Happy Place by Emily Henry

Rarely do I purchase a brand-new book and start reading it immediately, thinking that my other 400-plus to-be-reads will somehow be jealous. But the internet has nothing but good things to say about Emily Henry's latest novel, Happy Place, and I had just cashed in $50 worth of coins, so I decided, why the heck not? A fluffy, heart-warming, story, that's a fun read, but one that I didn't enjoy as much as I do the two new outfits I also purchased with said coins.

Coming-of-age friends, Serena, Perth, Cleo, Kimmy, Wyn, and Harriet are coming together for their yearly trip to Maine for Lobster Fest, only this trip will be their last since Serena's father decided to sell their summer cottage. On top of that, Serena and Perth have decided this to be their wedding weekend, and the icing on this cake is that no one knows that five months prior, Wyn and Harriet decided to call it quits on their seemingly fairy-tale romance, and have yet to tell their closest friends. They'll need to fake it this week, for the sake of their friends, and for the sake of their memories.

Happy Place is a Hallmark movie - the best of friends, on their best behavior, eating the best food, with the best views, where even the conflict isn't even that conflicting -  a since-broken-up couple who clearly still want to be together. A frothy, fun book that epitomizes summer, I would have found Happy Place to be far more relatable had I read it some 20-years ago; I can't relate to the concept of having close, life-long friends, much less having close, life-long friends who I travel with. The book is a bit overly descriptive, sometimes losing track of where I actually was, and the book is quippy, but with way too many one-liners, everything comes off a bit contrived; forced; extra cheese to go with all of their wine. I caught the "twist" way too early, and the ending droned on, a beating of the dead horse of miscommunication and deep insecurities, which is also why I have a hard time relating to these characters; life takes on a new shade when you hit 40 with three kids and a divorce under your belt. But this story did make me fall even more in love with my boyfriend, so there's that. Many people will - and have - enjoyed Happy Place, I'm just not one of them. ⭐⭐⭐/5 on my goodreads.

The Sweeney Sisters by Lian Dolan

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I wasn't sure what I wanted to read. Sick of the suddenly-standard Psychological Thriller, and with the weather getting nicer, I was in the mood for a Spring-y read to break in my outdoor reading swing. And, if nothing else, the cover of The Sweeney Sisters by Lian Dolan simply screams Spring.

William Sweeney, a seemingly larger-than-life literary icon, known and taught the world over, dies suddenly one June morning, leaving his three daughters - Liza, Maggie, and Tricia - to not only pick up the pieces, but to find them all first: revenues that are dwindling, memoires that can't be located, and one surprising piece of the puzzle - a half Sweeney Sister - Serena - the result of his affair with the woman across the street. An interesting take on something that has become pretty commonplace these days - DNA testing - The Sweeney Sisters gracefully bypasses the salacious details of DNA revelations in favor of the hearts and souls that are really at the core of these fallouts. This book is a more intimate perspective into this premise, and a thorough exercise in empathy.

Written with a true talent for the word, Dolan expertly tackles the difficulties of writing about a fictional literary icon - writing about his supposed works without having to actually write his supposed works. But what translates is centered more around everyone's reactions, leaving the reader feeling as if they are Serena, herself - walking into the middle of a conversation; or, in this case, a lifetime - between close siblings. We are the flies on the wall as these women traverse their father's legacy - both in public and in family - and reconcile their memories of him with the things they are just learning. So, where you would think twists and turns abound, the so-called shocking revelations - including the reveal of the fourth sister - is pretty anticlimactic and tame.

The Sweeney Sisters is a gentle, feel-good, novel, but certainly not the "belly laughs" as described. It is more of a walk down memory lane driven by the sudden inclusion of an outsider, as well as a story about death and everything that comes after, though the level of empathy makes the story somewhat unrelatable. It's a compassionate look at how we idolize public figures who are dicks in private, the pedestals we place people on, and how they almost always come crashing down upon their death. It's an easy read, though not too exciting, and the drama can be a bit contrived. But the characters are likable and humble, the writing is witty and intelligent, introducing me to a plethora of new words, and the ending is warm and fuzzy. Perfect for Spring. ⭐⭐⭐/5 on my goodreads.

Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams

Queenie Jenkins is a 25-year old woman living in London and she is not having a good year. Her boyfriend, Tom, has asked her to move out of their flat in the ever-ambiguous Ross and Rachel-type "break," she can't seem to keep focused on her job as she wades through the toxic waste that is OkCupid, and she struggles to find approval from her brash Jamaican family as she not-so-gracefully navigates subtle racism and blatant sexism. While some of her issues are simply the world spinning as it should, Queenie is a mess of her own making, which, as someone who is either 25-years old or used to be 25-years old, is something we can all relate to.

But I'm not 25-years old anymore so I felt far-removed from Queenie and struggled to empathize with her. She is a difficult character to like, and I imagined it would be a challenge to be among her circle of friends. Queenie is not very self-aware, though she is incredibly self-involved, and is often the victim of her own restraints. She is also, however, enlightening and funny and has a hidden confidence that she simply hasn't mastered quite yet, much like every 25-year old everywhere. I would be very interested in revisiting Queenie in ten years time, when she is 35.

Written well, with several laugh-out-loud, and SMH "been there!" moments, Carty-Williams opens up a small part of London that we easily forget and easily ignore. We reserve racism in all its forms to the back-country American red-necks, not realizing that a small comment on skin tone isn't as complimentary as we might think; no other race - White, Asian, Hispanic - ever gets compliments on skin tone and complexion unless you're at the Barbazon kiosk or suffering from that pregnant glow. At the same time, Carty-Williams, whether unwittingly or on purpose, underscores the way in which we place ourselves in a box then get defensive when that box is recognized, the scene at the swimming pool a prime example.

