Cannonball Read - Book 66

I'm trying, I'm trying so hard to keep on track with my reading, but I'm falling further and further (farther and farther?) behind. The last two books I've read have been re-reads, in the hopes that I can skim the parts that I remember. And I'm trying to choose short-ish ones, but that only gets me so far when "short-ish" is still 300+ pages. And I spent three hours last night reading - thank you, TV, for nothing good on Tuesdays - but am only about 2/3 of the way through book 67. I'm trying, I'm trying so hard, and I'm not giving up. Can't someone arrange for me to have a three-day weekend where my husband and dog go out of town and leave me here, and I don't have to work, and drop off four 220-page books?

On to Storm Front:

"Harry Dresden is the best at what he does. Well, technically, he's the only at what he does. So when the Chicago P.D. has a case that transcends mortal creativity or capability, they come to him for answers. For the 'everyday' world is actually full of strange and magical things - and most of them don't play well with humans. That's where Harry comes in. Takes a wizard to catch a - well, whatever.

"There's just one problem. Business, to put it mildly, stinks. So when they police bring him in to consult on a grislu double murder committed with black magic, Harry's seeing dollar signs. But where there's black magic, there's a black mage behind it. And that now that mage knows Harry's name. And that's when things start to get... interesting."

To me, Storm Front is the best of all possible worlds for nerdy boys. There's sex, murder, a hard-ass in a long black duster, and lots and lots of magic. It's like Louis L'amour books for sci-fi nerds. It's not amazing: the magic parts are great, but the murder and crime stuff are sort of weak. But it's fun, and it's funny, and dorks of all ages will eat this shit up.

Storm Front - B-

Cannonball Read - Book 65

Here's a little description for you:

In one of the most acclaimed and original novels of recent years, Kazuo Ishiguro imagines the lives of a group of students growing up in a darkly skewered version of contemporary England. Narrated by Kathy, now thirty-one, Never Let Me Go hauntingly dramatises her attempts to come to terms with her childhood at the seemingly idyllic Hailsham School, and with the fate that has always awaited her and her closest friends in the wider world. A story of love, friendship and memory, Never Let Me Go is charged throughout with a sense of the fragility of life.

It's tough for me to write a review of this one, because it's really good, and I want people to read it, but basically anything I write will be one big spoiler. It is haunting, for sure, and I've been thinking about it for days. In fact, I read it once before, and couldn't stop thinking about it for days afterwards then, too. And it's creepy. I like to think of this as sci-fi literature, heavy on the -fi and not so much sci-.

My copy has this quote from the Sunday Times on the cover: "A clear frontrunner to be the year's most extraordinary novel." I quite agree.

Never Let Me Go - A-

Cannonball Read - Book 65

I sure wish I'd known about The Feast of Love by Charles Baxter during the last Cannonball Read 5K, when I was supposed to read book set in places that I've lived. The Feast of Love takes place in my current town, and I get a little charge out of reading descriptions of places that I pass every day. It makes me feel part of the in-crowd.

I could pick many adjectives to describe The Feast of Love. Here are a few: Luminous. Lush. Realistic, yet unbelievable. Deep. Sumptuous. Did I mention lush? There's an economy to Baxter's writing, but he doesn't shy away from using big words. I like to think that writers have perfect words at their disposal, and sometimes they use the perfect word, and sometimes they use imperfect words to make the same point, leaving the writing either clunky or overblown. Not Baxter. He makes perfect choices, every time. It's a book about love, that's for sure, but sometimes love isn't awesome. Sometimes it hurts real bad - and that's where The Feast of Love comes in. Good days, bad months, they're all here, and it feels right.

The Feast of Love - B+

Cannonball Read - Book 64

My guess is, a lot of you haven't read The 19th Wife by David Ebershoff, so here's the book jacket synopsis:

"It is 1875, and Ann Eliza Young has recently separated from her powerful husband, Brigham Young, prophet and leader of the Mormon Church. Expelled and an outcast, Ann Eliza embarks on a crusade to end polygamy in the United States. A rich account of a family's polygamous history is revealed, including how a young woman became a plural wife.

