Super Mom

Confessions of Super Mom and Super Mom Saves the World, by Melanie Lynne Hauser

Imagine that you’re a single mom of two teenagers, you have a jerk for an ex-husband, and you work at the local supermarket as a cashier and bagger. You’re pretty happy with your life. And then, one morning, in the act of trying to get out a particularly difficult stain, you combine many different cleaning fluids, have a Horrible Swiffer Accident. And your life is Never The Same.

Meet Birdie Lee, aka Super Mom. Mild mannered cashier by day; champion of children in trouble (all kinds) anytime.

I am not a comic book geek. I enjoy the movies that come out, but I have absolutely no background in reading comic books. All that aside, I really enjoyed Confessions of a Super Mom. For me, the best part was the origin story, and Birdie trying to figure out the whole superhero thing.

There was a great balance between humor and discovery in the book. Birdie lets her son in on the secret first (he’s the comic book geek; he even designs her costume just like June Cleaver’s). Then she tells her best friend, and her almost-boyfriend. But she keeps her daughter out of the loop, mostly because she was afraid her daughter would tell Dr. Dan, the annoying jerk of an ex. All which provides entertainment and conflict (her daughter’s a bit miffed when she does find out), respectively.

Other good bits: the Justice League of America — you can join if you qualify to be a superhero, and it comes with a week at Club DC , the premier club for superheroes. And the Avengers — “The Marvel comics group — Captain America, Iron Man, those guys. Definitely low rent. Not good enough for the likes of Super Mom, in my opinion.” And then there’s the mechanics of being a superhero: quick changing in a bathroom stall, trying to fight crime in heels (“You cannot fight crime in heels.”), coming up with a catchphrase.

However, aside from the superhero discovery, the story itself was a bit weak.

The arch-nemisis is Lex, horrible baker turned self-made millionaire by selling overly sweet, but locally made (at New Cosmos), junk-food. The names are great: Patriot Pops, Liberty Lemonade ice pops, Democracy Drops, Betsy Ross-a-Roni in a cup (loved that one!). And the video game tie-in is called American Justice with Abe Lincolnators and George Washington Carve ‘Em Up. And the comments by parents are so true: “It’s patriotic”, “It’s educational”, “It’s locally made”. Birdie realizes that it’s all a plot… to… do something Evil. I have to say, I missed this entire section. There was something to do with increasing the amount of sugar so kids would be diagnosed with insulin dependent diabetes so that a pharmaceutical company could reveal that it has a type of insulin that could be taken orally but it was all being bankrolled by some offshore somebody, and I can’t even begin to remember how Lex the arch-nemesis fits into it all.
Got that? Neither did I. But it’s all forgiven, for the laughs along the way.

Super Mom Saves the World wasn’t nearly as fun. I don’t know if it was because I read them right in a row; sometimes that effects my judgment. I really enjoyed the first one; the second didn’t live up to my expectations. Or maybe because it really isn’t as much fun. But, it just seemed to me that Saves the World tried too hard. Took itself too seriously.

Six months have passed since Birdie Lee, aka Super Mom, put New Cosmos out of business, laying off half the town. People are grumpy with her (Super Mom, not Birdie). Her relationship with her kids isn’t that great; her best friend is psychiatrist for the Justice League of America and so is always trying to psychoanalyze Birdie; her relationship with her boyfriend went from almost to fiance, which totally freaks her out. Then, on top of all that, her ex starts hitting on her again (mostly because he’s getting a divorce from his second wife). It’s not pretty.

Interestingly, the good-versus-evil plot was actually weightier and made more sense. Mayor Linseed is all gung-ho to build the Astro Park-O-Dome Field for the local Little League team. He wants revenue for the town, especially now that Super Mom has put out half the town out of work (closing the New Cosmos plant and all). He will spare no expense, apparently, for the dome or for the team because everyone — parents, town, mayor — wants a championship team. So, the mayor fires the local beloved coach, and hires Coach Bluto to coach the team.

As it turns out, Super Mom (with some help from an ace 7th grade reporter named… wait for it… Lois Blane) finds out that the Dome is built over old salt mines, which collects natural gas which will spell Certain Doom for the town and the team if Super Mom doesn’t save the day.

There were lots of charming little asides in this one, too. Just not as many as in Confessions. My absolute favorite was when, after being hit with some super-intense Swiffer fluid, Birdie not only gains a super sense of smell (she helps out on prom night in place of a Breathalyzer), but gets to meet Mr. Clean and the scientists at the super secret New Improved University.

