The Fat Girl's Guide to Life, by Wendy Shanker (2004)
I recommend this book to any woman struggling with weight issues. Hey, is that all of us? The fatter ones will be comforted and--dare I use the buzzword?--"empowered." The thinner ones will gain valuable perspective. But all right, mostly the book is for the fatter ones.
Funny, chatty, informative--a great book.
The Five People You Meet in Heaven, by Mitch Albom (2003)
This book is laden with truism crap presented as fresh insight. I didn't plan to read it, and I fear you'll think less of me because I did. On the other hand, I have a surprising confession to make: I enjoyed it. Go ahead, throw the first stone.
Eddie is cast as the classic old man; he's even described as "grizzled," "barrel-chested," the works. He dies at 83 trying to save a little girl's life. He goes to heaven, and five people in turn teach him lessons about life and love, death and the human connection. But what he really wants to know is whether he succeeded in saving the little girl.
I can't explain why I liked a book that made me gag. But I did, and I believe it's possible you would, too, especially if your expectations are as low as mine were. Please don't expect brilliant prose or anything that makes sense the next day, but go ahead and take a walk on the sentimental side--with my blessing.
Water Wings, by Kristen den Hartog (2003)
It's a wonderful book. I have only one complaint. As we read, we become aware that Hannah and her sister Vivian remember childhood events dramatically differently. We're more inclined to trust Vivian, who is sharp and intellectual, than Hannah, who is dreamy and odd. But there are a couple of things Hannah witnesses that Vivian doesn't, so we have only Hannah's word for it. They're upsetting incidents. Did they happen, or didn't they? I must know. I had thought that this was where the book was headed: I thought we were gradually realizing that Hannah wasn't a reliable source, and perhaps we would have the treat of hearing that those bad things never happened. But we don't, and the book just ends with Hannah realizing she can't trust her own memory. Insufficient.
I'm sorry, did you want to know the plot? It's about three little girls. Hannah and Vivian live with their sexy, magnetic mother Darlene; Wren lives with her father, who thinks she's wonderful, and her mother (Angie, Darlene's sister), who has never been able to accept a daughter who has deformed hands. The girls are all grown now, coming back to town for Darlene's wedding, and they think about their childhoods. Every character is so real you could bite them on the arm. I don't know how the author gave so much detail in only 269 small pages.
This book will not put you into a happy mood; if anything, it made me feel that life is grim in many ways, and that children have painfully little control over how they grow up. Well worth reading.
What To Keep, by Rachel Cline (2004)
I do love a good omniscient narrator, don't you? Here's an example: "Dude is quiet and careful--he was a mean drunk and has five grown children who don't speak to him. He's also dying of liver cancer, but he doesn't know it because he hasn't been to a doctor since he got out of the service in '68." I love this. It makes me feel taken care of. The narrator will not leave me with the unknown.
I also like it when the narrator includes me occasionally; I wouldn't want it all the way through the book, but once in a while it's pleasantly startling. An example: "Lily is Denny's mother and when it comes to school, health, food, and clothing, they know as well as you do that mother takes all."
This is the story of Denny from age 12 to age 37. We pop into her life three times, which is the perfect number of times, as we know from the endless books/movies/plays that have done this. First we see Denny at 12, and we learn that when she feels uncertain she goes for shock value. We watch as she discovers acting. Meanwhile, we see her parents moving on from their divorce, and we see Denny's small straightlaced mother have an affair and a concussion. We meet Maureen: manager of Denny's family, gradually more important to Denny as a mother figure.
Next time we tune in, Denny is in her late 20s and attempting to be an actress. She flies home to pack up her childhood room, and finds herself utterly unable to make toss/keep decisions. She leaves much earlier than planned, after kissing her mother's new husband and reuniting with Maureen. Meanwhile, Denny's mother Lily has had a falling out with Maureen and read Denny's diary.
The last act takes place in Denny's late 30s. She has given up on being an actress and she is now a playwright. Perhaps she will fall in love with one of the actors in her play; perhaps she will adopt a pre-teen boy; perhaps she will get to the bottom of her difficult relationship with her mother. Lily is retiring, or maybe she isn't. Denny's father has remarried a woman who has been depressed ever since she had heart surgery.