"Soon after Ann Eliza's story begins, a second exquisite narrative unfolds - a tale of murder involving a polygamist family in present-day Utah. Jordan Scott, a young man who was thrown out of his fundamentalist sect years earlier, must reenter the world that cast him aside in order to discover the truth behind his father's death. And as Ann Eliza's narrative intertwines with that of Jordan's search, readers are pulled deeper into the mysteries of love and faith."

Have you ever read Carrie by Stephen King? You know how it pulls from "sources" like courtroom transcripts, letters, academic journals and first-person accounts? The 19th Wife is just like that. It uses different types of writing (letters, academic papers, some IM messages, a Wikipedia entry, along with the narrator's voice) to tell the story. But the big difference between Carrie and The 19th Wife is this:

Carrie is good.

Seriously, The 19th Wife is just not good. It's not written well, partly because of all those literary devices, but mainly because it's just not a good story. It's a morality tale disguised as a murder mystery... but I didn't really care whodunit. And Jordan, the protagonist, isn't really that sympathetic a character. He's gay, which is fine, but he's got this faggy best friend. I mean, really. Why does every "normal" gay man need a faggy best friend who calls everybody Sweetie and Miss Thing? And he's got a dog, too. Now come on. The unconditional love from the dog who rides along in the van (a van, too!) bit is kind of stale. The sections written by Ann Eliza, Brigham's wife, are better - actual historical fiction that feels real. Which, I suppose, is the point of historical fiction. But the tie-in between the historical segments and the current, murder-driven segments never really came together, and overall, the badness outweighed the sort-of goodness.

I could go on - but why? Read Under the Banner of Heaven instead.

The 19th Wife - C-

Cannonball Read - Book 63

I'd only read Water for Elephants once before, so I read it again! Hooray for the re-read.

Water for Elephants is a circus story. You got your midgets, you got your bearded ladies, you got your big tents, you got love triangle between horse boss, sparkly horse rider, and circus vet. Sorry, I'm not really into writing this review. But I do really like the book.

That's all.

Water for Elephants - A-

Cannonball Read - Book 62

The Lightning Thief is the first book in the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series (am I the only one that thinks Percy Jackson and the Olympians sounds like a boy band from the '60s? "Here, with their smash hit "Burnin' Me Up," it's Percy Jackson and the Olympians!") Percy is a young lad who just happens to be a demi-god: one human parent, one parent who's a Greek god. When Percy finds out he's a demi-god, and shit goes pear-shaped, he goes to a summer camp called Half-Blood Hill, where he learns some god skills and sets off on a quest with his two buddies.

Sound familiar?

Percy Jackson certainly feels like the poor man's Harry Potter at times. There's fancy weaponry, and rival cabins, and good guys who betray, and lots of creepy monsters. But unlike the world that J.K. Rowling created, Percy's world is grounded in history - you can go to a reference book and look up Dionysus and Poseidon and Athena, and you'll find things that Rick Riordan has folded into his book. But still. Another boy wonder, the best anyone's seen in a long time, proving his worth but facing gigantic obstacles along the way? It's all been done before.

The Lightning Thief - B-

Cannonball Read - Book 61

I am falling further and further behind in my quest to read one hundred books this year, particularly since I had two three-hour flights this weekend when I could have cranked out two or three books. Instead, I read just one.

But it was so worth it.

Middlesex was fantastic. I mean, seriously awesome. This story of a hermaphroditic Greek-American and his family's struggles and intracacies was wholly engrossing from the first page. And the moment I was done with it, I wanted to start it over, to see what I had missed the first time around. It was funny and painful and shocking and just... just... look, I'm no Jeffrey Eugenides. I can't explain it any better than this: it was outstanding.

