Book Talk Tuesday

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Three recent Young Adult titles I’ve reviewed for Authors Choice.

Excerpts from the reviews:

Cascade:

CASCADE is an action-adventure story for girls. And it’s a very good one … CASCADE picks up immediately after the end of WATERFALL. Gabriella Betarrini and her sister Evangelia have found an entrance to the space/time continuum and have just returned from 14th century Italy. They are eager to go back but want to bring their archeologist mother with them. Reluctantly, Dr. Betarrini follows her daughters to see where this fantastical sounding adventure started ... CASCADE moves quickly from adventure story to love story then on to a war story. As the sisters help their new friends and loves, they dare to wonder if they can control their time tunnel and perhaps return to an earlier time than when they left ... Young adults, male and female, who love adventure stories will enjoy CASCADE. Even older adults will find it easy to lose themselves in 14th century Italy.

The Violet Flash:

THE VIOLET FLASH is delightful. It’s a sequel to Mike Mason’s earlier Juvenile Fiction work, THE BLUE UMBRELLA ...Though categorized as Juvenile Fiction, readers of all ages will enjoy THE VIOLET FLASH. It tells the story of Chesterton (Ches) Cholmondeley, his family and friends, and Ches’s struggle to repair the hole in the blue umbrella/sky that is allowing evil Horace Henbother to steal time. With each second Henbother pockets, calamity occurs. Ches must stop Horace before he accumulates a whole minute, which will rip apart the world as we know it ...Mike Mason’s story will take its proper place next to Madeleine L’Engle’s "A Wrinkle in Time" and other speculative fiction that points the reader to God and expounds on the nature of good, evil, creation, and redemption ...As a new reader to Mason’s fiction, I was a bit lost at the beginning. It would have helped to have a brief synopsis of THE BLUE UMBRELLA as a prelude to THE VIOLET FLASH. A few times in my life I’ve been present in conditions optimal for the sunset phenomena of a green flash, but it’s proven elusive. Reading THE VIOLET FLASH almost makes up for my near miss.

A Girl Named Mister

A GIRL NAMED MISTER is the story of Mary Rudine, known as Mister to her friends and family. Mister is a Christ-believing, church-attending, purity-committing high school girl. Then she meets Trey, a smooth-talking, fast-hands-and-lips, long-lashed high school boy… Told in poetry, A GIRL NAMED MISTER is a moving story of mistakes, consequences, and forgiveness. The poems are short but eloquent and the element of poetry makes a poignant situation even more so ... A GIRL NAMED MISTER should be read by every teen who’s ever said, “It will never happen to me.”

Fiction Friday: The Bandbox Hat

Sarah Jane’s former boyfriend is back in town for a visit. He just told her that her sister Rachael, missing for ten years, has been living in Los Angeles where he recently ran into her.

 

_________________

 

Chapter Seven

I drove under the speed limit all the way home, turning over in my mind everything Jesse just told me.

Rachael alive.

Living four hours away.

Finishing school.

Never calling to talk to her dying mama or her baby son.

By the time I pulled into our tree-lined lane, I had a pretty full head of steam worked up.

I stomped up the back porch wooden stairs and flung the door open.

“Sarah Jane, do you mind?” Anna’s annoyance at my entrance was clearly heard in her voice.

“Sorry.” I closed the door with a soft click and tiptoed to the kitchen table. Only then did I notice the gleaming counters and stove. “Anna, I said I would clean up.”

“I left it until five o’clock, thinking you’d be coming right home from school to keep your promise. But then I had to do it so I could fix supper. You can clean up after we eat.” Anna in her capris and cute peasant blouse could be taken for a suburban soccer mom instead of the farm wife and mother she really was. She worked at the packing shed from before dawn until noon, when she came home and napped until two. From two to four, she cleaned house. Evenings were for homework supervision and ranch paperwork. God forbid a car would refuse to start or a flat tire would disrupt her day. I once saw her turn a recalcitrant vacuum on by staring at it. If it was as scared as I was just watching, it never had the nerve to act up again.

“Of course, I’d be happy to do all the dinner dishes.” I smiled through gritted teeth. “I’ll just go put my things away.”

“We’re ready to eat.”

“What do you want me to do, Anna? Put my stuff in my room or leave them here on a chair while we eat?”

Her lips tightened while she considered which option she could best live with while exasperating me the most.

“Fine, put them upstairs. And change out of that skirt and blouse. You’ve had kids snotting all over you all day. You’re probably a walking germ factory.”

Score one for Anna.

I climbed the stairs feeling a perverse satisfaction in letting my satchel clump alongside me. With each bounce off a riser or balcony support, a little frustration escaped and by the time I changed into my own capris and top, I felt much better.

I slipped into my usual seat at the long table just as Daddy bowed his head and reached for my hand. I felt the calluses along his thumb and the heel of his palm and felt comforted.

“Gracious God and Father, Thank you for the wind and rain and sun and pleasant weather. Thank you for this our food and that we are together.”

Amens echoed around the table from Jake, Anna, Nathan, April, and my other two brothers, Daniel and Abel. We didn’t always eat together like the Waltons. We were scattered across four farms, several hundred acres and three generations. Since Mama passed though, Anna made it a point to have the single men over for dinner several times a week.

