V's Pick #51: Bright Lights Big Ass by Jen Lancaster

With the closing of this book, I've read everything she's written from finish to start. I didn't really mean to read her books backward, it just happened that way. Sadly, I saved the WORST for last, as this was her first book and quite frankly, I think it took her the first two in order to master the quippy humor and social disregard that is her signature (and the reason why I will probably read anything she writes). BLBA is funny, yes. I LOL'd a few times for sure, but it's also incredibly annoying. Well, Jen is annoying. Her schtick has long been that she's a fat (and doesn't care) white woman who used to have a lot of money, is married to a genius husband, has three overweight cats and two crazy huge dogs; her books are about the little things in life that make you laugh. Three years ago when I read my first Lancaster book, Bitter is the New Black I found her hilarious...a sort of Margaret Cho for suburban overweight women who used to be sorority girls, a kind of Jennifer Simpson with a higher IQ and larger bra size. But...reading her very first book, I'm thankful I started backward or I probably would have never gone forward. She does nothing but complain, complain, complain and complain some more in this book. And she makes me so mad at times I just want to yell - "Get off your fat ass and stop being such a little whiny bitch." There. I said it. Whew. The good news is, I've loved everything else she's done, especially her weight-loss memoir, Such a Pretty Fat.

Visit her blog for a real-time dose of the current Jen, but if you ask me, skip BLBA and go straight to Bitter to avoid her out-of-the-gate annoying writing and personality quirks.

V's Pick #50: Cleo by Helen Brown

I've noticed as I've gotten older that I cry more than I used to. Perhaps that's the first tick of the maternal clock or perhaps I've just seen more of life and thus appreciate both beauty and sadness in strident, deeper waves. My watering eyes know no bounds - TV commercials for underwear, a spectacular moment of growth in a student paper, an especially sweet gesture from John. And for the last week, pretty much every time I'd read a section of Cleo.
In Helen Brown's words, I found a little more of myself. On the surface it's a story about a cat, but I will tell you without hesitation that it is really a story about life. It's a story with many lessons, but one of astounding clarity which I have learned this year: life is not really living unless there's a cat involved.

Despite having and losing many cats growing up, including the cat who was in the family before I was (Creampuff was 21 when my boyfriend and I buried her in the garden) I have never really considered myself a "cat person." Oliver was mine because my dad found him by the mailbox and he just sort of never left my lap. Foxy was mine because I was walking our family dog (our Cleo) and this (what I thought...) little boy kitten waited for and followed me for three days straight. Many others I had and lost before those two were both heartwarming and sad. I actually wrote my first poem because our cat Tigger, hadn't come home during a thunderstorm. However, I still could never admit to myself that I needed a cat.

2010 opened with Oliver's death. Gruesome and sad, he drug himself across the floor on the night we knew he was expiring as I attempted to leave. He hadn't made a sound in three days as we sat in vigil but before I could escape to John's place for the night, he flung himself toward my feet, olive-green eyes locked on mine and let out the most truly animalistic sound I've ever heard. I said goodbye in my own noises and came home promptly the next morning to bury him with my mom. Losing him was hard; I'd nursed him back from the dead as a kitten and he'd been one of the shortest living cats in our brood - 10 years. But Foxy was thriving living with John and I knew I'd soon join her so the healing was a softer process.

In August, coming home from Wisconsin, I felt war-wounded. Having kissed Foxy's head a week earlier and knowing she had a clean bill of health from her vet visit a few months prior, I had nothing to equip me to deal with the silence her absence left in our lives. The phone calls from John mid-week had quickly gone from "Foxy's missing" to "Foxy's not missing" to "Foxy's dead." I couldn't really cry - I'd buried all of our family pets and that was my grieving process...but with this one, the one cat who throughout the years I'd really felt was so eternally mine, I would have to let go without digging. Our neighborhood was extremely helpful, and John's parents stood next to him as he buried Foxy two days before my plane was to touch down. Her final resting place is idyllic for a cat who was wild for seven years before spending her last seven with me: under a willow tree next to a pond, with a handmade stone marker, as much carved out of the earth as the tears John spilled while making it. I wish I could say I did the right thing when I came home, but I didn't. I panicked. Foxy had been with me through everything in college. She'd been my only reason for sleep during the waiting period FSU put me on to decide MFA criterion. She'd been my solace when I'd come home with a broken heel, a broken bank account or a broken heart. Her purr could fix anything and selfishly, I was kind of mad at her for leaving me before she could help me figure out how to fix this.

A bizarre week passed; looking back it seems it flew, but inside of it, time seemed to stand still. I kept her litter box and bowls a few days too long. I refused to vacuum her fur off the furniture. I tried to cry, but it was like something inside me had rusted. Her 7 pound absence in our apartment weighed at least a ton. We didn't eat much, we didn't talk much, we didn't do much. And then, laying in bed one night, John asked if I wanted to get another one... Positive I could never find a cat that would make me feel anything ever again, I declined his offer, but reminded him that I had been wanting a dog since before Foxy's time.

Writing this now, with Sadie on her back at my feet, rolling around with her stuffed chicken in her mouth, and Jude sneezing in the living room from under the TV stand, I feel like I'm on a different planet in just over a month's time. Love is an amazing elastic thing. Meeting Sadie allowed me to grieve for Foxy and while the tears I've cried in no way equal the love she brought my life, they're a start. A small offering to the animal gods that I can do it again. And meeting Jude two weeks ago, well, that's just how cats work. John and I had discussed getting a kitten at some point; dead set on making sure Sadie grows up to be one of those cool and socialized dogs who can live with anything, we knew a cat was in the future somewhere down the line. However, while the right thing to do, picking one out at a shelter, just isn't my style. Cats, unlike dogs, just happen. And it was way too soon for me to consider alternatives.