...Dear me, I just glanced at the book jacket and I find my review is redundant--except I've been less informative than the jacket. These things happen. Suffice it to say, then, that I strongly recommend the book. It's terrific, and I got little bursts of happiness while reading it.
Bergdorf Blondes, by Plum Sykes (2004)
It is hard to decide, after reading this book: how much of it is REALLY supposed to be funny? Clearly these spoiled, superficial, dimwitted women are supposed to be comical: they get engaged "because it's so good for your skin," and they wax their nose hair. On the other hand, the author photo/bio seems to be of this exact sort of woman. I don't know what to think.
No, that's a lie: I always know what to think. And here it is: I believe that this author is doing the "write what you know" thing. I believe that although she is significantly more intelligent than her narrator, she is just as concerned with fashion and thinness and society, and has participated extensively in same. I believe that she is a good writer, and that she has potential to do more than this "inside the head of Paris Hilton" stuff. But here is my prediction: that she will write one more book, a sequel called something sequelish like Bergdorf Brunettes, and that will be it. Won't it be fun if she proves me wrong? In the meantime, I feel I have an expanded understanding of the lifestyle of someone like Paris Hilton, and certainly that makes the world a better place.
The Annunciation of Francesca Dunn, by Janis Hallowell (2004)
When you read as much as I do, you start sorting fiction into types. "Oh," you say to yourself, "Another book about a young boy's meaningful coming-of-age via sex with an older woman." I'm searching my memory, but I don't think I've ever encountered a book about a teenaged girl who may or may not be the Virgin Mary. Because it was new to me, I had no idea how things might turn out. I wasn't even sure what the possibilities were: could one possibility be that she WAS the Virgin Mary? I was also uncertain of the author's intent: was she commenting on miracles? mob mentality? human nature? celebrity? The book held my interest all the way through, and I recommend it.
Miss Julia Throws a Wedding, by Ann B. Ross (2002)
Someone please explain to me why, if I find the Miss Julia plots contrived, I keep reading the Miss Julia books. I must like them better than I think I do.
In Miss Julia Throws a Wedding, two characters from previous books have decided to marry in a quick courthouse ceremony, and Miss Julia is appalled. She insists that they must at least have wedding outfits and refreshments and guests and invitations and flowers and so forth, and she herself will plan it. The couple says that this will be fine, but they still want to get married next weekend. Miss Julia springs into action.
And that's about it. There's a thief on the loose as well, but he hardly enters into things except as a device.
Miss Julia Takes Over, by Ann B. Ross (2001)
I like the Miss Julia character and the Miss Julia point of view. The Miss Julia plots, however, are only "pretty good."
This plot sends Miss Julia on a hunt for a missing person. Many parts were good, so it's hard for me to put my finger on why it seemed so...contrived. It felt like the author was a puppeteer, putting her characters into situations and forcing them to perform.
Something Borrowed, by Emily Giffin (2004)
I would not have believed, from the ditsy pink cover alone, that I would find this book so enjoyable.
Furthermore, the first chapter was VERY SHAKY--a chapter written by someone who has "always wanted to be a writer," rather than by an actual author with an actual story to tell.
After the shaky start, however, the book held me completely until the end. A woman begins an affair with her best friend's fiancé, and I had no idea how the author was going to work this out. I found the ending pleasing, and I wondered how things would go from there. A highly satisfying book--though I wouldn't want to read it where anyone might see the cover.
Miss Julia Speaks Her Mind, by Ann B. Ross (1999)
This book is strongly affected by the voice of its narrator: if you don't like older opinionated Southern widows, you won't like the book. But if you're amused by the "of course, it's none of my business if she wants to go prancing around in that get-up" tone, this is a fun book about a widow surprised by what her late husband had been up to when alive.
