October 2009

The Help

During the summer, we were at the library checking out and another librarian and another patron were discussing a book that had just arrived on reserve for her. The librarian said it was the “hottest” book of the summer in the library. TW and I strained across the desk to see what it was, The Help. huh. We hadn’t heard of it.

I went home, put it on my reserve list and forgot about it.

It arrived last week and my goodness, it’s not in very good shape for such a new book. It’s made the rounds and it’s binding is in serious trouble (and it’s not TW’s fault for taking it in the bathtub either.)

Anyway, about the book. I see why it’s a hot commodity here in the Chicagoland suburbs. It’s nicely written. It’s about the relationship between white women in Mississippi and their maids. I loved the characters, all of them. Even the horrible white women who are very hard to love.

Great book that I did not want to end. I want to know what happens to Skeeter. To Minny. To poor Celia. To evil Hilly. To those little white children of Elizabeth’s, who God help them are going to be in some big trouble unless they get some help.

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A dead iPhone is better than an iPod Touch

Liz is an iPhone addict, or she would be an iPhone addict if she had an iPhone of her own. She’s the child most likely to stand beside of my desk playing with the apps. She’s the child most likely to dial @LisaStone’s phone number by mistake because she’s trying to figure out how all of the features work. She’s the child who is dying for an iPod Touch because she loves my iPhone so much.

We almost bought her one last Christmas. We thought about buying her one for her birthday. We probably would have bought her one this Christmas but she said she was saving her money to buy one of her own so… more power to her, we could support that.

But fate stepped in and presented @thatwoman with a broken iPhone. Broken just enough that she needs a replacement phone but not enough that she should just throw the old one away. The only thing wrong with TW’s phone is that the touchscreen doesn’t work in one pretty important area.

Picture the iPhone’s keypad. Picture yourself dialing into a conference call and being asked to type in the passcode followed by the # sign. Oops – can’t dial the #. Or the * or the 0. That entire strip of the phone is a dead zone. It either doesn’t DO anything if you tap it or it gives an error.

So, TW has a new iPhone 3gs (hey! North is that way! has been heard several times in the last 24 hours) and Liz has something much better than an iPod Touch. She has a de-activated iPhone. Which means she has everything that the iPod Touch has except she also has a camera – and of course she has a wee bit of a deadzone in the touchscreen but she’s come up with interesting ways around that. She’s smart – and she’s thrilled with her new toy. (I’m also thrilled because she has not walked away with my iPhone all day. And my iPhone screen is much, muich cleaner than it usually is.)

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Nation

I’m not a Terry Pratchett fanatic. I like him well enough but not that much. I’ve probably only read three of his books, well four now that I’ve read Nation.

It started slow but once I settled down with it, I liked it very much. I’m even a little sad that it doesn’t sound like there’s a sequel. Too bad, I’d have liked Daphne and Mau to have continued.

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Crank

Alrighty, I’ve done my supporting banned and challenged books thing for the season. Two Ellen Hopkins books down and I swear I’m not going to read another one. Really. I’m not. I can’t. I just can’t do it.

I was enjoying Crank well enough. Reading Identical last week got me nice and prepped for the prose and RJ ranting about the stupidity and unrealistic lifestyle choices of “Bree” had me ready to tackle this “fantasy”.

Hah. It wasn’t as unrealistic as RJ would like to think but it was stupid – at least that part where the crank addicted 17 year old decided to carry her pregnancy to term and Kristina’s mother was glad she “honored her baby” and didn’t abort. Oh freaking brother.

Nope, can’t read any more Hopkins. That sealed it for me.

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South of Broad

I can’t help but like Pat Conroy, I just can’t. Even when I roll my eyes at his long foofy sentences and all of the D-R-A-M-A. I just can’t help it. It’s the Charlestonian in me. Sue me.

South of Broad gets more right about Charleston than most books set in my home town. On the rare occasion that Conroy gets something wrong, I can forgive him.

I even forgive him for throwing in Hugo for very little good reason that I could come up with. If you wanted to do away with someone, there were better ways. If you wanted to hook Leo and Molly up again, there were also better ways. But then again, that’s what Charleston is like – all roads lead to Hugo. OK OK fine, I forgive you Conroy. Just don’t write another book that includes Hugo, please.

Oh, one more thing… shorter epilogues, please.

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