At Sadie's first vet appointment, this oddly familiar woman approached me with a black and white kitten. She works at Aloha (my vet clinic) and runs a kitten fostering program with the Humane Society on the side. I later learned that she came over to me because she said there was just something about Sadie and I sitting there that told her I could give a kitten a good home. While the black and white kitten wasn't ours, I was happy to pet a tiny morsel of furry life and really felt connected to Linda and her cause. Half an hour later, waiting for my bill, she returned with a gray kitten who promptly walked past me and curled up next to Sadie on the bench. Frail and so tiny, I was almost afraid to touch him. He didn't care...he looked up at me with unmistakeable Siamese eyes and mewed his way into my heart upon contact. Like all the great cats in my past, Guston, now Jude had found me. Named for a tropical storm and a song that speaks of loving again, Jude's purr has began to stitch my heart back into fullness. And beautifully, one of his favorite places in the world is to be perched on me or John's shoulder...something I *never* thought I'd find in another cat after Foxy.

Cleo found me too - on the day we ended up bringing Jude home, I was walking around Barnes and Nobel with a stack of books in my hands. I saw this one and knew it was the only thing I wanted to read that day. I didn't even make it home, stopping for lunch as an excuse to tear into it, I was three chapters deep on my way to vet to pick up our sick little dude. So, that's part of my story. If you love cats, or just even like cats, you need this book. Brown is a modern-day philosopher and most amazingly, she shares my thoughts:

"Cats aren't something to be "got." They turn up in people's lives when they're needed, and with a purpose that probably won't be understood to begin with... Life is contrary business. Sometimes what you think you don't want and what you need are the same thing" (285).

V's Pick #49: Be The Pack Leader by Cesar Milan

Sadie's foster recommended reading Milan and while I was skeptical at first because of his TV fame, I figured as the owner of a puppy who still doesn't get why pooping our closet isn't okay, I didn't have a lot to lose beyond maybe another pair of shoes.

While this book isn't about dogs like Sadie, who just have mild little manner issues and general puppy learning curves, it is an incredible read about humans' roles in dogs lives. And very unexpectedly, it's also about a lot of the problems we have as humans in our own lives.

Here are some highlights:

"Without being in touch with our instinctual side, we are dangerously unbalanced" (4).

"Dogs live in the moment. Dogs are happiest being dogs; they should not be replacement children, spouses, etc. Discipline and punishment are different; discipline is order" (45).

"The way I see it, most animal abuse comes from unbalanced human emotions and our own repressed negative emotions" (70).

"In many ways, dogs are neotenized wolves" (183).

"Humans often seek extra drama in their lives to complicate things. A balanced animal knows that life provides enough drama already" (186).

"I like to explain dog submission and open-mindedness" (223).

Urging dog owners to get their own houses in order (no pun intended) before they write off their "bad" pets, Milan writes a Zen approach to god companionship. While I still don't think his word is final, I totally agree that "calm-assertive" energy is what one needs to connect with a dog...and college students, if you want the truth. I feel like I possibly learned as much about teaching humans from this book as I did dogs and the major take-home was that in all the lessons, the big picture was to relax and be firm.

In just a few days since reading this book, I've almost taught her "down," she's had only one accident, went from TOTALLY freaking out during her baths to being only barely displeased and perhaps the coolest...is a whole new being in my eyes. As she snoozes next to my feet, I now see her not only as our loving little puppy with an knack for agility and maybe someday, locksmithing... but as this incredible machine of an animal, capable of so much more than even I.

I'm not going to go out and buy his collars, but I will say, Milan's place in my pack has risen greatly too.

V's Pick #48: The Last Song by Nicholas Sparks

Confession: I've never read Nicholas Sparks. Yes, I saw The Notebook and yes, I totally cried...but something about his novels just never appealed to me. After going into my second semester learning that nearly every female student I have taught or currently teach has either read him or is reading him, I thought I better at least give him a try. 

I chose The Last Song because it's his most recent novel and the library had a nice, newish paperback copy. I threw myself into it over Labor Day weekend and while it's taken me a while to finish because I only read a few minutes before bed every night, it's been worth sticking with. In fact, I find it a benefit that I don't feel guilty not reading more of it during the day, or fighting myself to chose work over play. It's my bedtime book and when I pick it up, I go right back to where I was the night before without absolutely zero confusion. Score one for Sparks. 

Along those lines, while I'm tallying points, I might also add that I'm a big fan of his storytelling based on this novel. As with most popular fiction, I find his plots kind of expected (first love, dying dad, teenage angst) but his plot twists are totally rewarding (turtles? fireballs? church burning?) - the last thing I expected to find in a novel like this was anything that surprised me...so that, surprised me! 

At times it got a little too preachy for me. I'm not sure if religion is always included in his novels, but there were definite moments when this one was pushing the Chicken Soup for the....envelope. I was entertained, and Sparks has earned his "Bestselling" title because he is a fantastic storyteller. However, it's still very mass-market and as such, meets various conventions of airport fiction. Read: this book will not change your life. But, it was a worthy read to me in the sense that I've come to be able to appreciate an author I never had intention of liking who my students (and most of America it seem) really connect with. And, because one book isn't enough to really grasp an author, I'm going to try to read Dear John next. See you in one month when my two-pages a night schedule will get me through my next put-downable and pick-upable Sparks' novel. 

P.S. I will NOT see the movie version of TLS because Miley Cyrus makes me want to kill bunnies. 

V's Pick #47: Red Hook Road by Ayelet Waldman

"Marriage is only a boat...a wooden boat...their beauty justifies your efforts." Red Hook Road is a novel about my worst fear, something I never like to think about, much less read about. However, when I heard Waldman reading a section on NPR I knew that if anyone could pull the wool from my eyes, it would be her. After all, facing your fears is the best way to make sure they're not fears anymore...or to ensure you're borderline obsessed with whatever it was you feared in the first place. Lucky for me, the latter outcome was not a side effect from reading this novel. Instead, I lost myself and my fears in the lush and sensual prose, in Waldman's poetic and lively storytelling, in her strong and complicated (i.e. real) female characters.

