Woe! It's Wednesday: Movies and Books and Civil Rights ... Oh my!

I'm really kind of obnoxious about having to read a book before I see the movie. I've admitted it before.
I saw The Help over the weekend. I read the book last year and loved it so I was looking forward to the movie, albeit with some trepidation.
Hollywood isn't exactly known for it's faithful adaptions (e.g. My Sister's Keeper) but everything I read about the movie indicated that they were adhering closely to the book. The director was a friend of the author's. The actress cast as Minnie was a friend of both theirs. I figured chances were good they weren't going to muck up the story. And they didn't.
I loved both the book and the movie.
But then today I read an article about how some people are angry with the movie (and I presume the book). They said it trivializes the Civil Rights Movement.
I disagree.
It never claims to be a Civil Rights movie.
It's about courage.
It's about faith.
It's about doing the right thing.
That crosses color, neighborhood, and economic lines.
Read it. Watch it. Make up your own mind.

Book Talk Tuesday: Falls Like Lightning

I love everything Shawn Grady writes and this one is another winner. I had it on top of my To Be Read stack while I was finishing up a library book. David saw it, snagged it and read it first. He said “Awesome,” and he was right.
The set up and the beginning is a little slower-paced than Grady’s first two books, but in this case it’s warranted. There are a lot of characters and the set up is needed for the second half’s suspense and climax.
From my amazon review:   Silas Kent and Elle Westmore have a past with more baggage than a 747. Silas is a smokejumper, a fire fighter who parachutes in to battle back country fires. Elle is the pilot who ferries the jumpers in. They both get caught up in an evil scheme and have to fight for their lives against greedy men as well as the natural elements of fire and water, along with trees and mountains, not to mention their own shared past and their unresolved feelings for each other.
I have a couple of tiny quibbles and I debated about mentioning them. I decided that the things I had a problem with were editing issues and since I read the book as a reviewer, not an editor, I shouldn't mention them.
So, as a reviewer I have to stand by my first statement: Awesome!
If you love suspense, great characters, an insider’s look at a hard and risky job, with a dash of faith, Falls Like Lightning is perfect. I highly recommend it.
In the interest of full disclosure, I did receive a free copy to review and write about. This did not influence my feelings or my review.

Fiction Friday: The Bandbox Hat

It’s back! I’m finally writing fiction again and here’s the next installment of Sarah Jane Richter and her family.

Previously: Sarah Jane blurted out at the dinner table that Jesse, her former boyfriend who moved away seven years ago, gave her news about Rachael, Sarah Jane’s long missing older sister.

The Band Box Hat

Chapter Seven

 

Daddy swallowed then took a long gulp of his milk. After setting down the glass, he looked at me, lips thin as a new peach tree scion.

“I don’t believe I know anyone by that name, Sarah Jane. And you don’t either.”

“Dad! Come on—” Nathan started to protest.

Dad shoved away from the table and stood. “Anna, thank you for a delicious dinner. Next time, I hope the conversation is more suitable.” He strode out on long legs and a stiff back.

Everyone around the table exhaled, even April.

“What did he say?” Nathan asked, leaning on the table.

“That she’s been in Pasadena and afraid to call or come home.”

Now it was Nathan’s turn to stand. “In L.A.? Four hours away?”

I nodded. “I know.”

“April, run upstairs and start your homework,” Anna said.

“But, Momma, I—” April gave a token protest, but even she must have sensed the tension around the table because she grabbed her piece of corn bread and headed down the hallway.

I looked around the table at my brothers. Hard workers, all. Kind. Men of few words, too, except for Nathan. Abel and Daniel had returned to their meals and were already piling their forks and knives on their plates. They disappeared into the kitchen and a moment later the back door slammed. They were the two middle boys, the ones who learned to keep their heads down and their ears open and to stay out of trouble. As adults, this meant they avoided any and all signs of drama.

“Did Jesse say anything about Peter and the baby?” Anna asked.

“The ‘baby’ is ten years old now,” I said. “And he has a name.”

Anna’s nose grew white and pinched. “Did Jesse say if Rachael has been in contact with Peter and if she’s seen her son any time in the last decade?”