But, it seemed to me that there was more turmoil than humor. Birdie was on the defensive for most of the book: people didn’t appreciate all she’d done for the town; people kept thinking she was on the rag whenever she got upset; she had marriage jitters, and they were trying to figure out just how to blend her family with his; her ex-husband kept hitting on her, and involving the kids, getting their hopes up that they’d get back together; her best friend didn’t, or wouldn’t, believe Birdie’s story about Mr. Clean being real; not to mention that her son wouldn’t talk to her and her daughter was hanging out with questionable people; and so on… It’s not that it was bad, or even uninteresting. It just was the light, fun Super Mom that I was expecting from the first book.

On top of all that, the product placement drove me nuts. Off the top of my head, there was: Swiffer (of course), Wet Ones, L’eggs, Starbucks, Mr. Clean, Scrubbing Bubbles, Ajax, McDonald’s, Gatorade, Tums, Febreze… Mr. Clean and Scrubbing Bubbles didn’t bug me so much, since they actually played a role in the plot. But most of the product placement seemed like it was just that: products worked into the story. Highly unnecessary. And, then there was the Pop Culture references: the whole American Idol crew, George Clooney, Kelly Clarkston, and a slew of women’s magazines. All this is fine and good, but it tends to date the book. Twenty years from now, are we even going to care who Ryan Seacrest and Simon Cowell were?

In the end, though, these are stories primarily for mothers. I don’t have teenagers yet, but I could appreciate the whole mother feel of the books. Mothers being under appreciated. Mothers trying to deal with kids and jobs and personal life. The need for mothers to protect those they love from both big and little dangers. It’s all there. I’m sure someone who hasn’t had kids would enjoy the stories; but I know that a mother would appreciate them more. It’s about time someone wrote a book where a mom’s the hero. And a super hero at that.

Kite Runner

I’ve never been one to ride the wave of a trend; which is why I’m just now getting around to this book, by Kahled Hosseini, at least two years after it made a splash in the blog world. (I’m still waiting for my turn at Twilight; that’ll be the closest I’ve ever gotten to reading a trendy book.) But I’m in between library piles right now (I need to get to the library today and pick up the eight books that are waiting for me) and needed something to read. A friend had loaned me this one a while back, and so I decided to give it a try.

Going in to this book, the only thing I remembered about it was Julie’s assertion that if you liked Life of Pi (which I did), that you wouldn’t like Kite Runner. And then, there’s the Chinaberry description: “It is at once spellbinding, tender and heart-opening. A remarkable story of love and courage. It is one of those books that make you a better person for having read it.” (Um… gag.) So, perhaps I was biased against it from the start. (Granted, some review of Life of Pi claimed that it would make one believe in God, which is pretty outrageous if you think about it.)

I found it troublesome, depressing and formulaic.

I’m not one for facing all the depressing and disturbing aspects of life (but I’ve been over that before). I do read books that throw all of humanity’s evils in my face, but I’m never a better person for it. I do ask this: is there a book out there about Afghanistan that doesn’t include horrible things?? Perhaps not. It’s been a horrible 25 years for the country, and the fiction will most likely reflect that. It did pull my guilt-strings; perhaps I should be giving money to some sort of organization (like the Central Asia Institute) that is helping make the horrible situation over there somewhat better. (But given the corruption over there, would it help?)

On top of reading horrible things (well, okay, one horrible thing at the beginning, three horrible things at the end), it was just plain formulaic. It was an easy read (I started it Monday night, and I really only read a couple hours a day, if that); nothing terribly long or difficult or demanding to get through. But on top of that, I knew the ending before I got there. I hate that. I knew (sorry — spoliers here, but since I’m the last person to read the book… πŸ™‚ that Hassan would die and that Amir would take Hassan’s son back with him. I new that the Talib that was so brutal would be the same bully that was so brutal in the beginning. I knew that when Amir finally got good news, that something horrible would happen (that’s the way these things work). It’s about atonement and forgiveness, but it’s not really effective at that. I liked Amir, as a character, but not really enough to care what happened.

So in the end, perhaps Julie’s right: I would recommend Life of Pi to anyone. But Kite Runner just isn’t that good.