Set in Red Hook, Maine and told over five summers, this is not a story for the light of heart...but it is a story that left my heart lighter. Centered around the death of a bride and groom on their wedding day, Red Hook Road tells of the aftermath of memories and the challenges of love and life in the face of unthinkable grief. My biggest fear in the world has long been to find my partner, my other half (which I've accomplished) and for him to die suddenly while in the early years of our relationship, much less anywhere near our wedding. I heard a news story years and years ago as a little girl about a couple who were on their honeymoon in Hawaii. The husband wanted a picture of his wife at the edge of a cliff. She protested because it was stormy and the sea was high, but he told her it would only take a second and it would be a great picture. He adjusted his camera for the perfect shot, snapped...and when he looked up from his viewfinder, she was gone. A rouge wave had come up and swept her out into the rolling sea in the seconds his shutter flashed. They'd been married for less than a day and that was the last picture anyone would ever take of her. 

So, back to the book. I wasn't sure what I would feel, but as I know my fear, like all solid long-held fears, is totally irrational and out of my control, I figured reading Waldman might make me realize that life goes on. Even if my worst fear came true, I would have to find a way to survive it. So I guess I read this because Waldman's voice seduced me and I hoped for hope. I was also intrigued because I'd learned she'd spent ten years writing this book, the idea for which came to her after reading an obit in a NJ newspaper about a wedding party that died in a car accident on the NJ Turnpike. She'd let the story marinate in her head mostly, writing it fully in less than a year after nearly nine years of mental plotting. I was also wholly impressed that her goal for the novel was to tell a story not about death, but about life. This thought helped me through the tough parts and I kept going and going until I too, loved Becca and John as if I'd been there on their wedding day. 

What's left after the champagne glasses are packed away and the stale reception food is put into trash bags are two families, the Tetherlys and the Copakens, who became one family just minutes before they each lost their oldest children. The Tetherlys are true Mainers - suffering through the harshest winters on the coast and subsisting on little income, few year-round natural resources and a lot of firewood. They're hearty, straightforward, hardworking and serious, none more so than mother, Jane. The Copakens are "from aways" who visit the home they own (which Jane cleans) in Red Hook every summer, coming over from NYC. They dine on lobster, throw an infamous 4th of July party on their manicured lawn, go sailing and mother Iris, a noted Holocaust scholar with a prestigious professorship, renovates and sculpts her home into a magazine worthy specimen. However, as perfect as Iris can get her flower vases, when death rattles her controlled world, it isn't she who spins out of control, rather, the husband she has subverted for years. Jane and Iris struggle to understand their separate yet forever connected worlds as their other two children (Matt and Ruthie, respectively) struggle to live a life without their older sibling as role models. In the end, I won't say a word about what happens, except that it's worth knowing. 

Waldman weaves an uncommonly beautiful story full of classical music, ship yards, Cambodian orphans, fireworks, lobsters, tears, wet bathing suits, sex and banana pudding. The culmination of everything is a Microburst and a violin piece played for a dying man. In a story shrouded in death, I did indeed learn a lot about life. Most importantly, that there's nothing a strong woman can't endure. 

V's Pick #46: Local Girls by Alice Hoffman

The picture I found says "Stories" on the cover, but the copy I read did not. I'll add that to the list of mysteries about this book I've still yet to figure out.

Part Intervention-esque drug tale, part cancer chronicle and part coming-of-age story, this book is at once incredibly exciting and extremely boring. Told in summers, expect for one chapter of Winter, there is a constant balance between life and death; of spirit, of self, of family, of dreams. Despite the lurid subject matter covered in the telling of Gretel's life, Hoffman's writing is slow and dreamy, lending a weird - and I'm not sure if purposeful - juxtapostion that sort of wore me out and made me crazy at the same time.
 
I started this book while in Wisconsin at the end of summer. The town Gretel grows up in during Local Girls is oddly like Fond du Lac, WI where my mom grew up; the connections made me keep reading even when boredom kicked in. From the descriptions of the streets to the way the locals passed their time, the small town fever and the dashed dreams of brilliance by way of teenage pregnancy felt like an extension of the trip down my mom's memory lane. However, set in a time period that could have easily been the 50s or the 10s, it was hard to locate a TRUE sense of place in this novel, which might have partly lead to my transfer of my own setting into the story. Despite Hoffman's vivid details and clean storytelling, I also found it difficult to connect to the characters, especially Gretel, who seemed at once a blank slate and the oldest soul in the novel.

Maybe that was the point - a story to tell for telling sake - about a girl who could be anyone, in a town that could be any small town, in a time that could be any time? I don't know. It's a short novel, otherwise I'm honestly not sure I'd have made it through. I'd only packed two books and had blown through the first before we'd landed so it was either read this or pick up my mom's latest Debbie Macomber. This was indeed the better choice; finishing it off back home, I found the good things outweighed the bad: friendship, roses, death, drugs, small towns, hot summers, brothers, catnip, avacado and swimming in wool dresses. And, I must admit that in hindsight, it's entirely possible that the slowness of this book was wholly stylistic, after all...it's a story about life, fettered.

V's Pick #45: Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog or The Amazing Adventures of an Ordinary Woman by Lisa Scottoline

LOL. I don't use that phrase...ever...but there's just no way around it with this book. In fact, I'll go as far as LMFAO! Yes, I did it. I went there.