Middlesex - A+

Cannonball Read - Book 60

I had never heard of Mount Misery by Samuel Shem, but EJack was giving it away in his moving "sale," and who am I to turn down a free book?
I found this review/synopsis from the School Library Journal at Amazon:
Roy Basch, protagonist of House of God (Dell, 1981), has survived his internship and now begins his three-year training at the aptly named Mount Misery, a posh New England psychiatric hospital. Things get off to an ominous start when his mentor, a renowned therapist in the field of depressive disorders, kills himself. This is just the beginning of a year filled with disaster. Employing gallows humor, Basch and his fellow residents confront bureaucratic nonsense in a manner reminiscent of Richard Hooker's MASH. The tone then becomes more like that of Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest as patients are assaulted by the cruel words and manipulations of the powerful attendings. Shem's novel confronts some powerful themes - sexual abuse, psychosis, greed, depression, suicide - and counters them with examples of the very best the human spirit has to offer. The field of psychiatry is unflinchingly held under a microscope and its failings, limitations, and successes are relentlessly catalogued. With such ferocious intensity, this lengthy novel will not appeal to all teens, but those who persevere will find that Mount Misery's "Laws" and characters will live on in their imaginations for some time to come.

First of all: if you read that synopsis, and you have a teenager, DON'T LET YOUR KID READ THIS BOOK. Seriously, it is not for kids, not even high schoolers.

Now, on to the rest of my thoughts: I really hope I never have to go to therapy again. No, that's not true. What I mean is, I hope I never have to go to therapy with any of these jokers. So Mount Misery is a satire, right? So probably the characters needed to be over the top, more like caricatures of psychiatrists than real psychiatrists. Well, they were, all of them, even the ones I was supposed to like. I basically couldn't stand the protagonist, Roy, even though I'm sure I was supposed to feel his pain, be with him in the trenches as his patients failed and then failed some more. But I didn't give two shits about this guy. He was a sucker. He took on every problem that his patients had. Working on the depressive wing? He got majorly depressed. Drug and alcohol wing? Developed a leetle problem with phenobarbitol. As a reader, I didn't find this compelling; I found it annoying.

The sex scenes weren't that great, either. And every time the author threw in a naughty word, it felt like it was for shock value, not in a way that someone would actually use said naughty word.

And then... and then... the ending! It got all preachy and enlightened. To that, I say bah. When your protagonist, his wife, and their adopted Chinese baby daughter go to Arizona and he starts working with drunks on the res and she starts taking care of their preschoolers... I mean, are we supposed to believe that in the course of one year, this guy changed so dramastically (that's dramatically and drastically, for those of you paying attention) that now he's all one with the universe? NO.

Mount Misery is out of print. Just an FYI.

Mount Misery - D+

Cannonball Read - Book 59

Remember the Jungle Book? Remember the story of Mowgli, the lost baby who is raised by wolves and a host of other creatures who live in the jungle?

This book is JUST LIKE THAT. Except, instead of a jungle, it's a graveyard.

Here's a synopsis:
Nobody Owens, known to his friends as Bod, is a normal boy. He would be completely normal if he didn't live in a graveyard, being raised and educated by ghosts, with a solitary guardian who belongs neither to the world of the living nor of the dead. There are dangers and adventures in the graveyard for a boy - an ancient Indigo Man beneath the hill, a gateway to a desert leading to an abandoned city of ghouls, the strange and terrible menace of the Sleer. But if Bod leaves the graveyard, the he will come under attack from the man Jack - who has already killed Bod's family...

Neil Gaiman's book is certainly geared toward a younger reader... but a good story's a good story. And this, my friends, is a GREAT story. Gaiman is an incredibly gifted writer, and with the Graveyard Book he's created a fantasy world that's completely believable. It's suspenseful - there's bad people (and non-people) out there, trying to get at Bod. It's funny - Bod, after all, is a little boy, and he gets into little boy mischief (and revenge). It's sad, too - I was surprised to feel tears in my eyes as I wrapped up the last chapter, but they were real tears. I cared about Bod, and about his family, and all the characters in the graveyard.

Rumor has it this is not the last we'll see of Bod, that Gaiman is writing another collection of his stories (much like Kipling did with his second collection of Jungle Book stories). I can't wait.

