Highland Fling

by Katie Fforde
ages: adult
First sentence: “‘I gave you a home, for goodness’ sake!’ said Henry.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

After being laid off when her IT firm went bust, Jenny Porter decided that she’d never work for anyone but herself again. She became a virtual assistant, which is essentially a glorified secretary, even though she rarely meets her clients. Then, one of her clients, M. R. Grant-Dempsey, decides to send her into the wilds of Scotland to check out Dalmain Mills, and see whether or not it’s worth salvaging.

Once up in the wilds of Scotland, away from her increasingly insufferable boyfriend, Henry, (yes, he really is that bad) she discovers that not only does she really like Scotland, enjoys working in a fast food stand, and wants to find a way to salvage the mill, she is really attracted to possibly the least amiable man in the region: Ross Grant. (Yes, it is who you think it is.)

It’s fluff. Really. There’s no way around it. It’s predictable, enjoyable, fluffy romance, where you want the guy to get with the girl, and the stupid, silly boyfriend out of the way. Everything else about the plot is immaterial. There isn’t much sex (just one scene, in a snow cave… cozy…), though Fforde does know how to write a good kiss. And to be gratuitous in my review, this is who Ross Grant looked like in my head:

You’re welcome.

Not a bad way to spend some time, I think.

SLJ’s Battle of the (Kids’) Books: Round 1

As promised: here’s my thoughts on the week’s matchups:

Amelia Lost vs. Anya’s Ghost: The first match, and I was an informed reader. I read them both and really liked Amelia Lost: concise, interesting history in a form everyone would like. Anya’s Ghost, while I thought was neat, just didn’t grab me. Thankfully, judge Matt Phelan agreed: “Amelia Lost succeeds in what it sets out to do, but for this reader it also manages to do more. Thanks to this book, an icon became a living breathing extraordinary human being with ambition, drive, and personality.”

Between Shades of Gray vs. Bootleg: I have to admit that I haven’t read either one. I went with Between Shades of Gray on my bracket solely on the recommendation of my boss (because she loved it), and because I hadn’t heard of Bootleg (shame on me). Well, my boss was right, and I was lucky: Between Shades of Gray for the win. As judge Gayle Forman said, “Between Shades of Gray is a harrowing, page-turner of a novel that shines a light on a piece of history too long shrouded in the darkness.” Time to pick me up a copy and read it.

The Cheshire Cheese Cat vs. Chime: I admit I went with Chime on this one. Partially (shame on me, AGAIN) because I haven’t read The Cheshire Cheese Cat. Possibly because I don’t (shock) love Dickens. But mostly because I really adored Chime, and I wanted to see it move on. Thankfully, I went with my gut: Chime gets the nod with a coin toss. Literally. (“Both are beautiful and perfect—neither is better than the other. I was so frustrated and at sea about this that I actually flipped a coin,” writes judge Sy Montgomery.) Sometimes, that’s all it takes.

Daughter of Smoke and Bone vs. Dead End in Norvelt: Argh! Sarah Zarr didn’t do what I expected her to do, so for the first time this round, I was wrong. That said, I’m perfectly happy with her decision to choose Daugher (LOVE that book, LOVE Laini Taylor), and the reason she gave is exactly why I love Taylor’s writing: “Taylor isn’t innocent of occasionally making her presence as an author more known than I’d prefer, but the poetry of her prose lent a mesmerizing quality to the fictional landscape and created a more wholly immersive reading experience.” I am more than happy to be wrong.

Which makes me 3 and 1 so far. Not too shabby a start.

Audiobook: The Kitchen Counter Cooking School

How a Few Simple Lessons Transformed Nine Culinary Novices into Fearless Home Cooks
by Kathleen Flinn
Read by Marguerite Gavin
ages: adult
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

(Also a post for Weekend Cooking.)

I adored Flinn’s first book, The Sharper Your Knife, the Less You Cry, and was quite excited to tackle her next book.

Home from Paris and Le Cordon Bleu, author Flinn is wondering what to do with her life. She really has no interest in owning a restaurant, and is getting tired of people asking her when she’s going to open one (and on a similar line, when are she and her husband going to have a baby…). Then, in a grocery store, inspiration hits: she sees a woman whose grocery cart is full of processed foods, and the reason? Because she doesn’t feel she can cook. It’s intimidating. She doesn’t know how. It’s too hard. Thus, the Project is born: Flinn finds nine volunteers all who are generally insecure about cooking, and persuades them to come in for a series of lessons on cooking basics. Flinn’s goal: to give them the skills and confidence to cook and turn away from fast food and processed food.

