My book club is funner than yours!

And no, the wigs had absolutely NOTHING to do with that month’s book selection.

So what kind of funky book club makes you wear ugly wigs? Well, it all started like this . . .

The month before at our last book club, one of our members mentioned how she had a horrible haircut just days before she was to go on vacation to Hawaii with her husband. The haircut was awful, so she said. Devastating and tear enducing.

Her solution was to purchase a wig.

She told us all about this wig, how easy it was to maintain, how natural it looked, and how much her husband liked it. Well, we had to see this wig for ourselves (who wouldn’t?). She told us she would wear it to the next meeting.

We have a couple of tricksters in our group (my kind of gals) who decided it would be funny if we all came sporting a wig of our own. Out came the platinum blond wigs, the mullets, and the afros. (I’m the one in front, far left, who looks like the “Church Lady” from SNL—just the look I was going for too).  

Just so you know, the lady standing right behind me in the dark jacket is wearing the professional wig. And BOY was it nice! You’d never know it was fake hair. It looked that good.

It got me thinking . . . I want one too. Not just one either, but a BUNCH of wigs. I’d have me my “Pretty Morning Mom” wig (which would cure my Ugly Mother problem—see earlier blogs); my “Cher” wig, because EVERYONE needs a super long Cher wig (I know you want one too); my “Sunday Best” wig for church and other spiritually related moments in life; my “Blonds have more fun” wig, for reasons you need not know; Oh, and of course my “Lucille Ball” and “Dolly Parton” wigs just because. Maybe I’d even buy me an “I’m-angry-with-you-so-you-better-watch-out” wig.

 “Ma’s got on her angry wig, ya’ll better run!”  (Not sure why I hear “hick-talk,” but it seems right for the moment).

So how was the book, you may be wondering? The book we all came together to discuss? Oh that . . . well, it was okay.

Just kidding, Erica. It was good. Women, Food, and God by Geneen Roth (she was featured on Oprah, so it has to be good, right? Oprah wouldn't steer us wrong).  Most of the women enjoyed it and gained something wonderful from the book. A few others, not so much. But we had a wonderful discussion about how we as women see ourselves and the doubt and emotions that tend to lead up to overeating (or to any obsession, for that matter). Overall, we learned that unless we treat the TRUE reason why we struggle with food, we’ll never cure ourselves. Diets will fail (diets suck, I just had to put that in there).  But more importantly, we need to love and accept ourselves. As the book states: "It's never been true, not anywhere at any time, that the value of a soul, of a human spirit, is dependent on a number on a scale. We are unrepeatable beings of light and space and water who need these physical vehicles to get around. When we start defining ourselves by that which can be measured or weighed, something deep within us rebels . . . you already have everything you need to be content.”

THREE STARS


Five Stars:    Loved it. Read it in one day; Couldn't put it down
Four Stars:    Liked it; Read it in a week; Good read; Entertaining
Three Stars:   It's ok. About a Month to read; Average story
Two Stars:     Didn't like it. Took longer than a month, but I finished it.
One Star:        Hated it.Took several months to read. Bored to death.

(All my reviews are based upon my personal feelings, regardless of past or present hype for the book. I don't believe in book bashing either and will do my best to fair in my review).

After Hannah Baker commits suicide, thirteen tapes in a shoebox show up on Clay Jensen’s doorstep. There are 13 reasons and 13 people on the tapes, all who have a connection (snowball type effect) that led Hannah to make the decision she did. Once the tapes are listened too, the next person in line receives the box of tapes.

It’s Clay’s turn and he’s unsure why his name is included at all.

I bought this book on a Friday afternoon, and by that Friday night, I had read the entire thing. I couldn’t help myself. Told in first person from Clay’s perspective, we follow along his journey as he listens to the tapes with Hannah’s voice and the map of their town she had slipped into his locker before she died. If you purchase the hardback copy, the map is included on the inside of the book jacket—a nice addition.

The emotions portrayed in the book are all over the place. Not only did I feel so much pain for Hannah and the rumor that started everything, but witnessing Clay’s reactions, his helplessness, is painful as well.  Now, the entire story isn’t a complete downer, if you will, especially since the topic is a horrible one. There are moments of lightheartedness as well. But it is the suspense that will keep you turning each page.

The writing is fantastic. Well done. The overall voice is strong and compelling. Now, I must admit I struggled a bit with the shifting between Clay’s thoughts (printed normal) and Hannah’s speaking on the tapes (printed in italics). It does take some getting used to, but don’t let that hinder you.

