I am not exactly a huge football fan...ok so about the only reason I will attend a football game is to watch the marching band. However, there is one book that has gotten me more than a little interested in the sport, Dairy Queen by Catherine Gilbert Murdock.
For me, the novelty of year-long project books wore off long before A.J. Jacobs dulled my enthusiasm with The Year of Living Biblically and Gretchen Rubin killed my tolerance completely with The Happiness Project.
Would my review seem unprofessional if I simply said, “I la-la-la-loooooved this book” and left it at that? John Bingham recounts his transformation from a child who played for the sheer joy of it to a small and un-athletic high school music geek, desperate to be one of the cool school athletes. He then recounts his next transformation, from an over-weight, beer-swilling, chain-smoker to an “adult onset athlete,” running simply for the joy of it. Most of us can relate to the crushing disappointments and humiliations inherent to competitive sports.
Chloe Pinter loves helping families realize their dream of having children through her job at a private adoption agency. And she’s good at it. But as one family’s dreams come closer to fruition, another family’s dreams are shattered, and Chloe is left to pick up the pieces.
After an adult Halpern moves in with his parents, he starts tweeting things his Dad says. In short order so many people are following his tweets that the media contacts him for interviews and appearances. Those tweets are compiled and found in Sh*t My Dad Says. While I found most of the things his father says hilarious, I appreciate that some people are disturbed, not only by the foul language he uses, but the manner in which he addresses his children.
Being a public librarian with access to an unending supply of books, it takes something really special to make me want to part with $27.00 just so I can call it my own. Ruhlman has found the secret in Ratio and my copy should be in my mailbox by tomorrow. It's a weird format for a cookbook in that Ruhlman buries his recipes in parts or chapters that explain the basic ratios for, for instance, doughs and batters.
It happens to all library users sooner or later. A book, for reasons unknown, appears on your hold shelf and you have no idea when or why you requested it. This time it was Flower Children by Maxine Swann, and while I have no recollection of requesting it, I’m glad I did. Told in short story format by the children of devout hippies, Flower Children offers a glimpse into a culture where children are raised without limits and adults show little restraint.
When Annie and William Taylor witness an execution in the woods they run to the safety of the first passing car. But the driver isn’t just a passerby; he is one of the executioners. They escape and are on the run again, this time knowing they can’t trust anybody. Eduardo Villatoro, a newly retired detective, just happens to be in town following up on some unlikely clues to the only unsolved murder of his career. As Villatoro gets closer to solving the crime, he also gets closer to Annie and William. But will he get there in time?
As a fan of the show Mystery Science Theater 3000, I have a great appreciation for Michael J. Nelson. Sure, some people prefer Joel, the first host, but I started with Mike and have always had a soft spot for his dorky delivery and hapless enthusiasm. And as the head writer, his wit was a major force behind the overall flavor of the show’s ten seasons.
Warning: there is a dog on the cover of this book. There is a dog in the book. There is a dog living in Paul’s apartment, and she is a special dog. Don’t ask me if the dog dies. I already know you don’t want to read another book in which the dog dies. So don’t ask, because the book isn’t about the dog. The book is about Paul.