Read this and tell me you didn't LYFAO and you've got some serious issues. Here's the deal - Lisa has been writing a column called "Chick Whit" for The Philadelphia Inquirer for a handful of years. Much like Candace Bushnell, she decided that people loving her column might just mean people loving a book if she wrote one. Bingo! Next thing you know, people like me are picking this book up in their tiny Florida library, having never heard of Lisa or her column and laughing before they've even made it out of the bookstacks.

After a solid month of Potter, I wanted something super light-hearted and possibly true. I started two other books before finding this one (both of which are still only half read)...but they were both pretty serious and I wanted something light, female, non-wizarding...you get the idea. Luckily, the day before getting on the plane to Wisconsin, I found this and it was finished before we touched down in Milwaukee. You will not regret a moment of this book...even if the people sitting around you look at you kind of scared because you're laughing like a maniac. Lisa would tell you to screw 'em...and after reading her, so would I.

Each column-adaptation is about 3-6 pages long, which makes this also a very easy to read book - all the non-commitment of a magazine with all the zest of a feisty novel. Can you tell how much I loved this book? Really. LOVED.

Some of my favorite Lisa moments include her ruminations on the following things: Spanx, The Flying Scottolines, Betty and Veronica (of the comic), disasters, being braless, the messes dogs make, her mother, her gay brother, Thing 1 and Thing 2 (her ex-husbands), did I mention her mother, chickens, her mother's cell phone and her daughter's college graduation.

V's Pick #44: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling

I finished this book almost two months ago but have been so aimless this latter part of summer it's kind of embarrassing. So, I'm finally blogging about it to prove it really happened - I read all of Harry Potter the summer of my 28th year of life.

About The Deathly Hallows - I didn't think she'd end with an epilogue, although I not-so-secretley wanted to rest assured that Harry and Ginny ended up together. Rowling handled everything nicely - I didn't feel cheated or saddened by the saga coming to an end. She took me on a magical journey into a world that despite it's lack of reality, was very real in ways of the human condition, not to mention, quite hilarious. The 7th book wasn't my favorite and there were moments, especially after having read all 7 in a month's span, where I was just DONE with Potter. But, all in all, I am very, very glad I stuck it out and made it through what I think will for a long time be, a landmark series of juvi fiction.

That said, the best thing about the HP series for me was that it was just so much FUN to read. My imagination doesn't play as much as it used to and these books brought some of that back for me.  At moments, I could almost see why so many adults would wait for the books, all dressed up and then devour them that same night. Reading HP is the best kind of escape...not just in to someone else's world, but into a far more complicated and scary world than our own...yet never fully terrible because at the worst moments, know it's not real. Anyway, I'm a fan. So weird. Still to come for me this year: the theme park and the 1st part of the 7th movie!!

V's Pick #43: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling

Somehow I knew Snape was the half-blood before this book even began. Maybe I'm a good detective or maybe Rowling never meant for it not to be easy to guess. However, this book still took me through the process of putting the pieces together which I wouldn't have ever guessed about on my own.

While it houses my favorite scene of all I've read ("The Cove") it was not as enjoyable for me as The Order of the Phoenix. I can't put my fingers on it. I loved the tips through the Penseive more than I'd liked almost any other sub-plot in any other book, but overall, the book left me with a foreboding I wasn't sure about. Unlike the ending of Book 5, this one just felt like I was *supposed* to be sad. I didn't see it coming, nor could I even begin to imagine what would come from it, but I just didn't feel the emotional commitment I think I was supposed to.

Partly, I'd learned by now that I couldn't trust Rowling - not to keep the dead, dead...nor to bring back who I wanted to return instead of who did. The saddest moment of the entire series in my opinion, was Harry losing Sirius and he was the one character who left and didn't come back. In addition, despite being appalled by Snape in this book, something still didn't feel right about hating him. So confused, which I guess, was the point.

V's Pick #42: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling

This book marked the last departure from a child's story and solidified Rowling's writing more for me than any other book in the series. Finally, I felt like I was reading something meant for me.

From the opening chapter in the flower bed to the very last battle, this book had me at every turn. It's my favorite of them all. I loved walking through #13 with the characters, not knowing if I should trust or dislike Snape, being happy for Harry and Sirius and then, being very sad. I didn't know what to think and I liked that. The introduction of Bellatrix was artfully done, as was the rest of the Black family saga. The Prophecy was something I didn't see coming and while The Order of the Phoenix equally posed as questions as it answered, I didn't mind one bit.

Everyone told me book 5 would make me really angry; maybe it's the undergraduate Lit major in me, but what I loved the most about this book *was* the conflict. Harry in real peril, the evilness of Professor Umbridge, the secrecy of Dumbledore's Army... Anger never found me in reading this book, rather, I appreciated that Rowling had finally started trusting that her readers could handle something more developed than a happy ending.

I'd read 4 and 5 in paperback but while I was holed up on the porch at night reading, John was busy bidding on the remaining copies of the hardcover books he didn't yet have. eBay came through and for under $35, we now own the entire set in pristine hardback, something which I dreaded as Book 6 was so lengthy...but in the end, was quite a nice change from the paperback. In addition, after July 4th I'd accumulated a new list of books I want to read before it's time for school to start again. I thought about taking a Potter break (ha, ha, get it?) but decided I better just get through them all or I'd never go back. I've got a stack of library books sitting in the car waiting for me to get done with one story before starting another and it took all my reading willpower to keep my eyes on Harry...so many books, so little time to read them ALL.

V's Pick #41: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling

I've read seven years worth of Harry Potter in about a month. And yes, I've still managed to do other things as well. Yikes!

As a result, everything just sort of runs together...so excuse this and following postings for these books being a little short or inconclusive. I'm really SO done with this whole tale.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I've devoted part of a summer to what I'm sure will long be a favorite story among children and adults, I just know they were never meant to be read this fast or in such succession.

