I didn’t think I was going to get this post done. I hadn’t even looked at the topic until this morning, and this is one that requires some thought. But man, it’s right up my book/music alley. And I was one of the people that sent the B&B the suggestion to do this topic. So, I had to get it done. So I thought about it while I went about the rest of my packed day. And tada, we have a list.
There are a couple duplicate authors here. Some of that is because I didn’t give myself a lot of time. But it’s also because these books spoke to me in a way that easily connects with music. For some I have specific scenes related to the songs. For others, it’s just a general feeling.
The Replacement – Brenna Yovanoff
It’s all fire and brimstone. baby.
The Mission – Puscifer
This song gets to the overall feeling of the book, but would really highlight some of the scenes. I’m thinking the cemetery scene or going through the underground for the first time.
Today’s top ten list is a Valentine’s Day freebie. I’m sure this will mean many lists about romantic books and love and whatnot. But my favourite part of Valentine’s Day (besides the abundant amounts of chocolate) is Galentine’s day. Wait, you don’t know what that is? Let’s fix that.
All too often we get so caught up in trying to be the things we’re supposed to be – wife, mother, career woman, crazy single cat lady, whatever. To be the best at all the roles we’ve been assigned. In the need to be all things to all people at all times, we lose track of our relationships with other women. Relationships that aren’t about competition. The friends that support and sustain us. That give us an outlet to stop being those other things for a while and just be friends. Because for so much of our time, we’re expected to be all these other things.
My book picks this week focus on women caught in struggle. Women trying to find their footing when they don’t seem to fit anywhere. Women who could have used a good friend. Continue reading
Does the list of books to read ever stop growing? Nope.
The Undertaker’s Daughter by Kate Mayfield
After Kate Mayfield was born, she was taken directly to a funeral home. Her father was an undertaker, and for thirteen years the family resided in a place nearly synonymous with death. A place where the living and the dead entered their house like a vapor. The place where Kate would spend the entirety of her childhood. In a memoir that reads like a Harper Lee novel, Mayfield draws the reader into a world of Southern mystique and ghosts.
Kate’s father set up shop in a small town where he was one of two white morticians during the turbulent 1960s. Jubilee, Kentucky, was a segregated, god-fearing community where no one kept secrets, except the ones they were buried with. By opening a funeral home, Kate’s father also opened the door to family feuds, fetishes, and victims of accidents, murder, and suicide. The family saw it all. They also saw the quiet ruin of Kate’s father, who hid alcoholism and infidelity behind a cool, charismatic exterior. As Mayfield grows from trusting child to rebellious teen, she begins to find the enforced hush of the funeral home oppressive, and longs for the day she can escape the confines of her small town.
Recently, I was wandering through the bug room at a museum. In the back corner, there was a wall of butterfly boxes. I turned to my friend and said, ‘If I’d grown up somewhere different, I wonder if I would have known that there were jobs like this. If I’d lived in a different town, I think my life might have taken an entirely different path.” And for a brief moment, I resented the life that brought me to this place where I wasn’t tacking these beautiful bugs in boxes. Then I got over it, because I was out with people I wouldn’t know on that life path. But the characters in Rader-Day’s “Little Pretty Things” are stuck in this cycle of life resentment. Especially Juliet. A once promising track star, she now cleans rooms in a rundown motel off the interstate. Her life is not sunshine and roses.
Small towns are… well, if you’ve never lived in one, you can’t really know. Literally. It is inexplicable to people who grew up in cities. I equate it to working in an office. You basically know everyone, and you have to be careful what you say where, cause information will always get back to someone it’s not supposed to. But in the small town scenario, there’s no going home. Home is just more people that you know. There’s no anonymous trip to the store. You buy tampons, you’re buying them from someone in your class, or the child of someone you work with, or the woman who’s been working behind that counter longer than you’ve been alive. If you’re trying to get pregnant (which everyone already knows), the town will soon know that it didn’t happen this month. If you don’t want people to know you’re having sex, you leave town to buy condoms. It’s a strange microcosm of awfulness. But for some people, small town life is exactly what they want. They like having the lack of anonymity. They like knowing their neighbours. They find security in it. Continue reading
This week’s topic is new to me authors in 2015. This year was a real mixed bag for authors. I read some truly excellent books and a whole lot more that were merely meh. I had a lot of DNF’s over the last twelve months. Even with all the terrible reads, there have been some excellent author discoveries.
If you haven’t had the chance to enjoy books by these writers, pick one and run with them.
Did I really only discover Summers this year? I feel like she’s always been in my reading life. She was the best thing to happen to my book collection this year.