Candy Freak by Steve Almond

Candy Freak by Steve Almond

I never knew how much I loved chocolate until I read this book.  It is hysterically funny and I craved a candy bar, any kind of candy bar the entire time I was reading it.  Last week I took it with me to the hairdresser to amuse me while I had my grey covered.  On the counter was a huge jar of leftover Halloween candy. My mouth watered and it was all I could do to restrain myself not to ravage the container of its chocolate and wildly stuff it into my mouth.  All at once. 

Steve Almond swears he has eaten candy everyday of his life.  He describes the taste of different chocolate like you would a fine wine, with a fruity bouquet and a smoky finish.  I learned so much about the inner workings of a candy factory, the sifters and enrobers all described as things of beauty. I have no doubt now that these fine metal machines, truly are exquisite.

The tales of candy bars of days gone by made me remember a tour of Sweetie's in Cleveland.  I went there with my sister and her three grandchildren.  While the kids swarmed the Jelly Bellies and Gummy Bears, I spent my time in the nostalgic candy aisle.  I loaded up with Turkish Taffy, Bit O'Honey and Chuckles.  I spent some time agonizing over the Charleston Chew but opted against it.  I'd recently spent a pretty penny on dental work.  

Almond hooked me however, from the very beginning when he said his mother tricked him when he sneaked a slab of bittersweet baking chocolate out of the kitchen cupboard.  I remember a similar incident of my own.  He wondered about the purple wafer in the roll of Necco.  I never liked it either.  And if I ever find out where Mr. Almond has stashed his Kit Kat Darks...  I'm raiding the place.

The Silence of Trees by Valya Dudycz Lupescu

I have no recollection how I came to purchase this book for my Kindle.  My guess is it was on special at Amazon one day while I was browsing.  Based on the charges to my credit card this month, that is the most likely scenario.  You see, the Kindle has made buying a book even easier than shopping in the bookstore. One click and I instantly have something new to read.  I still have a backlog of unread novels, the difference is they are conveniently stored in the confines of my reading device and no longer consume shelf space or kill any trees.

I'm glad I took a chance on an unfamiliar book by an unknown author.  The Silence of Tree is a wonderful story that spans the life of Nadya.  As a teenage girl in the Ukraine, Nadya longs to know her future from a gypsy fortune teller.  She sneaks out of bed in the middle of the night and heads deep into the forest.  When she returns home she finds the house on fire and her family missing. From this point forward, Nadya's life follows the gypsy's prediction for her.

Fast forwarding fifty years, Nadya's story of war and loss is told through flashbacks as she tries to come to grips with the secrets she's kept all this time.  She's tried to instill the ways and customs of the Ukraine in her children.  It's difficult for her to accept their modern, American lives.  She's visited often by spirits from her past.

Nadya was always looking for a message but what struck me was the message I found for myself.  She met a soldier in a grove of linden trees near the DP camp she spent time in during the war.  And she spoke of the word for faith in Ukrainian, vira.  I've written a novel about a linden tree while living here in Viera, a town named after the Slovak word for faith.  I think it's probably time to dust that manuscript off and turn it into something special.

The Silence of Trees may be on sale in the Kindle store but it's worth every penny and more to read the heartfelt and emotional story of the ability of love to heal us all.

Look Homeward, Angel by Thomas Wolfe

Lately, I've found that I enjoy reading the classics.  My step mother, June, told me that Thomas Wolfe is her cousin.  She has some very old editions of his works on her bookshelf.  June was born and raised in Pennsylvania Dutch  country. Thomas Wolfe's wing of the family had ended up in North Carolina.  Until my journey into the world of writing started, I didn't read much classic literature.  I dismissed it as being too heavy and burdensome.  Now that I read with a writer's eye, I'm glad I finally took the time for Thomas Wolfe.
  
One of the things that is talked about often in my writing seminars is to go deep, linger, dwell.  A reader wants to create in their mind, using only the words on the page, the scenes and characters, get to know them, and love them or hate them.  There are no characters in Look Homeward, Angel that are very likeable.  Eugene Gant is the youngest child of an alcoholic stonecarver and a selfish and miserly mother.  The family is divided when his mother, Eliza buys a boarding house to run, leaves the family home and takes Eugene with her.  The other children move back and forth between their father's unpredictable ways and their mother's drive to build her real estate holdings.

As I read this novel, I became deeply involved in their lives.  Every rich detail of the town they lived in, the clothes they wore, the food they ate, drew me closer.  I was one of them.  The book had a readers guide in the back.  One of the discussion questions was whether a reader felt that Thomas Wolfe's style was brilliantly experimental or undisciplined and unstructured.  Sometimes I thought it was undisciplined.  I found myself skipping over some words that I considered unnecessary.  But then I would stop and think.  What was meaningless to me in the 21st century, was a way of life during the times of the early 20th century.

Look Homeward, Angel is not a book for the modern palate.  If you're looking for a fast, tension filled read this novel is not for you.  If you want to submerse yourself into the life of another era, and become a part of the story then Look Homeward, Angel is worth the time.  I say Thomas Wolfe is a writer who's brilliant.

What's Behind the Story These Days?

I reviewed my recent blog postings and I noticed that there was far more 'story' than 'behind the story' lately.  That means I'm reading alot of books and that makes me happy.  But I must be doing other things, but what?  I had to think.

