This novel is like watching (or the better word is IMAGINING) an X-rated Hollywood movie with a superb storyline. The book cover does suggest an erotic allure and it does contain a fair amount of the same, which seems not as much of tender and with a trace of sexual violence between the story’s main characters Shelby and Ty, because through this literature the writer essentially tries to mention how supressed negative emotions sprung reflexively during the very intimate moments.
Furthermore, this story talks of — the illness of Alzheimer, the excess care and support needed by its affected; how brutal childhood has a negative imprint on adult personality.
Shelby Monroe, an art teacher, is a part-time employee at Bishop Elementary school; who’d been in cold, slightly awkward affairs with men she wanted very little from, men there was never any fear would try to get more from her — meets Wyatt Svenson, his nickname Ty, a man with a tall and wide physique and a charming personality; through Casey – a eleven-year old, tall and gangly boy, Ty’s child from a former girlfriend …
There are many other characters in this story which gives the story a nice strength, by the end of this very beautifully story all the broken pieces of Shelby’s and Ty’s core personality is merged together because of their faith in each other and their willingness to try to chance the bad situation in order to move ahead in life.
The very lengthy erotic passages has some monotonous moments – otherwise from this, the narration captures the complexity of human emotions to the very core in a brilliant writing by Molly O’Keefe.
Few excerpts from this novel:
“Hey, Ms. Monroe,” Casey whispered, but before Shelby could say anything, Mom leaned over and shushed him.
Shelby gave him a wink and then tried very hard to pay attention to the church service.
………
“Tic-tac-toe?” he whispered. “Am I six?”
A laugh bubbled out of her and now her own mom was giving her the death stare. She composed herself and drew a hangman and the spaces for a ten-letter word.
“Hangman,” he whispered. “I like it.”
She pointed to a blank spot where he could write down his guesses and handed him the stubby pencil. Over the top of Casey’s bright head, Wyatt was watching her, and despite her years of experience ignoring things, she could ignore him for only so long. Almost as if her eyes were magnetized and he was true north, she could not help but look at him. (pp.118 -119)
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“About the factory? Because I know our numbers are down, but I‘ve made some changes to the—”
“It’s not about the factory.”
“I can’t lay anyone else off. We’re running on a skeleton crew.”
“Mom. We’re going to have to bring someone into our house. A nurse. To care for you.”
Mom was silent, and the tall weeds growing through the cracks in the asphalt and between the stones of the drive were laid nearly flat by the wind. Sturdy weeds levelled. (pp. 256 -257)
“We’ll go slow,” he told her. “For both of us.”
“Slow? We haven’t done anything slow.”
“We’ll start with dinner. Sunday night, my house. I’ll cook.”
“You can cook?”
“See all the things we don’t know about each other?”
She smiled at his joke and he felt the engine of his heart kick over. This was happening. It was really happening.
“What about Casey?”
“My son and I have kept enough secrets from each other, Shelby. If you and I are a thing, he’s got to know about it. If we’re in, we’re all in.”
She let go of the box only to cup his face in her hands. She pressed her lips on his, softly. Sweetly. She tasted of coffee and toothpaste, and if faith had a flavour, it was there too. (pp. 298 – 299)
Author: Molly O’Keefe is also the author of several other novels – Wild Child, Crazy Thing Called Love, Can’t Buy Me Love, and Can’t Hurry Love.
“Babies can’t talk like you and me,” she continued. “They can’t say ‘I’m hungry,’ or ‘I’m wet’, or ‘I’m tired.’ But they sure can let you know when they want something.”
How simple it seemed, Robbie thought, looking down at Tobey:
Waaa! And you got whatever you want. He wished it was that simple when you grew up.
Waaa! New jeans would appear.
Waaa! People would stop calling you names.
