Monthly Archives: January 2017

My Name Is Lucy Barton

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My Name Lucy Barton

Author: Elizabeth Stout
Random House
Literary Fiction       ★★★★☆

Jan 12, 2016 | 193 Pages
ISBN 9781400067695

  Ingram Best of the Best
  Indie Next
  LibraryReads
 Kirkus Starred Review
  Booklist Starred Review

ARC e-reader provided by Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

BOOK REVIEW REDUX
A year ago I posted a review of My Name is Lucy Barton. My book club will be reading it next month and I decided to re-read the book and to take a look at my last posting. What a sorry self-centered post! The book flushed out some submerged emotions from my own childhood and I responded with a pity party posting. Here’s the review I should have written the first time!

There was a time,and it was many years ago now, when I had to stay in a hospital for almost nine weeks…To begin with, it was a simple story:rocking-chair-penciled I had gone into the hospital to have my appendix out…And then a fever arrived…About three weeks after I was admitted… I found my mother sitting in a chair at the foot of my bed…I had not seen my mother for years, and I kept staring at her…….

Lucy grew up in the tiny rural town of Amgash, Illinois; one of those eyesore communities where homes were visibly decaying and their yards reflected their barren lives. In this hardscrabble community, Lucy’s family stood on the bottom rung of poverty.

Lucy’s childhood was lost in the tension and silence of a family struggling to survive.  Each face etched with hopelessness, just breathing to stay alive in the present, struggling with the past and praying to survive what ever the future would bring. The Bartons lived for many years in a garage with the barest of essentials; starving for physical and emotional warmth. The three Barton children suffered daily, facing harsh discipline while living in dire conditions.

Telling a lie and wasting food were always things to be punished for. Otherwise, on occasion and without warning my parents – and it was usually my mother and usually in the presence of our father – struck us impulsively and vigorously.

Lucy’s father harbored demons brought home from WWII and in unpredictable moments would release the Kraken in a moment of bizarre and uncontrollable behavior that Lucy named the “Thing”. Her mother, a lost soul herself, unable to express love, was torn between her marriage and her children.

Bullied by peers, alone in every imaginable way, Lucy sought refuge in the few books available at her small school. These books took her places she couldn’t have dreamed existed and in the end proved to be her ticket into the larger world. Lucy, without real friends, sought recognition through achievement and excellence at school. Yet at home, Lucy’s academic accomplishments were unacknowledged by her parents – preferring to ignore them in deference to her two siblings who showed no interest in education.

There were moments of kindness in her childhood – a friendly janitor who looked the other way as Lucy stayed late in her warm classroom to do her homework, the teacher who recognized Lucy’s hunger for reading and encouraged her, and a guidance counselor who helped Lucy obtain a full scholarship to college.

She guardedly made friends, flourished in her love of words, and astonished herself when she fell in love… with her husband, William. William, the son of a German prisoner-of-war, had been living on the East coast snared in the clutches of his needy widowed mother. He sought escape in a college in the Midwest. Buoyed by love and promises of a bright future, William and Lucy headed to meet Lucy’s parents with their happy plans to marry and move to New York City.

[My father] looked at William…I saw in my father’s face great contortions, the kind that preceded what as a child I had called..the Thing…My father becoming very anxious and not in control of himself.

My mother said, ‘Your father has a lot of trouble with German people. You should have told us’.

I know Daddy was in the war,,,but he never talked about any of that.

‘Your father doesn’t [talk about it]’

Why is that?

‘Because it wouldn’t be decent. Who in God’s name brought you up?’

Lucy and William did marry and moved to New York City.  They became the parents to two daughters who never knew their grandparents.

Lucy’s parents never came to the wedding and she never saw either of them again…until years later…Lucy went into the hospital with appendicitis. What should have been routine surgery left Lucy hospitalized for nine weeks with a fever of unknown origin. Her husband, terrified of hospitals, stayed home with the girls and worked at shutting out his wife’s needs.  After three lonely weeks, Lucy awoke from a nap to discover her mother seated in a chair by her bed. She stayed by Lucy’s side for five days in her hospital room.

Years after her mother’s visit to the hospital, Lucy attended a writer’s workshop. A prominent author leading the workshop encouraged  Lucy to write her story- warts and all.  She found that opening that door to her past was necessary to finding her way in the future. Central to her life’s story are those five precious days with her mother at the hospital.