The Goblet of Fire to me, is where it all started to go downhill, for Harry at least. Cedric dies. The Dark Lord comes back to power. Oh boy, here we go...

The Triwizard Tournament was exciting and I'm really glad Rowling gave us one last really interesting Hogwarts adventure before it all became death and gloom and dying. Also, the introduction of the jealousy between Ron and Herminone, as well as culture of the other schools and Hagrid's little love affair were nice touches. In all, not my favorite book, but worth the 800+ pages.

V's pick #40: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban by J.K. Rowling

After my less-than-impressed opinion of Year Two and cheers from John to keep going, I was eager to get into Year Three and grow up a little bit. Thank goodness for pre-puberty.

I devoured this book.

Seriously, couldn't.put.it.down. We went to go see Toy Story 3 last night and I had three chapters left before we got in the car...it took every once of willpower to not read while on the way to the theatre. The minute we got home? You betcha!

I kept thinking to myself yesterday while reading the entire book in about 12 hours, "so this is what all the fuss is about!" It's been a long time since my imagination has been so rapt with firing images so fantastic, scary and wonderful. It's been even longer since I felt downright obsessed with finishing a book; I'm a fast reader but I couldn't read this book fast enough!

Rowling's writing has grown up, Harry and friends are pre-puberty and as a result, all a little more haughty, the adventures are more amazing, Black is a fascinating character, the fear is a little deeper intellectually, the story is unfolded a bit more and there's even mention of a GIRL Harry thinks is pretty! Most refreshing, while Harry does still pull out a hero, we get a break from Voldemort in this book; I was beginning to wait for him at the end like some kind of video game "boss" one must beat before a change of scenery is granted. With Year Three under my belt, it's official: I'm hooked on Harry Potter.

V's Pick #39: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets by J.K. Rowling

I found the Chamber to be almost more childish than the first book and it felt at times as if I were watching an episode of Scooby-Doo. Ohhh...what's going to happen... spooky...funny...ha, ha....BOO!...oh no, the hero's in danger...who's going to save his friends?.... he's going to die!!!....oh wait, here comes a hat and a bird! Yeah! Gee, I wonder how this is going to end....oh! Harry saves the day and wins the House Cup again!!

As a result of the predictable nature of this book and two nice weekend days of sunshine, I rushed through it with my goal to reach the (supposedly) better Year Three. With over 900 pages of Potter behind me as I write this, I know the Chamber will probably be my least favorite. It felt sort of like Rowling's writing was lost, trying to figure out where to go,  and like she was still deciding what her strengths were. This book as a result, was a nice continuation of a good tale, but didn't do anything for me emotionally or intellectually. I found the ending haphazard and yawn-ish. Also, I found it incredibly annoying that I was re-introduced to everything from the first book again, some paragraphs in almost identical wording; she probably never expected people like me to wait so long and then read the series back to back, but still, it made me feel disrespected as a reader. Blah, moving on.

V's Pick #38: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone by J.K. Rowling

Like Blythe, I too have been spending part of my summer coming out from under the pop culture rock from where I've been avoiding Harry Potter and friends. Unlike Blythe, I hadn't read ANY of the books until this month and because I haven't spent the last six weeks in a class about them, I will parse them out into different entries.

Before I get into it though, I will explain a little about how it was that I found myself under the rock in the first place. Also, I will warn that because I'm sure almost all of you have either read and/or seen the movies, my posts will not be plot-driven, rather, will be made up of wholly stinky-armpit-opinions.

So, the rock. It happened like this: about five years ago every intelligent and accomplished reader I knew was buzzing on and on about this Harry Potter crap, assuring me it was a great series full of whimsy, imagination, endearment and adventure. I've never been big on series books as an adult (how can one top the emotional connection I held with the Babysitter's Club characters or Sweet Valley High or Goosebumps?) and a series with so much hype has usually proved to be disappointing. Looking back, I was a brat about reading HP because I think some part of me was a little afraid to like it. Here I am, trying to prove myself as a scholar, a thinker...and I'm reading a children's series?! Anyway, I remember debating blindly in bars with friends as to the lack of literary importance of HP, trying hard to hold my own as a person who refused to come down from the degree-baring high horse of righteousness and eventually, everyone just left me alone about it.

The rock began to be lifted this past semester when I assigned my students to write literacy narratives and an overwhelming amount of them spoke about deep and altering impressions reading HP had for them in 4th grade and beyond. For some, the HP books were the only they'd really enjoyed reading. For others, HP at a young age made them appreciate writing and reading as pleasures. For others, the HP series was a moment of sheer impossibility...thinking they could never read that much and then doing it so effortlessly. A few of my students actually had interviews and were hired for the park during our semester together, one of whom (an excellent writer) told me in private that it was one of the happiest moments of her life - to be able to wear the Slytherin uniform and live in that world while getting paid to relive her childhood with her favorite books! I didn't spend 16 weeks with 50 exciting and unique young adults to not understand their brilliance individually...and if so many of them thought HP was so great, maybe it was time I learned something. With my resolve crumbling, John and his brother Michael served the near-fatal blows. John, who doesn't read novels very often, has told me many times about his HP experience (at the hand of his forceful little bro) and how he, like me, thought it would be too babyish for his tastes. He assured me, like all those friends years ago, that he was wrong, I was wrong and my students were right.
Michael, who's my students' age, has debated HP with his boyfriend (a self appointed Arts and Culture Gay) nearly every time they've come home for college for a weekend or holiday. For Memorial Day, they launched into a Vodka-infused bickering argument that lasted until 5:30am about how books like HP do or don't damage the future of fine literature. Finally, though, I was pushed to the edge by our very own Blythe. I'd seen signs up around our English building on campus about a Harry Potter grad class and I was curious...would it be taken seriously, taught like other literature? Well, when I heard that Blythe had signed up and would be reading the books during her short semester, I broke down.