Waaa! Your mother would stop kissing you at the bus stop. (p. 47)
— An excerpt from the book, ‘How to Be Cool in the Third Grade’- By BETSY DUFFEY
How to Be Cool in the Third Grade: Published in 1993
A story about a timid boy named ‘Robert Hayes York’; who dislikes his baby name Robbie, hates his school clothes which his parents chooses for him to wear—tan and stiff shorts, white socks and shirt with collars, despises his mom’s kisses at the bus stop—to cause a spot of the bright red lipstick on his cheek — at the start of the academic year into the third grade Robbie writes down a set of necessary rules which, according to him, will help him become cool—and how a bully boy ‘Bo’ at school changes Robbie’s attitude for better, as well as Robbie’s niceness changes Bo’s rudeness towards him …
The title of the book admiringly suggest that this book is specifically meant for third graders i.e. children of 7 to 8 years; however this nice, humorous, short, fiction story is a suitable read for children between the age-group of 8 to 10 years too; at a leisurely pace a child may take a week’s time to finish reading this book.
Author: Betsy Duffey is the author of numerous books for young readers; her books have been Junior Library Guild selections, Crown Award nominees, and have been Parent’s Choice and Children’s Choice selections. Her books have been translated into Japanese, Korean, Dutch and Danish, and included in numerous book clubs.
This short novel of less than 100 pages comprises two short stories with bizarre concept perfected by perfect human emotions.
The title of the novel is the title of the first story i.e. Girl in the Mirror, narrated with smidgen of fairy tale charm mixed with fair amount of quirkiness.
Lila’s grandmother – Ellie, whom Lila fondly calls as Grellie, happens to drape all the mirrors in her spacious, hoary house completely in black sheeting. This little girl has no anxiety of her grandmother’s odd behaviour — however, twenty-eight years old Lila disobeys her grandmother’s rule to unwrap a free-standing, full-length mirror, located in a spare room which she is strictly warned not to enter; on her wedding day to see herself in her wedding dress—and a peculiar incident happens ….
The second story, The Memory Maker, is a highly intellectual piece which takes about 2 to 3 times of reading to appreciate the inimitable concept of the story.
Tucked away in the basement of a Georgian house is a futuristic devise, the memory-maker, a machine which helps people in creating new memories, the creator of the machine is neither a doctor nor a scientist; and a great sadness is the reality behind the invention of this machine …
It takes a maximum of 2 days to finish reading this novel, more so because of the thrilling story telling ability of the writer which keeps you hooked on till you finish reading the entire story. This novel is a suitable read for teenagers as well as adults.
Jane Austen (1775 – 1817): Jane Austen is one of the most well-known and widely-read English novelists.
Jane’s fascination with words and with world of stories began quite early, in the 1780s during her adolescence she started writing her own novels. Between 1811 to 1816, Jane started to anonymously publish her works; Emma was published during this time.
Her works started attracting scholarly attention in the 1920s and came to be recognized as brilliant masterpieces and revealing commentaries on social conditions of Austen’s time.
Emma: This novel is a very lengthy read, with 55 chapters, very intellectually phrased with complex grammatical construction of sentences, which has to be read in short passages for a proper understanding rather than choosing for a hasty read which may cease to lose the novel’s excellence in the reader’s opinion.
It is unadulterated literature that enriches the reader with exceptional knowledge of English literature and in quintessence articulates about the opulent cultural life of people belonging to the upper stratum of society in England during the end of 18th century and at the beginning of 19th century. The humour is polished sarcastic; the novel starts with theatrical appeal with very lengthy conversations and gradually eases to poised narrative.
Highly recommended read for avid literature readers, and once you have finished reading this novel—it will all the more intrigue you for another read.
Twenty-one years old Emma Woodhouse is handsome, clever, and rich; the daughter of Mr. Woodhouse — a nervous old man, beloved for the friendliness of his heart and his amiable temper. The real evils of Emma’s situation is the disposition to think a little too well of herself, which leads her through a course of outright misperception in her impulsive ideas of match-making.
Hartfield, is Emma Woodhouse’s paradise; the residence of Mr. Woodhouse—the Woodhouses first in consequence in a town of Highbury.
There are many characters that exist to make this story about Highbury and Hartfield complete, a few important ones are:
Harriet Smith – A seventeen-year old, a parlour-boarder at Mrs. Goddard’s school, is a girl not certainly clever but with a sweet, docile, grateful disposition; totally free from conceit and only desiring to be guided by any one she looked up to.
Mr. Elton – A very respectable vicar of Highbury, is a handsome young man.
