Delicious!

Two covers.

 

 

Delicious!

Ruth Reichl

 

I was so sad when I finished this book, because I delighted in every phase of the stories and greatly anticipated finding minutes and hours to read it.

A first novel for Ruth Reichl, though she has at least five successful memoirs and food-related books already to her credit. I really hope she writes another novel, soon!

Very likable and interesting characters, though a few times I had to stop and recalibrate my brain cells--reminding myself who was who and what part he/she plays in the story. Still, well-drawn characters and settings. This is a very sensual book; though, mostly not in a sexual context.

 

Left Neglected

 

 

I think some small part of me knew I was living an unsustainable life. Every now and then, it would whisper, Sarah, please slow down. You don't need all this. You can't continue like this. But the rest of me, powerful, smart, and determined to achieve, achieve, achieve, wasn't hearing a word of it. If, once in a while these kinds of thoughts did manage to wiggle into my consciousness, I shushed them, scolded them, and sent them to their room. Quiet, little voice, can't you see I have a million things to do?

Left Neglected

Lisa Genova

 

This year I'm tracking my reading on my Instagram account (@Marielle1949); wondering if I'll continue to update this blog. I will.

There will sometimes be that special book; a book I want to shout about, recommend far and wide. This is definitely one such.

I love all the business and family references. The whole work balance dilemma. The driven, highly-intelligent Sarah Nickerson. Her loving, competitive, supportive marriage. This fascinating condition--Left Neglect. Sarah's highly complex relationship with her mother; her all encompassing devotion and love for Charlie, Lucy, and Linus.

I'm looking forward to reading Still Alice (2014 motvie version a Best Actress Oscar win for Julianne Moore) and the rest of Genova's backlist.

,

 

The Forgotten Waltz

 

Seán.

He is, for a moment, completely himself. He is about to turn around, but he does not know this yet. He will look around and see me as I see him and, after this, nothing will happen for many years. There is no reason why it should.

It really feels like night-time. The light is wonderful and wrong--it's like I have to pull the whole planet around in my head to get to this garden, and this part of the afternoon and to this man, who is the stranger I sleep beside now.

The Forgotten Waltz

Anne Enright

Pg. 13

 

Beautifully written. The heart wants... No matter the devastation. Looking forward to reading The Gathering.

 

Whistling in the Dark

 

I never heard exactly who it was that found Sara Heinemann's dead body over at the lagoon. But it was Willie O'Hara who told us that she was lying neatly on the grass between those rotting red rowboats you could rent for a dollar if you wanted to do a little fishing. Sara's pink undies were wrapped around her neck like a bow and she was naked. And some of her blond hair had been cut off just like Junie Piaskowski's had the summer before.

Something like that wasn't supposed to happen on a Vliet Street. But like Daddy always said...things can happen when you least expect them. Things that can change your whole life. How right he was. Because after they found Sara's body, it seemed like our nightly games of red light, green light and the Fourth of July parade and even cooling off in the Honey Creek on days so hot they'd curl the hair on the back of your neck might become part of the good old days that Granny always talked about. Because one dead girl was one thing. But two dead girls...everybody started wondering who would be next. Except for me. I knew I was next.

Whistling in the Dark

Leslie Kagen

 

It seems Leslie Kagen always writes in the voice of a young girl. I love Sally O'Malley--her wild imagination and her wise-beyond-her-years insights. There's a lot going on in the O'Malley Girls world this summer. Dramatic and scary things. But, Sally and Troo squeeze the best out of their world; charming the neighbors and finding adventure, intrigue, and empathy in every nook and cranny of Vliet Street and the neighborhood.

 

The Bright Side of Disaster

 

 

The end began with a plane crash. Just before midnight on a Tuesday in February. A girl I'd never met or even heard of died, along with her miniature dachshund (under the seat) and a plane load of passengers in the kind of commuter plane I'll never fly in again. I've pictured it a hundred times now: the quiet hum of the motor, the sleeping passengers, the sudden jolt, the cabin steward thrown sideways before he could finish his instructions. In my mind, it always looks like a movie, because I have nothing else to go on.

The Bright Side of Disaster

Katherine Center

 

Another in my list of summer reads. Light, told with humor and uncommon perspective. I'm looking forward to reading more from this author, too.

 

 

 

 

That Part was True

(source)

 

 

 

Hands down. A great book and a fun read. Ordered it for RvH's birthday. Wrote a fan letter to Deborah McKinlay, and ordered The View from Here (2011) from Amazon. And, posted a 5-starred review at Amazon.

 

I emailed Deborah McKinlay to request more recipes as referenced in her novel. There were just two in the back of the book. Got an immediate lovely response, but only one more recipe. Ah-h-h. Life is like that sometimes. Ms. McKinlay says she's not much of a cook. Guessing she's being modest, as she writes about food and recipes with the passion of a true foodie.