I had wanted to talk with Nathan before I told Daddy about Rachael. But if he found out I knew and broke bread with him and didn’t tell him, he’d be angry. Very angry. And Daddy angry was enough to make even Anna scurry out of his way. He wasn’t violent or mean at all, just silent. And the angrier he was, the more comatose he became.

“I hear Jesse Hofer is back in town.” Trust Anna to bring up the subject.

Now I had no choice except to blurt it all out. “That’s why I was late. He asked me to coffee after school—I mean—” That made it sound like I was off having fun with Jesse.

“Oh, you should have said so,” Anna said. “I didn’t know you’d already called him.”

“I didn’t.” How did Anna manage to twist everything that came out of my mouth. “He invited me. He had news. About Rachael.”

Anna’s mouth froze in a round O.

Daddy stopped chewing and set down his fork.

Woe! It’s Wednesday

I had an idea last week for a great Woe! topic.

But I didn’t write it down because it was sooo perfect, I knew I’d remember it.

Now it’s Wednesday and I sit down to write. Can I remember it?

Of course not!

Sometimes I think my brain is too full of minutiae and there’s no more room for the important stuff.

I can recite random lines from Friends. “That’s a moo point … it’s like a cow’s opinion-it doesn’t matter.”

I know the lyrics to The Brady Bunch theme song. “It’s the story… of a man named Brady…”

But can I remember the kind of ink my printer takes? Nope. I have to look it up every single time.

I’ve directed my subconscious mind to come up with the topic again and I will write it down this time. Hopefully, next week’s post will be about … whatever it was.

Book Talk Tuesday

 One Day by David Nicholls

I'm a big proponent of the happy ending.
But occasionally I read a book without one. Even more occasionally I read a book that demands a sad ending. My Sister's Keeper is the first one that comes to mind. If the story and the writing are truly captivating.
I'm still squishy about the ending of One Day.
It's a lovely book and I enjoyed it from the beginning to it's non-happily-ever-after ending. (The book has been reviewed and discussed enough so that I'm not giving anything away to say that.)
The story vehicle would be a little trite in lesser hands. The book follows Dexter and Emma on one particular day in July every year for twenty years. It could have been precious (I mean that not in a good way) or too cute, but Nicholls makes it work.
We follow Dex and Em from their college graduation, through assorted jobs, marriages, loves, and situations. Life isn't always fair but it's always life.
Of course, Hollywood came calling and a movie is coming out based on the book. Nicholls crammed twenty years into several hundred pages. I want to see what they choose to put into 96 minutes of film.

Fiction Friday: The Bandbox Hat

I'm enjoying writing Sarah Jane's story. It's completely Seat-of-the-Pants. I have no idea what's going to happen from one chapter to the next. It's kind of fun to see what's going to happen and where the story is headed. I'm writing each chapter and pretty much copying and pasting it with little to no proofing. So this is my writing, typos and all. I probably shouldn't admit that. Or at least I should read each chapter before posting it. I'll do that. Next week.

-------------

Previously, Jesse asked to meet Sarah Jane, telling her he had news of her long lost sister Rachael.

Chapter 6


I pulled a deep breath and stared through the window.

Jesse Hofer.

The boy not-quite-next-door. We grew up on adjoining farms, but in California’s Central Valley, that could be hundreds of miles apart. Okay, at least dozens. The Hofers and the Richters lived about three miles apart with acres of peach, plum, and nectarine trees in between split level ranch houses.

Jesse looked up and our gazes met. He always knew when I was looking at him. It was quite annoying in high school. I could never gaze across a classroom at him without being caught.

Get a grip, Sarah Jane. You’re an adult now, not a moonstruck teen.

I slung my purse over my shoulder and pushed through the drugstore doors.

“Hi, Jesse.” I dropped onto the seat across from him and waved at Mrs. Caldwell. She ignored me but moved to the soda machine and filled a glass with ice and Diet Coke. After she deposited the frosty glass and a straw on the table, I met Jesse’s gaze.

“Thanks for coming.” His arms made an arc around his coffee cup.

“What’s so important? You said it had to do with Rachael.” I stabbed the straw on the table, trying to get it to break free of its paper prison.

“Yeeaah.”

I looked up at the drawn out syllable. “Jesse?”

His eyes, the same brown as our old German Shepherd Rusty’s, locked with mine. Their depths called to me like a Siren on the Tyrrhenian Sea. I blinked to clear my vision and reminded myself I was in Rosedale, not Capri.

“Yeah. Look, I know I left in a bad way and I was rotten to do it. I know you’re angry and I don’t blame you.”

“That’s in the past.” I said it because a) it was true and b) it’s what a good Mennonite girl should say about anything she needs to get over. Also, c) I was a little irked that he assumed I spent the last seven years pining for him. “I’ve been busy too. I went to Cal State, got my teaching degree. Moved in with Jake and Anna after Mama died. Jake and Nathan are building me my own apartment over the garage.”