Mr. (Gerorge)Knightley – A sensible man with a cheerful manner, a very old and intimate friend of the family, but particularly connected with it as the elder brother of Isabella’s (Emma’s elder sister) husband. He lived about a mile away in the adjoining parish of Highbury, at Donwell Abbey.
Mr. Weston – A native of Highbury, had satisfied an active, cheerful mind and social temper by entering into militia of his country. Once his wife death, after a three years’ marriage, the widower-father, gave his child up to the care and wealth of the Churchill’s. When a complete change of life became desirable, he quitted the militia and engaged in trade. After eighteen or twenty years of his life, he had purchased a little estate adjoining Highbury, at Randalls; and obtained his second wife– a truly amiable woman, Miss Taylor.
Miss Taylor/ Mrs. Weston: Sixteen years had Miss Taylor been in Mr. Woodhouse’s family, less as a governess than a friend, particularly very fond of Emma, between them it was more the intimacy of sisters. Matrimony as the origin of change, Miss Taylor was happily married to Mr. Weston.
Mr. Frank Churchill: Brought up as his uncle’s heir; Mr. Frank Churchill — a very good looking young man, had a great deal of the spirit and liveliness of his father’s.
Miss Jane Fairfax: The only child of Mrs. Bates’s youngest daughter; Mrs. Bates’s – the widow of a former vicar of Highbury, was a very old lady. Jane was an orphan, brought up by Colonel Campbell. Living constantly with right-minded and well-informed people, her heart and understanding had received every advantage of discipline and culture; and Colonel Campbell’s residence being in London, every lighter talent had been done full justice to, by the attendance of first-rate masters.
Miss Bates: The simplicity and cheerfulness of her nature, her contented and grateful spirit, were a recommendation to every body, and a mine of felicity to herself. She was a great talker upon little matters, full of trivial communications and harmless gossip.
The catalysts of this novel are the characters – Miss Jane Fairfax and Mr. Frank Churchill.
Pages 163, 189, 190 & 191 – Comprises very brilliant descriptive narrative of a shop called ‘Ford’, which is place of convenience to the citizens of Highbury.
Chapter 8: This chapter is a debate over the mind-set related to men and women on the subject of suitability of partner associated with social norms in the prospect of matrimony, these considerations do prevail in the present era in consequence to arranged marriages in some cultures.
A few passages from this novel:
“ A man,” sad he, “must have a very good opinion of himself when he asks people to leave their own fireside, and encounter such a day as this, for the sake of coming to see him. He must think himself a most agreeable fellow; I could not do such a thing. It is the greatest absurdity —Actually snowing at this moment!—The folly of not allowing people to be comfortable at home—and the folly of people’s not staying comfortably at home when they can! If we were obliged to go out such an evening as this, by any call of duty or business, what a hardship we should deem it;—and here are we, probably with rather thinner clothing than usual, setting forward voluntarily, without excuse, in defiance of the voice of nature, which tells man, in every thing given to his view or his feeling, to stay at home himself, and keep all under shelter that he can;—here are we setting forward to spend five dull hours in another man’s house, with nothing to say or to hear that was not said and heard yesterday, and may not be said and heard again to-morrow. Going in dismal weather, to return probably in worse;—four horses and four servants taken out for nothing but to convey five idle, shivering creatures into colder rooms and worse company than they might have had at home.” (p. 95)
“But your father is not going so far; he is only going to the Crown, quite on the other side of the street, and there are a great many houses; you might be very much at a loss, and it is very dirty walk, unless you keep on the footpath; but my coachman can tell you where you had best cross the street.”