“I didn’t give him a chance to tell me much else.” I rubbed a crumb of corn bread between my finger and thumb, spreading a fine yellow sand across my plate.

Nathan pulled his cell phone from his belt holster and pressed a few buttons before speaking into it. “Hello, Ethan, it’s Nathan Richter. I understand Jesse is in town. May I speak with him? … I see … Thanks.” He flipped close his phone and stood. “Apparently, Jesse is on his way here.”

Anna popped out of her chair. “Sarah Jane, help me clear this and get the dessert plates out. Good thing I made a cobbler this afternoon.”

I complied with my hands while my mind wandered back to my first glimpse of Jesse yesterday. And the woman with him … it couldn’t be Rachael. Could it? No. Even though I hadn’t seen my sister in ten years, surely I would have recognized her.

In the kitchen, I set the cleared plates on the counter while Anna fussed over her dessert. “I don’t have time to whip any cream so we’ll have to use vanilla ice-cream as a topping. Will you run to the freezer, Sarah Jane?”

I rinsed the forks and dropped them into the silverware caddy in the dishwasher with a clatter. “Sure.”

Once in the basement, I paused in front of the old chest. My parents bought it when Jake was born and it had been chugging away in this very spot ever since. We were afraid to unplug it for fear it would never start again. The lid felt pebbly under my hand. I tugged it upward until the rubber seal finally released with a resigned sigh.

Freezer jam, butcher-paper blocks of ground beef and steaks, along with some frozen pizzas filled the interior. Ice-cream, in perfect rectangular half-gallon blocks, had always ruled the front right corner for easy access. Now that ice-cream came in ovoid-shapes and cylinders rather than easily stacked blocks, the containers were often plunked in and the next hungry person had to hunt and pick through the meat and jam.

This time though, the vanilla was right on top. Anna must have been the one to return it because it sat in its assigned corner.

“I don’t care! I don’t want her in this house. It’s mine now.” Anna’s voice reached me and I cocked my head. It sounded like she was standing next to me, but would have heard her footsteps behind me if she’d followed me down.

A low murmur sounded.

“She didn’t even come see your dying mother. How can you defend her?”

Oh, yes, the heater grates. From before the days of central air and heat. I edged closer so I could hear better.

“We’ll wait to hear what she has to say before we make any decisions.”

“Jake, she abandoned her husband and her child. We can’t fellowship with her.”

“Letting her come into her childhood home is hardly fellowshipping with her.”

“It’s not exactly shunning her, either.”

Jake gave a soft chuckle. “Anna, sweetheart, we haven’t shunned anyone in years.”

“Is that because no one deserved it or the church here doesn’t have the guts?”

Jake drew a sharp breath.

I grabbed the ice-cream and raced back up the stairs.

Woe! It’s Wednesday: You Must Be So Proud

We’ve never been the kind of parents whose wellbeing or happiness or sense of accomplishment is tied up in our kids.
We love our kids, of course. We’d die for them. Literally and figuratively. We support them 100% in whatever they do.
Sure, we made mistakes in our parenting.
And they’ve made mistakes.

  

We still love them and are proud of (most of) their choices.
After being congratulated on how his four children turned out, my friend’s father said, “I can’t take the credit, because if they didn’t turn out, I wouldn’t take the blame.”
That sums it up nicely for me.
I have one person in my life who is determined to hold me responsible for the actions and words of an adult member of my family. I’d love to have a conversation about this but they seem to want to hold onto their anger more than they want me as a friend.
I can only shrug. But I do wonder how proud they are when their family members post public tweets about the wild time they had in Vegas and how much fun it was getting drunk last week, and about the raunchy movies they’ve been enjoying, not to mention the hookups.
I have to wonder if they don’t see a bit of the double standard.
But I don’t wonder too hard.
The people who love me are still speaking to me. They support me 100% in all that I do.
I’m blessed.

Book Talk Tuesday: Finding New Favorites

How do you find new authors?

I often find my newest favorites when a friend recommends a new-to-me writer.

That’s how I found Margaret Maron, Kristan Higgins, J.D. Robb, and Jodi Picoult.