The Graveyard Book - A

Close Up Shop

Hey, Michelle Duggar? Sweetie, I think it's time for you to take a little break. I worry for you. 18 kids, and you're having another? Listen, I respect you - you obviously love children, and that's awesome. But you know what? God would probably be just as happy if you ADOPTED a kid and let your hoo-ha rest for a little bit.

And Jim Bob? Dude. Get off of her. Literally. Take her out to dinner, maybe a nice G-rated movie, enjoy some time together without knocking her up.

Read more about it here.

Duggar 19 - C (an average grade, people)

Cannonball Read - Book 58

"Since their mother's death, Tip and Teddy Doyle have been raised by their loving, possessive and ambitious father. As the former Mayor of Boston, Bernard Doyle wants to see his sons in politics, a dream the boys have never shared. But when an argument in a blinding New England snowstorm inadvertently causes an accident that involves a stranger and her child, all Bernard Doyle cares about is his ability to keep his children, all his children, safe.
"Set over a period of 24 hours, Run takes us from the Museum of Comparative Zoology at Harvard to a home for retired Catholic priests in downtown Boston. It shows us how worlds of privilege and poverty can coexist only blocks apart from one another, and how family can include people you've never even met. As in her best selling novel Bel Canto, Ann Patchett illustrates the humanity that connects disparate lives, weaving several stories into one surprising and endlessly moving narrative. Suspenseful and stunningly executed, Run is ultimately a novel about secrets, duty, responsibility, and the lengths we will go to protect our children."

Patchett is not at the top of her game with Run. That distinction belongs to her novel Bel Canto. If you haven't read it... what are you doing reading this? GO GET THE BOOK AND READ IT NOW. But that's not to say that Run isn't excellent. Because it is. It is rich, and sad, and funny, and readable. It's been a long time since I've read a book in only six hours, but that's just what I did with Run. It drew me in. I wanted to be done reading it so that I could know how it all turned out, but I didn't want it to be over, because I wanted to know everything about this family. And like so many of the wonderful books I've read this year, it was just heartbreaking. Why does so much bad stuff happen? Probably because it's fiction, and it wouldn't be so readable if it were mundane and generally happy. But it was just so sad. Sigh.

A truly great book.

Run - A

Cannonball Read - Book 57

Fast Food Nation by Eric Schlosser exposes the deep, dark truth about the fast food industry, from its humble beginnings in California to the global giant intent on taking over the universe that it is today. FFN offers up startling evidence on the meatpacking and slaughterhouse industries, on-the-job injuries, wages, marketing to children, government control (or lack thereof) of food, disease, and just why those fried taste so good (anwer: beef tallow!). With Food, Inc. and The Omnivore's Dilemma and the other "where's my food coming from?" stuff out there these days, Fast Food Nations stands as one of the first to really take a hard look at what we eat, and how, and why.

This book is pretty disturbing. It's not just the chapters on what the cattle are fed and how much E.coli can kill you that get me, though. What was most horrifying to me was learning that brand identification and loyalty can form before a child is two years old. Two years old! All those toddlers are asking for McDonald's by name. Also, Schlosser writes that 90% of all American children eat at McDonald's at least once a month. Scary.

Fast Food Nation - B+

Cannonball Read - Book 56

Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer... defies description. How's that for a reviewer's copout? Seriously, EII is like nothing I've ever read. It's fiction, yes, and multiple stories are told at once by multiple narrators, and some parts are set in the present and some set in the past. But it's more than the sum of its parts. The language is rich and complex, the characters are compelling and fully realized, the action is devastating and really real. It's a page turner, for about the last fifty pages, and the first 250ish pages just lead up to that - lots and lots of exposition, not such a bad thing when you realize what it was all building up to. My jaw dropped once or twice while I was reading those last 50 pages, just in horror at what was taking place and being revealed (illuminated, you might say).

But.

But the book is a little pretentious. As brilliant as it, it knows it - at least, you get the feeling that Foer knows how good he is, how masterful at language and bending it to his will, shaping this work so that it's like nothing else out there. And that's OK, I guess, but I wanted to come away from EII thinking, Wow, that was incredible, and instead I came away thinking, Wow, that would have been incredible if it hadn't been just a little TOO "incredible."

