Let's Bust a Recap : Ghosted

Reading Ghosted this year seems like a serendipitous work of kismet. I randomly plucked this cutie hot pink spine sporting that iconic little Penguin off the shelf at The Book Shelter this past spring while I was browsing the aisles on a quick trip down to Florida. I'd never even heard of it, but after reading the vague blurb on the back cover and then spotting the plug from Liane Moriarty on the front cover, I was hooked. This book was definitely coming home with me.

A couple months later, the book club and I were browsing the local Friends of the Library on another quick trip I had taken down to Florida, and Sydney ended up buying a copy of Ghosted, partly because she's fascinated by the concept of ghosting and she's admittedly a ghoster herself, and partly because I promised that I'd choose it for book club since it was my turn to pick next. 

Choose it I did, and ended up reading it on my next weekend trip down to Florida in August. (I know, am I ever even in North Carolina? According to this blog post, you'd think not.)

In this 2018 novel by Rosie Walsh, Sarah has fallen head-over-heels in love with Eddie and after a perfect seven days together, he disappears off the face of the earth. Eddie won't return her calls, texts, facebook messages, smoke signals—she literally leaves no stone unturned in trying to contact him. Despite her closest friends trying to convince her that this is a normal occurrence on the dating scene, Sarah is convinced that something terrible is behind this ghosting, and she turns herself inside out trying to figure it out. 

The novel begins after Sarah and Eddie's separation and is interspersed with flashbacks to their perfect week together, along with mysterious letters alluding to a devastating accident nineteen years prior involving Sarah's younger sister Hannah. It's compelling reading and Walsh did a masterful job of composing an absorbing page-turner. I audibly gasped at the shocking twist in the book. Did not see it coming.

Ghosted was a super fun book to read, and a great one to discuss with the book club, but for all that: the ending made me grumpy. I haven't exactly been able to pinpoint why, but at the end of the book I just felt crabby. Perhaps a contributing factor is that Ghosted is at least the fourth book I've read this year that had a side character dealing with infertility. I think I'm a little burnt out on that front in my fiction and the timing of my reading Ghosted just wasn't great. 

But ultimately, it's an entertaining, twisty, unputdownable novel, and if you're looking for something quick to bust you out of a reading slump, this might be just the ticket. 

What's your top recommendation for a slump-busting book?

Let's Bust a Recap : Millard Fillmore

Hey, hey: time for another presidential biography and we're on unlucky #13, Millard Fillmore. 

Unlucky, you say? Yes. Yes, I do because Millard Fillmore: Biography of a President by Robert J. Rayback is in the running for the worst presidential biography I've read to date, and that includes Cheney's and Unger's horrifically biased bios on Madison and Monroe. Unfortunately, my dislike for this biography on Fillmore has less to do with the actual authorial content and more to do with the physical published book, but we'll get to that later. First let's talk about Millard Fillmore himself. 

Millard Fillmore was born January 7, 1800 (exactly 200 years to the day before my youngest sister-in-law). His parents were poor tenant farmers in upstate New York, and Millard was the second of their eight children. Fillmore was the very picture of a self-made man. Despite being born into extreme poverty, he worked diligently to get an education and eventually became a prominent lawyer in Buffalo, New York which is where he ultimately settled. He got engaged to Abigail Powers in 1819, but didn't actually marry her until 1826 after he finally was in a place in life to support a family. They had two children, a boy and a girl.

Fillmore was passionate about local and state politics and by far the most interesting part of his career dealt with his time at the local and state levels. His heart was obviously in New York even as he served in the highest office of the land, and after reading about him and Martin Van Buren, I've decided that New York politicians are their own special brand. He did also serve in the House of Representatives before being selected as Zachary Taylor's vice presidential candidate and then succeeding Taylor in the presidency upon Taylor's untimely death about a year and a half into his presidential term leaving Fillmore the two and a half years left to serve out his time as president. 