I’ll tell you straight up: I learned a lot from this book. A lot. And that was listening to the audio version. I need to go out and purchase the book, so I can have it as a reference in my kitchen. She really does go over all the basics: knife skills, chicken, meat, vegetables, braising, roasting, soup, salad, vinaigrette… it’s all in there. And Flinn is a good teacher. I’m sure her nine volunteers learned a lot from the classes, but she was able to convey what was taught — with a few side trips, to Rome and some fancy dinner parties to raise money — through her words in a way that engaged and interested me. I ended up thinking about this as a practical Michael Pollan: while he spouts ideals (and good ones at that), Flinn actually gives people the tools to use in putting those ideals — eating real food, cooking with real ingredients — to use.

The woman who read the book grated on me at first; she has weird pauses in the middle of sentences that bothered me. Also: listening to recipes being read aloud isn’t that great, so I ended up skipping those. Even with those shortcomings (and they’re not even Flinn’s fault), it’s the best kind of food book: useful, interesting, yummy-sounding with dozens of good recipes that are easy to use. Hopefully, it’ll do for you what it did for me: inspire you to cook.

Pride and Prejudice and Zombies

by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith
ages: adult(ish)
First sentence: “It is a truth universally acknowledged that a zombie in possession of brains must be in want of more brains.”

I avoided this book when it was all the rage a few years back for one reason: zombies. I really don’t do zombies. That, and I really like Jane Austen and I suspected that I probably wouldn’t be amenable to a mash-up of one of my favorite books.

I was right, on both counts.

For my mother-daughter book group (they’re in 6th and 7th grade), one of the girls picked the prequel to this one, Dawn of the Dreadfuls, as her book choice for this past month. (By the way, the discussion was quite good, even though no one finished it, or even liked it.) I decided here was my chance to see what everyone was talking about, and chose to read this one.

I didn’t finish it, and I didn’t like it. Partly because of the zombies, true. It’s not exactly for the squeamish. The basic plot is that of Pride and Prejudice, except the countryside is swarming in zombies, and the Bennet sisters are skilled zombie killers. They have to be in order to survive.

Which brings me to my second issue: they just smashed zombies into P&P, without a thought to characterization, plot, or even if it would work in Austen’s work. Which it doesn’t. (For me.) Adding zombies changed the characters, and instead of having charming, witty, loveable Lizzy, we’re left with this weird, strange, honor-bound, vengeance-seeking woman. Who beats Darcy up when he proposes to her. (Which is completely out of character. Even if he deserves it.)

So, while I can see the humor in it and the appeal of it, no, it didn’t work for me. Now I know.

Putting Makeup on the Fat Boy

by Bill Wright
ages: 14+
First sentence: “When I was twelve, I convinced my mother to let me do her makeup for Parents’ Night.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

Carlos Duarte is a genius at makeup. Seriously. And he knows it. He has dreams and ambitions to be a makeup artist to the stars, and it all starts with a job at Macy’s FeatureFace makeup counter.

Granted, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. He has to work part-time after school at the day care center, because his mother’s dry cleaning manager job doesn’t pull in quite enough money. His older sister, Rosalia, is dating a guy who is truly the scum of the earth. And even though Carlos is good enough (and confident enough) to get the FeatureFace job, he doesn’t count on having a manger who is a first-class jealous jerk, bent on thwarting Carlos every step of the way.

The best thing about this novel, I think, is Carlos’s resilience. In the course of the novel, he’s dumped on, picked on, loses one of his best friends (through a mistake he made), gets beaten up, deals with the pettiness of his boss, and the boy still keeps on ticking. This makes him sound like the energizer bunny, and he’s not. But, even though this boy faces more challenges than you can shake a stick at (being a gay teenin NYC isn’t the cakewalk that you would suppose it is…), he is hopeful and optimistic and confident that he can do what it takes to be successful. It was ….well…. if not inspiring, then at least affirming. And as a reader, you liked Carlos (in spite of all the makeup talk, for me, at least), and you wanted him to succeed, to find that right guy, to have that happy ending.