The rest, is history, as they say. I'd been warned that the first two books were a little subdued, more childish than the rest and that Rowling's early writing left something to be wanted, but I dove in as open-minded as possible. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone found me laughing at the Dursley's, cheering for Harry, loving Dumbledore and Hagrid, cringing at the thought of Voldemort and in general, engulfed. Here we go, I remember thinking when I'd closed the back cover in less then 24 hours later.

V's Pick #37: Push by Sapphire

Reading Push is kind of like when your guy friend shows you some foreign porn he's downloaded from the internet for shock value. It's not sexy, it's hardly even sexual, it's hard to digest and even harder to forget...the images burned in your once-innocent brain making you wish for an "un-know" switch to wipe the slate.

I picked up this book at Walmart of all places. My dad landed himself an ambulance ride due to a back injury and I needed a car charger for my iPhone so I could let people know what was going on while he was awaiting diagnosis. While waiting to check out, I found this book among about twenty different bibles, a handful of coloring books and the standard supermarket chick-lit. I'd been meaning to read it for a while and figured this would be the perfect opportunity to check it off my list while attempting to forget about my own worries for a little while. I also found it a much needed break from the academic articles I'd been speed-reading for my thesis work and so dove right in with little hesitation.

Beyond the story itself, I must say, I'm kind of proud of Walmart for stocking this book. I can't buy a can of spray paint without being carded yet I can pick this harrowing and disgusting story of struggle up without so much as an eye-blink in my direction. I'm sure most of you have read this and/or seen the movie (the later of which I haven't done yet), not to mention, Blythe's post about it a few months ago was fantastic...so I'll skip the plot-synposis in this entry. I will say that I feel it moved me on the most deep level as an educator. The last set of classes I taught I used what's considered the "literacy model" of teaching college writing, meaning, the content of the course is writing based and focuses on the study of literacy. This book would have fit in perfectly and while I'm not sure what approach I'm going to take to my classes in the Fall, I'm considering making this book some part of what we look at when we discuss the power of writing. For the little time we have in a semester and because I teach writing, not literature, I don't think I would assign the whole book...but the idea that silence in writing occurs when people are unable to voice their stories is never more clear than in Push. In addition, I think teaching some of this book from a writing standpoint could serve as a serious wake-up call for some of the more cookie-cutter and coddled students I run into. Push is an excellent example of why we need to be aware of the way others live for it helps us to understand ourselves and how we can or cannot push or be pushed...

V's Pick #36: Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil by John Berndt

I've been to Savannah a few times now (me and DeMerese's friend Heather is a SCAD student) but despite my jaunts to the mysteriously hospitable city, I'd never been interested in reading this book. Main reason? I saw the movie in theaters when I was 15; my boyfriend and I at the time chose it because it was long (time for lots of "cuddling"), had an early showing (mom as taxi service) and we'd heard there was some sex in it. As it turned out, the movie was SO boring that I fell asleep within the first 30 minutes and didn't wake until the very end when my boyfriend, who'd stayed away for the whole thing, grudgingly shook me to let me know the torture was finally over. I never looked back...until about two months ago when I was bored with my currently-owned-not-read books and was poking around in Goodwill. I found a battered, used copy for about $1, flipped through some pages and was amazed that the writing captured me so strongly. I took it home and tore into it between thesis work, determined to finish it before our June 10th drive to SV. Part travelogue, part "true-story" murder mystery and part raunchy and delicious Southern gossip in print, The Book (as locals call it) was more than I bargained for.

Like that city has always done, it's an understatement to say it surprised me. Just when I thought I knew what it was about, what it all meant and where I should eat, Berendt flipped the coin and I was back at square one, all my prejudices shaken out of pocket. I did manage to read it all before our trip, finishing the last twenty pages or so on the road...and I feel like this trip to Savannah was very different because of this book. For one, I made us walk about an hour out of our way in the sweltering mid-day sun just to catch a glimpse of the infamous Mercer House (where much of the book and the surrounding murder takes place); I'm not usually one for landmarks like this but I was beyond excited to stand in front of the gates where it all went down. Two, it gave me a sense of belonging in a rather transient town, which included name-dropping from The Book with our hotel bartender who was more than happy to oblige with additional information. Three, I appreciated the homeless, the roaches and the crazy all the more - from the blind guys on River Street playing Louis Armstrong, to the old men in the squares talking about drinking handles of Jim Beam, to the weird-but-nice shopkeepers and of course, the food... It was all there, including Lady Chablis - the famous drag queen who much to my excitement, still performs once a month at Club One.

If you're going to Savannah, do read this. I've yet to see the movie again (have read it's horrible compared to the book) but I feel like I got a first-rate tour of the inner-workings of one of the most mysterious cities in America through Berendt. This book does as much to celebrate and explain as it does to complicate though - be warned. Many believe that Berendt was romantically involved with the murder suspect during his eight years writing The Book...personally, I think that might be true...but I also don't really care. Through him, them, I know about Moon River now, voodoo, the men in alligator shoes, whores and black debutantes; servants and those served, afternoon tea, drinking and driving into trees, invisible dogs, hormone shots, poison, prudes and of course, fried chicken.

I love the South.

V's Pick #35: The Lost Girls by Baggett, Corbett and Pressner

This is the longest book I've read in quite a while...weighing in at over 500 pages, it took me about a week and a half (with many breaks to read articles for my thesis) but it was worth every second.

Having missed the Ireland/Scotland trip my two best girls (Heather and DeMerse) took in Dec-Jan of 2007/8 and having passed up countless other opportunities to plan trips based on finances, life, school and work, this book was an example to me of what *could* happen if I ever bit the winged bullet and headed overseas with my two favorite ladies.