The one, basic theme that we can all relate to - male, female, young and old - is the blatant pressure and judgment we receive from our family that is an otherwise normal desire to please our teachers and role models, but how that has an effect on the way we perceive the rest of the population - strangers, friends, and partners. If the people who love us the most are able to pass such harsh judgment and criticism, then surely it is much easier for someone who doesn't know a thing about us to do the same? Queenie's inherent anxiety is a direct result of the stress she feels in either trying to please her family, or explain and defend herself. It's no wonder we - including Queenie - feel we have to do the same with everyone else we encounter in the world. What Queenie not-so-eloquently exemplifies is that the way we choose to navigate those judgments and anxiety is ok and all a part of life.

Although I wouldn't place Queenie amongst the voting pool of Goodreads Best Books of 2019, it is a good, well-structured read that almost anyone can appreciate and, like Queenie herself, find beauty in. "To all the Queenie's out there. You are enough." ⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

The Rumor by Elin Hilderbrand

Elin Hilderbrand is the undisputed Queen of the Beach Read, despite The Rumor being set mostly amongst a lush Nantucket garden that would drive even Martha Stewart wild with desire. But she does not reign supreme simply because most of her novels take place during the summer, but because you can sit somewhere - maybe on a beach - and burn through the pages faster than a marshmallow at a bonfire. Her plots are creative, surprising, and well-crafted, with engrossing and quick characters, and The Rumor just makes me want more.

Madeline King and Grace Pancik have been best friends for two decades and the envy of Nantucket society. As summer descends on the island, so does the droves of visitors, seasonal residents, and everyone cooped up and restless from another relentless Nantucket winter. Anxious for things to happen and anxious to make things happen, a minor misunderstanding gets the rumor mill spinning. Is Madeline having an affair with Grace's husband? Is that why she had to get her own apartment? As everyone is about to learn, while rumors aren't the pillar of accuracy, the truth can end up being so much worse.

The Rumor is non-strop, unputdownable drama. The twists and turns offered up during this Nantucket summer are surprising, well-executed, is a jolt of pure entertainment, and has me wondering if Hilderbrand has ever been approached - or thought - about any of her books going the way of Big Little Lies and being turned into, at the very least, a Lifetime mini-series. And, in truth, Hilderbrand's novels would serve up a lot more meat than BLL, a show with a second season despite not having a sequel to the book.

In The Rumor, Hilderbrand highlights that even picturesque island-living comes with its own form of isolation, and that even if we know a lot about the lives of our neighbors, we might be oblivious to the goings on of our own. Hilderbrand also subtly points out that gossip - like an affair - is fun in the moment and facilitates a bond, but is also bad juju in the same way that when we point fingers at someone, we have four more pointing back at us, and that we can't sling mud without getting some on ourselves. And just to make it a solid three cliches, to keep in mind the Golden Rule of treating people the way we want to be treated, including our level of desire to be the talk of the town.

While for The Rumor, I sing nothing but praises, I find Hilderbrand as an author to be a bit of an enigma. Having loved the first novel of hers that I ever read - Barefoot - I was excited to learn just how expansive her collection actually is, and that she is currently in the process of growing her other collection, the Winter series. Unfortunately, I find those novels awful, absolutely awful. But I will happily add one of her Nantucket novels to my repertoire of summer reading every single year. Until then, I gave this one in particular ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5 on goodreads.

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.)

Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons by Lorna Landvik

All of the books that I deem to be my all-time faves have caught me by surprise. All the Ugly and Wonderful Things was an impulse library selection based on it sort-of, kinda looking familiar from Instagram at some point in time. The Burning Air was a Dollar Tree find back when I bought any and every book because, well, they were a dollar. And The Nightingale was yet another Book of Instagram that I also selected at the library on impulse. Lorna Landvik's Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons was quickly headed on that same track: a book I've had for years but it only recently jumped out at me when I thought I was in the mood for Riley Sager's Final Girls. I had every hope that AHEBB would make it on to my All-Time Fave list, but sadly it fell short once I reached about the final third of the book.

There are several things I like about this book, relating, enjoying, and feeling like I should have been a 1960's housewife notwithstanding. And in that vein, like The Astronaut Wives Club, the story and characters become decidedly less interesting once it enters the 1980's. Faith, Slip, Audrey, Merit, and Kari are great characters who are very likable, charming, relatable, and real. But, again, once the '80's roll around, I was put off by Slip, and the random switching from First Person to Third Person for no real reason (as confirmed by the author in the discussion); usually this adds a certain element to the story and in this case that element is unnecessary confusion.

As an avid book-lover, and former book-clubber, I appreciate how Landvik creates the cocoon of the book club while simultaneously spinning each character's world to then orbit the Angry Housewives. And though it is a standing joke among many a clubber that discussions rarely include the actual book but center on local gossip instead, I appreciate that the Angry Housewives avoid this and use their book selections to analyze their own lives while also engaging in thoughtful, graceful, meaningful discussions on philosophy, religion, politics, and sex; mostly taboo topics that the ladies handle with aplomb, humility, and conviction.

Spanning the course of over 30-years in the Midwest, the drama of these ladies' lives aren't anything more traumatic than what most everyone deals with, which gives the story just the right amount of cheese to pair with a fine boxed wine (although, these ladies like their liquor!). But again, the story goes on too long and should have ended along with disco. By the end, the drama feels forced, like trying to whisk an egg into an already baked cake. And the cheese factor of the story that pulls at your heartstrings goes from Brie to Whiz and what was once making us feel good is now making us feel slightly sick.

While reading, I was invested in the characters, feeling like I was an Angry Housewife myself and that with each new chapter came a much-needed girlfriends gab-fest. Even more so, these ladies named their babies after authors and book characters, how could we not be BFFs?! But during the last third, the term "jumping the shark," usually reserved for television shows that have worn out their welcome, came to mind. Given that Landvik didn't seem too concerned with structural standards, while still presenting a decent story, I don't see why the book couldn't have ended with the 1970's, especially since most of the final information regarding the characters is in the epilogue.

