Book Review: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

Yes you read correctly folks: this book was written by two women. Flaw number one. I can just picture two small town hermit cat ladies giggling over the utter silliness while still in full costume from a red hat society meeting. Not remotely funny! Nor was this book!

To quickly summarize: this novel is a compilation of letters to and from the protagonist, Juliet, a thirty-something single female who has, along with the rest of the characters, just survived World War II. She makes unexpected pen pals with the inhabitants of Guernsey, one of the few islands in the English Channel, as she learns their harrowing, tragic stories of survival during the German occupation. The island's inhabitants inadvertently formed a sort of literary society while hiding from the Germans. The formation of the society itself is alleged to be the result of a hysterical mistake which, come to find out, was not hysterical in the slightest. The first of many instances where the authors' (no doubt fervent red hat society elders) attempts at being clever were entirely disappointing.

First, the naivete of the characters was downright phony. Don't get me wrong- I have always been a sucker for a pen pal. The thought of a letter dropping into my lap from a stranger asking me to help him find a rare book sounds like an absolute dream. But these characters are so silly and adolescent- at the end of the day, it's a corny, whimsical story written by two women who lack the imagination to thoroughly develop even their main character. Take Juliet- typical mediocre protagonist who seemingly exists in a vacuum. Unlimited time, unlimited resources, and dragging us all through her journey in choosing between an obvious Mr. Right and an even more obvious Mr. Wrong (did I mention it was also predictable?). First sign I wouldn't like this book: the front cover flashes an endorsement by Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat Pray Love. Another phony read and subject to almost identical criticism (though I do appreciate the fact that she brought some international culture to readers who probably otherwise wouldn't have ventured there...).

Save your $10. Or, better yet, spend it on any Russian River Valley Pinot Noir- 2006 or 2007 will do 'ya. xo

Veeeeeno

First glass of wine in 40 days: bliss. 2006 Russian River Valley Pinot Noir.

To be followed next week by my previously identified French bottle at...chez moi.

End of Lent! Happy Easter all!

Two book reviews pending :)

Ghost spottings

My reading has always nurtured my imagination, and my imagination has always nurtured my reading. I've never been sure which came first, but they are both alive and well, sometimes disturbingly so. Like the time I was working as a summer associate at a law firm in Philadelphia during the summer of 2006. I had just reread The Great Gatsby and was resisting the urge to slap my mentor on the shoulder and tell him not to worry about a thing, 'ol sport. We'll win that trial alright. We were out wining and dining clients at one of those power lunches (I can barely recall the perks of the private sector) at the Capital Grille in downtown Philly. I was positively haunted by a painting on the wall that I swore was an exact replication of Daisy as I imagined her. I can still picture it in my mind and would fancy revisiting the restaurant for the sole purpose of re-creeping myself out.

On that note, Gerry and I had a lovely weekend in Maryland for his birthday. We stayed at the Inn at Perry Cabin, an upscale inn in St. Michaels, a charming coastal town along the Chesapeake. We had some time to kill before our dinner reservations (Maryland crab cakes all weekend mmm...) so we took a drive to Tilghman Island, a small, rural island with nothing but small farms and old homes. Naturally I pulled over and asked Gerry if he would kindly snap a few photos of the Sawtelle farm (see earlier book review of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle):

And we thought the book took place in rural Wisconsin? Can't you see Edgar through the trees, walking the edge of the forest with Almondine?

The joys of homeownership

(Blurry blackberry picture taken on my walk from the hill back to work- to be further discussed below- but check out the bottom left- the first signs of the cherry blossoms! Woot!)

What a week. As most of you know (most of you is two people, as I only have 3 readers to date, but not complaining because you are all fabulous and totally get it), I have been without a hot water heater for nearly two weeks. I've been showering at the gym and otherwise inconvenienced beyond my wildest dreams, as Juan the contractor and his nephew, who is apparently a "whiz at dry wall" (to quote a man who barely speaks English) have transformed my 600 square feet into a highway of ingress and egress. Folks, I don't come home from a day of lawyering for the Secretary of Energy and long to change into my weeknight casualwear to make the deals happen with a pair of rogue contractors.

All of this finally ended 30 minutes ago as Juan put the finishing touches on the job. He really is a God send, despite my complaints. He and his nephew replaced my hot water heater, disposed of my old one, having to knock down and replace part of a wall to do so. I came home from a fundraiser last night to find everything fixed and grand- until I realized my bathroom was completely flooded. %&(*!%$&@^! Dealing with all of this (1) alone; and (2) with 5 floors of fellow condo owners below me is NOT a holiday y'all. It cost me a fricking fortune and let's just say that all of the cash I spared by not drinking any champagne during Lent (and then some...a LOT of some) has all literally been flushed down the toilet.

Anywho, Juan fixed everything today and now I am up and running, just in time for my mang to arrive for a surprise birthday getaway weekend which will start in the AM.

