Love Walked In by Marisa de los Santos

Alternate titles: Why You Should Never Spend Time Alone With Your Sister's Husband; or, Happily Ever After Never Seemed So Unbelievable; or, A Convenient Love Story.

This was one of those books I should have done a little more looking into before actually reading it. But it was on Modern Mrs. Darcy's minimalist summer reading list (she narrowed down the full-length summer reading guide to just five must-reads), and when I took a brief glance at Goodreads, a couple of people I follow had given it five stars.

All those things made it seem promising. But ugh. Ugh, bleh, meh.

I disliked this book on so many levels and for so many different reasons.

Cornelia works in a cafe in Philadelphia. She's short and spunky and likes old movies. She is content with her life and doesn't feel much ambition to change anything. But then, one day a Cary Grant lookalike walks through the door of the cafe, and Cornelia's whole world changes. (All of the old movie references were one of the few things I actually liked about this book, although I can't stand The Philadelphia Story, so maybe that should have given me some clue about how much I'd like the book.)

Meanwhile 10-year-old Clare is very concerned about her mother, who is doing really strange things like buying every color of towel in the store or cooking up a feast in the middle of the night or walking outside in December in a summer dress. Clare doesn't know what to do. She tries to call her father, but he and her mother divorced many years ago, and he's never taken much interest in her life. That doesn't change even when she informs him about her mother's erratic behavior.

In case you haven't figured it out, Clare's father turns out to be the same person as the Cary Grant lookalike. Cornelia starts dating him without even realizing that he has an ex-wife and a daughter.

But things become complicated when Clare's mother drives away and abandons her. Clare is forced to go to her father, and he is forced to take her in. And Cornelia is the only reason this situation works out. She and Clare hit it off immediately, and Clare stays at Cornelia's apartment while they try to find her mother. In the midst of all this, Teo Sandoval, Cornelia's childhood friend and now brother-in-law, shows up rather unexpectedly. He brings stability to the situation and together they figure out what they should do to help Clare.

I usually try to make my reviews a healthy mix of criticism and praise, but unfortunately, I have very little to praise about this book. Sure, I liked Cornelia, Clare, and Teo. And the writing was actually fine (it's told from two points of view: first person Cornelia and third person Clare). But everything (yes, I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say everything) about the plot didn't work out for me.

For one thing, it was totally unrealistic--not just Clare's complete trust in Cornelia (given the trauma she'd just been through, maybe it was natural for her to find someone stable to latch on to), but also Cornelia's instant love for Clare. She was a nice little girl, that's true, but relationships of love and trust take time. After a mere two weeks, Cornelia already puts her love for Clare on the same level as Clare's own mother, and there's just no way that two weeks can match nearly eleven years, and it irritated me that the author would try to pass this off as realistic.

Speaking of the author, she also ignored all of the troublesome or difficult characters. We only ever know Martin Grace (Clare's father) or Viviana (Clare's mother) on very superficial levels. But the one omission that is so glaring as to make it unforgiveable is that of Ollie (Cornelia's sister and Teo's wife). She is there for drama's sake and not much else. We know so little about her that it is easy to brush past her feelings as unimportant to the story. She is conveniently distant, cool, and, most importantly, absent. That's not only poor writing, it's cowardly (and yes, that sounds dramatic, but in my opinion you'd only ignore the sister/wife if you were afraid to humanize her).

And then there were all of the things that, oh wow, rather conveniently happened in order for things to work out just perfectly. I won't tell you what they were in case any of you want to read the book (which, I'm sure after this glowing review, many of you will). But just know that the author stops at nothing--deaths, divorces, inheritances--to give her characters the things they apparently deserve.

I'm not much of a chick-lit reader, so maybe plots that border on the ridiculous are the norm for this genre, and I just had the wrong sort of expectations. I almost stopped reading a half dozen times but kept talking myself back into it, thinking that it was going to redeem itself, but it didn't.

If you've read it, I would most definitely be interested in your opinion, especially if you liked it. Maybe you saw something I didn't.

Content note: Maybe it goes without saying given the rest of my feelings for the book, but there's a fair bit of language and sex in this one.