Mr. Frank Churchill still declined it, looking as serious as he could and his father gave his hearty support by calling out, “My good friend, this is quite unnecessary; Frank knows a puddle of water when he sees it, and as to Mrs. Bates’s, he may get there from the Crown in a hop, step, and jump.”(p. 159)
“If it would be good to her, I am sure it would be evil to himself; a very shameful and degrading connexion. How would he bear to have Miss Bates belonging to him?—To have her haunting the Abbey, and thanking him all day long for his great kindness in marrying Jane?—
“So very kind and obliging!—But he always had been such a very kind neighbour!”And then fly off, through half a sentence, to her mother’s old petticoat. “Not that it was such a very old petticoat either—for still it would last a great while—and, indeed, she must thankfully say that their petticoats were all very strong.”(p. 183)
When the ladies returned to the drawing-room after dinner, Emma found it hardly possible to prevent their making two distinct parties;—with so much perseverance in judging and behaving ill did Mrs. Elton engross Jane Fairfax and slight herself. She and Mrs. Weston were obliged to be almost always either talking together or silent together. Mrs. Elton left them no choice. If Jane repressed her for a little time, she soon began again; and though much that passed between them was in a half-whisper, especially on Mrs. Elton’s side, there was no avoiding a knowledge of their principal subjects: The post-office—catching cold—fetching letters—and friendship, were long under discussion … (p. 243)
“I cannot make speeches, Emma:” he soon resumed; and in a tone of such sincere, decided, intelligible tenderness as was tolerably convincing.—“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am.—You hear nothing but truth from me.—I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it. —Bear with the truths I would tell you now, dearest Emma, as well as you have borne with them. The manner, perhaps, may have as little to recommend them. God knows, I have been a very indifferent lover.— But you understand me …. (p. 348)
Malgudi Schooldays is a slightly abridged version of R.K. Narayan’s classic novel Swami and Friends published in the year 1935; and includes two more stories featuring Swami.
I had purchased this book from Amazon; you too can grab a copy for yourself through this direct Amazon link – Malgudi Schooldays
This is a story of a boy who is in threshold to teen-age and sees absurdities and incongruities in the most trival and unnoticeable things; set in the background of the period when the British still ruled India and Gandhiji was fighting for India’s independence, and rooted in a fictional small town of Malgudi in South India.
Malgudi Schooldays is all about the antics of Swaminathan aka Swami — his curious outlook at religion and education; his raw interactions with his family members – especially gossips with his doting grandmother, and his bittersweet relationship with his strict but thoughtful father; his lethargic attitude towards studies and dislike for school; his nasty involvement in an agitated procession; his boisterous friendship with Mani and Rajam; and his spontaneous interest in cricket — is narrated with subtle humour and engrosses for a very entertaining read for both adults and teenagers.
A few excerpts:
‘What is Lisbon famous for?’ said the teacher.
Swaminathan hestitated and ventured, ‘For being the capital of Spain.’
The teacher bit his moustache and fired a second question, ‘What do you know about Indian climate?’
‘It is hot in summer and cold in winter.’
‘Stand up on the bench!’ roared the teacher. And Swaminathan stood up without a protest. He was glad that he was given this supposedly degrading punishment instead of the cane. (pg. 18)
———
Swaminathan read at the top of his voice the poem about a woolly sheep. His father fussed about a little for his tiny silver snuff-box and the spotted handkerchief, which was the most unwashed thing in that house. He hooked his umbrella on his arm. This was really the last signal for starting. Swaminathan had almost closed the book and risen. His father had almost gone out of the room. But – Swaminathan stamped his foot under the table. Mother stopped Father and said: ‘By the way, I want some change. The tailor is coming today. He has been pestering me for the last four days.’ (pg. 28)
———
Samuel was reading the red text, the portion describing Vasco da Gama’s arrival in India. The boys listened in half-languor. Swaminathan suddenly asked at the top of his voice, ‘Why did not Columbus come to India, sir?’
‘He lost his way.’
‘I can’t believe it; it is unbelievable, sir.’
‘Why?’
‘Such a great man. Would he have not known the way?’
‘Don’t shout. I can hear you quite well.’
‘I am not shouting, sir; this is my ordinary voice, which God has given me. How can I help it?’
‘Shut up and sit down.’
Swaminathan sat down, feeling slightly happy at his success. The teacher threw a puzzled , suspicious glance at him and resumed his lessons.
His next chance occurred when Sankar of the first bench got up and asked, ‘Sir, was Vasco da Gama the very first person to come to India?’
Before the teacher could answer, Swaminathan shouted from the back bench, ‘That’s what they say.’ (pg. 116-117)
———
‘You think you are wiser than the newspaper?’ Father sneered. ‘A man may have the strength of an elephant and yet be a coward: whereas another may have the strength of a straw, but if he has courage he can do anything. Courage is everything, strength and age are not important.’