Everything is Illuminated - A-

Everyone Deserves a Lifetime

Several people asked me if I was going to write a recap of my experience walking in the Breast Cancer 3-Day. I've been putting it off, because it's going to be virtually impossible to sum up such an incredible event in a few words. But I can't let down my legion of adoring fans, so here goes:
Day One started bright and early... the day before. I like to think there was a Day Zero. I picked up Little Sister Meggie from the airport (and almost got hit by a bus in the process) and went straight to Target to purchase a fine selection of travel size toiletries. They're so wee! Meg and I had a delicious protein-and-carb filled dinner at the Melting Pot, then went home and finished packing. The 3-Day tries to limit the amount of stuff you bring with you: no bags over 35 pounds, including your sleeping bag (more about the sleeping bag later). Meggie and I worked out a deal: I'd carry the sleeping bags and a few other things in my gigantic duffel bag, and she'd carry the majority of the clothes and toiletries. I love it when a plan comes together.
Day One really started at 3:45 AM Friday, when Meg and I woke up, slammed down breakfast, and got in OUR LIMO! One of my training walk buddies set up a limo to drive us to opening ceremonies so that we could leave our cars very close to the closing ceremonies. This, too, was a brilliant plan - bravo, Spencer. We ate our second breakfast on the limo and arrived at opening in style. We met up with the rest of our team, the Bodacious Tatas, resplendent in our bright purple shirts, and braced ourselves for the onslaught of emotions that accompanies opening. Let me tell you, the 3-Day is not for the emotionally weak or unevolved. There are LOTS of tears. The opening ceremony is really beautiful, and it gets the walkers very pumped for the task at hand - 60 miles is no easy feat.
Day One continued through the mean streets of Dearborn and Dearborn Heights, with a multitude of pit stops and a lovely lunch break at a big park. Meggie and I did all the right things in terms of stretching, hydrating and foot care - but I still ended up with two gigantic blisters on my heels (more on those blisters later, too). We arrived at camp on Day One after walking 19.9 miles, and only about two miles of Meggie complaining about needing to pee. The wonderful young men of the Romeo High School football team helped us carry our luggage and set up... our tents! That's right, tents - cute little pink tents, but tents they were. You walk 20 miles a day, then collapse to sleepo on the ground (hence the sleeping bags). But we came prepared with a tarp to help keep out ground water, so we were good.
What else happened on Day One? Well, kids, I competed in the 3-Day Rockstar competition. Yee-haw! When I walked in 2006, they had the first ever 3-Day Rockstar, but it wasn't a competition, it was basically a karaoke night, and I was too mentally and physically drained to even fathom singing. But not this year! I'd been PRACTICING! So I got on the stage, did my little shtick with host Janae, and sang my little heart out... and the crowd went wild! But there were six other very good entrants in the contest, so I thought my chances of making the top three and competing in the final the next day were limited.
So imagine my glee when I got this:

I was a finalist! YAY!!!