The defining event of Fillmore's presidency was easily the Compromise of 1850, and in particular Fillmore's defense of the Fugitive Slave Act within the Compromise. While Fillmore himself was against slavery, his understanding of the Constitution led him to believe that the federal government was precluded from taking an active role in ending the institution. His utmost desire was to preserve the Union and he considered that his foremost responsibility in carrying out the presidency. While it's easy to Monday morning quarterback this time in our nation's history and criticize the public men who didn't take a more active role in trying to end slavery, particularly the presidents immediately leading up to the Civil War, I think we have to take a harder look at the choices these men were faced with and realize it's a little more nuanced than, "Slavery is evil so every president that served while slavery was still a reality in our country must have been evil, too." Fillmore was the last president to achieve any sort of sectional peace with his presidency and while I wouldn't say that made him a good or effective president, it is something. 

Fillmore was the most Whig politician that actually got to serve as president, certainly more so than Harrison, Tyler, or Taylor, and after his presidency, the dying Whig party finally dissolved. Despite all their efforts to get Fillmore reelected in the 1852 presidential race, they failed. Fillmore did not particularly want to run again, but was very concerned about the preservation of the party and also about the potential for sectional discord if certain other candidates pressed their positions. Fillmore's time in national politics was most marked by his never-ending power struggle with New York boss Thurlow Weed and Weed's yes-man William Seward. Honestly, reading about their constant back-and-forth was exhausting, and their rivalry reminded me of every disgusting reality of politics. It's just always been bad, y'all. 

Fillmore was anxious about what to do after the presidency, publicly bemoaning the fact that retired presidents didn't get any kind of livable pension, and puzzling over what would be a fitting profession for an ex-president. He had settled on returning to his law profession in Buffalo, but the sudden death of his wife less than a month after he left office was a massive blow to him. Then a year later in 1854, his 22 year old daughter also suddenly died. He ended up running for president again in 1856, but when he lost to Buchanan, he considered his run in politics officially over. He then conveniently married an extremely wealthy widow in 1858, and the two of them became Buffalo celebrities hosting everyone who was anyone visiting upstate New York. 

Fillmore was the first president to live through the Civil War and for several years afterward. Shortly after the war began, he organized the "Union Continentals", a company in the home guard. While he still advocated the preservation of the Union, he was critical of Abraham Lincoln's leadership. 

One final and somewhat random thought on Millard Fillmore: he was considered by the ladies to be an extremely attractive man. Take a second to scroll back up and look at his picture. Do you see it?

All in all, Millard Fillmore wasn't a complete bore to read about, but he was poorly served by this 1959 Rayback biography. For one thing, Rayback just tried way too hard. Fillmore is consistently ranked by historians as one of our very worst presidents and Rayback's praise of him and attempt to save his reputation came off a bit desperate at times. He padded the biography with a lot of extraneous information that didn't add much to the portrait of Fillmore. On top of that, this book was littered with typos, errors, and editing that made it difficult to read. The use of footnotes as opposed to endnotes was distracting and aesthetically unappealing. And my biggest personal pet peeve: the 23rd chapter was labeled as chapter 25 in the table of contents AND at the head of the actual chapter. Who missed that?! I'll be the first to admit that my reading of this biography suffered from big gaps of time where I left it untouched, but ultimately, it just is not one of the better presidential biographies I've read. Millard Fillmore would be a great candidate for an updated and in-depth biography, but I don't see that happening any time soon.

Next up—and chances are good I'll actually get to him before the year is through—Franklin Pierce. 

Let's Bust a Recap : Cold Sassy Tree

I read Cold Sassy Tree back in May, but it is still easily my favorite book of 2023 so far and let me ask you something: why is it so hard for me to review books that make it onto my personal five-star, All-Time Favorites list? Does anyone else have this problem? Even when I look back at old posts on this blog, I feel like the books I've loved the most have the cheesiest recaps. Like the vibe I give is teenage fangirl writing to her (not so)secret crush. It's not cute, yet here I sit, trying to convince you that you should read this book immediately while also having my own personal misgivings about sharing this book with you because what if you don't love it and then we can't be friends anymore? 