The Blue Nowhere, by Jeffery Deaver (2001)
I like the kind of thriller that makes me think I've cleverly figured out the solution--and then shows me I'm wrong. Jeffery Deaver is so good at that. This is one of his books starring Lincoln Rhymes and Amelia Sachs--my favorites of his detectives. In The Blue Nowhere, Lincon and Amelia take on a computer wizard turned serial killer.
The Coffin Dancer, by Jeffery Deaver (1998)
It would be difficult to find an author better at twisting a plot than Jeffery Deaver. There are twists within twists, and when you think the entire solution has been revealed there are still more twists to come. The only thing I didn't like about this book was that the "killer's eye view" was so chock-full of "Sir, yes, sir" to an imaginary commanding officer, and various obsessive-compulsive worm references, that I became bored with rather than scared of the killer. But this is MINOR--the book is great.
The Empty Chair, by Jeffery Deaver (2000)
I'm on a Jeffery Deaver kick right now, you may have noticed. I'd recommend any of his books starring Lincoln Rhyme and Amelia Sachs.
When Lincoln is in North Carolina for surgery (have I mentioned he's a quadriplegic?), the local police beg him to take some time to help them with a case. A teenaged boy has kidnapped two women and disappeared, and the police know Lincoln has a knack for finding people. And Lincoln does find him. And then Amelia breaks the boy out of jail and disappears. Oh, it's very exciting.
The Bone Collector, by Jeffery Deaver (1997)
I have enjoyed all of Jeffery Deaver's detective thrillers featuring Lincoln Rhymes and Amelia Sachs. This one seemed sadder and more grisly than the others, so it wasn't my favorite.
The Single Wife, by Nina Solomon (2003)
Grace's husband Laz disappears from time to time. He just takes off with no explanation, and returns in a few days feeling better. Grace has decided to tolerate this. But what is she supposed to do when Laz disappears and doesn't come back for months? Well, of course she's going to pretend he's not gone, using elaborate ruses to fool her parents, his parents, and even the maid.
The book was too clearly trying to make the point that women can give up too much to a marriage. The message seemed to be that the only way a woman can Be Herself is to give up everything her husband likes and return to her collegiate way of life.
I don't like books (or TV shows or movies, for that matter) based on the sitcomesque gimmick of someone trying with increasing desperation to maintain a lie. Especially when the lie is so stupid.
The Lost Girls, by Laurie Fox (2004)
I liked the idea that Wendy and Peter Pan were real people, and that the Wendy we're familiar with was the first in a line of girls filling the Wendy role.
I disliked the endless discussion of the narrator's mental illness, which was boring and self-indulgent.
Loose Lips, by Claire Berlinski (2003)
All through the book I struggled to reconcile the "lipstick print" on the cover (and for that matter the "Glamour Shots" author photo) with the intriguing first-person account of what seemed to me like a genuine real-life experience in the CIA. Then I got to the Acknowledgments section, in which the author credits her brother with improving every line and in fact writing many of them, spending weeks with her revising every sentence and plotting every scene. Ah.
I'll say this: I wish her brother had rewritten the "I guess we'll never know what really happened" ending. I was dying to know who betrayed whom. Leaving it at "those documents are forever sealed" is inadequate for fiction.
I recommend the first 99% of the book. The ending blows it.
The Art of Mending, by Elizabeth Berg (2004)
I like all of Elizabeth Berg's books. This one ranks at the lower end.
Parts were just what I'd expect: the interesting insights into human character, the little glimpses into another person's life, the details you wouldn't expect to find. But the basic plot (a woman reveals to her siblings that she was abused by their mother) was discouraging, and I felt it was left unresolved: the first steps were taken, but I wanted to know how it turned out. It's one of the main problems with being an Elizabeth Berg fan: her characters are so vivid and true, you can't stand to leave them at the end of the book.
Good Grief, by Lolly Winston (2004)
This is the story of a young woman during her first year of widowhood. In the beginning, she's shipwrecked in her bed, eating Oreos and losing track of what day it is. By the end she's picked up the pieces of her life and added a bunch more good pieces. I found the story inspiring: it's a "life goes on, often in a better way than you ever could have hoped for" book.