“Really?” His gaze warmed. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

“So, what about Rachael? That’s how you got me here, remember? News about my sister.”

“Yeah. See, the thing is—” His coffee cup suddenly became very interesting and he ran his finger over the white looped handle. Around the outside of the little ear, then along the inside.

I reached and touched his hand. “Jesse. Just spit it out. Whatever it is.”

“Okay. I ran into her about a year ago. At a coffee shop in Pasadena. She looked just the same. Long hair swinging. I heard her laugh before I saw her and I knew it was her.”

Tears filled my eyes. “Our Rachael? She’s okay?”

He nodded. “She feels bad about how she left. Without saying a word to anyone.”

I fell against the back of my seat, heat rising to my face. “She should feel awful. She ran away from Peter, her brand new baby. From Mama and Dad. They all needed her.”

“She’s changed since then. Grown up. She went to night classes. Got a degree, too.”

A part of me knew I should be happy to hear this. My sister, missing for ten years. Why wasn’t I pumping him for her phone number or address? But another part of me was just angry. Rachael bailed when life got hard. She ran away. I stayed. How dare she think she could come back and everything would be forgiven and Dad would kill the fatted calf.

“She’s scared.” Jesse always could read my mind.

“I bet.” The derision crept into my voice in spite of my best intentions. Well, in spite of my pretty good intentions.

I pushed out from behind the table and stood. “Thanks for the information Jesse. I’ll tell Dad and the boys.”

“But, Sarah Jane—”

I spun on one heel and fled out the door. I had to talk to Emma and Dad and Nathan to figure out how I felt about this.

Rachael alive and well and living less than four hours away. For the last ten years. Never trying to see her son. Mama took over a year to die after her diagnosis. Rachael didn’t bother to call, much less come visit.

The key jangled as I tried to fit it in the door lock.

“Sarah Jane!” Jesse strong-armed the door open and strode through while shoving his wallet into his back pocket.

The lock clicked open and I flung myself into the driver’s seat.

Jesse had to pause for a dairy truck trundling through the intersection.

Thank you, God, for VanderGloss’s milk pickup.

I made my escape while Jesse waited behind the gleaming silver truck.

Woe! It's Wednesday

One of last week's Ask Amy columns touched a nerve for me. Amy is a Ann Landers/Dear Abby for the 21st century.
The writer said she and her daughter often text a few times a day and she enjoys the communication, but she was hurt when her daughter's Mother's Day wishes came in a text. The writer said, "I think the content determines the method (of communication)."
Amy agreed.
So do I.
It's one of my pet peeves.
I love the ease of communication nowadays. I text mulitiple times a day. Same with email. I enjoy Facebook and Twitter for keeping up with friends and family.
But.
And it's a doozy of a 'but.'
I dislike getting important news, good or bad, via Facebook or Twitter or blogs or the evening news.
Call me weird, call me a Luddite, or call me a stickler, I don't care.
Got a pedicure? I think tweeting a message about it is fine.
But an engagement? Not until after the immediate family members have been told.
A new baby? Pick up the phone and dial before sending that status update.
Find a new restaurant? Tweet it.
Selling your minivan? Post a status update.
Have a serious diagnosis from your doctor? Call or send a personal email.
Want to thank someone for a gift or act of kindness? Break out a pen, write a note, spring for a 44 cent stamp, and mail it.
That's my opinion and I'm sticking to it.
"Content determines method."
I'd like to add another consideration. Relationship should also determine method.
Take it from me, moms dislike learning about a daughter's relationship on Facebook. So, call family first, then post.
A young woman I know had a baby recently. She updated her FB status as she went into labor. So did her mom and her aunt, who are both friends of mine. When the baby, a boy, was born, all updates ceased. Someone asked the aunt for his name. She replied that she wouldn't take away her niece's honor and fun of announcing him to the world. When the new mom felt up to it, she did share his name. In the meantime, family members not at the hospital were called.
We recently celebrated Easter, my birthday, Mother's Day, and Father's Day. I sent and received texts for all those occasions. I was completely fine with that.
Because: Content (and relationship) determine(s) method.

What do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts about this.

Book Talk Tuesday

I just noticed that I haven't yet talked about Julie Carobini's newest release. 

Fade to Blue is a delightful addition to her Otter Bay series. Otter Bay is a fictional Morro Bay and being familiar with the area makes the books even more fun, but is certainly not required.

Fade to Blue tells Suz Mitchell's struggle to make a life for herself and her young son. Suz and Jeremiah have moved across the country for a new start. Except her past seems to have followed her. Suz gets a job restoring art at the famous Hearst Castle on California's central coast. She soon runs into Seth, her first love from back home. Then she hears from her ex-husband who is eager for his own second chance with his family.


Suz's dilemma about which second chance is from God and which is an illusion is real and nicely handled. Just like Suz, all of us have been conflicted about a decision. Suz's emotions and feelings are very real and believable.

Julie Carobini does a great job bringing Suz, Jeremiah, Seth, and the other characters of Fade to Blue to life. I loved the insider's look at Hearst Castle.

If you're looking for a fun summer read with some faith and substance in addition to the lightness, I highly recommend Fade to Blue.