Although Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons didn't end up on my favorites list, it's an enjoyable book with great characters and a setting that already fascinates me. While they don't open their book-laden arms to just anyone, Landvik makes it feel as if Faith, Audrey, Kari, Merit, and Slip are making a special exception for us readers and would not only open their arms but offer the creature comforts of a worn quilt. None of Landvik's books might make it on to my list, but I feel as though I have found a Macaroni and Cheese Author - like the warm comfort foods you always return to, knowing they will always be good and will always warm your soul. Mmmm books....

The Dollhouse by Fiona Davis

As many a bookworm can attest, naming your favorite book can be almost as complicated and emotional as naming your favorite child. But without warning, Fiona Davis' The Dollhouse rapidly ascends to one of the coveted top spots.

I'll be honest, The Dollhouse was a book I passed on many times over when I saw it at the library, breaking the cardinal rule of reading: judging a book by it's cover. Then a fellow Instragrammer and bibliophile raved about it so my next trip to the library felt like I had hit the jackpot. I wasn't sure what to expect from the book, but I certainly didn't expect it to grab me by my glove-less hand and transport me to a world of propriety, glitz, glam, and gumption. And that I'd never want to leave.

Unlike Donoghue's The Wonder, Davis doesn't utilize any specific writing style to separate her book from any others, but she creates vivid, empathetic characters who we can't decide if we want to be best friends with, or just be period. Darby, Rose, and the gang are so magnetic and charming, the mystery of the plot - which serves to prop up the storyline - is quickly lost to simply wanting to know more about the characters and their lives; like FRIENDS but with more drug rings and alcohol, and less coffee houses and sarcastic one-liners. A story I didn't want to end, I was completely enveloped in the energetic atmosphere, enchanting setting, and the engrossing, expertly intertwining tale.

Written in alternating chapters, which could have muddied the story, Davis ingeniously infuses her tale with blatant label-feminism, and highlights the almost anti-feminist fact that we humans need each other, from the basic food-and-water necessities, to the complexities of navigating a hotel for women in New York City, both in the 1950's and in present-day. Davis expertly tells of what it meant to need a man back then and what it meant to NOT need a man, as well as what it means to need a man in present-day, and how those issues are strikingly different but also shockingly similar. Davis even throws in some sexual identity issues just to make the melting pot even spicier. The elements Davis includes in The Dollhouse are brilliant, from the basic plot backbone, all the way down to the details of a simple spec of spice.

Written in a to-the-point, almost blog-ish way, Davis appropriately and concisely wraps up any loose ends in such a way that is sympathetic to the complex characters, yet isn't stymied by some horrific, just-for-the-sake-of-drama tragedy that would sully the actors or setting. So while the mystery added a fragrant twist, the spicy characters and the peppery plot were able to stand on their own. As an avid bookworm, I'm excited to see what Fiona Davis comes up with next...

The Heart You Need by Diane R. Jewkes

It's hard to believe that during my thus far lustrous reading career that I could encounter anymore "firsts" when it comes to books. But alas, I have; and for a few different reasons. First, The Heart You Need by Diane R. Jewkes was my first foray into e-reading. Second - and perhaps even harder to believe - Jewkes' foray into Historical Romance was my first of this particular genre, which was coupled with yet another first - being approached and asked to read this specific book in exchange for an honest review. So while Historical Romance with a Sensual classification isn't a section of the library I will find myself in very often, Jewkes, with her multifaceted characters, intriguing story lines, and impeccable research, just might have me going back.

Set against the backdrop of San Francisco on the cusp of becoming one of the world's most formidable cities, we meet Adeline - Linnie - who is a formidable woman in her own right. Using her job as a Society columnist, Linnie repeatedly straddles the boundaries between proper decorum and family loyalty, but not without the help of new companions, Alec, Kara, and Hawke. In her characters, Jewkes expertly crafts a cast who are both likable and relatable, but also highly emotionally-charged, while managing to avoid being overly dramatic. With exquisite, clear imagery, Romantic prose, and artful metaphors, Jewkes pays homage not only to the budding romance of Linnie and Alec, but also to the beauty of the budding West.

Alec, thanks to the talents of Ms. Jewkes, is a splendid character who is not only strong, stubborn, and sometimes boorish, but skillfully sexual and ruggedly romantic. On business from Scotland, he meets Linnie in the most obscure way and soon finds himself enraptured by her penchant for moving a mile a minute; one moment she's there, then another she's gone, at least until she's wrapped in Alec's broad arms. But while we can appreciate this particular facet of Linnie, the execution and transfer of the scenes can sometimes be a bit rocky and sudden. Nevertheless, Jewkes employs her charismatic characters to steer the story into very intriguing places.

As a storyteller, Jewkes is an exceptional writer, creating clear, concise plot movement, and her meticulous use of metaphors is on point. Her sex scenes are cigarette worthy, and she expertly gives us a twist in the story without waxing poetic or using unnecessary filler. Reminiscent of a Hallmark Channel movie or mini-series, The Heart You Need provides just enough danger and violence to keep you turning the page, but not so much so that you can't read the book late at night. However, while Jewkes skillfully and appropriately ties up the loose ends, one pivotal plot point remains unanswered, which - given that this is her second novel in what I can only assume will be a lustrous literary career - may pave the way for a companion novel or sequel. Jewkes skilled linkage of each character and story - a la Thomas Kinkade - can only lead to more novels starring this magnetic cast.

All in all, I couldn't have chosen a better novel to steal my e-reading virginity than The Heart You Need. Well thought-out, exceptionally researched, and exquisitely emotional, Jewkes' talent can only get better from here. When she eventually stands with Nora Roberts, Danielle Steel, and Stella Cameron, I can say I knew her when...