As I re-read the book , I found myself reading it more slowly – savoring the words not spoken. The first time through, affected personally by own memories, I had missed what made those five days so memorable to Lucy. There’s a heavy air of loneliness and insecurity in Lucy’s life. But in the end, she has matured, grown, reflected and shed some of her emotional baggage in her efforts to find peace in her heart and in her life. Not everyone will agree with her decisions…but don’t we all have to reach for our true north to find our way?

The first time I read the following words, I missed the point. I saw only a mother who could not express her love to her daughter.  The second time, I felt the love in the silence and between the unspoken words.  This mother and daughter never grew close, shared words of love, or interacted in each other’s lives after the hospital visit. But there was solace in knowing her mother loved her.  As Lucy tells us…She was loved. Imperfectly.  And that was enough.

“Mommy, do you love me?
My mother shook her head. Wizzle, stop.
“Come on, Mom, tell me.” I began to laugh, and she began to laugh too.
Wizzle, for heaven’s sake.”
I sat up and, like a child, clapped my hands.
“Mom! Do you love me, do you love me, do you love me?”
Silly girl…You silly, silly girl.
I lay back down and closed my eyes…”Mom, my eyes are closed.”
Lucy, you stop now. I heard the mirth in her voice.
There was a silence for a while. I was happy.
“Mom?”
When your eyes are closed, she said.
“You love me when my eyes are closed?”
When your eyes are closed, she said.
And we stopped the game, but I was so happy.

Highly recommended. Would make a very good book club selection.

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Normal

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NORMAL

by Warren Ellis 

FSG Originals | 2016black-bug
Paperback: 148 pages
ISBN: 9780374534974
Genre: Science Fiction/Dystopia
Review Source: ARC e-galley

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ARC ebook from edelweiss in exchange for an unbiased review.

★★★spider-linespider

“ Any time you pick up something by Warren Ellis, you know it’s going to be weird and wild and awesome. The same is true for his new novel, Normal, a techno-thriller about two groups of strategists taking on the challenge of the impending end of civilization.” Quoted from Book Riot Community, Goodreads, Nov 16, 2016)

This was my first foray into Dystopian Science Fiction. I’m trying to broaden my reading horizon and dipping into an area that I felt uncomfortable reading and definitely felt awkward reviewing due to my superior lack of imagination.

I’m going to admit that I didn’t have a clue what was going on in the story until I popped into Goodreads and read a few reviews from fans of Warren Ellis. I saw the movie, Red, roughly based on Ellis’ short work with the same name. I never read the book, Red, but I sure loved the movie and was inspired to read Normal when I came across the title in Netgalley.

Thus, sci-fi enlightened, I started the book over again and decided that I enjoyed it…but like goat cheese…once was enough.

“Hand over the entire internet now and nobody gets hurt,” she said, aiming the toothbrush at the nurse like an evil magic wand.” Thus, speaks a patient at a secret facility located amid the coastal wilds of Oregon known as Normal Head.

The world is rapidly moving toward annihilation. Most of mankind slogs along totally uninterested in anything beyond self-starting cars, smart phones or the Internet. The world has become totally reliant on technology. But for those professionals whose careers force them to deal with the strain of facing that mankind is causing their own demise becomes too much and they lose their minds. The purpose of the site is to remove these overwrought professionals from the burdens of technology and placing them in a setting where they can be treated without interference from the outside world, and when recovering from their depression and mental strain, moved into an outer area known as Staging. Those in Staging are in line to return to society after a period of acclimation.

Just like our currently divided political climate, the professionals housed in Normal Head are divided into two camps of thought- foresight strategists (futurists) and strategic forecasters.

“Professional demarcation, “[Lela] said. “Foresight strategists [futurists] on this side. Nonprofits, charitable institutions, universities, design companies, the civil stuff. On the other side? Strategic forecasters. Global security groups, corporate think tanks, spook stuff.”

Adam Dearden, the newest patient, a futurist, arrives at Normal Head, afflicted with a bad case of “abyss gaze”.  Adam had been involved with a worldwide surveillance system whose purpose to was to take the pulse of the world thereby avoiding financial catastrophe before the cataclysm arrives.