Swami disputed the theory. ‘How can it be, Father? Suppose I have all the courage, what can I do if a tiger should attack me?’
‘Leave alone strength, can you prove you have courage? Let me see if you can sleep alone tonight in my office room.’
A frightful proposition, Swaminathan thought. He had always slept beside his Granny, and any change in this arrangement kept him trembling and awake all night. He hoped at first that his father was only joking. He mumbled weakly, ‘Yes,’ and tried to change the subject; he said very loudly and with a great deal of enthusiasm, ‘We are going to admiteven elders in our cricket club hereafter. We are buying brand-new bats and balls. Our captain has asked me to tell you …’ (pg. 164)
———
‘Sir, can’t you permit him to go home after four-thirty?’
The Headmaster sank back in his chair and remained silent.
Rajam asked again, ‘What do you say, sir, won’t you do it?’
‘Are you the Headmaster of this school or am I?’
‘Of course you are the Headmaster, sir. In Albert Mission they don’t keep us a minute longer than four-thirty. And we are exempted from Drill if we play games.’
‘Here, I am not prepared to listen to your rhapsodies on the pariah school. Get out.’
Mani, who had been waiting outside, finding his friends gone too long, and having his own fears, now came into the Headmaster’s room. (pg.178)
The stories in this book are mostly based on the wonderful sync which humans have with nature for survival …
Ruskin Bond has been writing for over sixty years, and has now over 120 titles in print – novels, collection of short stories, poetry, essays, anthologies and books for children. His first novel, THE Room on the Roof, received the prestigious John Llewellyn Rhys Award in 1957. He has also received the Padma Shri in 1999 and the Padma Bhushan in 2014.
There are 18 short stories in this book, the last section being a short autobiography of the author.
Here, I have mentioned the title of 8 stories with excerpts from each story to give you a glimpse of the author’s elegant and easy craft of writing, the stories in this book are mostly based on the wonderful sync which humans have with nature for survival. This book is a delightful read for adults and an exciting read for children between the age-group of 8 to 12 years.
A SPECIAL TREE
In the cherry tree, bees came to feed on the nectar in the blossoms, and tiny birds pecked at the blossoms and broke them off. But the tree kept blossoming right through the spring and three were always more blossoms than birds. (pg. 7)
THE SCHOOL AMONG THE PINES
Fortunately, Bina’s village was not in the pine belt; the fires did not reach it. But Nauti was surrounded by a fire that raged for three days, and the children had to stay away from school.
And then, towards the end of June, the monsoon rains arrived and there was an end to forest fires. (pg. 33)
THE WIND ON HAUNTED HILL
Whoo, whoo,whoo, cried the wind as it swept down from the Himalayan snows …
… There was nearly always a strong wind in these parts. Three children were spreading clothes out to dry on a low stone wall, putting a stone on each piece.
Eleven-year-old Usha, dark- haired and rose-cheeked, struggled with her grandfather’s long, loose shirt. Her younger brother, Suresh, was doing his best to hold down a bedsheet, while Usha’s friend, Binya, a slightly older girl, helped. (pg. 41- 42)
TIGER MY FRIEND
For an hour the villagers beat the jungle, shouting, drumming, and trampling the undergrowth.
The tiger had no rest. Whenever he was able to put some distance between himself and the men, he would sink down in some shady spot to rest; but, within a few minutes, the trampling and drumming would come nearer, and with an angry snarl he would get up again and pad northwards, along the narrowing strip of jungle, towards the bridge across the river. (pg. 75)
MONKEY TROUBLE
There was enough space for Tutu to look out of the bag occasionally, and to be fed with bananas and biscuits, but she could not get her hands through the opening and the canvas was too strong for her to bite her way through.