Certain Girls

Once again, I will gush about the wonder that is Weiner. Jennifer Weiner, to be exact, but I guess the other kind has its positives too.

After you've read a couple of Weiner's books, there are certain characteristics and a certain tone that you eventually come to crave, actually being drawn to reading one of her books, knowing nothing other than that she wrote it so it has to be good. Weiner's Good In Bed is what initially sparked my love of her so you can imagine my excitement when I happened to find a sequel: Certain Girls.

Reading Good In Bed first is a must if understanding auxiliary characters is something that is important to you. Otherwise, I think the overall theme and general plot of the book is something a lot of women can relate to, especially mothers and daughters.

Cannie Shapiro I Won't Even Attempt Her Married Last Time, is the very understatement of "helicopter parent," long before that was even a thing. Her now-teenager, Joy, is your typical, American teenager, embarrassed by her mother and critical to everything she says, does, and wears, but is otherwise beautiful, intelligent, and empathetic. When curiosity gets the better of her and she picks up the fiction-based-on-non-fiction novel her mother published shortly after she was born, Joy's life feels turned upside down. While both blaming her mother and dying to know about a part of her mother's past, she sets out in search of it, be damned she's only 13!

What she finds is both heartbreaking and heartwarming. Through personal experience and by traveling through her mother's past, Joy learns what makes us all human, not perfect and worth understanding and at least sympathy. She learns things aren't always what they seem and that maybe most dark clouds do have silver linings. And that loving your mother really isn't so terrible after all.

With a certain amount of humor you come across in her other books noticeably absent, the laugh-out-loud moments were few and far between, something that also surprised me with her The Guy Not Taken: Stories. But she touches on some difficult subject with charm, wit, and a healthy dose of sarcasm. It's a good curl-up-with-an-Irish-Coffee kind of book while still making you think - especially as a mother to a daughter - how will I handle her questions to me about my past? It also proved to be a beacon of how my writing might one day affect her. It also made me think about my mother and how she handles my questions about her past. What we all want, when we're Joy at age 13, is to not know our mothers are human. When we're an adult with daughters of our own, what we want to know is that they are human.

Twenties Girl

I make no secret of how much I love Sophie Kinsella. Freshly on board the chick-lit train thanks to another one of my faves, Jennifer Weiner, I happened across Confessions of a Shopaholic back when I didn't have a husband or baby and could afford to be a shopaholic myself. Knowing me, really, how could I *not* have picked it up? I had found my literary soul-sister! And to my jubilation, other books with the same character and basic subplot soon followed (find my review of Mini Shopaholic HERE).

When I found other novels of her's - The Undomestic Goddess, Can You Keep A Secret?, Remember Me? - I was hesitant to be introduced to characters that weren't the lovable, relatable, irresistible Becky Bloomwood. Had I indulged my hesitation, I would have missed out on some very remarkable novels.

As much of a book-lover as I am, I don't keep up with the up-to-the-minute literary news. I'm often surprised to learn my favorite authors have many more books than I realized, Kinsella chief among them (and that's not counting the other names she writes under). First published in 2009, I snagged Twenties Girl a few years later as a paperback (can't stand reading hardcover but I'll take one for the team now and again), and included it in my must-read vacation-reads.

Coming off A Dog's Journey, I wanted something fun, frothy, ridiculous, but still incredibly endearing, and I found that all amongst the 400-ish pages of Kinsella's Twenties Girl. A young woman in her twenties, Lara, is befriended by an odd guest at her great-Aunt's funeral with a very interesting demand request. Sucked into a world that is the past amongst the present, Lara and her friend become on odd match against the world but embody the promise that it is not what is outside that matters most, but what is on the inside. And that first impressions can be misleading.

Written with patented Kinsella charm, humor, empathy, and a real investment in the characters, Twenties Girl is a laugh-out-read that makes you wish the ridiculous story she weaves be even partly true. I was almost sad when it was over, wishing the misadventures of Lara and her world would never end. But Kinsella will no doubt create more fantastically interesting characters for me to get wrapped up in and I can't wait. (Remember Me? is calling to me from my bookshelf.)

A Dog's Journey

I love animals but refuse to watch movies where they are the star (Milo & Otis, Homeward Bound, Marley and Me, Babe, etc.). Books are only slightly more tolerable and even then I approach them with extreme trepidation. But after finishing A Dog's Purpose, the pull to finish "Buddy's" story proved too much and I borrowed the sequel, A Dog's Journey from a friend. I still had to build up some emotional stamina, though, and it sat on my end-table for a good month before I even considered picking it up.

Having just come off my Summer of the Memoir, and not in a bury-your-nose-in-a-book kind of mood, I jumped back into fiction with the doozy of them all: Fifty Shades Darker. As my vacation approached, I only wanted to keep things light but still wanted to get A Dog's Journey back to my friend before the end of time. And I DID NOT want to be reading a dog book when I was thousands of miles from my own fur-beasts. I didn't have their comfort when I sobbing through the end of Marley and Me and I wasn't going to let that happen again.

It's a general rule that sequels are never as good as the original and, while enjoyable, A Dog's Journey, easily fell right into that category. True to its name, A Dog's Purpose tells the story of dog trying to find the meaning of his life and answer the question he's sick of asking: when will my purpose have been fulfilled? So, A Dog's Journey is just that: the journey of a dog who discovers his purpose.

In that same vein, A Dog's Journey is more of a story about the people in the dog's life rather than the dog itself, leaving me with the most important lesson of all: don't trust anyone who doesn't like dogs.

While not entirely heartbreaking as animal stories tend to be, a great deal of fun was missing from this book that was present in Purpose, and even Marley and Me, and replaced with a certain amount of anxiety, making this more of an emoti-read than it already is by nature. I did, however, manage to hold myself together until the very end.