I know I'm being extra and I probably shouldn't attempt blogging in the middle of the night, but what's a book-loving insomniac to do? Let me try to give you the general gist of Cold Sassy Tree, and we'll call it a day.

Cold Sassy Tree by Olive Ann Burns was published in 1984 and is the coming-of-age story of our fourteen year old protagonist Will Tweedy set against the backdrop of rural small-town Georgia in 1906 and the shocking marriage of Will's grandpa a mere three weeks after the death of his beloved wife Mattie Lou. Rucker Blakeslee's elopement is made all the more scandalous given that he marries Miss Love Simpson, the pretty young milliner from his store who is barely any older than his two grown daughters and from Baltimore to boot, making her practically a Yankee. Never mind that it's a marriage of convenience because old Rucker can't be bothered to pay a housekeeper and Miss Love just wants a home of her own: what will the town think? 

I loved this book immediately (as evidenced by my small existential crisis documented above). Cold Sassy Tree made me laugh and broke my heart and basically accomplished everything a good book ought. The author, Olive Ann Burns, was born in Banks County, Georgia in 1924, and, starting in 1971, she began writing down all the family stories told to her by her parents. It was these stories that eventually became Cold Sassy Tree and the authenticity lent to the novel by the historical and autobiographical nature of Burns' family history made Cold Sassy Tree an absolute delight to read. It's such a searing portrait of small town Southern life. Reading this book was, for me, reminiscent of sprawling across my grandmother's bed during my own teenage years, and listening to her distinct Southern drawl as she related to me all our own family history and gossip. For that reason alone, Cold Sassy Tree will always have a special place in my heart.

Burns actually received so many fan letters pleading for a follow-up to Cold Sassy Tree that she began writing a sequel but died before she was able to complete it. The unfinished manuscript titled "Leaving Cold Sassy" was published a couple years after her death along with her notes, but based on the fact that she wasn't able to finish it and several reviews I've read, I don't plan to read it. 

I'll definitely read Cold Sassy Tree again though, and if you appreciate a good coming-of-age story or you enjoy Southern literature, you should too. 

Are you overprotective of the stories you love or is that just a me-problem?

Let's Bust a Recap : Roald Dahl

Moving right along in my quest to discover the delights of Roald Dahl as an adult (since my only exposure to his work in childhood was watching Matilda with my best friend over and over again), this year I decided to hit two of his most beloved works: James and the Giant Peach and The BFG. And guess what: The Witches—which has been holding the #1 spot as my personal favorite since 2020—has been ousted by The BFG which immediately stole the coveted top spot as I read it aloud with my nephew this summer. 

I ended up reading Dahl's 1961 novel James and the Giant Peach in May. I've always been a bit uneasy about James and the Giant Peach after seeing just enough of the 1996 film adaptation as a child to really creep me out. (I think I pretended to fall asleep at my best friend's house one night shortly after she started the movie for us because I didn't like it.) But as it turns out, I think James and the Giant Peach may be the sweetest Roald Dahl novel I've read to date. That's not to say there are no scary elements to this story. It begins with poor James' lovely parents being eaten whole by an escaped rhinoceros on the rampage. James has to go live with his two nasty aunts, Sponge and Spiker, and they treat him abominably. Throughout the course of this fun novel, James ends up escaping his horrible aunts (who get their just deserts when the Giant Peach rolls over and crushes them) by climbing inside a magically altered peach and having the adventure of a lifetime with the seven magically altered insects also inside.

I loved our seven year old protagonist James Henry Trotter, and I loved how the magical insects befriended and cared for him. I couldn't help laughing and rolling my eyes at the obnoxious Centipede who bragged about his hundred legs (even though he actually only has 42) and the way the rest of the insects respond to his loud, bossy ways. Their escapades in crossing the Atlantic Ocean inside the Giant Peach were action-packed and a lot of fun to read about, and learning that James has settled in Central Park in the peach pit of the Giant Peach and has written this book himself in response to his fame was a satisfying ending.