Some I find all on my own. Agatha Christie, Claire Cook, Dick Francis, and Harlan Coban.

Several friends have been raving about Susan Wiggs so I’ve recently read three of hers. They’re very good and I enjoyed them.

But I didn’t flip for them as my friends did and it got me wondering why. She’s often marketed with other writers I enjoy, like Luanne Rice.

                               

 

I’ve come up some possibilities and I have to read a bit more of her to see if I’m right.

• Not enough humor. They’re straight women’s fiction and I like a little of the light side, a la Kristan Higgins or Kristin Billerbeck.
• I need to read some of her newer books. As I looked at her website, I noticed the three I’ve read any of her newest releases.
• No cute pets, like in Claire Cook’s novels.

I’ll get back to reading and let you know if I narrow it down.

In all likelihood though, I’m not reading her best, most recent work. I’ll fix that and post again.

Anyone love Susan Wiggs and have a recommendation of a newer book of hers to try?

The Plasticization of Hollywood–Woe! It’s Wednesday

 

I’ve noticed that so many actresses have the same mouth.

I hate it. I miss Courtney Cox’s smile from the early Friends years.

I’ve tried to watch Cougar Town because it gets good reviews but I can’t stand to see her stretched smile. I think she had her cheeks done and it messed up her mouth. But I’m just speculating here.

 

 

 

But I don’t need to since I can just flip to Desperate Housewives to see the same smile on Felicity Huffman.

                            

 

Or Shannon Tweed on Gene Simmons’ Family Jewels.

 

 

Or Meg Ryan, who ruined what was once the most beautiful smile in movies.

                                                           

 

It makes me appreciate the women with the guts to age the old fashioned way. With smile lines.

Linda Hamilton:

 

Kathleen Turner:

 

Sissy Spacek:          

 

Thanks, ladies, for being examples of class and beauty.

Book Talk Tuesday: Pay Me in Flesh

 

I just read something completely out of the ordinary, in every sense of the word.

It’s out of the ordinary of what I usually read.

It’s out of the ordinary of what’s being published.

It’s out of the ordinary of what the author usually writes.

It’s out of the ordinary in its capacity to combine horror, humor, and heart.

 

It’s about Mallory Caine, a defense attorney by day and a brain-eating zombie by night.

Yep.

I read it.

I even liked it.

I read it because the author is a friend and he trusted me enough to send me a preview copy to read and tell others about. If I liked it.

I’m not gonna lie.

It was tough to get into. Mallory’s craving for flesh, in particular brains, creeped me out. I don’t read horror. I don’t watch horror movies. The closest thing I’ve watched or read is the Twilight series and Harry Potter. Neither of which has zombies.

But because I know and like the author (K. Bennett is a pseudonym for James Scott Bell) and I’ve enjoyed his other work, I hung in there and kept reading. 

This is from Jim’s blog announcement :

TAGLINE:

In L.A., practicing law can be hell. Especially if you’re dead.

PITCH:

In an increasingly hellacious L.A., zombie lawyer Mallory Caine defends a vampire hooker accused of the crime Mallory herself committed, even as a zombie-killer closes in and the love of her former life comes back as the Deputy DA she must oppose. And as Lucifer himself begins setting up L.A. as his headquarters for a new attack on heaven and earth, Mallory slowly discovers she may be the one who has to stop him.

The book has humor, lots of it. Mallory gets the irony in being a zombie attorney.

There is a bit of horror. Enough for the horror fan to be happy. Just a tad too much for the non-horror fan to appreciate, but the worst of it is in the first third. After that, either I was desensitized or the horror was truly lessened.

It’s full of heart. Mallory struggles with God and wonders what (and who) consigned her to the undead life. She gets a glimpse of truth at the end, with a nice setup to the next book in the series.

I’m glad I stuck with it. I’ll even read Mallory’s next adventure. I believe Jim will show God at further work in Mallory’s unlife and I look forward to reading how He will redeem even a zombie.

Pay Me In Flesh is available on Amazon and at Barnes and Noble.

If you read it, let me know what you think. Really.