Everything is going along smoothly much like One Flew Over The Cockoo’s Nest until one morning, a patient, Mr. Mansfield, goes missing from inside his locked room.  His disappearance is made even more alarming as his bed is filled with writhing black bugs.

The game is on as the building and grounds go on lockdown in the search for Mr. Mansfield.  The social dynamics of Normal Head undergoes an unforeseen upheaval and the conclusion presents thoughts for our own future.

Reviewer’s Thoughts

Once educated to unclear dystopian and non-standard terminology I enjoyed the book. My advice for other sci-fi novitiates, read reviews of any book you are planning to read. Familiarize yourself with the personalities and the synopsis as presented by the publisher and author.

I am rating it ★★★ as I am in no position to compare this dystopian world to the chaos now enveloping our own world. I think it is safe to say that as things stand in reality, I am fast approaching “abyss gaze”.

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Under The Influence…

Yesterday I went under the knife for minor knee surgery. Hard to believe that a snip, scrape, and stitch inside the knee with an arthroscopic Roto-Rooter can relieve that vise-grip pain behind my knee and down my calf.

operating-room-clipart_1500-1600.jpegI highly recommend checking it out if you are having pain! Don’t wait four months like I did – depriving myself of some good backpacking and hiking weather.

It seems I was Under-The-Influence of Self Delusion. No Pain-No Gain-No Maine. That means something to Appalachian Trail hikers. I should amend that to read No-Brain-No Gain-No-Pain.

Now I am recovering  with these gigantic self-inflating pads attached to both calves. (Blood clot averters) Every minute, one leg or the other inflates and deflates with a sound like my Keurig dispensing water.venapro As a matter of fact, this morning I waddled pain-free to my kitchen (thank you, Percocet), put my cup on the platform, slapped a coffee pod in the machine and not once but twice. checked to see if coffee filled my cup. Nope. Then I realized it was the sound of my left leg grinding away. I hadn’t selected a cup size.

I was Under-The-Influence of Sleeplessness. N0 Snooze-No Clues-No Brews.

As far as reading and reviewing for my blog, I have about 5 books started but just can’t seem to stay focused enough to finish them, let alone review them. They are good books and I owe the authors and their publishers reviews for the privilege of reading them in advance of publication.

As I lay here contemplating my navel and knee I think I have discovered my problem. I have been selecting the same type of book- narrative non-fiction or historical fiction with melancholy, war-time, or abusive coming-of age themes.

art-vector-cartoon-of-a-paranoid-woman-reading-the-newspaper-in-shock-krDULI-clipart.jpgI was Under-The-Influence of Social Anxiety. The political atmosphere nationally has soured my disposition and way-laid my mental ability to rise above the drama. What I need is Mental Peace and Quiet. So I had made a promise to myself. Less Screen-Less Screams-Less Bad Dreams.

I owe my blog readers to finish The Other Einstein by Marie BenedictI promised to make that title my first read of 2017. It isn’t that I am not liking the book- I really do– I just can’t get my mind to hold still. I have been reading a great number of books about women struggling to exist in a “man’s world”. See my review of Frontier Grit as an example. The future isn’t looking too bright for women at the moment in our country (let alone around the world). I need to re-trace back to that proverbial tuning fork in the road and change my reading direction to regain my positive vibes. Stay strong girlfriends!

So I have come to a decision that 2017 will be my year to read more amusing and lighthearted fiction for a while. Or some topic that doesn’t overlap with social unrest and divisiveness. That goes back to Less-Screen-Less Screams-Less Bad Dreams.

I am NOW Under-The-Influence of More Charming-No Harming-Less Alarming reads.

bookworm.jpgIf anyone has a recommendation for books like Man Called Ove, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, or The Snow Child send them my way.

Well, how about that -my right leg blowup pad is sounding like a tornado alert and flashing red so I guess it is time to recharge it. Thanks for taking time to read this mishmash if you have reached the end.  Pop pop. fizz fizz or what a relief it is- pain meds.

The End.

