“So who are you and what have you done with Nicholas Sparks?” Her Momness asketh the other day. I’m pretty sure it’s a “rhetorical question.” Not sure what that means. Except that Mom’s been reading Nicholas Sparks since just after the discovery of fire. And apparently she was, shall we say, less than impressed with this tome? Here’s why:
Someone say, “Make like a tree and leaf”?
Bet you think we’re gonna do a “Halloween” post today, huh? Nah. Her Royal Momness and I? We’re not big Halloweeners. But we are big Frank Peretti fans. Ever since This Present Darkness.
So when we found a copy of an old Peretti novel we hadn’t yet read at a library book sale the other day, we scooped it up like The Kimster after a T-bone steak. We’re talkin’ nano-second here. Especially since it was a hardback book. For like, a quarter. Oh yeah.
Anyway, here’s the 4-1-1 on Peretti’s thriller novel, Monster:
More terrifying than any nightmare, something has scathed a very real path thru the Idaho hills, paving it in blood and echoing screams. It lives, it hunts, and it’s just getting started.
This time, the monster is real.
Kimber the Magnificent here. Her Momness can’t come to the blog write now (that’s not a typo.) She’s being a lazy slug. Slacking on this post-y/bloggy thing. So I decided to step in and take over. After all, someone has to be the adult in the room. (And we all know who that leaves out, right?)
Anyway, the Slug and I? We’ve read like, 98 million books since our last post-y thing. Well. Okay. Maybe not “98 million.” Maybe only 97. But anyway. I wanted to tell ya about the last historical fiction thing-y we read. Cuz someone has to, Slugville notwithstanding. So here goes:
Kristin Hannah is a “#1 New York Times Bestselling Author.” She’s “Superb at delving into the character’s psyches and delineating nuances of feeling.” Her books are “full of honest emotion.”
Yawn.
So. Not. Impressed. Truth is, kids, Kristin Hannah novels are a mixed bag. Yeppers, she’s a prodigious talent. Greatly skilled at weaving masterful, suspenseful tales packed with emotion and dripping with drama. Her stories are compelling and usually read-it-in-a-day kind of quick.
But they often leave us feeling like we oughtta wash our eyes out with soap. Or take a shower inside our head.
It took some doin’. But Her Momness and I? We were up to the challenge!
“What challenge?” ask ye.
Finding The Most Over-Rated Book of the Year.
Now, there were some real doozies in the running, mind you. With apologies to high school English teachers everywhere, neither of us can abide ‘stream of consciousness’ prose a la Faulkner. That’s one reason The Sound and the Fury made the list previously. Ditto Wuthering Heights and The Great Gatsby. And no, you won’t find The Most Over-Rated Book in the English Language on our list either. Hint: Catcher in the Rye. Gag me with Meow Mix!
But we just plowed through the Sorriest Slog of ‘Em All. We’re talking dull as a blunt spoon. If boring, bland and redundant were Olympic sports, this hunka junk would bring home the gold.
Can you guess what galactically lousy title gets the nod?
Great. We’ll tell you:
I mean, besides being all bright, beautiful and brilliant like me, Kimber the Classic Magnificent Wonder?
A true classic. “Hey, it’s me!”
Glad you asked. We’re gonna get to that. So just hang on a min, Cream Puff. Cuz right now we’re gonna play a bookish guessing game. Like this:
Can you identify the classic books and/or authors in which these first lines appear? (Answers below.)
Now that you have your thinking cap on – no idea what that is; Mom’s idea – here’s another question: What do these opening lines all have in common?
Rodeos. Barrel racing. A serial killer. A heroine named Hazel.
A heroine named Hazel? Say what? you say.
Yo! Her Momness and I will get to that shortly. So kindly keep your hair on, Cookie. First a little back story:
I was waiting outside The Book Place the other day with the patience of Job while Mom was inside, skipping merrily through the stacks looking for something to nab. She skidded to a halt in front of the Lucky Day shelf. For you young whippersnappers, this is an actual, physical shelf near the checkout where lots of the latest releases live. So if you find one that’s available for checkout it’s like, “Whoa Nellie*! It’s my Luck Day!” (*Mom Speak for “Whoa, Nellie.” Super excited.)
One of us – the one who’s been around since the Ark made landfall – is old enough to remember this super cool TV show called Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color.
Remember that one? Hosted by Walt Disney. Came on Sunday nights. Right after Lassie, Kimber’s alter ego. (Arf! Arf!) Had some of the best family entertainment around.
But the real hook? The opening where Tinkerbell flies around Sleeping Beauty’s castle, waves her fairy wand and splashes Living technicolor all over the logo. It was like magic. Repeat for you young whipper-snappers: It was like magic. (This was waaaay before the days of cheating with CGI and all that jazz.)
Anyway. What if you could find storybooks with that kind of magic for your littleun? Well. Thanks to Storybug, you can.
“The best day of my life was the day I found out I was not alone in the world” begins this slim, no-nonsense tome by Deborah Ellis, followed by, “This is how it happened.”
Easily read in a day or two, No Ordinary Day is narrated by the protagonist, Valli, a young orphan girl who escapes the coal pits of Jharia, India to roam the highways and byways of Kolkata, India. The story unfolds through Valli’s eyes, ears, and feet. Yes, feet. Feet that have been burnt, cut, and injured without an “Ouch!”
Wait. Do I smell bacon?
Well. Great gobs of galloping goose grease! And bacon! Lots and lots of bacon!
Mom and I got this book in the mail the other day. Added it to our TBR pile. You know. The one that’s about 256 feet tall. Her Momness says, “No worries, Kimmi. Let’s just take a quick peek at the book blurb. Maybe a gander at a sentence or two. Or a paragraph or… 67. A few pages… chapters… bases…”
Silly Mom.
Next thing ya know, it’s 1:47 a.m. We’re rounding third base. Sliding into home. And turning the last page. Silly Mom again. Cuz ya know what? We couldn’t put this thing down! (The book. Not the bacon. Well, okay. The bacon, too. But ya know what we mean, right?) Here’s why:
Pages & Paws 