Now let's talk about The BFG. Where to even begin? The BFG (short for Big Friendly Giant) was published in 1982 and is actually an expansion of a short story in Dahl's 1975 novel Danny, the Champion of the World (which is also in my box set but I haven't read it yet). Several of my friends who enjoyed Dahl in childhood said this was a favorite which is why it earned a spot on this year's book list, and when my brother and his family came for a visit last month, I sat down with my nephew on Night One of their visit and began reading this to him. 

We were both delighted. The story of the Big Friendly Giant kidnapping little orphan Sophie and taking her back to his cave after she accidentally observes him roaming the streets of England during the Witching Hour one night absolutely beguiled us. I carried The BFG around with me everywhere and we read a little more every chance we got. After Sophie realizes that the BFG truly is friendly—unlike the nine other ferocious giants he lives with—and has no intention of harming her, she learns that he spends his time catching dreams and giving the good dreams to sleeping children. The two of them come up with a plan to alert the Queen of England of the other man-eating giants and an ingenious plot to capture them so they can't eat any more human beans. 

I can't even tell you how much I enjoyed this lovely little novel. And reading it out loud with my five-year-old nephew elevated the experience one hundred percent. As he caught on to the BFG's silly way of speaking—since the BFG was never formally educated—his sudden interruptions to tell me, "Auntie Hannah, what he really means is this" delighted me to no end. And when we got to the chapter in which the BFG and Sophie have breakfast with the queen, my other nieces and nephew happened to be listening as well. When I tell you we all had a fit when the BFG whizpopped in front of the Queen (if you know you know), I'm telling you that is a memory that will bring a smile to my face for the rest of my days. I'm a little hesitant to watch the 2016 film adaptation because it could not possibly be as charming as the book, but I think I'll probably take the plunge and watch it soon.

All in all, two fabulous additions to my Roald Dahl repertoire. I have a hard time believing any of my remaining Roald Dahl books could displace The BFG as my favorite, but hey, we've still got eight more to go. 

Which two should I read next?

Casual Fridays

September 1st? Already? Hardly seems possible. We only have four reading months left in 2023, and I decided that today would be a good day to take stock of what I've read this year, what's left on my 2023 book list, and how I want to prioritize my reading for what's left of the 2023 calendar. So to start: a few pertinent details.

• My original list for 2023 consisted of 40 books.
• As it happens, so far this year I have read 40 books.
• 19 of the books I've read in 2023 were from my original list.
• Which means 21 of the books I've read were not, and I also still have 21 books from my 2023 book list to finish.

So I've organized my beloved little library cart into four sections as a sort of (very loosely held) TBR for the remaining months in 2023. It's looking...ambitious, but not impossible so here's to sticking to my own books for the rest of the year, library holds be damned. 

The two books on their sides are the final two Wingfeather books in the quartet that Cody and I have been reading aloud together so those will be ongoing.

What books would you like to get to in these next four months?

Let's Bust a Recap : The Screwtape Letters

Cue the fanfare. With today's post, we have officially cleared 2022 out of the To Be Blogged stack. Life is good.

(All right, fine, in all honesty, there is actually one more book from 2022 hanging out in the stack, but it is being saved for a specific post to come so just let me have my moment!)

The Screwtape Letters turned out to be my second C.S. Lewis read of 2022. Right about now I could feed you some line about how after not managing to read any Lewis at all in 2021, I felt the need to double-down last year, but the truth is: my book club selected it for the month of October, and this was actually my third or fourth time reading it. The Screwtape Letters is probably C.S. Lewis' most famous work outside of the Chronicles of Narnia, and I chose this book for my thesis project in my high school senior English course. I spent a lot of time in the library that semester with this very copy of the book and piles of other resources on Clive Staples Lewis, sitting across the table from my friend Sydney (who is now in the aforementioned book club with me and who's project was on The Pilgrim's Progress in case you were wondering. Our teacher constantly confused the two of us because I'm pretty sure we were the only two in the class who chose religious works from the approved list—what I wouldn't do to get my hands on a copy of that list today—and now this parenthetical rabbit trail has officially gone off the rails. Can I get a show of hands in the comments if you find the scattered inner workings and random reminiscences of my mind amusing? Or is this absolutely insufferable to read?). Naturally, as I've already confessed on this very blog, I didn't finish reading it at that point in my life, but I've read it since, and it's one that hits me differently every time I read it.

