We’ll Just Act Like Nothing Ever Happened

Life goes on…

A little cancer (not mine), kids growing up, career progressing, family happy, beloved friends dying, new people washing up on our shores and folding into our lives, vacations, adventures.  Life goes on.  Even, as it happens, if I don’t write about it.  Or particularly care to.

And then, one day.  I do.

I had a conversation via email once, with a friend, about whether or not female authors can successfully write male protagonists.  Mostly, I think we agreed – although my memory sucks these days – they cannot.  You might think that’s sexist or narrow minded of me.  But that’s what I’ve found.  Until and behold:  Liz Moore and Heft.

Mercy.  Such a good book.  And not just one, but TWO, count ‘em, TWO male protagonists.  Shazam.  If you told me that I would rate a novel about a teenage boy raised by a slightly off-center single mother in poverty and an obese shut-in depressive with delusions of grandeur so highly, I would have said, “HA! Not likely.”  But I would have been wrong.  I’ve recommend it to my reader people, and they agree.  Best book of last year.  It irritates me on Liz Moore’s behalf, yet delights me because it makes me feel like I know something they don’t, that this book wasn’t on all the Big Time “Best Books” lists.  Because it is.  It would also make excellent summer reading for high school students.  I know something about that.

And one more thing:  Junior Baby Love.  JBL.  Just saying.

Next.  I’m so late to this particular party that it’s embarrassing because I showed up in my pretty dress and made a space for myself in the center of the room and started twirling and showing off my sparkly earrings and was all, “Check me out, you guys!  Jonathan Tropper’s This is Where I Leave You!  It’s so funny and so perfect and so quick and so sad and so authentic and so…what? Oh.  Never mind.”  Because every person at the party had already read it.

But in case you haven’t, that’s all true.  And also, my dress is really pretty and my earrings are very sparkly.

 

 

 

Tits Magee – Back in the Saddle

Oh Terry.

Not much I love more than a favorite writer writing about a favorite subject.

Unless it’s a favorite writer writing about a favorite subject and then throwing in a page mentioning ME.

She practically turns inside out in delight.

Terry Darlington has written a third book, Narrow Dog to Wigan Pier, to follow up Narrow Dog to Indian River and Narrow Dog to Carcassonne.  I almost flew to England this summer in response to this: 

Terry and Monica Darlington and Transworld Publishers have pleasure in inviting you to the launch party for their new book 

NARROW DOG TO WIGAN PIER

 At Aston Marina, on the A51 south of Stone, anytime between 4.00pm and 7.00pm on Saturday the 23rd June 2012.

 Buffet, bar, visit the Phyllis May 2, signed books, whippets.

 We have so much appreciated your kind interest in our wretched books and we hope we will see you at the lovely Aston Marina on Saturday the 23rd of June.

 Chaste manly regards, love and muddy paws all up your jumper

From Tits Magee (to whom fear is a stranger), Monica X, Jim and Jess.

Alas, the launch coincided with my first day of summer vacation, and, as it turned out, a bad turn of health for my friend Terry/Tits.  (Much recovered, thank you very much and pleased to report according to the website.)

The book arrived, with help from a friend in London, though, in good time, and there, on page 305, Mr. Darlington writes about his correspondence with The Well Read Hostess, when she tries to decide whether she likes his writing or not in his first book (she does, much).  But I get ahead of myself, because page 305 is hardly the point.

Narrow Dog to Wigan Pier is more memoir than travelogue, but with the same stream of consciousness as in the earlier two books, and with the same dog love, but this time a touch more wistfulness.  Not softer – definitely not, I still laughed out loud, and Darlington deftly weaves autobiography with modern day journey. It’s like a second act Bildungsroman.  I admit it.  I love the man.  No worries, Monica.  He’s all yours.  He’s exhausting.  I think I want to be one of your dogs in my next life.  Maybe not the one who ends up hurt all the time.

Segue.

We have a plan.

It involves a boat.  And I think about it all the time, even though it is a long way off. It is one of those gut-check plans.  A double-dog dare kind of plan.  Which brings me back to Terry Darlington.  And his two dogs and his boat.  Nobody was every sorry for going for it, in love, in family, in friendship, in business, on land, on the water, in life. Right?

 

 

Is This a Trick Question?

The title of the book is Why Women Need Fat.  At first, the answer seemed obvious…so other women don’t hate them and talk about them behind their backs, duh.

I don’t usually review non-fiction books.  In fact, I don’t usually read much non-fiction, especially diet related non-fiction.   I like to do book reviews, though, and BlogHer’s review program is a good way to keep my hand in and I figured that given my little writing hiatus, I could use the kick in the drawers to get going.  The BlogHer review program pays a little bit (a very little bit – as in a few lattes) but I assure you that you will never read anything in a book review I write that isn’t my entirely unvarnished opinion.  Besides, BlogHer is paying me, not the authors of the book.

The authors of the book are William Lassek, an M.D., and Steven Gaulin, a Ph.D.  The title is a bit of a gimmick, obviously, but the premise of the book, refreshingly, is not.  Neither, more remarkably to me, was the delivery of the premise.  The point is the women have evolved to require a certain amount of body fat in certain places in their bodies, and men have evolved to appreciate that body fat where it should, evolutionarily speaking, land.

American women have, in case you haven’t been paying attention or were lost on a desert island island somewhere, are getting larger in an unhealthy way.  Obviously, I’m speaking in a general way here – this shouldn’t be a big newsflash to anybody.  The amount of weight and the placement of that weight on women’s bodies has been changing, particularly in this country, over the last few decades.  The authors of the book wonder why, and in noting that “as the American diet… changed to get ”healthier,’ food got less tasty, and yet Americans – especially women – started gaining weight”  they trace the scientific, anthropologic, and evolutionary history of women and diet and fat.

I could explain it all, but why should I, they did, and far more clearly and compellingly than I could.  (And people are continuing the discussion of many of the finer points of the book HERE, if you’re interested.) My only gripe is that there were times when I found myself saying, “For the love of Canola Oil, just give me a list of what I can and can’t eat,please!”  Which, by the way, they sort of did, in the back.  Instead of me re-hashing the whole shebang, you could read the book, which you might want to do, because I think it’s a gap in our cultural awareness.

I know there are people who are hardcore Food People, but I think most of us who can’t spend all of our food budget on top of the line produce and grass fed everything and who can’t spend all of our time researching this stuff could use a clear synopsis – which this book provides – about cleaner, healthier, simpler eating.

It’s not a diet book, although it might help some people lose some weight.  I appreciated the fact that research and data was explained to me in real terms, and not in metaphors, as though I am some kind of jello-brained seven year old incapable of comprehending anything not put in the context of popular culture.  I also felt comforted by the references to Michael Pollan, a familiar and reliable name.  Maybe that’s silly, but still.

Despite all the science talk and explanation of the principles behind what Lassek and Gaulin advocate and describe, ultimately, it’s about eating real food, rather than the processed crap we’ve been told will make our lives easier and then become addicted to.  It’s all very sensible and straightforward, and, if what it says on page 142, that a person can get as much DHA from the dark chocolate mousse made with omega 3 enriched eggs featured on the book’s cover as from a fish oil capsule, then I’m all for that.