Day Two also dawned bright and early. Meggie and I checked in at the medical tent to work on those blisters (and for Meg to get her subluxed patellas wrapped) before we hit the route. I covered both heels with Second Skin (a gel pad with the consistency of a Jell-o Jiggler) and moleskin, and felt good about how the day would shape up. But alas, those effin' blisters got the better of me. Meggie and I walked very slowly all morning and arrived at lunch only half-an-hour before it closed. See, along the 3-Day route, pit stops and lunch only stay open for a certain length of time. If you don't make it to the stop before it closes, or if you're still there when it closes, you get "swept," 3-Day lingo for taking a van to the next stop or back to camp. I really, really didn't want to get swept this year, since in 2006 I had to shave off about 7 miles and head back to camp early on Day Two, but when I took off my shoes at lunch and saw that the blisters were visible through my socks (as in, pushing my socks out away from by body), I knew I needed to get medical attention. Like I said, we were really behind in our timing, so I gulped down my chicken caesar wrap and limped over to medical... ten minutes before they closed. They didn't turn me away right away, but at 11:55 and lunch closing in five minutes, it was suggested that I get swept to the next pit stop, only 1.8 miles away. I sucked it up and said OK, bid Meggie farewell, and flagged down a sweep van. I thought that I could just get the blisters lanced and be on my merry way, down less than two miles in total 3-Day mileage; but again, not the case. When the very nice nurse lanced just one of my blisters, she left me with these words: "If you can't walk on it without limping, don't walk." Limping to take pressure off my heel would very easily have resulted in hurting my back, knees and hips, putting my out of commission for the rest of the walk or the rest of the week. Right about that time, Meggie showed up at the pit stop, needing some attention to those knees, so we stayed at medical a little bit longer. I finally re-latched my fanny pack and tried to set off for the last 11 miles - and that first step I took was a limping step. I was done for the day. I don't think there's anything I could have done to prevent those blisters, and it won't do me any good to think about those socks I shouldn't have worn, or the Bodyglide I should have used more frequently on my feet... I got on the bus back to camp, accepted my "sagged and proud" pin with grace, and headed back to camp. Yes, I was feeling low, so I thought I'd stop at the 3-Day post office to see if anyone had sent me any mail. And, WOW. I didn't count, because that would be tacky, but I must have gotten close to twenty cards and letters, from as far away as Nashville and Sacramento and as nearby as the office across the hall. I think my dad and Nate's mom must have had an unofficial contest to see who could shower me with more cards. To tell the truth, I only scanned some of them, because I was CRYING. I love my people.
And I also love my dog. Check out what he left for me in my suitcase (no, it's not poop):
I went back to the medical tent to get the other, now bigger, blister lanced, and was so pleased to be seen by the Marquise de Sade. Seriously, this lady should not be allowed to work at the 3-Day again. OK, OK, I have to cut her a little slack. These doctors and nurses and sports trainers probably see people with REAL injuries all the time, and then volunteer to take care of people walking on this amazing journey and get stuck lancing blisters. I'm sure they LOOOVE that.

But she was a little mean, and very terse, and then she injected my blister holes (both of 'em, 'cause she re-lanced the first one) with zinc oxide. Again, benefit of the doubt: she's the professional, and the outcome was really positive, because the blisters didn't get infected and were almost totally better by Sunday. But it would have been nice if she had told me that it would HURT. Like, a LOT. I would be happy to never have her touch my feet again.
Day Two ended a lot like Day One: nice cool shower, hearty dinner, back on stage singing in the 3-Day Rockstar competition. I didn't say before that the prelim round had three judges - so now you know. The final round was judged by audience applause, so I tried to get all my teammates and training walk buddies riled up before I sang. I did get lots of applause - the most applause, in fact - but I think that the host was maybe trying to not hurt anyone's feelings, because it ended up a three-way tie. But seriously, I'm pretty sure I won. That's me all the way to the right, in the purple shirt, tearing it up.

I told you I couldn't do it in a few words, right? Everybody hangin' in there? Anyone need a snack? Stay with me.

Day Three began with a bus ride to Ann Arbor - good times. There was more walking, lunch in beautiful Burns Park, lots of pretty neighborhoods and rolling hills. Oh yeah, we also walked right by my place of employment. I'll pause to let you all pat me on the back for this sweet marquee message. But it was a scorcher, and people were dropping like flies. Meggie and I played lots of fun celebrity games while we walked, and managed to keep our spirits up for the first twelve miles (this was just a 15 mile day, since all the walkers needed to be at the closing ceremonies). We got a little loopy around mile 12, though:









Did I mention it was ungodly hot?

We made it to closing with about forty-five minutes to spare, plenty of time to take of our shoes and give each other little footrubs, which ended up being a little slice of heaven. We met up with the rest of our team and walked into closing together, proud, tired, emotionally raw, but holding our heads high at what we accomplished.

And that, my friends, is my story of the 3-Day.