A Heart Revealed by Josi S. Kilpack

I took voice lessons for a brief few months when I was 14 or 15. They didn’t last very long, and now one of the only things I remember from them was that my voice teacher was overwhelmingly positive . . . to a fault. She was constantly kind and complimentary, praising me up one side and down another, so you would have thought my self-esteem would have soared under her tutelage. But it didn’t. After just a few weeks, I felt like I couldn’t trust her. I didn’t know which compliments were real and which ones were there because she was afraid to hurt my feelings. I became so grateful for my piano teacher who was formidably honest about everything (including the color of my fingernails). But when she gave me a compliment, I glowed with pleasure because I knew it was the real deal.

I have thought about that contrasting experience many times over the last three years as I’ve written about and reviewed books on this blog. When I’m hesitant to share something I didn’t like, I remember my experience with my two music teachers. I realize that if I only write glowing reviews, they will soon become meaningless because no one will know if I’m giving my true opinion or just gently smoothing over the surface, being careful not to disturb the waters underneath.

You’ve probably guessed from that little introduction that the review I’m about to write is one that would make my piano teacher proud because even though it might not be overwhelmingly positive, it will be honest.

Set in England during the Regency Era, Amber Sterlington has it all: beauty, wealth, and her choice of eligible bachelors. When she enters a room, other people notice . . . including Thomas Richards, who is in London for the Season before returning to his country estate in Yorkshire. Thomas is but the third son of a country lord and knows he doesn’t have a chance of winning Amber’s attention. But still, her obvious arrogance and condescension towards him make him burn with humiliation.

This arrogance affects Amber’s other relationships as well, including those with her mother, sister, and maid. She doesn’t recognize the damage she has done until she unexpectedly begins to lose her hair. As her condition worsens, she is shunned from society, and she realizes she doesn’t have a single friend or family member to turn to for love, comfort and support. After many months, and as her prospects permanently crumble, Amber’s heart softens, and she emerges a much kinder and wiser person.

Because of its focus on a rare health disorder, this is far from your typical Regency romance. I certainly appreciated the author’s boldness in branching out and tackling a difficult subject. However, there were times, many times actually, when I felt like the novel was using Amber’s condition as a crutch. Forming the plot around a unique disease does not instantly make a deep and touching story, and in the end, the originality was not enough to carry the rest of the book through some of its other flaws.

·       For example, the pacing was very slow. This isn't unusual for a Regency romance, but the conversations and details that happened in the meantime were so uninteresting and repetitive that I had a really difficult time making it through to anything that was actually noteworthy. There was very little interaction between Amber and Thomas (and what does happen mostly occurs with a wall between them). When they finally see each other and speak face to face at the end, it made me a little uncomfortable, rather than happy. I guess part of the problem was that I just never liked Amber. At first, she was too stuck up and by the end, she was too humble. It wasn't that I felt like her transition was unbelievable, just that I didn't like either result.

·         It also felt really preachy to me. That is an adjective I strive to avoid in my reviews, but in this case, I can't help myself. From Amber’s condition to messages about inner beauty to even comments about modesty (when Amber walks into the room in a revealing gown, Thomas chastises himself because he knows “he [is] the one in keeping of his own thoughts and ought not to blame her manner of dress for his own weakness”), I just felt like little ideas were being compartmentalized and forced onto me.

The book did generate some strong emotions from me, which I think says something positive for it. I liked Amber’s maid, Suzanne, and appreciated this thought from her, “I . . . believe that there are people in every society who would prefer the heart you have grown, to the beauty you left behind to find it.” (But it would have been more powerful if I hadn’t read almost the same sentiment several more times.)   

On the flip side, I felt a strong dislike for Amber’s family, who, instead of rallying around her, banished her to Yorkshire so they wouldn’t be tainted by her appearance. Her father’s words especially made me so angry: “That you have to endure such a thing is unfortunate indeed, but I should think you would not want your family to suffer along with you. I should think that as a woman of feeling and sound mind you should want to protect us from such derision, not ask that we share it with you.” 