I've been sick, really sick with a bad chest cold and some kind of nasty virus according to the doctor.  My daily bike ride with Richard had been crossed off the agenda.  When I couldn't stand being cooped up in the house any longer I decided to take my bike out for a short spin.  Only to find out the tire was flat. Back  in the garage Richard handed me the pressure gauge.

"Check the pressure," he said.
I bent down, unscrewed the cap on the tire and pressed the gauge in.  The end popped out.
"What's the pressure?  C'mon hurry up.  What's the pressure?"  That's Richard always in a hurry.
I studied the gauge and then turned it over to look at the other side.  And then the other side just to be sure.
"It's in Chinese. I have no idea what the pressure is." On four all sides of the white stick were red Chinese characters.  No numbers only characters I couldn't read.  I handed him back the gauge and went back inside to bed.
"No wonder the tire store gave you that for free."  Richard is big on getting free stuff.

A few days later, Richard decided he needed a new phone.  His Motorola Razzor was on it's last legs.  The guy at the phone store said Richard was seven years overdue for an upgrade.  He's never known anyone to keep a phone that long.  Richard, not being very computer savvy, picked out the most basic of phones for $29.95.
 The clerk handed me the manual to read while he transferred the phone numbers.
"Hey, look Richard.  I can set your phone to remind you when to take your pills."
"I don't take any pills," he answered.
"I know.  But you're an old fart.  I'd probably have to download an app for $3.99 to get a pill reminder on my I phone."
Sometimes less is more.

Yesterday we went to the Art in Sand at the Space Coast Stadium.  After our stomachs were full with  baseball style junk food, we headed to the field to view the sand.  It's pretty amazing what can be sculpted in sand.  We were impressed to say the least.  Until I spotted a mound covered with a tarp.

"Richard.  The pitcher's mound.  Let's check it out."
We raced each other to the top of a major league pitcher's mound and pretended to throw a pitch.  Home plate is very far away.  Then we strolled out to center field.  A baseball field is a huge place and those outfielders have a large territory to cover. Walking the field left us even more in awe of our favorite pastime.
 
"Let's go home and watch the game."  Even though our beloved Tampa Bays Rays were out of the running the playoff games captivated us.  And then it hit me.

That's what I'd been doing.  Laying on the sofa, nursing my cough, watching legends being born in October.  Ahhh I love baseball.  
 

Blood Rights by Kristen Painter

Initially I thought I could hide behind my usual excuse, "I don't normally read vampire stories" in this book review.  Until I realized I'd read a few vampire stories over the past few months. Maybe I'm bordering on being an expert and didn't know it.  I don't think so.  Uhmm.  Maybe. Vampire novels however, throw me back to my days rushing home from school in time to watch Dark Shadows.  That was in the days before DVR's so if I missed it I was out of luck.  Something really important had to happen before I missed Dark Shadows.  Blood Rights contained some images that threw my photographic memory back to some episodes I clearly remember about a detached hand and a ring. (I don't want to give away anything more!)

Anyway, enough about me.  Blood Rights is an action packed mystery, thriller, romance with blood and fangs at the heart of it all.  Chrysabelle and Mal become unlikely allies in the hunt for a murderer.  As a comarre, a person who is bred for pure blood rights which are purchased by vampire nobility, Chrysabelle lives a life full of secrets.  In order to save herself and her aunt, the secrets must be peeled away like the skin of an onion.  It makes for a fast paced story full of unexpected twists and turns.

Kristen Painter is a talented writer expert at crafting a dark and dangerous world filled with captivating characters and creatures.  Blood Rights is a page turner even for a vampire novice, uh lover, like me.

Rules of Civility by Amor Towles

The first chapter of this novel had me at 'Hello'.  A woman and her husband viewing a display of photographs taken in the New York City subway twenty some years ago.  They recognize an old friend.  He looks sharp, crisp, well off as they remember him.  Further down the wall they see him again.  He seems to have fallen from grace.

The story that unfolds is Katey Kontent's version of the downfall of Tinker Grey.  And I loved most of this story.  The author is gifted in setting the scenes and bringing the characters to life.  It just seemed to drag on too long to get to the end.  The majority of this book is lively and entertaining.  I felt let down by the time I reached the end.  I understand that life doesn't wrap up and get tied up in a neat little bow.  But Rules of Civility left me unsatisfied in the end.

Pictures of You by Caroline Leavitt

This is one of those books that frustrates a fledgling writer like me.  I can't remember how I came across this title or why I downloaded it to my Kindle, but I'm sure it looked interesting to me. 

The story started out fine, two marriages about to collapse and a little boy caught in the middle.  A car accident that leaves a mother dead is the catalyst to the rest of the story.  And I enjoyed the story... for awhile.  The writing deteriorated into something just this side of a wet dishrag.  The characters followed suit, becoming dull and uninteresting.  And if the author used the expression 'cupped his face' one more time I might have stopped reading.  She used the same description over and over again that it detracted from her ability to tell a story. 

And then one simple bit of research that the author didn't bother to do, set me over the edge.  Charlie goes to Pittsburgh to find the man his dead wife was having an affair with.  The man tells his side of the story and that his own wife is a nurse at McGee Women's Hospital.  Most readers wouldn't even give the name of a hospital a second glance.  I, however, was born in Pittsburgh at Magee Women's Hospital.  As soon as I read it, I knew something wasn't right. 

As a writer myself, I work hard at giving  readers what makes them happy.  This author seemed to shove out words without a thought and still got published.  Arrggghhhhh!!!!