The Breast Cancer 3-Day - A- (c'mon, I had to take points off for the blisters)

Project Runway Recap

It seems like FOREVER since Project Runway has been on TV. And maybe it has been a really long time. With the legal battle between Bravo and the Weinstein Co. waging for months, and the lead-up to the new season airing on Lifetime, I don't think there have been any re-runs on Bravo - and you could always count on at least one marathon a month. So it was with open arms and an open heart that I welcomed Project Runway back into my life last night.

The evening started with the All-Star Challenge - and kudos (would it be tacky to say bravo?) to whichever genius thought it up, because I'm sure it drew legions of loyal fans over to Lifetime. I'd watch little Daniel Vosovic every day of the week! But I think that Jeff Sebelia hit the nail on the head when he said that Mychael wasn't an all-star (I love you, Mychael, I'm not actually talking about you). I would think that "all-star" would mean top three. How did Sweet P sneak in there but there was no Laura Bennett? Maybe she was too busy having another baby... At any rate, it was a delightful two hours and I'm thrilled that Daniel won. He's always been one of my favorites. In fact, I think Season 2 was my most favorite. Daniel, Nick, Santino, Andrae (where's Andrae?), and Grace, my second-favorite PR model of all time. I'll send you a present if you can name my all-time favorite PR model.

After the all-star challenge, it was time to get down to it - season six begins! It's almost like they knew that there was going to be a long hiatus between season five and season 6, because they started with a red carpet challenge. Yee-haw! Season 6 isn't messing around (although I'm sure the conceptual stuff will come later). There were some beautiful gowns, and some total wack shit. I don't see this week's challenge winner winning the whole thing; at this point, it's hard to say who I think will come out on top, but my early favorites are Epperson, Carol Hannah and Ra'Mon.

I had concerns that PR on Lifetime would be too different from PR on Bravo. But really, it was the exact same show. Same set, same graphics (are those Heidi's legs walking across the screen before each commercial break?), same intense music before the contestant is auf'd. Only the commercials are different. I will miss seeing promos for Real Housewives or Top Chef, but I think I can manage.

As an aside, I think there's going to be a lot of TV in my life this fall. Project Runway, So You Think You Can Dance, Glee, Intervention, Grey's Anatomy... maybe I'll need to set a goal of watching 100 shows?

Project Runway - A-

What The...!?

Book 55 in my Cannonball Read challenge is Devil May Care by Sheri McInnis. Quick description: down-on-her-luck actress Sally meets a network executive, Jack, who changes her life. Before she was losing parts to a less-talented actress whom she resembled, with a sad part-time job, a tragic family background, and a lackluster boyfriend; with Jack, she's winning parts, dressing well, and having the time of her life. But her deep religious streak as well as a series of events too creepy to be coincidence convince her that this powerful man is the Devil. Not just a devil, but THE Devil. Is Sally crazy, or is Jack more than he seems?

So yeah, I read the book, and it was OK - fluffy, predictable, but still engaging. But here's the part I don't get: I read to page 248, then got very confused when the punctuation didn't match. Turns out the book was missing 32 pages, jumping from 248 to 281. Then, I read until 312, and it jumped back to 281. So pages 249-280 are missing, but pages 281-312 were printed twice. SO weird. I don't think I missed much - something about a nun - but I wonder how that happened. I also wonder if the friends who lent me the book ever read it...

Devil May Care - C+

Cannonball Read - Book 54

Here's your overview:

"In nineteenth-century China, in a remote Hunan county, a girl named Lily, at the tender age of seven, is paired with a laotong, an “old same,” in an emotional match that will last a lifetime. The laotong, Snow Flower, introduces herself by sending Lily a silk fan on which she’s written a poem in nu shu, a unique language that Chinese women created in order to communicate in secret, away from the influence of men. As the years pass, Lily and Snow Flower send messages on the fan and compose stories on handkerchiefs, reaching out of isolation to share their hopes, dreams, and accomplishments. Together they endure the agony of footbinding and reflect upon their arranged marriages, their loneliness, and the joys and tragedies of motherhood. The two find solace in their friendship, developing a bond that keeps their spirits alive. But when a misunderstanding arises, their relationship suddenly threatens to tear apart."