Let's focus. The Screwtape Letters is an epistolary novel made up of thirty-one letters from a senior demon called Screwtape who is acting as a mentor to his nephew Wormwood, a novice demon in charge of securing the damnation of an ordinary young man. Lewis used this self-termed "demonic ventriloquism" to address Christian theological issues having to do with temptation and the resistance to it. Throughout the novel, Screwtape gives Wormwood detailed advice on various methods of undermining God's directives, interspersed with observations on human nature and the Bible. The result is a masterclass in satire, entertaining and enlightening readers the world over with its sly and ironic portrayal of human life and foibles. The letters were originally published weekly in an Anglican periodical during wartime from May to November in 1941. The book was published the next year in February of 1942. Later in 1959, Lewis wrote a short article entitled "Screwtape Proposes a Toast" which was published in the Saturday Evening Post, and nowadays, this is typically included with The Screwtape Letters.

In a foreword to "Screwtape Proposes a Toast", Lewis stated he had never written anything more easily or with less enjoyment than The Screwtape Letters. Although he received numerous requests throughout his life to add to the letters, he resolved never to write another one saying the process of writing them almost smothered him before he finished. Despite that, in writing The Screwtape Letters, Lewis inspired loads of other authors to prepare sequels or similar works of their own. Even apart from literature, The Screwtape Letters can be seen cropping up in all forms of pop culture from comics, to music, to political discourse. 

As I mentioned earlier, each time that I read The Screwtape Letters, a particular letter will usually stand out like a sore thumb and hit me in a new way. On this particular go-round with the demons, Screwtape's words in his seventeenth letter to Wormwood seemed to jump off the page, and I've been ruminating on them ever since. In this letter, Screwtape is postulating on the temptation of gluttony, and he gives Wormwood the demonic distinction between the gluttony of Delicacy and the gluttony of Excess. While we humans tend to think of gluttony only in terms of Excess, Screwtape makes the point that quantities do not matter, "provided we can use a human belly and palate to produce querulousness, impatience, uncharitableness, and self-concern". He goes on to explain that "because what [the human] wants is smaller and less costly than what has been set before her, she never recognizes as gluttony her determination to get what she wants, however troublesome it may be to others. At the very moment of indulging her appetite she believes that she is practising temperance." 

I mean, right?! This hit me like a load of bricks. In our culture, we seems to be increasingly obsessed with every single thing that goes into our bellies. We have to count calories, or we have to eat clean, or we can't eat off plastic, or, or, or....the list goes on and on. While we're merely "trying to be healthy", the ultimate reality is that instead of keeping our attention on Christ, we're being ruled by our own bodies. The deception is subtle, but aren't the cunning ones the most devious?

In sum, I highly recommend The Screwtape Letters. It holds up to multiple re-readings, and if it doesn't spark some self-examination, I'm not sure what will. It's good fun while still packing a punch, and no matter when I read it, it usually sends a little chill down my spine at some point or other which makes it a particularly good read for the fall when witches and demons and the forces of darkness tend to abound. 

Next up in my pilgrimage through the work of C.S. Lewis: Miracles.

Let's Bust a Recap : Sherlock Holmes

Welcome one and all to the third week of August in the Year of Our Lord 2023 which will otherwise be known on this blog as "The Week We Try to Clear the To Be Blogged Stack of Books Read in 2022". We're close, y'all. So close. And in an effort to accomplish our goal, today I'll be talking about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's first two short story collections featuring everyone's favorite sleuth: Sherlock Holmes. 

