Sunshine Blogger Award

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     Thanks to one of my favorite book reviewers, Ajoobacats Blog, for nominating me for a Sunshine Blogger Award, a really A-mazing thing since I’m sitting here watching the snow fall as I type and sunshine would be super.  Ajoobacats mainly reviews psychological thrillers and she reads like a banshee, like, hundreds of books a year pretty much blowing every other reviewer out of the water.  Go check out Ajoobacats Blog!

So, a few rules:  1.  Say thanks — Thanks, Ajoobacats.  You rock!  2. Answer the 11 questions posed.  3.  Choose 11 more bloggers and send them 11 questions.  Easy peasy, right?

My Answers to Ajoobacats Q’s:
1. Have you ever belonged to a book club? What was it called?   While I read a lot, I have never belonged to a book club. I did belong to the Rabbit Hill Writer’s Group, folks I sorely miss. A few expats from Rabbit Hill have just started a new group but don’t have a name yet.
2. If a friend, who doesn’t read much asked you for a book recommendation right now, which book would you recommend?     In an act of shameless self-promotion, I would probably recommend my own book, “Six Sisters,” a collection of novellas. Love, death, loyalty tested, betrayal, hyrdrofracking, there’s something in it for everyone.
3. What’s your favourite film franchise?   Tough one because there are so many greats and then they keep getting remade. I think I’d have to go with Batman.
4. Which literary stereotype bugs you the most?  Stereotype in general bugs me. If, as a writer, my characters are all stereotypical, then I’ve lost because the writing is flat and uninteresting. Complex characters can make the most quotidian story a fun read.
5. Which book are you currently reading?   The Chocolate Assassin, by Peter Durantine, The Mindful Writer, by Dinty W. Moore, Moon Talk, a soon-to-be-released book of poetry by Wade Stevenson, and I’m rereading one of my favorite ever books, A Confederacy of Dunces, by John Kennedy Toole.
6. What’s your favourite horror thriller?   I generally don’t love the genre because I’m a lightweight, but a couple of favorites are both by Stephen King: Misery and The Dead Zone.
7. Name the most heinous literary villain you have ever read.  I like a villain with complexity. I’d have to say my favorite is Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The movie with Gary Oldman and Keanu Reeves is great.
8. Name a book you have read and enjoyed that was translated from another language into English?   100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez.
9. What’s your favourite period in history?   Ancient Greece.
10. If you were to write a book, which genre would you write?   The book I’m working on now, “Oil and Water,” is an environmental murder mystery.
11. Have you ever been to a book signing? If yes, which author?   Yes. Anne Lamott (Small Victories), and Duncan Alderson (Magnolia City).

My Nominees are:
A Thousand FindsOff the LeashA French GardenWeave a WebFaraday’s Candle; Liz Tenenbaum; Mercedes Fox; Food is Life; Galaxial WorldWhy? Because Science.; Problems With Infinity

Questions for my nominees:

Why do you blog?
When did you start blogging?
Do you see yourself blogging in 10 years?
What’s the hardest thing about blogging?
If you could be any literary character, who would you be?
Favorite literary genre, and if possible, favorite book?
Do you belong to a writing group? If so, how often do you meet? Are there any rules?
What’s a typical day look like?
Have you ever been published and if so, indie or traditional and why?
What inspires your writing? Does your family support it?
Tell me something unique about yourself.

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My Sweet Vidalia

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My Sweet Vidalia

     They say all doors open for a pretty girl and I believe that’s true, unless you’re a poor girl, and then no matter how pretty you are, those doors are going to stay shut tight and double locked. My Sweet Vidalia, by Deborah Mantella is a story about a poor and pretty girl, Vidalia Lee Kandal Jackson, a straight-A student at the top of her class which means she just may have beaten the odds on a life that offered women, especially poor-ish ones, very few options if it wasn’t for what happened next. Set in rural Georgia in the mid-1950’s, My Sweet Vidalia is not a story for the faint of heart, but it is one for the poetic heart.

read the review here…

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The Signature of All Things

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The Signature of All Things

     What a wonder is The Signature of All Things by Elizabeth Gilbert, lush, verdant and efflorescent like the plants that fill its pages. You can’t help but get pulled in and up by the narrative in the way all living things reach for the sun. The characters are robust and noteworthy, from the daring, adventuresome and iron-willed Henry Whittaker, whose personality is as extreme as the some of the climates in which grow his favorite botanicals, and who endures much at great personal cost to rise above his very lowly beginnings, to his brilliant and stoic wife, Beatrice, who leaves her Dutch family to move to the United States with Henry and make their mark on the world, to their only natural offspring, Alma, as strong-willed as her father, and erudite as her mother.    Read the review here…

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Dear Mister Essay Writer Guy

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“Memory is like rope, knotted every three or four feet, and hanging down a deep well. When you pull it up, just about anything might be attached to those knots. But you’ll never know what’s there if you don’t pull. And the more you pull at that rope, the more you find.”
Dinty W. Moore, Dear Mister Essay Writer Guy

Dinty W. Moore’s new book, Dear Mister Essay Writer Guy, Advice and Confessions on Writing, Love, and Cannibals, is a droll, delicious exposé of the inner workings of Moore’s mind. Oh, and it’s a writing tutorial as well, although not in the instructional sense —- commas here, apostrophes there, watch those dangling participles —- but in the classic show don’t tell sense. Moore shows you how to write the most sublime essays in answer to questions posed by contemporary essay writers —- questions generated in response to a query from Moore on their thoughts regarding the art of essay writing.  As a bonus, he throws in more than a few tidbits of enlightened instruction along the way such as his rumination on the em dash.  I, like the questioner, Cheryl Strayed (think “Wild”), am enamored of em dashes —- so much so that perhaps it’s become an unhealthy relationship —- but that’s my problem —- and I’ll deal with it —- someday —- maybe. Then there’s Moore’s history lesson.