 

One of my favorite things was adding this cookbook (years ago) to my collection, after having read the Kay Scarpetta series by Patricia Cornwell. I quoted from Food to Die For in one of the early posts on this blog.

 

 

The Sea of Tranquility

 

Dying really isn't so bad after you've done it once. And I have. I'm not afraid of death anymore. I'm afraid of everything else.

The Sea of Tranquility

Katja Millay

 

Ah-h-h... Finally! A really, really good book. It sometimes takes dozens of reads, weeks and months of mediocrity, and then the breathless excitement and anticipation of a fresh, compeling story. And then, almost immediately I worry that it'll end too soon. I want the mysteries unfolded, the conflicts resolved, but I want to spend a lot of time with these characters. I really like them, with all there imperfections and misjudments; their brokenness and despair.

 

This time, at least twice I thought I'd read the last chapter, the end. Then, there was more. Enough more to bring not only resolution, but redemption and hope.

 

I want to spread the word, this is a well-conceived, well-written novel. Don't be deceived if you note a Young Adult classification to this title. It is a very mature story.

Another great paragraph...

 

Cookies, I need to bake cookies. It's the next best thing to running. Not really, but I do love cookies and I don't like the shit they sell in packages, which is what Margot buys. Oreos are acceptable. Because they're Oreos and no mattrr what you do, you can't replicate them. Trust me on this one. I've spent more than a few days in my kitchen trying to do just that. It's never going to happen. So Oreos get a pass, but factory-sealed chocolate chip cookies that are shelf-stable for up to six months are another story. Life is too short for that. Believe me, I know.

pg. 34

 

Where We Belong

 

 

I know what they say about secrets. I've heard it all. That they can haunt and govern you. That they can poison relationships and divide families. That in the end, only the truth will set you free. Maybe that's the case for some secrets. But I truly believed I was the exception to such portents, and never once breathed the smallest mention of my nearly two decadelong secret to anyone. Not to my closest friends in my most intoxicated moments or to my boyfriend Peter in our most intimate ones. I didn't even discuss it with my mother, the only person who was there when it all went down, almost as if we took an unspoken vow of silence, willing ourselves to let go, move on. I never forgot, not for a single day, yet I was also convinced that sometimes, the past really was the past.

Where We Belong

Emily Griffin

 

Sometimes, I crave a well-written, light novel. This one perfectly fit that craving. A well-crafted, contemporary story--told in two time-frames. Not a perfect novel, not a tricky plot. Yet, I liked the characters for the most part, and I was routing for them. An ambiguous ending that pleased me because it didn't make an obvious or trite leap, but still left me hopeful.

That aside, I can't stop myself from commenting on how many novels I've read recently that skip back and forth between perspectives, between eras, between timeframes--sometime four or more timeframes. Enough already! It's O.K. to tell a story sequentially, chronologically. Two timeframes, three perspectives should be enough for any book. Really.

 

THE LAST TIME I SAW PARIS

Manhattan, New York. May 8, 1940.

Claire Harris Stone breathed in the faint scent of roses from the courtyard garden below as her yielding body swayed to the strains of "In the Mood" drifting out the open French doors. The sounds of the orchestra inside her Manhattan brownstone blended with the late-night rumble of traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Buoyed by the Veuve Clicquot champagne, she felt as though she drifted above her partner as their gliding shoes whispered against the balcony floor. He held her tight, his hands warming her body through her thin silk dress. Her arms were draped around his shoulders.

He was tall. That was nice. And he knew how to dance; even better.

"You're dreaming, Claire," von Richter said.

"Of you." Claire opened her eyes.

The Last Time I Saw Paris
Lynn Sheene


I love, love, love this book. I procrastinated on finishing the last few pages of the book because I didn't want it to end. Ms. Sheene has written a superlative first novel. I eagerly await her second, Under Paris Skies.

I've been recommending this book right and left, have purchased a copy after obtaining it first from the library, and have ordered one for a friend. A very, very good read.

THE WINTER GHOSTS

He walked like a man recently returned to the world. Every step was careful, deliberate. Every step he relished. He was tall and clean shaven, a little thin perhaps. Dressed by Savile Row. Light woolen suit of herringbone weave, the jacket wide on the shoulders and narrow at the waist. His fawn gloves matched his Tribly. He looked like an Englishman, secure in his right to be on such a street, on such a pleasant afternoon in spring.
The Winter Ghosts
Kate Mosse


Great first paragraphs! Set in France just after WWI. This is a story of loss and renewal. Beautiful writing. I'm reading it too fast; sucked into the story. This is prose to be savored... Kate Mosse is co-founder and honorary director of the prestigious Orange Prize for Fiction. Visit the site. One could most assuredly find a fine reading list there.

Looking forward to reading through her backlist:

Labyrinth
Sepulcher
Crucifix Lane
Eskimo Kissing