The Queen of the Big Time, by Adriana Trigiani (2004)
I'm not typically drawn to "period fiction," but I'd loved Adriana Trigiani's other books so I gave this one a try. You'd hardly know it was set in the late 1800s. Despite all the references to farming and factories, old fashions and old customs, the people in are just people--and people are always falling in love, having children, and suffering loss, no matter what century it is. The characters are vivid and personal, and I enjoyed the whole book all the way through.
Nora, Nora, by Ann Rivers Siddons (2000)
SPOILER ALERT--though it wasn't much of a surprise anyway.
I liked the book very much but found the plot utterly unsurprising and predictable. The author says she wrote this "in my own time, 1961," and perhaps that's why she finds it such a plot twist that the title character, who is white, has a *gasp* BLACK CHILD!! With a *gasp* BLACK MAN!! Who *gasp* ISN'T HER HUSBAND!!
I would recommend this book to anyone whose "own time" was also 1961--but for those of you who identify more with the '80s or '90s: prepare to be unamazed. Nevertheless, I thought the book was interesting and entertaining, and the point-of-view character (a "tween" named Peyton) gives a good coming-of-age tale.
When Did You Stop Loving Me, by Veronica Chambers (2004)
I'm sorry, it's another coming-of-age story. I feel like I can't even say "coming-of-age" anymore, I'm so tired of it.
This one is from the point of view of a pre-teen black girl in the '70s abandoned by her mother. The only jarring detail was the way the pre-teen and her later adult self telling telling the story kept referring to her parents as "mommy" and "daddy"--a cloyingly Shirley Temple touch.
Me Times Three, by Alex Witchel (2003)
While not the worst book I've ever read (I did read it all the way to the end), Me Times Three fails to live up to the promise of its plot. A woman finds out that her fiancé has two other fiancées--that should be great fiction. But the narrator's sing-song tone is irritating and her perspective varies randomly: sometimes she speaks from the middle of the action, sometimes from a slight distance, sometimes from years in the future. I didn't believe in the romance between Sandra and Bucky, nor did I believe in her later True Love with Mark. Even her friendship with Paul seemed superficial and without genuine feeling--more like "it's so 'in' to have a gay male friend."
This is a book narrated by the sort of person who thinks her own life would make a great novel--and she's wrong.
The Bitch in the House, by Cathi Hanauer (2002)
This batch of essays has me all stirred up. They're these great essays about women feeling the way women do, about things like work and husbands and children. I didn't identify with every single one, and neither will you, because our lives are not the same as every woman who wrote, particularly if you do not happen to be a woman. But the editor's stated goal is met: these women have managed to "talk across lines of age and circumstance." Even if a woman's life was not the same as mine, I found that she had many of the same struggles and feelings I had.
Really, the book has left me feeling all emotionally raw. It's simultaneously disconcerting and joyous to realize that other people feel the same way you do, VERBATIM. Am I not my own person, special in every way? No, I am one of a multitude, and so are you. And isn't it wonderful to know we're not on our own when we have those icky feelings we're so worried about. Highly, highly recommended book.
The review is over, so those of you who don't need to know everyone who contributed to the book may now go on to the next review. Here are the authors: Laurie Abraham, Natalie Angier, Jill Bialosky, Veronica Chambers, Kate Christensen, Chitra Divakaruni, Hope Edelman, Ellen Gilchrist, Vivian Gornick, Kerry Herlihy, Pam Houston, Karen Karbo, Cynthia Kling, Natalie Kusz, E. S. Maduro, Jen Marshall, Hazel McClay, Daphne Merkin, Sarah Miller, Catherine Newman, Hannah Pine, Elissa Schappell, Helen Schulman, Susan Squire, Kristin van Ogtrop, Nancy Wartik.
She's Not There, by Jennifer Finney Boylan (2003)
This absolutely riveting book had me in the palm of its papery hand from first page to last. It is the story of how James Finney Boylan became Jennifer Finney Boylan through therapy, great skirts, hormones, and finally surgery.