As I've written this review, I've tried to think about how I would have altered it if I happened to personally know the author. Would I have mentioned the things I didn't like? Would I have focused on the things I did like? For sure, such a relationship would have made this review even more difficult to write, and I don't know what I would have done. However, in the end, I think my reaction to it was far simpler than I've made this review out to be. It wasn't so much like vs. dislike but just plain, old boredom. I guess it just wasn't for me.

I received an advance copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.

Review x 2: The Trouble With Magic and Hank the Cowdog

The boys and I recently finished a couple of books. They weren't standout stories by any means, but I wanted to write about them anyway.

1. The Trouble With Magic by Ruth Chew
Erica at What Do We Do All Day recently posted a list of 12+ Books for Kids Not Ready for Harry Potter. She included Ruth Chew's books on the list, and they looked like something my kids would like, so I checked out The Trouble with Magic. On further investigation, I realized that I'd actually read several of her books when I was a kid (Summer Magic and The Witch at the Window among them). Many of them have recently been re-released with new covers, which is why I didn't recognize them right off.

This particular story is about two siblings (Barbara and Rick) whose parents are conveniently away the same weekend they accidentally release a wizard from a bottle (yes, a wizard--not a genie). The wizard (named Harrison Peabody) uses his umbrella to perform magic, which means he can only do it when it's raining. Needless to say, this results in a lot of trouble because the weather can be a little unpredictable.

Personally, I didn't love this book. For one thing, Harrison Peabody creeped me out--not because he was actually creepy but because, fantasy or not, I didn't like it that two children were being asked to hide and care for an adult.

For another, the story had no depth. The children met the wizard, had a few mishaps with magic, fixed what they could, and then Harry went off to traumatize other children left. As far as chapter books go, it is on the young end, which might be why it felt a little bland, but I've read enough books at that level to know that it's not impossible to write a good story for the nine and under crowd. So yeah, a little disappointing.

That said, my kids liked it quite a bit (especially the parts with George, the sea monster), and I didn't hate it so much that I wouldn't read another one by Ruth Chew. (And I definitely didn't hate it so much that I won't urge my kids to read the rest of her books on their own.)

2. The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog by John R. Erickson
I have this distinct memory of myself as an eight-year-old, wrapped up in my pink quillow (that's a quilt that can turn into a pillow, for those of you who were never privileged to own one), sitting on top of the heater vent in the little corner created between the couch and the loveseat, (a habit I acquired young) and reading, Hank the Cowdog. It's a sweet, happy memory--one that I longed to recreate for my kids.

And so I checked out Hank the Cowdog.

. . . I should have stuck with pink quillows and heater vents and left Hank out of it.

In short, Hank is a cowdog and the Head of Ranch Security. One morning, he wakes up to find there's been a murder overnight: a chicken is dead, and he's determined to find out who did it. 

Why didn't I like it? Let me count the ways:

1. Hank is rude. ("Idiot," "Stupid," and "Dumb" are among his favorite insults.)
2. Hank has a potty mouth. (I talked about how much I dislike this type of talking in this review. There was a lot of editing on my end, yes there was.)
3. It is violent. (There is an epic fight at the end, and I was disturbed by how much they said, "I'm going to kill you" and "You're going to die" and talked about tearing out each other's throats. I'm grateful it didn't give my children nightmares.)
4. They get drunk and engage in other obnoxious and disreputable habits. All the characters are all-around, horrible role models. 
5. When it wasn't any of the above, it was super cheesy with lots of slap-stick humor and idioms that went right over my kids' heads.

So you're probably wondering why I read the whole thing.

Because my kids loved it. So embarrassing to admit, but it's true. I begged them to let me stop reading it, but they were so excited to find out what happened. In between readings, they talked about it: "Remember when Hank and Drover were teasing Bruno, and his owner came out of the store, and they laid down and pretended they were asleep? Wasn't that so funny?" And the night we finished it, Aaron said to me, "Wasn't that such a good book?" I was completely honest and told him I didn't like it at all, but I was glad he enjoyed it.

The only thing I liked about the book (and it's really taking a lot of effort on my part to come up with anything) was the voice I used for Missy the coyote. I really nailed it, if I do say so myself.

What do you think? Am I being too harsh on poor Hank? Which books have you muscled your way through because your kids liked them?