Monday, March 19, 2012

The more that you read the more things you will know.

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I'm totally smitten by this book. I can read it over and over.


This is a new one to our library. A little long for storytime, but a great one to cuddle together at bedtime. I almost shed a tear at the end.

We just got this book and I can already tell it's going to make me laugh every time we read it.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

may the odds...

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Once I disengaged my brain from the fact that this was about children killing each other (and sanctioned by adults), and the chilling realities that this could happen, I loved these books. 

overall - 4.5 stars 

define yourself.

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we are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.

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Bel Canto intrigued me. Opera, multinational kidnapping, self righteous guerilla terrorists, South America. And it lived up to my expectations. It was slow to develop, but because of that, it developed more deeply. There was a wide range of characters, but you knew each of them individually. The plot unfolded like a flower, or an aria. I wasn't incredibly happy with the ending, but it was realistic.

overall - 3.5 stars

Thursday, February 23, 2012

...no matter how small.

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I love small, unassuming books. The ones that get overlooked, but change your life. Sometimes all you need is a simple story, a strong character, and an adventure.


overall - 4 stars

I get by with a little Help from my friends

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overall - 2 1/2 stars

There are gods in Alabama: Jack Daniel's, high school quarterbacks, trucks, big tits, and also Jesus.

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I love first lines, and this book has a great first line. However, as our narrator learns, there's a lot more to her story than just the first line. And first lines don't always define you for the entire story. Or your entire life. People change. Learn. Hopefully grow a little. Last lines are pretty important, too, but usually much less discussed or remembered.

Arlene is trying to run away from her past. But when forced to face it head on, she finally discovers her true self, and some interesting things about people she thought she always knew. Thomas Wolfe's often debated quote, "you can't go home again", comes to mind several times while reading this.  


overall - 4 stars


Tuesday, February 21, 2012

i'll meet you on the rug.

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The ending gets them everytime.

The blue one is named Bob. What's not to love?




It reminds me of my own bovine friend.

Where my seed was planted. where my roots are struck.

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Last month's book club selection. This one was 5 short stories, somewhat inter-related but very thematic. We just finished reading a string of Southerners - Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe, The Help,  Gods in Alabama, that also have a lot to do with families and relationships. Most books have something to do with a family, but I think that Unaccustomed Earth  sheds an interesting light on the relationship aspect by throwing in the different culture aspect. Most of the characters are American born or raised Indians (that would be from the official India, Indians), and lead lives strictly dictated by their parents and tradition. I can totally relate to that. The first story's main character has married an American and become more lax in her observances. The last three stories have overlapping characters, one raised in America, one raised in India. The American girl has very strict parents and continues to observe her culture. The boy raised in India has very liberal parents that have eschewed the more traditional values and have allowed their son a lot of freedom. Someone at the book club meeting pointed out that a lot of the parents were dutifully married to their chosen spouse, but didn't seem to really find happiness until after that spouse had passed, and they were re-married. Can a person find true happiness by going against their own nature and being obediant? Or, do we really have an inner guiding voice that has to be satisfied? Does it take new earth to finally be able to sink your roots in and grow? Are some people happy enough to just follow along where they were planted?

I was planted in Los Angeles. I bloom best in the heat of the night, thriving on air charred by the fires made famous by disaster. Salt water fills my veins and desert winds stir my fruits. I'm most at home in a maze of freeways I recall by name, not just number, the pulse of a hometown shared by tens of millions beats through my body. When I was 26, I moved to rural western Colorado. Less than two thousand people share 50 square miles surrounding me. I used to quantify infinity by counting the waves crashing on the shore. Now I stare at waves of grasses in a field. Once upon a time I spent my evenings traveling the world by traversing the valley. Now I lead a much smaller life. I'm learning how to be satisfied with much less. Moving to Colorado was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but it taught me that I can do hard things. I rooted myself somewhere new, and now I'm learning to bloom.

Overall - 3 stars