Way back in 2021, I picked up Conan Doyle's first novel in which old Sherlock appeared, and devoured it in about a day. A few weeks later, his second novel met the same fate. Shortly after that, I began on The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, confident that I would finish it and also The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes before 2021 was through. 

...and then stalled for nearly a year. What can I say? I swing for the fence. It turns out, I have a lovely habit when it comes to short stories of reading one or two, and then forgetting the rest of the collection for months on end. This bears no reflection on the stories themselves, just on my personal attention span. Sherlock Holmes' short stories are so individual in nature and each one is so satisfyingly wrapped up that there is no narrative drive to continue reading them until you're finished. (At least not for me anyway.) The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes were a rip-roaring good time. I just managed to stretch these twelve short stories from July of 2021 to April of 2022. In this collection, we get our first introduction to the enigmatic Irene Adler in "A Scandal in Bohemia". She's one of the only people to ever outsmart Holmes, and she's so clever about it that it makes this story one of Conan Doyle's personal top twelve. I hope we see more of her. His other stories cover a range of bizarre stories involving the KKK, a bank robbery, and even a goose with a precious jewel stuffed down its throat. Of the twenty-three short stories I've read so far, this collection contained my two personal favorites; number one being the horrifyingly creepy "The Speckled Band", and number two being the delightfully hilarious "The Red-Headed League". Coincidentally, in doing a little research for this post, I discovered that these are also Conan Doyle's two favorite stories out of all the Holmes mysteries that he wrote. Cheers to that! I also really liked "The Man With the Twisted Lip" from this collection.

I did a little better with the next set, starting them in April and finishing them in October of the same year. The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes is Conan Doyle's second collection of short stories about Sherlock (eleven of them this time) and the one that was meant to end the character for good. When "The Final Problem" was first published in The Strand Magazine in December of 1893, the public outcry was so severe that The Strand almost went out of business. Conan Doyle was eventually convinced to resurrect the beloved character and went on to write two more novels and thirty-three more short stories about him. 

In this collection, we get to read about Holmes' very first case in "The Adventure of the Gloria Scott", one of the uncommon instances where we hear the case from Holmes' perspective as he recounts it to Dr. Watson. We also are introduced to Holmes' brother Mycroft in "The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter", in which we learn that Mycroft is even smarter than Holmes' but is too lazy to actually pursue detective work. And of course, we also meet Sherlock's famous nemesis Professor Moriarty in "The Final Problem" in which Sherlock presumably goes over a cliff taking Moriarty with him to their deaths. 

The cases in this collection had a more melancholy feel to them, and my favorite was easily "The Adventure of the Yellow Face" which was heartbreaking but had a beautiful ending. From this collection, Conan Doyle ranks two of the stories in his personal top twelve: "The Final Problem" and "The Musgrave Ritual". 

If you start with the novels (which I did), you're already aware of Sherlock's general disdain for law enforcement or, really, authority of any kind, but in reading these first two collections of short stories, it was interesting to see Sherlock's personal sense of justice. There were multiple stories wherein Sherlock doesn't actually out the culprit for reasons he deems worthy, whether it's because he thinks they'll pay for their crimes in other ways due to the life choices they've made, or that they're old and about to die anyway, or even because he is certain that it will bring them too much embarrassment to try anything underhanded again...or that they're too chicken. 

All in all the stories are so fun to read purely because of how absolutely bizarre the cases and how ingeniously Sherlock manages to solve them. The economy of language Conan Doyle employs in writing them make them quick reads, easily ingested in a single sitting. I remember toting my large, hardcover copy with me to work so I could squeeze in a story here and there on my breaks. I definitely would recommend reading at least one short story spotlighting the brilliant mind of Sherlock Holmes: once you start, you won't want to stop. And here's my personal suggestion to you: since these stories don't need to be read in any particular order to enjoy them, start with one of my favorites and let me know what you think!