His Majesty’s Dragon

So, I’m imagining the conversation went something like this:

“You know, I really love the Patrick O’Brian books. Naval battles, Napoleon. You know?”
“Mmmm hmmm.”
“And Jane Austen; she’s fabulous. The whole 19th century English society. I love it.”
“Yes, dear.”
“But you know what they’re missing?”
“What?”
“Dragons.”
“Dragons?”
“Yeah…. dragons.”

So we have His Majesty’s Dragon, by Naomi Novik: Patrick O’Brian, Jane Austen and Anne McCaffrey rolled into one.

The conversation at our house:
Hubby: “Hey, you got that book!”
Me: “What book?”
Hubby: “The Napoleonic wars with dragons book.”
Me: “Oh, yeah. I needed a science fiction book for the library’s reading challenge.”
Hubby: “Did you know that Peter Jackson‘s optioned it?”
Me: “Oh, really?”
Hubby: “Yeah. Can I read it first?”

The verdict: If you’re looking for something fun and light and engaging that has both elements of English manners books, Napoleonic wars and dragons, then this is for you.

(And as an aside: I really enjoyed myself and I’ve got the other two books in the series on hold…)

Eight Cousins

Last fall, I read Little Women, and while I didn’t totally hate it, I didn’t totally love it either. For which I got chastised a bit by commenters. πŸ™‚ At any rate, one person (Inkling) said she preferred Louisa May Alcott’s other books better, especially Eight Cousins (and its companion Rose in Bloom), to Little Women. Given that Inkling usually gives good recommendations, I jumped at the chance to read another Alcott for the Classics Challenge.

The verdict? I liked it. It was enjoyable, in a quaint sort of way. It did get preachy at points (like the chapters when Rose “reforms” her cousins, and one of the aunts sets into the boys about reading dime novels), which was mildly annoying and distracting (even if I agreed). But even the preachiness (which is actually quite modern-thinking: no corsets, healthy exercise and dieting and moderation in everything) in the end, came off being quaint.

The basic plot: Rose’s parents have died, and she’s been left to the guardianship of her father’s brother, Dr. Alec. But he’s been away at sea, and she’s been living at Aunt Hill (after trying, and being miserable at, a boarding school) until he comes back. Once he does, he sets her on a regiment to fix her “poor constitution” (Aunt Myra said that — she thinks everyone is just about ready to pop off) and get her to enjoy life. And (of course) he succeeds. She’s a perfect little angel (again — even when she’s “bad” it’s really not bad at all — though I don’t know what I’d do if my daughters got their ears pierced by a friend!) who’s helpful, kind, inquisitive, earnest and loving, and above all that, a thoroughly likable character. And of course Dr. Alec succeeds in winning over Rose, and improving her health, and expanding her mind, and even getting all the Aunts (who originally disapproved) to agree with what he was doing.

Finally, my favorite bit of “medicine” from Dr. Alec: “If you dear little girls would only learn what real beauty is, and not pinch and starve and bleach yourselves out so, you’d save an immense deal of time and money and pain. A happy soul in a healthy body makes the best sort of beauty for man or woman.”

Oh, I should probably add… this was my second book for the Classics Challenge. Only three more to go.

Climbing the Mango Trees

Since it’s January, I was feeling in the mood for something a little exotic. And food-related. I had originally checked out A Year in Provence, but after reading several reviews of this book, opted for it instead.

And I’m not sorry I did. Madhur Jaffrey (whom I mostly know of as a cookbook writer; I was surprised to find out she was an actress) has put together a wonderfully exotic, fun, interesting memoir of her childhood. I loved reading about her education (in a couple of Christian convents, one in Kanpur, one in New Delhi), I enjoyed her stories of her mother and sisters (especially the haggling with local salesmen), I loved the descriptions of the holidays (I need to add Holi to our list of holidays we celebrate; anyone know when it is?). But mostly I loved the descriptions of the food.

Before I quote something, I have to explain this. I have avoided eating Indian food for years. I had an Indian friend when I was younger, and I’d go over to her house, but for some reason the smell of Indian food is linked with the smell of my friend’s grandfather’s hookah pipe. I’d always leave with a headache, and as a result, never tried the food. And have avoided it since then.

However, Madhur Jaffrey has changed my mind. For example (she’s talking about an experience getting food at the Lane of Fried Breads in Delhi):

Before any real food arrived, we would start dipping our fingers in the
condiments and licking them. Then came the vegetables — meats did not belong in such places — carrots stir-fried with young fenugreek greens; potatoes, and peas cooked with cumin, asafetida, and tomatoes; cauliflower with ginger and green chilies. As soon as the vegetables were on our plates, the hot, hot parathas floated in, whichever we had ordered, all puffed ready to be deflated and devoured even before all the steam had hissed out.

