feet first

A good book is a thing of beauty. A good book that makes you laugh at a sweet, goofy, human’s folly, and you have a party wrapped in a book jacket.

Peter Mehlman’s debut novel, It Won’t Always Be This Great, is quite possibly the sweetest, funniest novel orbiting the planet of mid-life crisis well, ever.  Though Mehlman is no writing novice, he wrote for the Jerry Seinfeld show and rose to executive producer at one point; this is his first work of full-length fiction.

In It Won’t Always Be This Great, we meet a 50 year-old Long Island podiatrist who throughout the book remains nameless, just as he is about to hit stride in messy patch of mid-life angst.  Dr. X is father to two amazing kids, lovely, precocious,  14 year old Esme, and son Charlie, who while hovering at the cusp of  tweenhood, makes adorably naïve pronouncements about how the world appears to work, and according to him, how it should work. CLICK HERE TO READ MORE 

Great

sweet sister shoutout

Happy International Women’s Day! Show the amazing women you know, including yourself, a little well-earned appreciation! 

 “She had the perpetual sense, as she watched the taxi cabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very, dangerous to live even one day.” Virginia Woolf, Mrs. Dalloway

RosieTheRiveter

read me

Miniaturist hc c

::REVIEW::

Set in 17th century Amsterdam, The Miniaturist is the story of young Nella, a country girl possessing an important name and no fortune, newly married to Johannes Brandt, a wealthy Amsterdam merchant. After a short introduction and even shorter courtship, Nella is quickly married to Brandt before he vanishes back to the city to conduct his important business, leaving his bride behind to follow him when she will.

With little beside an address to go by, Nella arrives in Amsterdam and finds Brandt’s grand manor in the best part of town, but she does not find her husband. Instead, she finds Brandt’s formidable sister, Marin, who is head of the household and manager of Brandt’s business affairs. There is the fiercely loyal household cook, maid, and chief snoop, Cornelia, who was rescued from an orphanage. There is also Brandt’s valet, Otto, a slave acquired on a trip to the East Indies, then freed and employed by Brandt himself. Nella takes her established place in her husband’s home and begins to discover the secrets that form the heartbeat of her new family.

Brandt is formidable and handsome, a respected member of Amsterdam’s merchant class and leader in the Dutch East Indian Company.  His business interests keep him far from home, and so do appetites that in Calvinist Amsterdam put the family squarely on a path of destruction. But he is generous and kind to Nella. As a wedding gift and to keep her occupied in her newly elevated role of married lady, Brandt presents Nella with a model replica of his house and instructs her to fill it as she will. Resourceful Nella discovers a miniaturist in the city who provides her with exquisitely detailed replicas to furnish her small house. Before long however, Nella discovers that the miniatures, which begin to arrive without having been commissioned, form premonitions of household events. Mysteries stack up. Increasingly, Nella feels herself being watched, and she herself begins to listen at keyholes. She feels as if she is working out a puzzle. No one will tell her the truth – or at least not all of it.

Austere Marin wears modest dresses of black wool. . .lined with ermine and silk. She is educated and vicious as a hawk, a grown woman who chooses spinsterhood over marriage for the freedom that it affords her. But surely there are lovers? No one seems to know for certain; or if they do, they are not talking.

In accordance with her very dignified position, Nella is introduced to Amsterdam society to great interest, the child-bride of the great Johannes Brandt. She is given an allowance and complete freedom to navigate the city at will. She learns the city’s sophisticated social customs of and grows into her position as a married lady.  In the end, Nella grows up quickly and manages to save herself, if not the Brandts.

The Miniaturist has all the appeal of an historical romance, except the romance is found in all the most unexpected places. As a pager-turner, The Miniaturist can’t be beat.

Cynthia G.

dream of me

Some books are slightly disturbing and others are downright chilling. Here’s a book to take to bed with you when you’re sure you’re not being watched.

 Anatomy of dreams

read::write::repeat

We love the offbeat and unusual. . .especially where it concerns first novels.

Read this book! Support the Arts!

elect h mouse

 

bookstore job

books. we love ’em.

get your book love on here.

Mr_Penumbras_24-Hour_Bookstore-199x300

sweet like honeysuckle

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAThirteen Ways of Looking at Words

Arianna Rich

 

Words:

They’re sweet like

honeysuckle,

hiding in the bushes.

II

They’re the words

of mourning, when you get

a midnight phone call:  “There was a crash…”

III

Words can be soothing,

a gentle caress of your cheek

just when you need it the most.

IV

They’re lemon bitter, the hate words.

They jump down your throat and

Sit

like a lump,

no oxygen escaping and none slipping in,

threatening to bring tears to your eyes.

V

They’re Swift

like a shadow

in the night,

slipping through the darkness without a trace of light.

VI

They’re soft and swirly and light as a feather.

White cotton sheets,

rippling in the wind.

VII

They’re bright and bubbly,

popping, like drops of golden sunlight

into your sun-kissed hair.

VIII

They’re EVERGREEN.

Fresh and pure as young pine, hiding

behind the old ones in the mystical forest.

IX

Words are slick as a blade,

gliding across the ice.

X

tHey conjure and drEam and imagine

those siLly words.

They buiLd castles in the clOuds.

XI

There are words that rhyme,

but not all the time.

XII

Words are STIFF

hard

j-a-g-g-e-d

quick

sharp

Ridiculous. Illogical. Truthful.

Often impatient.

XIII

Words are the center of the Earth,

the glue that holds her inhabitants together.

Without words, there would be no poems to write

or stories to speak.

 

No Way To Communicate.

Yet sometimes — when words are needed most…

is the time no words are spoken at all.

 

 

a flicker of time

widow

Wilfred 

He was proud of his blue tick hounds, his

sixty acres of hills, hollows, creeks filled

with copperheads and cottonmouths;

nights utterly still except when a smell or sound

riled the hounds from their sleep

to bay like old mourners.

My uncle read aloud Sunday mornings

from the Book of Job in a nasal voice, 

about hating the night and waiting for day

only to find in the day that one wished for night,

about how we are here for a flicker of time

then reflected in no one’s eye.

My aunt had the custom of hill people of keeping

framed photographs of dead relatives in their coffins.

When my uncle died she got rid of his hounds, his

jew’s harp, said she was through with men

and their ways, but she kept his death photo displayed

on a lace doily in her living room.

Sandra Giedeman

 

the name of things

zaca-lakeZaca Lake

A white-bellied carp breaks the water’s

surface, crickets chirp a background chorus.

Bats fly a crazy trajectory, then

fold like origami, cling to the eaves.

A great horned owl swoops, glides

above an old man who fills mason jars

with what he calls sacred mud of the healing lake. 

In the lobby of faded sun, I pass row after row

of pinned butterflies under glass.  

Memento Mori of old hotel, long-gone guests;

of Anise Swallowtail

Mournful Duskywing

Cabbage White.

Days of green and summer’s

sulphurous heat that bursts cocoons.

Fragile speckled wings that someone felt

the need to pin down.

You’re awake as a child until they teach you

the names of things.

Sandra Giedeman

Game of Thrones

We love popular culture + we love books.

Read all about it here.

tapestry