While the characters, author, and reader got exactly what they wanted by the end, it came with some lingering questions for me. Having read the entirety of all his lives, the things he learned, the people he saved, the work he did, the love and companionship he provided, I still wasn't exactly clear on his purpose, or the reason his journey finally ended. Not to be a spoiler, perhaps it was just as a result of my own dimwittedness.

If you're me and only going to read one dog/animal book this year (although I doubt I'll even do that), I would suggest something other than A Dog's Journey. Its prequel is better, more heartwarming, light, and funny. But if I'm going to be honest and recommend a dog book, it's going to be Marley and Me. And, once again, don't waste your time with the movie.

Wild

After finishing Amanda Knox's Waiting to be Heard, I was in the mood for more female empowerment and picked up Cheryl Strayed's Wild as my second in the Summer of the Memoir. Or, at least, what I thought would be female empowerment.

Don't get me wrong; there is no way I could have done what Strayed did. After the way her hike initially started, I would have bailed before I lost sight of the highway. Her's is a story of a lost woman thrown into yet more upheaval at the death of her mother. Desperate and destined to be alone, Strayed makes every effort to push the people who care about her as far away as possible. Then epitomizes the very definition of being alone by hiking through the wilderness - the Pacific Crest Trail, specifically - refusing any indication of togetherness, camaraderie, or, well, the opportunity to not be alone. But her trip has a purpose: the ever-cliched, "find herself," and rid herself of the demons that possess her to crave her solitary existence. Her's is a story built on the theme of being completely alone, highlighting both the benefits and terrible pitfalls, sometimes literally.

As readers, it's natural for us to place ourselves in the character's position and imagine what we would do, what decisions we'd make, if we were them. Especially if what we're reading is non-fiction. Had I been Strayed, the first thing I would have thought when considering this wilderness endeavor was, "What about all the freaks I'm going to meet along the way?" And then I probably would have scrapped the whole trip altogether. My friend read the book with me and we both wondered why she didn't think to bring a gun among her condoms and other relatively unnecessary items crammed in her pack. But what I ultimately really enjoyed about the story was that she didn't encounter any real freaks. There was the odd-ball here and there, but most everyone restored the human spirit that we'll help someone just because it's the right thing to do.

Strayed's adventure also proved that no matter how meticulous you plan your life or anything in it, it can be shot to shit in a matter of seconds (but anyone who's been pregnant and wanted a pickle only to see it come back 30 minutes later could tell you that). And that, ultimately, in this big, bad, world, no matter how much us humans try to convince each other it's the other way around, Mother Nature is what really rules this beast.

Of course, the story wouldn't have been interesting if everything had gone exactly as it should have. There were ups and downs, literally and figuratively, re-routes, no water where there should have been (I was genuinely scared at that point), misplaced trails (pretty scared during that, too), wild animals, and the ultimate fear and set-back of unpredictability.

I suggested this book as a summer-read to my book club the year before, touting it as a better, not-as-ridiculous option to Eat, Pray, Love, a memoir-turned-movie that was treated as the Bible for women. I thought it was good, but nothing as life-changing as my friends insisted. And I definitely didn't waste time seeing the movie. With that said, I definitely appreciated and enjoyed Wild more than Eat, Pray, Love and found it a lot more relatable even though both stories center around incredibly selfish people with self-destructive tendencies. But who can't relate to that? Perhaps Eat, Pray, Love is geared more towards the older generation, already settled but not wanting to be, while Wild is for those still young, unsure of what roads to take in life but it's either hike alone through the woods or eventually wind up in jail on drug charges.

Well written and succinctly told, Cheryl Strayed's Wild is definitely worth hauling in your tote, and something you'll polish off in a weekend. She takes you on her emotional and physical journey, leaving the reader feel as if they were walking beside her, feet-achingly exhausted but perhaps learning something about themselves along the way.

If you're going to read Strayed's adventure, and I highly recommend that you do, you better get on it as Hollywood has turned it into a movie, out sometime this year. I'm always a proponent of reading the book before seeing the movie (or, more often than not, *instead* of seeing the movie), but in this case I'm particularly worried about the story being made into some thriller-bordering-on-horror flick given the premise of the single, blond, white female in the woods alone. I shudder at the mere thought of what those "creative" types could come up with after the liberties Stanley Kubrick took with The Shining (nope, I'll never get over it). With Reese Witherspoon starring as Strayed, my hope is somewhat restored.

I don't remember if Strayed had decided to write the book of her hike before she embarked on it, or if it was something that came together later, but its existence highlights one major, underlying theme: you are never really alone.

The Silver Star

My inaugural book when I first joined the book club was The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls and it quickly became one of those books I still talk about and recommend almost five years later. A couple of years ago, still big fans, we picked up her Half Broke Horses, a memoir of her grandmother on her mother's side. Her latest, The Silver Star, is a mix of the two and a tired use of very similar themes.

Taking place in the 70's, the too-long, under-developed story centers around Jean "Bean" Holladay and her older sister, Liz, on their own while their flaky mother chases dreams of Hollywood stardom. Surviving only on pot-pies (which, oddly enough, made me crave a pot pie), their mother Charlotte, doesn't come back after one of her trips so the girls decide to go where their survival might be aided by an adult figure of some responsibility. I'm starting to think that only in a Jeannette Walls novel is young children traveling cross-country alone acceptable - even in the 70's - but I guess I'm just a fuddy-duddy like that.

Making it all the way to Virginia where their uncle has been tending to the once opulent but now decrepit Holladay estate, he hesitantly lets the girls in despite their penchant for causing trouble in the name of good. They soon start a life that is on the verge of normal but couldn't be entirely so since it is Jeannette Walls after all, an author who found the homeless/poor theme and decided to stick with it.

Obviously, one can't fault her for exploring those themes in her first two books as they were memoirs. But with this being her first novel, I had expectations she'd branch out a bit more. Look at Outlander, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter; the imagination knows no bounds! So throughout most of the book I found myself wondering, as an author, why she didn't explore a place she has never been.