 

 

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Frontier Grit

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 FRONTIER GRIT

THE UNLIKELY TRUE STORIES OF DARING PIONEER WOMEN

Author | Marianne Monson
Shadow Mountain | 2016
Hardcover: 208 pages
ISBN: 978-1629722276
Genre: US History/Biography/Pioneer Women

ARC e-book from Netgalley
in exchange for an honest review

★★★★☆

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“What constitutes a frontier?…To me, a frontier is simply a place where your people have not gone before…it might be an unexplored theological issue, …a newly invented technology, or an insight irreconcilable with current social norms.”Marianne Monson, Frontier Grit

As a young girl I was in love with Calamity Jane. Well, actually Doris Day’s version. Whip, crack, away! A gusty woman in a man’s world.

Marianne Monson has scoured American history and selected twelve very special women who left their mark, improved the lives of others and truly reflect the pioneer spirit. Their names may be unfamiliar to you now, but after you read their stories you will never forget them.

Each chapter features one of these remarkable women. All of these women were migrants or immigrants from other countries or other regions of America. But in the end, where they came from wasn’t as important as who they became and how they created a new life for themselves, often in defiance to social norms. Their lives, as a rule, faced unimaginable obstacles and hardships but each refused to be defined by their gender and social roles. And when faced with superhuman odds, they never stayed down for the count when knocked off their feet.

After you meet these incredible women, you might look at your own life and recognize how their sacrifices and courage affected your life today. We owe a lot to the past generations of women willing to take a chance, push social limits and to take a stand. These stories are intended to inspire you; to help you pick yourself up and dust yourself off when you get knocked down.

The author encourages you to read more about each woman by conveniently placing a bibliography at the end of each chapter.

I already knew something of Nellie Cashman, gold prospector, as her story coincides with a branch in my family tree. Indulge me as I give you some personal information that places Nellie Cashman in Dawson City.

In 2005, I was gifted a copy of a book by the authors, Ed and Star Jones entitled, All That Glitters: The Life and Times of Joe Ladue, Founder of Dawson City. Joe Ladue was one of the earliest pioneers in the Yukon and my Great-Grand Uncle. “Uncle Joe” filed his application for a 160-acre town site on July 27, 1896. As luck would have it, a major gold discovery was made in Bonanza Creek, a little more than a mile from the new town site shortly after he filed.

As the Jones’ wrote, “Cashman might be considered the feminine counterpart of Joe Ladue. A petite, pretty woman with jet black hair and dark eyes, she was gifted with a stamina and toughness denied most men.”All That Glitters, pg 45.

nellie-cashmanWhen news of the Klondike strike reached Nellie Cashman in 1897, ” she put together a $5000 grubstake” and hot footed to the Chilkoot Trail. “Arriving in Dawson, City, she opened a store in the basement of the Hotel Donovan and a restaurant called Delmonico….She acquired No. 19 Below Discovery on Bonanza Creek and it proved a prudent investment. All That Glitters, pg 46

SO….You want to know more about Nellie?  And remember!  She is just one of twelve stories! You’ll have to get a copy of Frontier Grit.  The Yukon story is just a piece of this incredible woman’s life.

Recommended for all young girls, women and enlightened men.

  

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My Girl

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My Girl

Author | Jack Jordan
JJP | 2016
Paperback: 226 pages
ISBN: 1532815387
Fiction / Suspense

Source: ARC e-book via Netgalley
in exchange for an honest review.

★★☆☆☆scared-woman

I’m not going mad. Someone is taunting me.
I’m not doing this. I would remember.
I’m not losing my mind.

Paige Dawson’s life has spiraled out-of-control. Preferring to drown her grief and hide from reality, Paige has relinquished her self-respect and dignity to remain in a drug laden and alcohol stupor.

For the first few seconds after she woke, Paige Dawson lived in a world where her husband Ryan was snoring lightly beside her, and her daughter Chloe was sleeping peacefully in the next room. When reality slowly trickled in…[she] reached in the dark [for] the tray of tablets…and picked up the half-empty wine bottle and took a swig.

Ten years ago, her only daughter, Chloe, 14 at the time of her abduction, was murdered savagely. After an exhaustive search, Chloe’s dismembered arm was found frozen in a nearby river, fingertips reaching to the sky for recognition. Her husband, Ryan, had tried to rescue Paige from her despair but at some point lost his own will to live. Two months ago, he slashed his wrists in the bathtub forever scarring what was left of Paige’s sanity with the image of his lifeless body.