I was interested before I even started reading. I'd cringed, though, imagining that this was the sort of story likely to be written "as told to" someone else. Imagine my thrilled relief when I discovered that the author was not only an English professor, but also a good friend of one of my favorite authors RICHARD RUSSO!
Oh, it is such a good book: personal, absorbing; fascinating subject matter; and so beautifully written, with a rhythm that keeps things moving forward with a past-peeking backbeat. Also, and essentially: photos. I have to return this book to the library tomorrow, and I plan to look for other books by the same author, written under the name James. Perhaps I'll also re-read a Richard Russo.
Belly Laughs, by Jenny McCarthy (2004)
This is the sort of book that will take you part of an afternoon and part of an evening to read, and why don't you go ahead and do that. It's funny, it's fun, it's interesting to read such amazingly personal details about a celebrity, and it's nice if you're pregnant to know you're not the only one dealing with utter grossness.
Topics include any pregnancy topic you don't want to ask about: vaginal discharge, constipation, gas, breast pain, hemorrhoids--all addressed with the perfect combination of empathy, humor, and swearing. More ordinary topics such as weight gain, stretch marks, morning sickness, and "granny panties" are also addressed, with the same Jenny McCarthy house blend.
I was surprised into laughter many, many times. Relating the story of how their son was conceived, she says, "We knew that what we were doing was creating a beautiful life, so the last thing I was going to tell my husband to do was to slap my ass and call me a naughty bitch." And there are many far far better, but it's a matter of finding one short enough to reasonably excerpt.
You will not find much in the way of helpful medical advice. If you're pregnant and having excrutiating headaches, you should call your doctor rather than saying to yourself, "Well, Jenny McCarthy had worse and everything was fine with her." Keep in mind the entire time you are reading that this book is commiseration and entertainment, not medical reference.
Good in Bed, by Jennifer Weiner (2001)
You've probably already had this book recommended to you; three of my friends recommended it to me. It's classic Chick Lit, I can't deny it: the cover, the title, the protaganist, the plot--all Chick Lit. (Don't you hate the title of that so-called genre? It's so dismissive, isn't it? And unfortunately so catchy.) Furthermore, it's a minefield of editing problems. But it's good, and I'll pass the recommendation on to you. The scene where Cannie imitates her mother's lesbian lover accidentally jamming a crab leg up her right nostril is no less funny just because Cannie doesn't actually meet that woman until much later.
I went to the author's web site, and she is very funny on her FAQ page about the editiing problems. In fact, it is difficult to critique this book because I feel so fond of the author. And yet, a reviewer must soldier on:
I have a couple of friends of a certain type, and perhaps you have some of this type too: they're always telling me stories in which they played a hilarious role--and yet it doesn't sound to me as if they were in fact hilarious. There is a big difference between someone telling you that she is funny and someone actually being funny. Cannie, the main character in this book, is often funny. But even more often, she TELLS us that she is funny: she's sure that so-and-so is trying not to laugh when she makes a crack; she makes a group of other women laugh hysterically; and so on. And yet, I'm not laughing. The jokes are small-smile funny. This is irritating. Don't TELL me the character is funny; SHOW me. I know she's funny when I read about the crab leg; telling me how hilarious she is just totally kills that mood--and makes me want to argue. And then I'm too crabby to appreciate "...I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, if they'd gone with the indie-alterna ending, where the prostitute winds up pregnant and alone, with only her little dog for comfort."
Cannie, in addition to telling us how funny she is, tells us the story of her bad break-up with Bruce. Bruce is a mild-mannered pothead, and we don't like him but we don't think he's evil, either---just lame. Cannie has her doubts that she'll ever find better, but we know she will, and she does, and we recognize him immediately. That's not all that happens, but I don't want to spoil the plot.
Overall, I liked the book. In fact, I already have Jennifer Weiner's second book out from the library. But it's only because I'm hoping that when the first book made it big they assigned her a different editor. Her writing is casual and exuberant and, yes, funny, and she needs someone tight-lipped and critical to tidy things up and make sure everything makes sense. The writing is excellent, but it's clearly a first novel from someone more accustomed to writing shorter pieces.