Tutu’s efforts to get out only had the effect of making the bag roll about on the floor or occasionally jump into the air – an exhibition that attracted a curious crowd of onlookers at the Dehra and Meerut railway stations. (pg. 83- 84)
WHEN THE TREES WALKED
‘One day the trees will move again,’ said Grandfather. ‘They’ve been standing still for thousands of years but there was a time when they could walk about like people. Then along came an interfering busybody who cast a spell over them, rooting them to one place. But they’re always trying to move. See how they reach out their arms! And some of them, like the banyan tree with its travelling aerial roots, manage to get quite far.’ (pg. 132)
PRET IN THE HOUSE
He began by hiding Grandmother’s spectacles whenever she took them off.
‘I’m sure I put them down on the dressing-table,’ she grumbled.
A little later they were found balanced precariously on the snout of a wild boar, whose stuffed and mounted head adorned the veranda wall. Being the only boy in the house, I was at first blamed for this prank; but a day or two later, when the spectacles disappeared again only to be discovered dangling from the wires of the parrot’s cage, it was agreed that some other agency was at work. (pg. 143)
THE NIGHT THE ROOF BLEW OFF
Our roof had held fast in many a storm, but the wind that night was really fierce. It came rushing at us with a high-pitched, eerie wail. The old roof groaned and protested, it took a battering for several hours while the rain lashed against the windows and the lights kept coming and going. (pg.169)
Nora Roberts is the New York Times bestselling author of more than one hundred fifty novels. Under the pen name J. D. Robb, she is the author of the New York Times bestselling futuristic suspense series, which features Lieutenant Eve Dallas and Roarke. There are more than 200 million copies of her books in print, and she has had more than one hundred New York Times bestsellers.
She is a member of several writers groups and has won countless awards from her colleagues and the publishing industry. Recently The New Yorker called her “America’s favourite novelist”. Visit her website at www.noraroberts.com
This edition was published in 2005, a romantic fiction; is the final novel in the garden trilogy.
Some excerpts from the novel:
She shifted her gaze towards Harper and ordered herself to ignore the little ache that came from thinking of him married, making babies with some woman whose face she couldn’t see.
Of course, she’d be beautiful that was a given. Probably blonde and built and blue-blooded. The bitch.
Whoever she turned out to be, whatever she looked like or was like, Hayley determined she’d make friends. Even if it killed her.
“Something wrong with the potatoes?” David murmured beside her.
“Hmm. No. They’re awesome.”
“Just wondered why you looked like you were forcing down some bad-tasting medicine, sugar.”
“Oh, just thought about something I’m going to have to do, and won’t like. Life’s full of them. But that doesn’t include eating these potatoes. (Pg.31)
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Though the dark wasn’t deep yet, the path lights were glowing, those pretty soft green lanterns speared at the edges of the brick to guide the way. A few early lightning bugs blinked on and off, on and off over the heads of flowers, and out beyond to the roll of grass to lose themselves in the shadows of the woods.
She drew in the perfume of heliotrope, sweet peas, roses, and the more pungent aroma of earth. All of those scents, along with the different tones of growing green would forever make her think of Harper, and this place. (Pg.79)
————————————————————————-
She turned her head to give him better access, and her heavy eyes blinked clear. Widened. “Harper.”
When she jerked in his arms, he just shifted his grip. “What? It’s not next week yet.”
“Harper. Oh God, stop. Look.”
Amelia stood in the doorway, the storm raging at her back. Behind her, through her, Hayley could see trees whipping in the wind and the bruised fists of clouds that smothered the sky. (Pg. 122)
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They turned away from the lights and the action of Beale Street and wandered toward the river. Tourists flocked there as well, to stroll through the park or stand and watch the water, but the relative quiet made it easier for her to go back in her mind, and take him with her. (Pg. 138-139)
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“Um, when you do all this, you pick the parents—the pollen plant, the seed plant. Deliberate selection, for specific characteristics.”
Her blue eyes, Harper’s brown. His patience, her impulse. What would you get?
“Right. You’re trying to cross them, to create something with the best—or at least the desired characteristics—of both.”
His temper, her stubbornness. Oh God. “People don’t work that way.”
“Hmm.” He turned to his computer, keying data into a file. “No, guess not.”
“And with people, they can’t always—or don’t always—plan it all out like this. They don’t get together and say, hey, let’s hybridize.” (Pg.293)
Needless to say that I enjoyed every bit of reading this novel and I am extremely inspired by her writing.
