Tuesday, February 27, 2024
A New Way to Be, Nothing to See, Just a Geriatric Pregnancy
Sunday, February 25, 2024
Sorority of Satire: Never Judge a Book by its Lover
For my last book club pick, I went with Curtis Sittenfeld's Eligible. Not because I'm a Jane Austen fan, but because I'm a fan of Sittenfeld's Romantic Comedy. Eligible is (probably?) the latest in the many modern takes on Austen's Pride and Prejudice. Which gave me pause because -- and please don't send hate mail -- I've never liked that book. I found Elizabeth Bennett kind of cold and Austen's writing tedious. I know, I know. It's a classic, not to mention the archetype for every romantic comedy ever. Even the famously critical Sheldon Cooper couldn't argue its excellence when trying to denigrate things Amy Farrah Fowler loved on The Big Bang Theory, conceding, "He has too much pride, she has too much prejudice. It just works." That said, I was intrigued by Eligible as a pop culture comment on a novel that's never far from the zeitgeist.
And you know what? It was a hoot. This time Elizabeth is a New York City-based women's magazine writer. Her big sis Jane is a yoga instructor and lives in the Big Apple too, and their three younger sisters Mary, Kitty, and Lydia are unemployed and live with their parents in a crumbling mansion in Cincinnati. I always knew that Mr. and Mrs. Bennet were caricatures, but I never appreciated just how laughable they are until Sittenfeld reincarnated them as a health insurance objector and shopaholic hoarder. Even Elizabeth's dislike for Darcy rings truer when she overhears him disparaging her hometown to his bestie and Jane's love interest Bingley. Darcy, by the way, is an ER doc, a role that imbues him with all the arrogant pomp he needs to do his namesake justice. Not only that, but he's still super rich and master of Pemberley.
But it's not just the characters that emerge as more vivid. I really enjoyed the language. It's just dry enough, sharpened by wit and insight and, yes, heart to echo the vibe of the original in a way that doesn't, as I like to say, "stick in your throat." Add some very present-day social scenarios, all of which reveal Elizabeth to, surprise surprise, be the most traditional as well as the most forward-thinking of the Bennetts, and you have a silken satire.
So hats (bonnets?) off to you, Curtis Sittenfeld, for softening my misinformed prejudice toward this timeless title.
Maybe I'm a little like Elizabeth after all.
Saturday, February 24, 2024
Sunbeam Scream
Wednesday, February 21, 2024
Cake Walk, Perp Walk: A Book Between Two Blouses
When Mel and Angie are invited to sell cupcakes at the Juniper Pass Rodeo, they're nervous and excited and all of the things. Even though -- and surely you'll excuse the pun -- it's far from their first rodeo. By which I mean that they discover yet another dead body. Such is the sweetly sinister setup for Jenn McKinlay's Red Velvet Revenge.
But catching a rodeo clown of a killer isn't the dynamic duo's only challenge. When their freezer goes on the fritz, they're faced with more thawed cupcakes than they can sell, forcing them to pivot to cake pops. Ah yes, cake pops, that cutesy craze of the 2010s (this caper came out in 2012). Needless to say, the cupcake catastrophe means that Mel and Angie's square dance card is full. Particularly Angie's, as she juggles not only perps and pastries but the affections of two not-quite-gun-slinging suitors.
But these two aren't the type to let men or mayhem get in the way. And it's fun to find out just how they make -- no, bake -- their way out of this one.
Speaking of twosomes, I couldn't help but post this pair of retro-licious blouses. I wore the cherry one during a Zoom call, and I've never worn the heart one at all. So I thought I'd show them off here. Because murder mysteries remind me to make the most of the everyday.
Including always eating the cupcake.
Monday, February 19, 2024
Have a Heart or Three: Heartland Stand
Tuesday, February 13, 2024
War of the Words: Love Language Anguish
When speechwriter Nina Gregory's beloved hotel mogul father dies, she's heartbroken. Whenever Nina told him, "I love you," he always responded, "More than words." But as she begins to sift through his affairs, she learns that he wasn't the paragon he purported to be -- and that maybe she isn't who she thought she was either.
Jill Santopolo's More Than Words is a sympathetic look at a woman who communicates professionally but has trouble sharing her truth with loved ones. One of the most symbolic stops on Nina's journey is a shopping spree to update her monochrome wardrobe:
"Nina loved the new her (too). In these clothes, she felt confident and powerful. Like someone worth noticing. Like someone who would make bold choices, whatever they were." (244)
As Nina grows more vocal, she also grows stronger -- even when it means moving on from a career and relationship that once defined her.
Because knowing herself means knowing peace.
And that's worth more than words.