This book renewed my faith in the YA genre. It really did.   FIVE ANGELA STARS *****


Five Stars:    Loved it. Read it in one day; Couldn't put it down
Four Stars:    Liked it; Read it in a week; Good read; Entertaining
Three Stars:   It's ok. About a Month to read; Average story
Two Stars:     Didn't like it. Took longer than a month, but I finished it.
One Star:        Hated it.Took several months to read. Bored to death.

(All my reviews are based upon my personal feelings, regardless of past or present hype for the book. I don't believe in book bashing either and will do my best to fair in my review).

Just finished reading Whistling in the Dark by Lesley Kagen. So one book down on my list of books to read, but plenty more to go.

Like I have mentioned before, I picked this paperback book up at a thrift store for a $1.50. I love deals. And from the very first sentence I was hooked, “I never heard exactly who it was that found Sara Heinemann’s dead body over at the Lagoon. But it was Willie O’Hara who told us that she was lying neatly on the grass between those rotting red rowboats you could rent for a dollar if you wanted to do a little fishing.”

Set in Milwaukee in 1959, ten-year-old Sally O’Malley made a promise to her daddy on his deathbed—take care of her sister Troo. Keep her safe. But that summer makes keeping a simple promise quite difficult to do. First off, their mother becomes ill enough to be hospitalized leaving their no-good, drunk of a stepfather and older sister Nell to keep watch over them. Unfortunately, neither do a very good job of that—too busy with their own lives to care much about two little girls.

But there’s even a bigger problem, the fact there is a murder and molester in the neighborhood. Two girls have already ended up dead, and Sally is pretty sure who the murderer is, but getting people to believe her is a whole different matter. To make matters worse, she’s pretty certain his next victim will be her.

I enjoyed it completely. It’s an easy read with wonderful details and suspense enough to keep guessing to the very end.  As bits of the truth unfold, it keeps you turning the pages, which is a sure sign of a great writer.

I look forward to reading more works by Lesley Kagen.

I have stacks of books I need to read. I’m a book-aholic, “Hello, my name’s Angela, and I love books.” Though I must say today, while thrift store shopping, I MADE myself avoid the book section. I walked past it several times but told myself, “No, don’t do it. Just say no.” It was super hard. I have anxiety right now thinking about how I didn’t even look at the books . . . I should’ve looked at least.   

Seriously, I have stacks of books—books on shelves, books stacked on my dresser and desk, books in the car, and books in the bathroom (yep, I do).  I also have great intentions, AND I will someday, read them all.

It’s a matter of time. I need more of it.

My time, now days, is spent writing my own books—a very good thing. But as every good writer knows, to be a writer, a really good writer, you must also be an avid reader as well. Read everything. And boy do I try. Jeez, I have several books in which I’m smack dab in the middle of, yet can’t quite seem to finish (Whistling in the Dark by Lesley Kagen; Women Food and God by Geneen Roth; Beautiful Creatures by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl; The Maze Runner by James Dashner; The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield; The Right Mistake by Walter Mosley; Pride and Prejudice and Zombies by Jane Austen and Seth Grahme-Smith; The Writer’s Guide to Character Traits by Linda Edelstein, Ph.D).

Then there are books I have patiently sitting, waiting for me to even pick up and skim the first few pages (far too many to even list, though there is one I look forward to reading World War Z; An Oral History of the Zombie War by Max Brooks).

AND then there are the books that people, with wonderful intentions, have loaned to me to read. Books I just can’t seem to get to, though I would like to so I can return them, but haven’t. I’m sorry. I hope to read them at some point and then return them to you. Be assured they are being well taken care of (though gathering dust).  These are the books that I may have to simply hand back and say, “Sorry, I just don’t have the time.” But that makes me feel bad so I will try.

Okay, so today I am reading. No writing (which is fine because I’m at a standstill anyway). Just reading for today (and doing this blog, of course). I’m trying to finish Women Food and God so I can get that done for my book club and get it back to its owner. I am a woman. I like food. I love God. This book should be a cinch to read. But it ain’t. It’s a self-help book and well, I’m not too fond of those. I should try more, I should help myself, especially since Oprah herself has backed this book and I like Oprah, but I like my complacency a little too much (that’s why this year, I made no resolutions. None. It’s too confining and I tend to break my resolutions after only a short period of time. Why set myself up for failure like that? So I’m not. I will take this year, come what may).  So anyway, maybe I’m not taking this book as seriously as perhaps I should. I’m a fluffy gal. I should have better portion control when it comes to food. But for the most part, I like myself. I like who I am—wrinkles, stretch marks, cellulite, love handles and all. I’m an okay person. Besides, I don’t have an issue with food—food and I get along just fine. We like each other.