Wright is smart enough to not give it to us, though. While the ending isn’t quite happy, it is hopeful, which is better. It’s not all wrapped up in a nice little package; it’s messy and complicated, like life. But, mostly because of Carlos’s attitude, it’s full of a hope that he can — and will — do great things.

The Grand Plan to Fix Everything

by Uma Krishnaswami
ages 8+
First sentence: “Dolly Sing’s fabulous face floats across the screen of the TV in the family room.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

Dini is in love with Bollywood movies. She loves the music and the scenery and the stars. Especially Dolly Singh. Even though she really loves everything about the movies, they are just that, movies: fictional, far away in India, which is a place to visit not to stay.

Then her mom tells her that they will be moving to a village in India, Swapnagiri. For two whole years. It’s traumatic! How can Dini leave her best friend, Maddie? How can she adapt to living in a small village instead of big Tacoma Park, Maryland? How can she make new friends? And she doesn’t even have a chance of meeting Dolly because Swapnagiri isn’t anywhere near the Bollywood capital of Mumbai.

And yet, almost like a Bollywood film, things seem to work out. There’s a girl close to Dini’s age that may be an okay friend — though Dini would never, ever forget Maddie. There seems to be some sort of Bollywood magic at work when they find out that Dolly is actually staying in Swapnagiri. And, maybe, just maybe, Dini can work some magic herself and get Dolly and her estranged fiance back together again.

The key to this one, if you haven’t already noticed, is Bollywood. It really is a Bollywood movie in book form: magical, sweet, a bit of humor, with everything all nice and tidy wrapped up in a neat little bow. There are no song-and-dance numbers, but music does play a role. And Dini is our perfect Bollywood heroine: sweet, kind, and yet not quite perfect. She does mess things up, but she’s doggedly determined to make the best of things.

Cute and sweet, it’s a good one to hand to hand to girls, especially ones who are Bollywood fans.

Amelia Lost

The Life and Disappearance of Amelia Earhart
by Candace Fleming
ages: 9+
First sentence: “On the morning of July 2, 1937, the coast guard cutter Itasca drifted on the Pacific Ocean, waiting… listening…”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

Like many people, I think, what I knew about Amelia Earhart was limited to her legend: she was the first woman pilot, and her plane was lost on her attempt to fly around the world.

What I didn’t realize was how much more there was to the story.

Fleming is a brilliant non-fiction writer for kids; she keeps the information simple without being simplistic, and manages to capture the nuances of her subject without ever wandering into territory that a 9-year-old couldn’t comprehend.

Which means that this book was absolutely fascinating. The chapters alternated between Amelia’s past and that fateful day when her plane was lost. Fleming really did her research, pushing past the legend and the fame to come up with a different portrait of Amelia Earhart. One of the things that most fascinated me was how, well, unqualified she was. She flew not really because of skill — often she didn’t take the time to learn things thoroughly — but because of determination. She was a feminist: she believed that just because she was a woman didn’t mean she shouldn’t do whatever she wanted to do. Including flying. She resisted the boxes that the time period wanted to put her in, and literally soared. No, she wasn’t the most talented, or even the most skilled, but she was determined, and that made up for a lot.

The other thing that fascinated me was how much she was famous for just being famous. She and her eventual husband, George Putnam, worked really hard at keeping her name in the papers, keeping her on the lecture circuit. Being famous was a full time job for them. I also didn’t realize how much of her image was done on purpose to create her image. She hid many things, and re-imagined others. I guess it goes to show that nothing is ever quite what it seems.

An excellent introduction to the life and legend of Amelia Earhart.

March Madness for Book Lovers

Forget basketball: the event of the month is SLJ’s Battle of the (Kids’) Books!

In which the past years’ best books for middle and teen readers are pitted against each other, to vie to become the Big Kahuna!

(Or you could just watch this…)

The fun starts on Tuesday with Match 1: Amelia Lost vs. Anya’s Ghost, with Matt Phelan judging.

Who do I think will take it all?? I’m actually terrible at all this (though I do have my bracket pined up and ready for filling in — with my choices circled), but I’m rooting for Daughter of Smoke and Bone (go Laini!), with Okay for Now as a close second. The best part, however (and the reason this is so much fun), is reading the judges opinions.

And just because I love this, I’ll be back with wrap-ups every Sunday for the next few weeks… (I hope!)