I might have been able to overlook that for the most part if the stories and sub-themes had actually been developed and not come to a screeching halt. Every instance of "drama" was shorter than the last with the reader forced to visualize, assume, and do most of the work. Walls created a story that could have gone several different places but chickened out, and was written with a style more suitable to the Young Adult genre. If one thing can be said, Walls expertly wrote from the prospective of a 12-year old.

Others in the book club generally agreed, that The Silver Star was very much been there, done that, got the burlap sack you wore as a dress for a month. We get it.

Obviously, it's no secret this was not one of my favorite books, especially of her's. It's not terrible and might be more appreciated if it was read before her others instead of after. Either way, wait until it hits the bargain bin. It's a short, uncomplicated read, good for reading during a weekend while you're in between better books. Sorry, Ms. Walls; I'll be interested in what you come out with next...

Mini Shopaholic

I know you're not supposed to judge a book by it's cover (then why do they try so hard to make them pretty, I ask you?!), but since shopping is in my blood, I instantly gravitated towards Sophie Kinsella's Confessions of a Shopaholic. Then leaped for joy when I learned it was a series. And even more when I learned the series would continue (this discovery was many years back so *sigh* Mini Shopaholic is the final book in the series. I did tweet Kinsella begging for a Shopaholic Takes Hollywood but have yet to hear back. Fingers crossed!)

So then I guess I don't need to tell you, I love these books. But more so, I love Sophie Kinsella. A British charmer with a quick wit and the vital talent of putting said wit to paper and have it properly translate. One of my goodreads friends gave her a bad review and I was offended! Her books are laugh-out-loud funny, endearing, intelligent, dramatic, fun, and completely worth the effort (unlike Outlander but don't even get me started on that hot mess).

We pick up shortly where Shopaholic and Sister leaves off, with Luke and Becky Brandon living with her parents while they try to find a suitable home for them and Minnie, their precocious two-year old. I'd say spoiled, but Becky's parenting skills aren't what's being reviewed, here...

In the midst of deal after deal falling through, for one unimaginable reason or another, a national financial crisis leaves Becky feeling like the fate of the economy is on her shoulders when she's probably the only one supporting it. While laughing at the ridiculousness that is her and her life, you can't help but like her, feel like she was the best friend you never had, understand the euphoric ecstasy that comes with shopping, and might even be compelled to do a little shopping yourself. She is assertive and stands up for herself, while also reminding us readers why it pays to be nice to everyone all the time no matter what.

No, the subject matter doesn't make you squirm for the sake of art; the climax of the story was Becky spending an obscene amount of money when the entire series was based on one question: will Becky finally get her financial life under control? The answer: no! And that's ok because we love Becky and everything about her. And no one can say she didn't help the economy.

Any of Kinsella's Shopaholic series - or The Undomestic Goddess, Can You Keep A Secret?, Twenties Girl, Remember Me?, or any of the litany of books she has published - is worth a haul in your tote, but it probably won't be there for long. I blew through these books because they're fun, funny, and surprisingly down to earth. Kinsella - as usual - gives us a sparkly, designer life-raft to survive the dark, deep ocean that is made up of the critically-acclaimed uber-dramas. I hope Kinsella never stops writing.

Fifty Shades Darker

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume that avid readers of the Fifty Shades trilogy are well-versed in Sex and the City, up to and including both movies (sorry, the quality of the second is a discussion for another time). The series ended with a nice little wrap-up of everyone's feelings in just the way you expected them that it was difficult for devoted fans to predict where the movie would pick up and eventually take us. The end of Fifty Shades of Grey was considerably the opposite, ending on heartbreak, sadness, loneliness, and extreme confusion, leaving devoted fans how the story could possibly continue given Christian's "fifty shades of fucked up." But where Carrie explores what happens after "happily ever after" in Sex and the City: The Movie, Anastasia Steele explores what happens when you change the unchangeables and actually get exactly what you want.

Let's face it: there's a bit of Anastasia in all of us, especially as we embark on finding and cultivating adult relationships. Virgin in every sense of the word, Ana, gets back together with Christian Grey faster than us women-of-the-world would, but probably a lot slower than most of us in our early 20s. Loving all of his "fifty shades of fucked-up-ness," she finds herself easily manipulated by Grey and his, what I at 31 years old deem, obsessive and controlling behavior. She finds it cute. And in the beginning it is. But what was tawdry and risque in Fifty Shades of Grey, is sticky, saccharine, and disgustingly sweet in Fifty Shades Darker. I mean, SPOILER ALERT they don't get to the real kinky stuff until the second to last chapter! Otherwise, there is a lot of "vanilla sex," and "making love." The declarations of love are enough to actually glue my eyeballs to the ceiling as my grandmother had always warned. By 100 pages in, I was giggling at the sheer absurdity of it instead of any sexual explicitness . It did make me seriously consider how my husband and I could go from bitterly arguing to making out and ripping each others close off in a matter of seconds, though. *That* is something out of the book I'd like to try.

Like we are all Anastasia to some degree, we all know a Christian Grey; someone of the emotionally unavailable variety. And while this book encompasses fairy tales old and new - including the name Anastasia, who, coincidentally, decides to keep her long, flowing hair - it explores the ultimate fantasy: what happens when we get exactly what we want from our partner?

Christian is willing to give Ana everything she ever wanted if she just stays with him, moves in with him, and SPOILER ALERT agrees to marry him all within a span of a week after getting back together with him from breaking up because of his pain fetish. It was hard to believe the span of time collectively between the two novels was approximately six weeks, and that's being generous (and don't even get my friend, Mer, started on how Christian is only 27-years old. And don't even get *me* started on how a girl with zero sexual or relationship experience has multiple, mind-blowing orgasms. That alone should classify it as Science Fiction/Fantasy.). Naturally, though, if Ana got everything she wanted without any drawbacks, us housewives would have thrown the book down with disgust. Apart from getting the sex she wanted, getting everything else didn't come without it's drama, which - let's face it - we appreciate. Would we be one of Grey's crazy exes who didn't understand why she wasn't The One to Fix Grey? Possibly. He's rather difficult to deal with and I'd want some sort of retribution for being with him, especially if I was one of the few who did caning.

