The Bucket List by Georgia Clark

I've noticed that I have an interesting habit when it comes to the books that I end up finding absolutely amazing and how I select them at the library. The last few phenomenal books, I've picked them up off the shelf, read the synopsis, briefly considered adding it to my stack, before ultimately putting it back for next time. After two or three rounds of this, I finally bite the bullet and take the book home, and usually wind up utterly blown away. The Bucket List by Georgia Clark is...brilliant. It is witty and fun, heart-warming and heart-breaking, sexy and hilarious. I laughed-out-loud with, literally, every turn of the page, and found several moments where tears sprang to my eyes. I'm not usually on the yay-women! bandwagon, but this is a book every woman can appreciate, for so many, many reasons.

Lacey Whitman is a brash up-and-comer on the New York fashion scene, 25-years old and not afraid of a little hard work. Assuming it's nothing, and just another box Lacey wants to get ticked off, she requests the testing for the BCRA1 gene mutation only to find out that she's positive. With an almost-certainty that she will get cancer at some point in her life, Lacey is faced with deciding on years of close surveillance or mastectomy. While trying to choose, Lacey and her friends realize just how connected our boobs are to our sexuality, and even relationships, so they create a Boob Bucket List; everything she's ever wanted to do with her boobs before they get lopped off or turn into ticking time bombs.

To start, this book is phenomenally written. It is deep and profound, yet sharp and funny. Clark has her pulse on the cultural polarities, while also creating something deeply soulful and real. And each element to the story, each character, adds a component to the book that everyone can appreciate or relate to. I have none of the medical issues that Lacey is faced with, but this book resonated with me in ways I didn't expect.

At times, you love and empathize with Lacey, and at times you think she's a selfish bitch, because she is all of us; she is all of us women wrapped up in a colorfully likable character who is faced with a most undesirable decision with equally life-altering consequences. She is trying to navigate the tumultuous roads of friendships, relationships, family, and career, while stumbling into the stereotypical woman-pitfall of needing to be everything to everyone and a burden on no one. What on the surface is campy, fluffy chick-lit, actually touches on so many topics, especially those important to women, including our sexuality. 

Clark expertly makes the distinction between being in control of our sexuality and it being controlled for us, as Lacey discovers that, as she sits in the driver's seat of sex-ed, it ignites other, more fierce powers within her, giving her confidence in the areas of her life not ruled by libido. Clark also brilliantly showcases the fine line between caring for ourselves and when that self-care turns selfish and starts to harm others. And this is a fantastic read for a time in our culture when we're trying to find the socially acceptable balance between sex and power, and grasp how the two relate, compliment, and confuse one another. What Clark offers up in The Bucket List is charming and charismatic and covers the wide spectrum of emotions as Lacey goes through it all - fear, indecision, lust, romance, rejection, loss, anger, heartbreak, and happiness, all with a wry, infectious humor that really makes you believe laughter is the best medicine.

The Bucket List also gave me a new appreciation for boobs and a deeper understanding of just how involved they are in our lives and those we choose to bring close to us. They are our sexual antennas, our pregnancy beacons, and worshiped by many. I encourage anyone with an interest in good books, relatable characters, and laughing through the tears of the curve-balls of life to read this book. I encourage people who have the gene mutation, breast cancer, or know people from either to read this book. 

I laughed, I cried, and I am so glad that - after three tries - I finally checked it out. Let's hear it for the ladies! (And get those checked out, too.)

A Simple Favor by Darcey Bell

I seem to be coming across more and more reviews on Goodreads that I find particularly confusing or...inaccurate, for lack of a better word. I don't usually read the reviews in order to determine if I will read a book or not, mainly because people like to play it fast and loose with the details. But once I am done with a book, I'll peruse the reviews out of curiosity, and those of Darcey Bell's A Simple Favor - yes, the very same as the movie starring Blake Lively and Anna Kendrick - are some I didn't agree with, but not because I feel like A Simple Favor is some kind of literary masterpiece.

One review in particular that shows up first says that Bell is lucky to have her "contrived," "stinker of a novel," purchased for the movie rights, when the very first thing that I thought was, I know exactly why this book was purchased for the movie rights.

Stephanie is an isolated Stay-at-Home Mommy-blogger (not unlike myself) who suddenly finds herself immersed in her best friend, Emily's, life once Emily goes unexpectedly missing. What is artificial on the surface - the juvenile writing, the blatant ineptitude of the would-be protagonist (if one actually exists in this story, and I don't think one does), and the story as old as time - actually speaks to more complex themes and explores different ideas, and *that* is why I think it was snatched up to be made into a movie, and why the multi-faceted talents of Kendrick and Lively were picked to play the main characters.

The foundation of the book, that everyone has secrets, is the stable ship that carries some very unstable people. And where other Domestic Noir novels work extra hard for character empathy and elaborate reasons for unreasonable actions, A Simple Favor simply tells the story of best friends behaving badly. And in direct contrast to my usual complaints that every mystery thriller is compared to Gone Girl, I am going to go ahead and compare it to Gone Girl in that it is exactly like Gone Girl if Gone Girl was about two female best friends instead of a husband and wife; and, just like Gone Girl, everyone deserves each other.

Also on the surface is the cheesy, over-used theme showcasing the underbelly of misrepresenting ourselves online. Stephanie is an insipid character who is subtly narcissistic and manipulates the tragedy of others to gain validation from online strangers. She is that special kind of willful ignorance who avoids the truth in favor of feeding her own ego and self-interests, though she tries (unsuccessfully) to be remorseful for her ideas and behaviors.

Unlike Stephanie, Emily makes no attempt to veil her unfavorable thoughts or actions, which speaks to present day real life in that most of us do things that we know are wrong simply because we want to do them. In reading this book, I found that I have more empathy for these women than I did in any of the other domestic thrillers I have read *because* there is no special, overly-detailed, vengeful reason for why they do what they do. And it certainly isn't as a result of some dumb male acting dumb. This book makes the movie unlike any other - where the men sit back and enjoy the ride. I find that, currently, nothing is more relatable than these two characters.

This certainly isn't the best book I have ever read, which is why I gave it three out of five stars on Goodreads, but I feel the need to defend it to a certain extent. I would enjoy seeing the movie, I'm curious to see these characters acted out on screen, and if - also like Gone Girl - the intentions of the characters remain the same. This book is definitely a page-turner, but not one to read if you need to like any of the characters; you will definitely not like any of these characters.