A Discovery of Witches

by Deborah Harkness
ages: adult
First sentence: “The leather-bound volume was nothing remarkable.”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

Although I liked this one quite a bit — more than I was expecting, actually — by the end of it, I was quite torn. So, let’s just say, up front, that my enjoyment of this one was tempered by some hangups.

The good:
I loved the world that Harkness created. It’s basically our world, except it’s inhabited by vampires, witches, and daemons. They’re generally brilliant, generally long-lived, and generally go unnoticed by humans. Our main character, Diana, is a witch who, ever since her parents’ deaths when she was 7, has shunned her magic. She’s a historian of 17th-century science, which means she dabbles in Alchemy. She’s pretty content with her life. Until she meets Matthew. Who is a vampire.

Which brings me to good point number 2: Harkness has a debt to owe to Stephenie Meyer, but she one-ups her. Matthew is 1500 years old, which makes him incredibly fascinating. (And I suppose it’s kind of creepy that a 1500 year old would fall in love with a 37 year old?) There’s a lot of history in this book, and no accident that Diana, as a historian, is fascinated by Matthew.

The bad:
It’s still True Love, and while it’s not as stifling as Edward and Bella’s love, it’s still pretty sappy. (What is it with vampires and a reluctance to have sex?) There’s also that element of over-protectiveness that drove me batty in the Twilight series. The only difference is that Diana can — and does — hold her own as a witch, though it takes her most of the book to do so. She also struggles against Matthew’s edicts, which helps with the whole damsel-in-distress thing. That, and the fact that she’s in REAL danger as opposed to supposed danger helps temper Matthew’s irritating behavior.

The good:
The plot is intriguing and complex: there’s a lost manuscript that all the “creatures” (as they call themselves) are longing to get their hands on. But, more importantly, there’s the forbidden love (really?) between Diana and Matthew: it seems the creatures aren’t suppose to cross-mate because of an age old (like centuries) covenant that the creatures made with each other. This leads to a lot of things, the most important being an impending “war” between the creatures who are okay with Diana and Matthew’s love and those who are not.

The bad:
On some levels, the idea of anyone being able to love anyone they want is a good story. But my main complaint with this book is that it’s 576 pages, and they don’t get to the point until the last 1/4. The plot pacing is bad as well: it’ll be interesting, then Harkness will divert into pages and pages of wine, food and romancing (M contended that if she cut out all the bits about wine, she would have lost about 75 pages…), none of which had anything to do with the plot. More than once, I nearly lost patience with the book.

That said, I’m invested now, and I’m interested in where Harkness is going to go with the sequel. Hopefully, it won’t be nearly as long. (Then again, she’s a historian, so I’m not really expecting a more tightly written book. Just hoping.)

The Mighty Miss Malone

by Christopher Paul Curtis
ages: 9+
First sentence: “Once upon a time…”
Support your local independent bookstore: buy it there!

Deza Malone has a pretty good life in Gary, Indiana. She loves school, she has the best big brother in the whole world (so what if he can’t spell or write? He has the most beautiful singing voice), and her mom and dad love her to pieces.

Sure, it’s the middle of the Great Depression, and her dad is out of work, but they’re making it. It’s tough, but they’re making it.

Then her dad decides to go on a fishing trip to Lake Michigan, and everything changes. Her dad goes missing for a few days, and when he comes back, he’s different. Then, he decides that what he really needs to do is go to Flint, Michigan, to look for work. He takes off. And because families are supposed to stick together, Deza, her mother, and her brother uproot themselves from wonderful Gary and head to Flint to find him.

There are many good things about this one (there’s a reason Curtis has a Newbery and an Newbery Honor to his name), but chief among them is Deza’s voice. From the opening pages, you get a sense of this girl, and I dare you not to love her. She’s a smart girl, observant, and creative. She’s fiercely loyal to her family and her friends, and yet she can adapt and make new friends pretty easily. Sure, the book brushes on darker issues of poverty, of homelessness, of racism. (I was disappointed at how racists the Michiganders were. Seriously. What good is integrated schooling if you are just going to write off the black kids? Ah… and that’s the crux of the situation, isn’t it?) But even though it deals with some heavy issues, the book is never heavy, depressing, or down. Deza’s interminable spirit lifts the whole book and lets it soar.

Which makes it a pretty good read.