Written to suck you in, sentences usually no longer than a handful of words, E.L. James had one purpose: to lay it all out there. I remember her giggling through a Today Show interview, shrugging and saying she just wrote down every fantasy she's ever had whenever she had a spare moment, even if that meant on her iPhone. As luck would have it for her (ok, and us), they ended up being some variation of all of our fantasies. After all, none of us have actually changed anyone, especially someone with a strong, unorthodox compulsion that requires professional psychiatric help. And where leaving our respective non-changers would have worked for two weeks maximum, Grey seems to be instantly cured. Sorry, still laughing...

While James claims these books have no deeper meaning, I can't help but think the study of these in some sort of sociological, psychological, or even anthropological setting would be interesting.

It was definitely what the Romance genre boasts a "page-turner," but the obsession with the book series is beyond my comprehension. While I'm not attracted to series in general, those of only three books usually leave me panting for the third (Hunger Games, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo). Not this time. Darker sort-of ends with a cliffhanger, something James threw down at the end to leave the door open for more sexually charged mischief. My friend, Mer, said she thought Fifty Shades Freed was a waste of time and paper and that the story could have ended with the second book. Me, I have no looming desire to pick up the third book, if only for the reason I picked up the second: something easy and mindless to read after a summer spent reading memoirs (I realize that sounds book-snob-ish). But if I never know how the story ends, I'll be able to live with my bookish self. The only real draw to me finishing the series is so I get all of the Fifty Shades of Grey-inspired e-cards.

Goodnight Nobody

After perusing Goodreads.com, I briefly considered making this summer the Summer of Weiner (as in, Jennifer). There is quite the long list of hers I've not read or even heard of so I'm sure they'll wind up on a summer reading list at some point.

I brought few books with me on vacation to Arizona and Mexico because I'm literally the last person on earth not to have an e-reading device (when I made an effort to pay close attention, I noticed I was the only one around me in airplanes holding a physical book). Being in the middle of Gone Girl, I knew I would want my next read to be something that would suck me in and make me laugh. Weiner did not disappoint. Just as I suspected with The Guy Not Taken: Stories, Weiner really shines in the 350+-page novel category.

As a full-time working mom, Goodnight Nobody is a story of what I want to be, but is also a frightening portrayal of what some fear of becoming. And, of course, working or stay-at-home, discovering a murdered neighbor isn't high on my priority list.

Kate Klein is what she refers to herself as an "accidental mother of three." With her husband gone a lot, she spends a lot of her time with arts n' crafts, frozen, microwavable food, board games, and at least one trip to the playground a day that usually ends up leaving Kate frustrated with her apparent ineptitude at parenting according to the suburban, Stepford, super-moms. But one of those super-mom ends up dead, Kate being the one and only to stumble upon her body, and the only one with the resources to solve the crime. What ultimately ends up happening is that the world is just too damn small, something everyone everywhere can relate to.

Once again, Weiner delivers a witty, intelligent, funny, dramatic, and intriguing novel with great mystery and the obligatory twist. It was a great beach n' travel book, totally worth hauling in your beach tote (no doubt you've downsized to a clutch for summer). The cast of characters keeps you involved, constantly wanting more, and liking them even though you probably shouldn't; just like Miss Klein, herself.

Glad to check off another one of hers as read.

The Guy Not Taken: Stories

I decided it had been far too long since I'd read a Jennifer Weiner book and when I found some time in between book club reads, but not enough to start and finish an entire book, I picked up The Guy Not Taken: Stories, a book of short - you guessed it - stories packed with the wit, charm, empathy, and great sense of humor that I've come to expect from Weiner, and why she is one of my favorite authors with Sophie Kinsella (Shopaholic and Baby got me through some very rough bouts of morning sickness. And she had a girl, too!! And, no, I've never seen the movie,. I've seen parts and know the plot and I think their depiction is a complete travesty.).

Weiner expertly walks the line - if one even exists between the two - between chick-lit and what book-snobs would consider respectable literature. Her stories, long or short, deliver laughs, sympathy, drama, romance, and a certain serious nature that results in you pondering long after you've read the acknowledgment (because you know you read every last page). The first few stories, for instance, center around a family that has suddenly split apart and the consequences - good and bad - are revealed. And even if we aren't going through something similar ourselves, we still find ourselves being able to relate in some fashion.

While I don't envision ever being detoured from reading one of Weiner's books, I do have to admit that I enjoyed the book less as I neared the end. I'm not exactly sure what the last story - about an elderly woman taken hostage and forced to vacation by two young teenagers - is trying to convey, it just sort of left me feeling depressed. I found myself surprised at this, but it made me want to get back to reading one of her novels, where I really thinks she really shines (she does write incredibly funny Tweets about The Bachelor and Bachelorette, but because I can't watch live with her and I don't want to spoil it for myself, I avoid her Tweets like the plague).

So I picked up Goodnight Nobody.

Ask Again Later

It has been several years since I've read one of Jill A. Davis comedic masterpieces, of which I remember laughing out loud in a room full of people with my nose buried in Girls Poker Night. To this day, I can't even tell you what it was about, but certain lines about trying to gain admittance to a mental hospital, and a quick one-liner about suicide with a blow dryer stick out prominently in my brain. I can't tell if it's because I'm older and arguably wiser and less gullible, or if Davis really isn't as funny as I previously thought. And that was long before I ever tried smoking weed.