From sunrises in Peru to surfing in Australia, to the beaches of Goa, an ashram in India and the killing fields in Vietnam, the year these three late twentysomethings took from their fast-pased and stressful NYC lives is proof that when you're on the road, home truly is where your heart (and your backpack) is.

Currently landlocked with writing a thesis and living off my student loans for the summer, I have no sights of major travel, international or otherwise, on my horizon. However, rather than depress me, this book, told equally by all three women, made me feel energized - how much they did, saw, felt, tasted - was up to them. I feel the same is true in all of our lives, regardless of if it's a matter of the destination from our daily commute or a day trip; what you get is what you give, try and do. Reading their tale reminded me to suck the juices from the days a little more slowly. Today, for instance, I tried 'chipping' at the driving range for the first time and as it turns out, I'm pretty good at it! Who would have thought that years ago in middle school, I felt the women on the golf team were miles beyond me...

Holly, Jen and Amanda (yes, after 500 pages and stories about parasites, I'm on first-name basis territory) all left something. For Holly, it was her long-term perfect boyfriend and their shared apartment in the city. For Jen, it was her 'shit or get off the pot' 3-year relationship which she was dreading a proposal from (but in which she stayed because she was terrified of being alone). For Amanda, it was her complete inability to do anything aside from work feverishly in her publishing job, forsaking her social life and health in the process.

When they decided to take the trip, they knew there would be risks and since they were all in their own ways so unsure of where they wanted to go in life, they knew those risks might result in some of the very things that happened to them along the way. They dubbed themselves "The Lost Girls" not because they expected to be 'found' on the road (well, not all of them anyway) but because they felt their plight of indecision about their home-lives (marriage? kids? better job? different city? happiness?) was akin to what just about every twentysomething goes through during their first job after college. They couldn't be more right about that!

Along the way through the travelogue, you get a chance to learn about each woman as she learns about herself which I liked; despite the writing occurring mostly after their travels, they've done an amazing job making it all feel in-the-moment. There's Jen - who will jump off of, eat or do anything once...as long as she's not alone. There's Holly, who's totally broke but still finds money (and space in her bag) for some of the most hilariously crazy trinkets, can't go a day without makeup and literally runs circles around everyone she meets while trying to find faith. And there's Amanda who experiences some serious work-withdrawls, disagreements and ultimately, in my mind, comes the farthest in being less "lost" by the end of the trip. I truly found a piece of myself in each of the three women and found my aforementioned girls in each of them as well.

My only point of hesitation in the reading of The Lost Girls was that at first I was put off with HOW they were able to do this, financially - I did NOT want to read about three rich girls trotting around the globe. As I read on (which I'm so glad I did) I found that my initial assumptions couldn't have been more wrong: like most of us would have to do to take a year off, they gave up comfort, security and sometimes even safety to have a realistic budget. They also went into debt and risked 'career suicide', proving just another way their trip was truly real...and while lost, they all gained a lot more than they spent.

Post-book, they have a pretty neat blog full of travel tips, etc: http://www.lostgirlsworld.com.

V's Pick #34: The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson

I've never read anything by Thompson before (although I loved Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas as a film) and I'm not sure I'm glad I began with this one. The Rum Diary was written when Thompson was in his early twenties - it was his first book and while it doesn't read like a first novel, I'm also not sure it captured, for me at least, what I was expecting from when I know about him as an artist.

My friend Richard was obsessed with Thompson for a handful of months two summers ago - he read this, Fear, a few other titles and a collection or two of his letters entitled The Proud Highway which alone totals in around 650+ pages all in the course of a few weeks - which had him speaking in Hunterisms for at least 2 months prior. TRD was by far his favorite and since we usually have pretty similar taste in books, maybe I went into reading this wanting too much from it. I figured if this was his favorite out of all that Thompson, I would love it too.

I *liked* the book but I did not love it.  I found it easy to read and as I posted on Facebook a few chapters in, it really is "the perfect summer book." However, I also found it easy to put down. In fact, I even left it in John's car for almost two days and didn't really miss it. I don't usually notice when a writer is writing for a certain gender, but it was very clear to me that this book was meant for a largely male audience - there's a lot of observation, the only action is either sex or fighting and of course, there's a lot of rum. Now, despite womanhood, I enjoy reading about all of those things, but not wholly in the way Thompson delivers them here. As a journalist, both in character and in his personal life, The Rum Diary reads more like a newspaper column than a novel. Perhaps he did that on purpose, considering journalists make up about 98.5% of the characters in the novel or perhaps it's just evident of his pre-Gonzo writing style...the beginning of the end in terms of standard prose.

The shakedown: read this for a quick intro to Thompson's life work, read this if you're going to Puerto Rico, read this if you're into journalism/journalists/newspapers and absolutely read this if you're into drinking fiction. There's a lot of rum and for such a masculine book, there's not nearly enough sex. My favorite thing about the book - it was short and I think it did represent the only period of innocence Thompson probably lived.

V's Pick #33: Marry Him by Lori Gottlieb

I picked this up in the library and tore into it the minute I got home - Gottlieb is hilarious and her writing style is sort of like a smarter and more irreverent Carrie - reading her is like listening to a girlfriend who's finally got it together. More so though, in this book, she speaks volumes about the struggle many women our age (and apparently well beyond) go through with dating. In her early forties, having had a child two years ago via artificial insemination, Gottlieb isn't bitter and angry, rather, she's confused...and finally willing to admit that the reason she's never been married is not because there aren't good men out there, but because she's been looking for the wrong things.

I'd be lying if I didn't mention that I found myself in some of her musings and her particular personal struggle is similar to that which one of my closest girlfriend has been battling for the last two years with a man whom she was engaged to, then just dating and now, just living with as a roommate. My friend, we'll call her Flower, is sort of Lori, twenty years prior and this book is directly written for women in her spot.

