows my aversion to stuff like this--and the bonus is that it's a gift I didn't have to wrap and one I can use in my favor for the next several months as well) rounded out the go-go-go week for me.

Luckily I did manage to carve out some reading time to slow me down in between all of the hustle and bustle.  I moved to France and accumulated small, meaningful objects that helped to ground me when depression set in.  I lived the nightmare of losing a child and then 19 years later uncovering the truth about that day through the incredible act of forgiving his murderer.  I created a support group of disparate women who had one thing in common: that they were all young widows and spent the next year opening myself up to life and love again.  I am still in the midst of several other fictional (and non-fictional) journeys so this week will take me to new and different places as I contemplate everything I still have left to do: finish making the Buckeyes that are a staple of my mom and grandmother's stockings and which are meanly tempting the kids with sweet wafts of sugary peanut butter each time they open the fridge (peanut butter balls are rolled but not yet dipped in chocolate), write and print out the Christmas letter, and maybe, if I get inspired, actually decorate the Christmas tree and wrap the presents in something other than the plastic bags they came in.  OK, that last bit might be pushing things a little too far.

Have you had a busy week too?  What books have you been reading to take you out of your holiday madness?

Review: Moranthology by Caitlin Moran

Pop culture has never been a strong suit for me so perhaps it isn't surprising that I hadn't heard of British columnist Caitlin Moran aside from as the author of the successful How to Be a Woman.  I haven't read her first, much-lauded collection but was still interested in reading this second collection of her previously published columns covering a wide variety of topics from pop culture to current events to politics.  Tying each of the columns together, Moran has added brief introductory blurbs before each of them ranging from personal tidbits about herself and her relationship with her husband to reactions to the pieces to why she's chosen and arranged the pieces the way she has.

Moran is opinionated, funny, and snarky and her views are on full display in these pieces.  There are interviews with famous musicians, her take on current television shows, her obsession with certain stars and her disinterest in others, columns on her own childhood growing up poor and on her own children, social ills, and so much more.  While even I, under my pop culture free rock, recognize some of what she writes about, there are at least an equal number of topics with which I am unfamiliar and that certainly made the reading about Moran's take on those topics less interesting than I imagine it is when you are au fait with the topics.  The writing itself is generally good even though the essays themselves are a tad patchy in terms of depth, humor, and interest.  UK pop culture fans will probably delight in the entire collection and others can appreciate the occasional earned laughs.

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

Friday, December 14, 2012

Review: The Little Bookstore of Big Stone Gap by Wendy Welch

If you love books, at some point in your life, you've probably entertained, seriously or not, the idea of owning a bookstore or working in a library.  I mean, if you love books, truly love books, what could sound like a bigger road to bliss than working surrounded by them all day every day?  But daydreams don't include the reality of actually doing it, being responsible for running a business and making a living amongst books.  And if you do go ahead and do it, it's not as easy or idyllic as it would seem.  Not that it's without its joys and benefits, certainly, but it is a business (and generally a small business at that) and comes with the attendant worries of all businesses plus some specifically tailored to the book business.  Even so, Wendy Welch and her husband Jack Beck decided to follow their hearts and open up a small new and used bookstore in Big Stone Gap, Virginia without knowing exactly what they were in for.  In this memoir of their adventure, Welch has chronicled the ups and downs, lessons learned, friendships made, and the ways in which they not only succeeded but found happiness living and working among books every day.
 
Welch worked in a soul sucking job in Washington, D.C. when she and Beck realized that she wanted nothing more than to get out of the snake pit in which she was spending her days.  When the job became untenable, they upped stakes and moved to the carefully chosen Big Stone Gap with the idea of starting a bookstore there.  They were complete bookstore newbies without any experience behind them that could have prepared them for all they experienced as they prepared to open the Tales of the Lonesome Pine Book Store on the first floor of their charming old Victorian home.  They made mistakes, ill-conceived as well as serendipitous.  They struggled and succeeded and learned a lot along the way.  There was a steep, financially taxing learning curve to owning their own bookstore and even now, they don't make much but they are comfortable and content and that is more than enough.
 
From the genesis of the bookstore idea through to its actual functioning existence, this memoir takes readers each step of the way.  The chapters, roughly chronological, each revolve around different aspects of owning and running an independent bookstore.  Welch details their attempts at marketing the store on a shoestring and the ways in which their chosen location of a small town gave them both gifts and stumbling blocks as they strove for acceptance in a community that was not always too open to outsiders.  There are sweet anecdotes and the brief introduction of bookstore regulars and other characters who wander into the store and contribute to the ongoing story of Tales of the Lonesome Pine Book Store.  Welch talks about taking a trip to visit other independent bookstores to see how they ran their businesses and the ways in which that vacation changed and enriched their small store.  Written very conversationally, as if Welch is talking to a customer or friend (or both), the book definitely has charm.  It is, however, also a bit thin for its length and somewhat repetitious as well.  Having worked at an independent bookstore, I was already familiar with much of what Welch recounted and many of her stories were stories I've already lived.  Perhaps familiarity breeds contempt but I found several patches of the tale dull and disappointing.   Despite this, the book was a nice read but perhaps not of great interest outside of the small world of book fanatics.

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