Read the review here…

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Just a Couple of Old People Holding Hands

“Just a Couple of Old People Holding Hands”                                                                 A Memoir of a Marriage in Alzheimer’s World 

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Forecast for Winter
By Carl Smith (2009)

You know you are heading into the wintertime of life
When you don’t pivot when you turn
But take short, mincing steps
Like the second hand of your watch.

Winter is coming when colds hang on longer than they used to,
And when you read the obituaries before the comics

You’re nearing the end when you think you’re walking briskly
But a slip of a girl ambles past you texting on her iPhone.

You are into the final season
When you take in hand your pile of stuff and toss old mementos into the trash
And discover shedding stuff is a relief, not a pain.

The winter of life is a time of testing.
It shows whether our minds as well as our bones are getting brittle
Winter tells us whether we are capable of finding new friends,
Whether these old hands can bend to new skills
And whether these weakened eyes can take in new sights.

Winter may also be a time of reversals:
When we find that silence can be soothing, uplifting and beautiful
When darkness is cherished because it is a time to dream.
And when going slow let’s us see what we missed in our running days.

Read more of this post here…

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Winter

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[photo of my back deck – Snowmageddon 2016]

SNOWMAGEDDON 2016 AND WINTER

      We’re about halfway through the biggest storm the East Coast has seen since 1996 — Snowmageddon 2016 — nature at her finest and fiercest, and beautiful if you, like me, are tucked in at home for the weekend, alternating between cups of coffee and rounds with the snow shovel. The snow is deep deep deep, so much so that even the dog wants no part of it. I think it’s Momma Nature’s way of telling us all to take a deep breath and go make some soup. There’ll be time for all the crazy we call our lives later. For now, relax. Your car isn’t getting out of the driveway today anyway, and for God’s sake, stay off the turnpike.

In celebration of the snow, here’s a review of one of my favorite books on winter, appropriately titled: Winter.

Read the review here…

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The Wade Stevenson Interview

Wade Stevenson

An Interview with Poet Wade Stevenson

First off, congrats on the success of Flutes and Tomatoes, one of Kirkus Review’s Best Indie Books of 2015. What an honor.

I read “Dear You” and “Flutes and Tomatoes” in relatively short order. There is such a full blown range of longing, despair, grief, and, dare I say, an exhilaration in the expression of it all, maybe more emotion packed into two slim volumes than many would experience in a lifetime. So — are you reconciled with the events that took you to such a dark place, maybe at peace, and if so, how did the writing help you to get there?

Writing for me has always been an act of catharsis, of purification, of healing. The stories described in “Flutes and Tomatoes” and “Dear You” did indeed take me to dark, difficult places. No one would want to stay for a long time in that kind of emotional cell, and the only path I could find to free myself went through words. The words that make up the fabric of those poems became me. I lived them as if they were real. The events that caused the original pain happened again, in real time. Holding those two books in my hand, I can say, “You are the proof of that love that was lived and lost.” That feeling is one of wonderful release, it creates peace.  Read the rest…

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Dear You

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Dear You

Dear You, a combination of poetry and memoir, by Wade Stevenson is one of the most exposed, unrelenting, and heart-breaking pieces on longing that I’ve read. Like Flutes and Tomatoes (reviewed here), named one of the best Indie books of 2015 by Kirkus ReviewsDear You is a genre Stevenson seems to have created, and if he didn’t create it, he knows his way around the terrain with the temerity of a conqueror. I love the mix of self-reflective recollection and metaphorical lyricism. It rounds out the narrative and answers the nagging questions that straight poetry leaves to the imagination.

Read the review here…

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Jon Fixx

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Jon Fixx

       Webster’s defines noir as “1: crime fiction featuring hard-boiled cynical characters and bleak sleazy settings.” Jon Fixx, one of Kirkus Review’s top Indie Books of 2015 is that and more, a madcap mix of noir and romance, a fabulously fun tale of a niche romance writer who’s life’s been on a downward spiral since his girlfriend, Sara, dumped him. The story manages to be predictable in the crime story genre kind of way, and also surprising because the main character is not a sleaze ball, or a criminal, or even a victim, but a guy who just happens to be good at what he does and which lands him in a predicament he can’t write his way out of. What I loved about Jon Fixx was the way the road took a sharp left turn every time you thought you knew where the story was going.   Read the review here…

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Just a Couple of Old People Holding Hands

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“Just a Couple of Old People Holding Hands”:
A Memoir of a Marriage in Alzheimer’s World

By Carl R. Smith, Jr.
Edited by William C. Smith

For those of you who’ve just tuned in, what follows is an editorial preamble of my friend, Bill’s father’s journal. Carl’s journal chronicles the last years he spent with his beloved wife as Alzheimer’s ravaged her mind. Bill’s editorial sheds light on Carl and Mary Helen’s lives as only an intimate insider could. p.j.l 1.6.16

Post 6 – Presence and Absence

Carl spent a lot of time wrestling with the concepts of presence and absence — in his marriage to Mary Helen, and in their relationship with the family.

Throughout their retirement years in Maine, Carl and MH spent most hours of most days in each others’ company. To the family, they seemed virtually inseparable. They ate meals together, alternating cooking and dishwashing duties. In the afternoons, Dad would often nap while Mary Helen worked on one of her constant sewing or reupholstery projects. They spent their evenings together, reading books and trading sections of the New York Times. On Sundays, they shared a pew at St. Andrews, a small, rural Episcopal parish, and were both active in church and community activities.

read more here…

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