They’re all like that: yummy sounding. I guess I must find an Indian restaurant and at least give it a whirl. Either that, or try out one of the recipes in back.

Treasure Island

I read this about three years ago, but since it was in my pre-blogging days (wow, remember those?) my review reads like this: “I never read this as a kid (again, it’s a “boy book”) but I sure had fun with it as an adult. It’s the classic pirate story; it’s a grand adventure! “

Um, not very informative, is it?

Since I was given the opportunity to re-read Treasure Island for an online book group I’m “attending” (seeing as I can’t go to my in-person one for a few months; hubby’s got a night class that’s on Tuesday nights. Sigh.), I thought I’d take the opportunity to be a bit more specific.

I had a great time with it. It’s wonderful when a book reads just as well the second (or third, or tenth) time through. I basically remembered the plot, and I still marvelled at the fact that this book is bascially driven by a 11- to 13-year old boy (anyone know how old Jim is??). If it wasn’t for him befriending Billy Bones, he wouldn’t have gotten the map. If it wasn’t for him, the mutiney wouldn’t have been discovered. If it wasn’t for him, the ship wouldn’t have been secured. Maybe it’s plausable that a 12-year-old boy could have done much of what Jim did, but honestly, I didn’t care.

The one thing I didn’t get was Long John Silver. Was he really a bad guy? Well, yes, and no. He was willing to kill for the treasure, but he was also willing to sell out just about anyone. I liked him, but I also found him annoying. I didn’t get why everyone feared him (maybe because he wasn’t exactly trustworthy), but I never really felt the full force of his temper. He was kind of an amusing aside. I found Billy Bones in the beginning to be more disturbing than Long John Silver.

I wonder about pirate stories, too. What’s the appeal? Why does Pirates of the Carribean do so well (aside from Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom, of course)? There was nothing romantic, or exciting, or honorable about pirate’s lives. They were vicious, violent, and vengeful. But then, we tend to glamorize all sorts of crime (I can only think of movies here: Oceans 11/12; The Italian Job; Gone in 60 Seconds…). Why is that? Because they’re “bad”? Because the grass is always greener on the other side? Because we want to justify our nice, quiet little lives? Or maybe it’s because we have nice, quiet little lives and we want some excitement?

Whatever it is, this certainly fits the bill.

The Odyssey

I chose to read the Odyssey for the Classics Challenge because I didn’t get around to it in college (being a journalism major, we weren’t required to read huge Greek classics), and I’ve always wondered about this one. Now I can say that I’ve read all 24 books and 462 pages of English translation (by Robert Fitzgerald).

Some thoughts:

  • It’s incredibly violent. People get eaten by the Cyclops (it drove me nuts that they spelled it Kyklops) and by someone else (when you go wandering through a forest, beware: you might get eaten!). And then there’s the huge slaughter of the suitors at the end. Not to mention killing off the women servants that helped the suitors.
  • I didn’t think it was fair that Odysseus gets to sleep with everyone (Kalypso and Kirke among others) just because he’s a man, and Penelope had to stay faithful. But then, this is now and that was then. Actually, when I told hubby about how Odysseus got Kirke to change his shipmates back from pigs into humans by sleeping with her, he said, “Well. He certainly knows how to get the job done.”
  • While we’re on the subject of Penelope, she spent the entire book crying or sleeping or inciting lust among the suitors. Her one claim to fame was her “trick”: saying she couldn’t get married until she finishd a death shroud, and then unweaving it every night. It went on for three years, until one of her servants gave her away. She needs get get better help.
  • It was surprisingly easy to read. I’m not much for poetry, but this was more like prose in column form. Once I got used to that — and to all the names that I wasn’t even going to try to sort out — then it wasn’t hard to read at all.
  • I found it interesting that the gods were so involved in Odysseus’ life. Spurring on his son, helping Penelope deal (Athena was always putting her in a deep sleep), helping Odysseus get revenge. I guess the worst thing in Greek life was to offend someone, thereby offending the gods. And I guess that’s why hanging out at Odysseus’ palace for several years eating his food (beeves, I love that word!) is worth the death sentance.
  • Odysseus was too dang perfect. I never really liked him. Or cared that much for his adventures.
  • I can’t say I’m going to ever read it again.

One down, four to go.