Recommended (and Non-Recommended) Reading

I’m back! It’s been some time since I posted – I blame my car’s blown transmission, the holidays, the inauguration, and my discovery of Bud Light Lime. I should probably throw Facebook in there, too.

Despite my absense, I did read or listen to a number of books over the past few weeks. I won't go into the details, but here are my impressions:

Divining Women by Kaye Gibbons:
This book is chock full of strong Southern Women, ghosts real and imagined, family tragedy, eccentric elders, and rising above. It's a jumbalaya of Steel Magnolias, Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Fried Green Tomatoes, and Gone with the Wind, seasoned with a dash of Dixie Carter (Bam! Feisty Southern Heroine is on the menu!). The plot is thin, but the characters are rich and, at the end of the day (after all, tomorrow is another day), I enjoyed it. The author narrated the CD and, at first, her thick Southern accent was a bit off-putting, but by the middle of the book, her languid inflection and long drawn out vowels (or, as the author would say, “vah-oles”) were as much a part of the story as any word on the page. Can I see it as a Lifetime special starring Ashley Judd? You bet your deep-fried, gravy-laden, Momma-loving behind.

Saving Fish from Drowning by Amy Tan
I fell asleep listening to it. Multiple times. While I was driving. Not a favorite.

A Kiss Remembered by Sandra Brown
If you’ve read this book, chances are you’re either (a) blushing right now; (b) furious that you'll never get those hours back; or (c) hoping to find your own Mr. Chapman, so he can part your lips with his probing tongue and caress your… Nope, I can’t do it. It was hard enough (no pun intended) the first time around. Have I mentioned I have a long commute? The day I checked this out of the library the pickings were slim. I read the back quickly, and it sounded like a literary fiction romance. Wrong. It’s all romance. I’ve never read romance, so imagine my surprise when (listening to it on CD in the car, no less), I found it consisted of a meager, predictable plot, merely providing segues between pages of, well, soft-core porn, really. One reviewer on Amazon said it was so bad she threw it out of the car on a road trip. It was terrible. But did I turn it off or fall asleep? No. Maybe I'm a little more deperate housewife eating bon-bons and a little less connoisseur of meaningful literature than I thought. For the most part, the book just amused me, due in large measure to how dated it was. To wit: the dashing young professor drives a Datsun, the beautiful protagonist wears silk blouses and has permed hair, and the banking industry is just beginning to loan to single women. All in all, it was mildly entertaining, but not the kind of book I’d ordinarily seek out - and certainly not a book to listen to in a carpool.

The Collected Stories of Richard Yates
I trudged to the library, heavy with the burdens of the day, and planted my son on the round Alphabet-bordered carpet of the children's section before making my way down the aisles to a shelf near the back. I hadn't wanted to read more Yates right after reading Revolutionary Road, because my soul was still raw, but I was ready that day. I ran my fingers over waxy spines and cracked book covers, until I stumbled across a broad-shouldered book I'd never heard of before - The Collected Stories of Richard Yates. I didn’t open it for a week, savoring the anticipation. When I finally pulled back the cover, it was with a cup of tea in one hand, feet in slippers, children in bed. I am now 7 stories in, and rationing it like one savors a favorite candy so it won't run out too quickly.
I can’t sum up the works in a few sentences, so I’ll save a meaningful review for a later post. But, once again, I find that Yates writes eloquently about the smallest of dreams--about that tiny internal light of the soul, which can be extinguished with the slightest of breaths. About our need for human connection, and yet our insecurity among others--our inability to find something meaningful in our lives. About good intentions gone awry, crushed expectations, and the solace of the familiar. His stories aren’t gimmicky or showy, or outwardly intense. They can’t be summarized by words like “sad” or “uplifting.” They are human stories and, thus, they are complicated and real and evoke real, complicated, human reactions. They stay with you. They must be read.

Ramona Quimby Age 8 by Beverly Cleary
One of my favorite books of all time - I'm reading it to my kids and have to say, it stands the test of time. Well worth a second look!