Lori likes the bad boys - and by that, I don't mean motorcycle-riding, drug-taking, violent men, rather, pretty men who are artistic, a little unstable, won't commit, are SO much fun and truly like her...but will never love her (nor her them, for as she reminds us, lust is not love, passion is not a future and fun is relative). That's all fine and dandy, except Lori has wanted to settle down for most of her adult life...now, with a toddler, more than ever, she wants a man who values family, wants to be married, etc...but she can't stop being attracted to and going for the men who will NEVER get there with her. This book is her quest to figure out WHY this is the case and to fix her priorities to the point where she can finally see past the surface and into more suitable men.

As she takes her readers through speed-dating, science, online profiles, blind dates, matchmaking, counseling, and stories/advice of countless happily married couples, Lori herself finds answers to some of the questions and never fails to admit the feelings of hopelessness, loneliness and disappointment all of this brings up inside; she's self-reflective and earnest, which even in her moments of somewhat annoying back-peddling, makes her not only likeable but relateable.

So, what does she find? For a woman who wants a family, the married life, and comfort through the years, she's been dating as if she'll always be wanted by men (not the case - as she explains, once we're out of our early 30s, it literally is all downhill from there) and letting GOOD men go because they weren't "exciting" or "mysterious" enough. She explains that feelings of nausea while waiting for the phone to ring isn't love, nor will it lead to a happy relationship. She explains that pretty men who are interesting and alpha are NOT what women should shoot for when they're looking to settle down and she urges every woman to not pass up a guy because of the superficial things - the way he dresses, lack of things in common, corny jokes, height, lack of artistic talent, etc. A good example comes from a friend of hers who was dating a great guy who wanted the same things she did...except she was an avid rock-climber who read serious novels and he liked to work on his car and watch sports. Her friend almost ended it because she couldn't imagine being with someone who didn't share those two interests...but through the process of dating this man, her friend realized what was actually important was that this man never stopped her from doing those things, always wanted to hear about the books she was into and even tried to rock-climb with her. They found things they could share - like raising their child, going to church, politics, etc. Lori gives an example of her friend Andrew who she turned down years prior because she didn't think he was "deep" enough for her...who ended up marrying a woman who was less deep than even he was and who is now an avid reader and even a writer. She was so focused on dating pretty men who fit the IMAGE of who she thought would make her happy that she passed up a man who literally had all the qualities that really, scientifically, equate long-term happiness: shared values, compatible personalities, humor, friendship, etc.

Prior to John, I never pictured myself with a guy who wasn't an alpha-male, who wasn't the guy who lit up the party, dressed like he could walk of the streets of NYC and who wasn't an artist or thinker of some-sort. To be honest, I'm not even sure how it happened that I was able to look past some of these things enough to see John for who he is...and maybe it was during the time when I dated some of those men and remained friends with John, that I started to see that he wasn't an artist per se, but is incredibly artistic (a way better painter than me, a guitar player and an amazing digital designer), that he wasn't an alpha-male, but is instead, a caring and adaptable companion who truly is happy to allow me to lead (which I like to do anyway)...and as far as the baggy pants...before we were together, I never knew that he loved to wear ties, dresses amazingly when he goes to work even though his office allows them to wear jeans, has incredible taste in regard to design and will try anything once, including taking direction from me about this or that in regard to fashion. He is truly one of those "nice guys" and I am thankful every day for being able to see past some of the surface to find true connection and attraction that is deeper and more alive than any of those exciting and slightly tortured men I usually liked.

Lori reminded me of why I am in love with John on a deeper level - the way he treats waiters, the way he loves my cat, doesn't flinch when I get into my own "alpha woman" mode and calms me down like a warm cup of tea; he's not the most out-going guy but when he warms up to you, he is indeed the person who gets everyone laughing, and despite a level of shyness, he never shies away from a new experience, food, or a social venue. Lori reminded me that baggy pants, height, hair or an affinity for video games, beer and sports doesn't mean someone isn't also a thinker, a feeler and a creative soul. I never thought I would be happy with a man who watches SportsCenter before bed, but living with him I've found that I enjoy that time because I like to read before bed - something other men have never understood. And learning about Wilt Chamberlin or going to a baseball game is just as, if not more so, interesting than being with someone who's always talking about poetry. John asks me to read my writing to him and he'll listen to me talk about a book for an hour if I need to. While studying for my comp exam, he was my number one conversation partner about composition theory. For what he lacks as a voracious reader (it'll take him a month or two to finish a book), he makes up for in being able to read me.

This book made me all the more thankful for the decisions I've made being with John and she also makes me very aware of the mistakes I made prior to him; in that, this book is essential for any single woman who finds herself going through man after man without finding what she needs as well as for women in relationships who find themselves sometimes wishing their partner matched some of the superficial things they thought (or think) they need. Beyond that, it's a pretty hilarious read and would make a great gift for the girlfriend in your life who is busy passing up a good man for the challenge of a wrong one.

V's Pick #32: Graduate Study for the 21st Century by Gregory Colon Semenza

I was advised to read this book by my thesis director and all I can say is that I've let everyone I can know that this book should be given to every single graduate student in the Humanities prior to their first class. From how to know who's in charge of what in the department to how to make them most of your seminar classes, to how to write your CV, what to expect when you attend a conference and of course, how to get a job - this book is the graduate version of one of the those quirky freshman handbooks on how to not piss off your roommate.

While much of it applies to a PhD program, there are many similarities to the MA and PhD requirements which make this an instrumental tool for me not only in ways of the Comp Exam and Thesis but also in graining knowledge about what kind of insane I would need to be to consider a PhD in English. Did you know on average, it takes 6 years to get a PhD? I just can't see myself doing that...ever.

Anyway, I won't spoil it all for you, but I will say this is THE book to get if you find yourself PhD-curious in the Humanities or if you're a grad student facing some of the challenges I am.