And after all of that yapping I will revisit my capitol hill story at another time and leave you titillated all weekend. Happy Friday y'all! xo

Citizen's arrest

Allow me to introduce you to someone very close to my heart: the Tiny Sheriff. Pictured above in the 2009 Summer Outward Hound collection, in the off-season she embraces her post in the pontoon boat of guarding the family's stash of potato chips (honey she's just like a snappin' turtle- her jaws won't let go until lightnin' strikes so you'd best rethink stickin' a finger in that bag). When she's not directing Carnival Cruises alongside Kathy Lee Gifford, she enjoys long walks to retrieve the morning paper with Mum, sexually charged weekend make-out sessions with a stuffed porcupine named Pierce Brosnan, and inserting herself into crippling power struggles with every other animal she meets.

(Running) Party in the USA

I can't resist a quick post of shameless bragging: I ran the NYC Half Marathon this weekend and managed to beat my personal half-marathon best by 12 minutes (a lifetime in running terms) AND I was only 29 seconds away from breaking a 2-hour half marathon.

I've always viewed the sub-2-hour half marathon as the cross-over from "liking to run" into being a "runner." I've run tons of races, including a full marathon, but still hesitate to refer to myself as a "runner" for a number of reasons, including the fact that it's something I picked up much later in life (grad-school-ish), along with my slow timing compared to objective running standards (let's just say I'm not qualifying for Boston anytime soon...).

So I started this race just hoping to finish without any pesky knee issues- I'm just thrilled to be running again after taking off two very long months, during which I spent a small fortune visiting a sports chiropractor biweekly (whose office is in the suburbs, no less...GAG). I wasn't expecting to break my last half-marathon time; after all, I ran that one while training for the Chicago marathon and I had been running TONS in the months prior. Moreover, the first 6 miles of the NYC Half are a loop through Central Park (the hills within are infamous among runners for some brutal training grounds). So at this point I'm happy to be in the club- lining up to run a race and thrilled to be back in the land of racing! I'll keep an eye on my gps running watch ("Antoine") and make sure I'm pacing myself at a generous 9:30-10:00 minute mile throughout, and I should finish in under 2.5 hours no problem. Sweet.

First two miles I did just that. But the adrenaline of racing combined with my intimate familiarity of the Central Park loop (I run it all the time when I'm up there) translated into a boost of confidence. So I pick up the pace and realize about halfway: I just might be able to finish this in under two hours. We exited the park and I sprinted for a good 2 miles to make up for my slow start- one mile I even logged in at 7:40 (now that's scootin' for a distance race). Heartbreaking 29 seconds short of the goal I set for myself mid-race, which makes me realize that (1) had this been an easier course; and (2) had I started with the right pace...I could've pulled it off.

It's Monday's lunch break and I'm still on a runner's high. Giving my knees a hard-earned break and devoting this week to yoga and pilates. I have another half on the calendar in May and I can't wait to challenge myself to beat...myself.

For those of you who haven't raced before, below is the live coverage of yesterday's NYC Half Marathon. If you can, watch the first few minutes and you can see the elite runners, the line-up, and the course. The energy is indescribable at these large races and I wish everyone could experience it just once!

http://www.universalsports.com/video/assetid=74bfbe33-2724-4a64-8ddc-790d4cd994b4.html#2010+nyc+half+marathon

Book Review: The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski

Warning: this is an Oprah's Book Club read. So all of you people who somehow gather from the grapevine that this is a bad thing yet have nothing close to the repertoire to justify book-snobbery, (1) get a life; and (2) read this book. (I beseech you all- what is wrong with Oprah encouraging adults (and women in particular) to expand their library beyond Nicholas Sparks and James Patterson?) I regress...

For a first novel, this truly was a grand slam. David Wroblewski retells Shakespeare's Hamlet in rural Wisconsin (now that's my kind of Shakespeare y'all!). Although at times I felt like he was wed to Hamlet's plot and it seemed a bit unnatural for Edgar's story (like the ENDING), the book was a richly-written, satisfying read that will sit in my select "to reread" pile.

Edgar, son of Trudy and Gar Sawtelle, was born mute (but not deaf) and can only communicate through sign. The family maintains a business of breeding and training "Sawtelle dogs"- an elusive breed genetically perfected by generations of Sawtelles. Partially because of Edgar's handicap, Trudy and Gar take in one of the Sawtelle dogs as part of the family- the beloved Almondine. She and Edgar develop a special relationship and a unique means of communication, and I can say that dog-person or not, you will fall in love with her. Life is carrying on wonderfully until Claude, Gar's ex-con brother, is generously taken in by the Sawtelles. His entrance mysteriously coincides with Gar's sudden death, followed by his manipulative courting of Trudy (Hamlet anyone?), and Edgar flees to survive in the wilderness with a few pups from his very own Sawtelle litter.

It was all I could do not to wikipedia Hamlet's ending (long-forgotten since high school) before finishing Edgar, and I would press readers to do the same. Tragedy, loss and coming of age are all best absorbed along the way and we can all agree that there is no rush to finish Edgar's journey. He has an unpredictable depth, and I was almost afraid of him at times (I was even frightened for Claude at the sight of Edgar's cheshire cat grin in the tree outside the kitchen window, and the dogs' performance of "pass-and-drop" in the barn). The final scenes were a bit of a dream scape blur and the ending uncertain, but Wroblewski is an extraordinary storyteller and his deliberate lack of closure left me almost paralyzed and unable to crack another book before sorting out his story for a few days.