Ryan’s mother, Paige’s father and her cleric brother, Maxim offer support and counsel but nothing seems to stop her from her self-destructive path. Her repeated social misconduct during her blackouts only further alienates her from help when she begins to question strange encounters and disturbances in her home.  No one believes her when she reports someone has been in her house and removed items, cut her husband’s face out of every photo album, and cleared her daughter’s room of memorabilia.

As the story gains steam, I was ready for intrigue and some intense suspense. But it wasn’t long before I felt like I was in a train wreck that just wouldn’t end. Wild and crazy things happened that showed great imagination but they seemed to come out of no-where. One twist caught me by surprise but after the shock of discovery, I was disappointed that we weren’t given background on the reason for the character’s behavior.

The author has great potential and unquestioningly has writing talent. Hopefully, as his literary career matures, he will better develop his characters lives and avoid repetitive actions intended to create suspense but serve only to dull the story. Keep writing, Jack Jordan. I will look for your next book to see where you have strengthened your focus. You’ve got what it takes, kiddo. Keep trying.

Jack Jordan is the bestselling British author of two novels: Anything for Her (2015) and My Girl (2016). He describes himself as introvert disguised as an extrovert, an intelligent person who can say very unintelligent things, and a jack-jordan-authorself-confessed bibliomaniac with more books than sense.

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The Curse of Cursive

Is this all you can read cursive-writing-blogon this page?

Several years ago, my husband and I attended a week-long program with a group of teenagers from several states.  The program, sponsored by several trail associations, introduced the kids to the Appalachian Trail and provided hands-on experience on trail building. As part of the orientation, we were to write down several questions aimed at getting to know each other better. We teamed up with one adult to one kid. The young man I met was amazingly eager to get started with the project. When I handed him my question, his face fell.

My question wasn’t that difficult! I asked if he had been aware of the Appalachian Trail before he was recommended for this special program. He handed me back my question and said, “I’m sorry.  I can’t read this”. I was taken aback and then quietly asked if my handwriting was that bad! He smiled and told me he couldn’t read cursive.  His school no longer teaches cursive. Of course, never being shy, I blurted out…

“You gotta to be kidding me!”

That was my first experience with the loss of cursive writing in our kids lives but it certainly wasn’t my last.

When I returned home from the program in New Hampshire, I spoke with a friend who teaches school here in Georgia about my experience. My jaw dropped again when I learned that it was becoming a national issue not just isolated to my student’s home in Massachusetts.

I began an experiment, because quite frankly, I still couldn’t believe the news. When I checked out at my local grocery store, if my bagger was a young person, I asked if they could read cursive. More often than not I would learn they could, but their younger siblings could not. Most said their parents taught them at home.

This information led me to dig deeper into the reasoning to stop teaching cursive. After reading several articles about the change, I learned those in favor of dropping cursive feel that it is antiquated and takes valuable time from teaching new technologies. There has been an increase in computer related skills and less emphasis on grammar, punctuation and spelling.(Picture an old librarian cringing right now.)

Those preferring to continue to teach cursive cite the educational disadvantage to those unable to read cursive writing. Imagine college students unable to do archival research or grandchildren unable to read grandma’s notes in the family bible or grandpa’s old love letters to grandma.

There are, of course, many more advantages and disadvantages to learning to read and write in cursive style. Some feel that cursive is a faster way to write. I have included an article from edweek.org that seems to have a somewhat balanced discussion if you want to read more.

Why don’t the Common Core Standards Include Cursive Writing

My personal feeling, as a retired librarian, is sadness. As I sat here, freethinking, I realized that future generations may have lost the ability to learn about the personal lives of their ancestors. Having spent hours, myself, scouring old census records, diaries and dusty photo albums, I can’t describe my feelings. When reading letters my great-great grandmother wrote trying to obtain a civil war disability pension for my great-great Grandfather, a disabled Union soldier, I was reduced to tears. (She was successful.)

My question to fellow bloggers, friends, family and complete strangers… What are your feelings about this change in children’s education? Do you have anecdotal stories to share? Do you have an opinion..one way or the other? I would love to hear your thoughts. Vote if you like as well.

Itzey’s Mom

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