Here's the deal: I love historical fiction, particularly HF that centers around women. You can see that from checking out some of the other books I've liked this year, and three of my top ten of all time are FFHF (that's female-friendly historical fiction). But SFatSF was just overdone. Maybe it's that I don't really care about China. Or maybe it's just that it wasn't as good as Memoirs of a Geisha - yes, that's Japan in the '30s and '40s, this is China in the 1820s, but there were certain similarities that I couldn't get past and the comparison to MoaG was inevitable. Or maybe it's that, after reading this book, I felt compelled to learn more about footbinding and just saw a picture so disturbing that I almost barfed, right here at the computer. Whatever the reason, SFatSF just didn't live up to its potential.

Snow Flower and the Secret Fan - B-

Cannonball Read - Book 53

The Widows' Adventures by Charles Dickinson (yes, that's his real name) is one of the best books you've never heard of. Here's a quick synopsis:
"Widows Ina and Helene, sisters from Chicago, set off on a drive to Los Angeles. There’s one problem: Only Helene can drive, and she’s blind. Beer-swigging Ina acts as her eyes. On back roads in the dead of night they travel across an America they never knew."
But there's a lot more to it than that. Strained familial relationships, violence, murder, adultery, lots of laughs, a few tears, lesbians, and a really compelling story. Helene and Ina are full, three-dimensional characters, and Dickinson's got a way with words - the language is very accessible, but has a few poetic moments thrown in. You can't help but like this one.

Dickinson's a newspaperman from Chicago, with a few books and short stories under his belt. He's also the dad of one of my co-workers. True story.

The Widows' Adventures - A-

Cannonball Read - Book 52

David Sedaris is pretty much a genius. I didn't like this as much as liked Me Talk Pretty One Day, but I loved Me Talk Pretty One Day - it would be hard to beat. And Sedaris' material is starting to get a little stale - I get it: you live in Europe, you smoke, you travel the world giving lectures/reading, you have a boyfriend, you're socially awkward. But one reader's stale is another reader's refinement, and Sedaris has certainly honed his skills and is a captivating storyteller. Good times all around.

When You Are Engulfed in Flames - A-

Cannonball Read - Book 51

Welcome to August. I am currently six books behind my goal - should have finished 58 by July 31, only finished 52. Please note that books read and books blogged aren't the same thing. I read faster than I type.

On to the review: The Gift of Fear by Gavin De Becker falls somewhere between true crime and self-help. De Becker is a violence specialist (not like Nate is a violence specialist) whose firm protects famous and not-so-famous clients from stalkers and other violent types, and he had a wicked home life as a kid, so he's got expertise on both sides. His mission in writing this book was to inform the masses that real fear is good, and unnecessary fear is bad. Simple enough, right? De Becker says that too many people are fearful when they have no reason to be, but then deny their intuition when something to be really fearful of is present. He says that if we could just pay attention to our intuition, we could probably prevent most violent crimes - heed the warning signs, but don't see signs that aren't there. The example that resonated with me was the woman who clutches her keys in her hand as she walks down the street at night, broadcasting her fear, even when there's nothing around to cause fear. De Becker also says that unnecessary fear can mask true feelings of loss, like loss of identity - there was a great example of a woman who was afraid to leave her office building at night because she was always the last one working, but after digging a little deeper, De Becker determined that being the last one out of the building was a critical part of this woman's sense of self, and if she left any earlier which, theoretically, would mean leaving at a "safer" time, she'd be construed as a slacker - so she put herself in "danger" in order to save face with her colleagues. De Becker cited lots of real cases of stalking and violent behavior (including a shark attack story!), which were very compelling and re-told the information in a practical manner, so instead of just reading about what you should and you shouldn't do, you saw first-hand how doing the right or wrong thing impacted a real person.

This book was great, and I learned a lot, and it certainly opened my eyes to some inappropriate fear behaviors of my own. My only beef was that it was super repetitive - I don't think I needed 14 chapters on listening to my intuition, but maybe De Becker knows best, and knows that breaking people of denying their intuition requires hammering the idea into their heads.

The Gift of Fear - A-