Then there are the YA books (The Maze Runner and Beautiful Creatures) I’m trying to read to get a better feel of the genre I’m hoping to break into. I’m struggling with both. Sorry, but I am. I really like James Dashner too. I bought the book specifically for his personality. He was awesome at the League of Utah Writers Convention. I just don’t think I enjoy the fantasy/escapism type stories. I’m having a hard time connecting to the characters, rooting for them (which I need to do). But I will press on. I will finish reading them, someday. (I will James. I still like you).

The Right Mistake, is for another of my book clubs. I’m still at the beginning stages of it and haven’t decided much about it yet. I have it on my Kindle and I take it with me everywhere. This book is a bit put-offing though—too much swearing. I’m pretty liberal in some of my reading, but I don’t know about this book. I have read to a section in which it has settled some, but this one may have to be shelved if it starts up again. I will not read it. Sorry. There’s no need for that kind of language, really.

Now, Whistling in the Dark is good (so far). I bought this book for $1.50 at a thrift store for the sole reason that the main characters in this book are children. It is also written in first person for an adult market (just like mine). I need to know why and I need to know how. My novel Desert Rice, which is being peddled to publishers right now, is being done so under the Young Adult category, even though I don’t think it’s really for young adults. But my agent thinks that’s the way to go. The author of Whistling in the Dark, Lesley Kagen, has also gone on to write other novels with children as the main characters. I may have to email her and get some advice—if I dare. 

Anyway, this is the book I plan to finish today. I like it. I think it is well written and believable. I’m half way through and I worry about where this book is progressing to (doom and danger, possible murder of one of the main characters). It’s pulled me in. I will review it on the EXTRAS tab above later.

I’m off to read.

Let me know what you’re reading.

I’m horrible with surprises. I mean, I’m okay with surprising other people with parties, gifts, acts of service. It’s when someone is trying to surprise me that I don’t tend to do too well.

Don’t tell me that you bought me something for Christmas or my birthday AND heaven forbid do NOT hide it in the same area in which I live (home, shed, yard, etc . . . ). Because I will find it. I will.

Do not look in that box! I will. Do not open that closet! I will. Do not look in the trunk! I will. That is a promise. I can’t help myself.

I remember as a child I snooped in my parent’s bedroom, under their bed and found a box that contained a few of my Christmas presents—ordered from some type of nic-knack catalogue. It wasn’t my fault I found it—my mother didn’t hide it very well.  Also, I ALWAYS knew what I was getting from my grandparents for Christmas. My grandmother put our presents in gift boxes and would simply tape the sides down, not wrap them, just tape them. I always peeked.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do like being surprised. But if you’re going to surprise me, don’t even hint at it. Don’t even say, “Oh, I got you something good for your birthday! You’re gonna love it!” I will go crazy until I figure out what it is. I will search for it and then I will hound you with questions until you give in and you tell me. (I will love it, by the way).

The reason I bring all of this up, is that I’m reading The Hunger Games. The book is fantastic. I have hardly been able to put the sucker down. (Yes, it’s that good). I have to say it is one of my favorites this year. I started reading it on my own Tuesday evening. Read a great deal Wednesday morning and then I read a little to Scott. He really liked it as well and wanted me to keep reading it to him. (Yes, it’s that good). Keep in mind, Scott is not a reader. AND if he does read a book, he likes it to be non-fiction. He’s always saying, “Is it real?” I say, “No.” and he’s like, “Then what’s the point?” He doesn’t like made-up stuff, which kind of sucks since all I write is made-up stuff (fiction).  He’s very supportive of my writing. He tells me I’m a wonderful writer, but as far as reading any of my completed novels, he hasn’t.  I’m okay with that. He’s not my intended audience anyway—I do not write for cynical old men.

Anyway, back to the point of this whole blog (and yes I DO have a point). The Hunger Games. We read for hours together yesterday. It was quite pleasant. We nearly finished it. We have about 50 pages left of this remarkable story of hunting/survival/humanity and love. This is Scott’s week of working the graveyard shift. He had to go to work at 7:30pm last night. We had 50 pages left. I promised him I would wait until today to finish it with him—together.

Now, I feel I have done quite well . Normally, I would have just read it all and then reread it with him and he wouldn’t know a thing (I’m tricky that way). The book sits on the nightstand next to my bed beckoning me to read it without him. I’m trying to ignore that it is there. Because . . . drum roll please . . . I have NOT read the last 50 pages. I have been strong. I have abstained from reading on without him.

BUT, I did peek at the last page and because I sort of know how it ends, I’m okay in waiting for him to wake up today so we can finish it together.

Hey, one page is actually pretty good in the whole scheme of things . . . at least it is for me.