Ask Again Later is your typical young-woman-trying-to-find-herself chick lit littered with absolutely ridiculous scenarios that make you laugh out loud in that "WTF?!" kind of way. I wouldn't say it was the best book I've ever read - certainly not the funniest and I have yet to read anything by the All Mighty David Sedaris - but it wasn't a complete waste of time, either. It made me appreciate my boring, married-with-children life and made me wonder how necessary it is to have chick-lit in my literary life right now. Like rom-com movies, most romance novels, and porn, once you've seen/read one, you've read/seen 'em all. The random twists Davis peppers throughout the generally hum-drum story definitely keeps you on your toes, though, is much appreciated, and keeps the 240ish paperback pages turning.

Written as if we've secretly picked up a stranger's diary, we're led down a wandering path of a woman who has absolutely no idea what she's doing, where's she's going, or what her basic interests are. It reminds me of Runaway Bride when she has no idea how she prefers her eggs. By the end, we're not really sure if she's figured anything out, just that her life will continue in less of an up-heaved kind of way. So, good for her.

Still Alice

Lisa Genova's Still Alice was Drink Wine and Gossip's November choice. I haven't been as diligent as usual with my book-club books, mainly because I've been too selfishly absorbed in my person bookshelf books; i.e. Game of Thrones (I've since started Clash of Kings). So I guiltily picked it up, but was unwitting immediately sucked in.

Still Alice is not a book I would have chosen myself. It's quite the sad story, about a highly educated and respected published Harvard Psychology professor who is diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer's Disease. If nothing else, this book provides a wonderful window into the world of Alzheimer's; there are so many facets to the disease that I never knew or even thought about, like forgetting how to read, speak, play games, etc. As a whole, those details made it quite the sad story and concept, but in general I felt the book had a relatively upbeat quality to it.

Things start out simple and innocent enough - Alice can't find the word she's thinking of during a speech, relatively normal behavior we all exhibit more times than we'd care for. She did - and continued to do so in the beginning - what we all do: chalk it up to exhaustion, stress, busy schedules, and just life in general. But then a particularly scary aspect of the disease reared it's ugly head and Alice was forced to face the ugly truth.

Being a smart and highly educated woman, Alice knew something was wrong that required doctor intervention. Once she is diagnosed, her world becomes centered around the disease, how she can stay "normal," for as long as possible, how she can test herself and her wits, how she could possibly beat it. At her [dick of a] husband's urging, Alice goes on medication and agrees to participate in a medical trial, but since the chapters are written in month increments, the disease manages to continue on it's rapid downward spiral, with Alice to do nothing but go along for the ride.

What is heartwarming, though, is that she doesn't go on the ride alone. She fears alienation and isolation in her profession - which is inevitable - but finds incredible understanding, support, and love. From her children she always felt a little "off" from, they are brought closer in a more loving and compassionate way. As a woman, however, I was perturbed by the husband and his reaction to most everything Alice went through. He made me appreciate my own husband, especially when considering that one of us might go through this one day, and that my husband will do everything the exact opposite of John.

It was also optimistic to follow along with Alice on her journey and witness her keep herself together. I don't know if I could be as strong and not get scared at the "stranger [who] walked me home," that was actually my husband. Maybe that's part of it, forgetting to be scared?

Lisa Genova's story was mind-boggling. Literally. I wouldn't classify it as a book that is a must-read before the world ends in a couple of weeks, but if you find yourself at a loss of what to read and want something interesting, thought-provoking, and that moves quickly, Still Alice is worth a serious consider. As the crude review reads on the back cover, "a book you won't forget."

The Book of Mormon Girl

Do you ever get into these modes where all you eat is Greek yogurt; or Ramen noodles; or popcorn? Then don't want to look at it for awhile? Yeah, I'm that way with books. Ok, and food too.

After finishing Thirteen Reasons Why, I just didn't feel a draw to any particular book. I tried to pick up a few, including The Friday Night Knitting Club, and Fifty Shades Darker, but it just wasn't happenin'. Then one night while watching The Colbert Report, his guest was Joanna Brooks, author of The Book of Mormon Girl, and suddenly my book-interest was revived. She was so down-to-earth and enigmatic (a Liberal Mormon!), it almost made me want to become a Mormon. But I thought it best to read the book first.

The next day, I went out and picked it up at my local bookseller (sorry, peeps, it's a new release, so by "local bookseller" I mean Barnes and Noble) and was hooked that night, which wasn't hard to do since there are barely 200 pages.

The limited number of pages also meant, however, that there was a certain meat lacking to the story. Brooks gave time and effort to a few anecdotes, but the majority of the book felt more girl-looking-in than girl-navigating-life-and-faith. By the end, I felt the lack of pages represented about 3/4 of the book, or - more appropriate - 3/4 of the story.

Brooks begins her navigation through life with the most open of hearts towards the faith that was thrust upon her. Not that she has any remorse; to this day she continues to be a practicing Mormon. She observes her mother tirelessly research the family lineage in order to properly baptize them all, and to forever record them among the family history. She followers her parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and bonus aunts and uncles through the blind faith that is faith, knowing nothing more than that she wants to belong.

But as Brooks gets older and experiences the trial and tribulations of life that are not separated by faith, she often finds the two conflicting, with her confusion, doubt, anxiety, and multitude of unanswered and possibly unanswerable questions the only outcome.

If nothing else, Brooks provides us all with an unwavering loyalty towards herself. Whether it be her level of dedication to presenting her best self to the world (taking a moment to bow down to Marie Osmond and the extents to which she took to primp), or her underlying desire to ensure her own happiness.

Aside from her level of self-acceptance, we have much to learn from Ms. Brooks. She offers a very interesting perspective of the world, and offers points of view one wouldn't normally consider. Like I said, the only disappointing factor was that the book wasn't longer. If that's not a complaint wrapped in a compliment, I don't know what is.

(Update: My friend and book club amiga, Mer, read the book and enjoyed it as well. It also - naturally - sparked some very interesting conversation.)