Book Review – Prince Of Tides

It isn’t often that the two halves of my soul (the reader and the writer) agree on a book’s worth and find something different to admire in the process. Yet this is exactly what Pat Conroy accomplished with The Prince of Tides. I’ve seen the movie, it’s old, and it is one that has always stuck with me. To date I think it is one of the best performances I’ve ever seen by Nick Nolte. His chemistry with Barbara Streisand “Lowenstein” by the end, just gets ya. So here is what I loved as a reader: Conroy pulled me in immediately. Tom Continue Reading →

The Good Earth – Book Review

Some books sweep you away and the reasons you love them jump off the page. After reading The Good Earth, it’s hard to say what captured me. Of course, it is a classic. A Pulitzer Prize winner. The writing holds up. It is still rich, simple, and beautiful, with an effortless flow from beginning to end. However when I finished the book, I couldn’t say what the ‘It’ factor was that grabbed me. There was no gush, no excitement, no explanation for why I wanted to read Sons (the second in the trilogy) or why in the billions of books Continue Reading →

100 on Used Books

Like any book nerd, I’m constantly searching for good books. My favorite place of perusal are used bookstores. The real kind with paperbacks shoved in piles against walls and stuffed on copious shelves that one gets lost between. The slight musty hint of paper/glue lingering in the air. Back in the day, there were no benches, comfy couches, or coffee. Only nooks to lean in and floors to sit on. Books there had dog eared pages, well-worn covers and bent spines attesting to other people’s empty love affairs. I rescued as many as I could before Kindle.   **Thank you Bookworm Continue Reading →

Falling for the Written Word

I was a goner at my first introduction. There was something magical about opening and closing a book, even if I was reading the same sentences again and again. Okay, the pictures helped and who doesn’t love Dr. Seuss or the Bernstein Bears? It only got worse from there. Newbery Award winners, classics, the ever popular and the tried and true, didn’t matter the genre, just that I could escape into another world. Borrowed library books, hand me downs, comics, even cereal boxes, I read them all. Yes, I fell hard and fast for the written word. The love affair Continue Reading →

Prickled Underbellies

It starts with this: put your desk in the corner, and every time you sit down there to write, remind yourself why it isn’t in the middle of the room. Life isn’t a support system for art. It’s the other way around.  – Stephen King Life, the grand poohbah on high, offers us the guts of humanity to examine and explore every day. It is also a communal ride regardless of how singular we may think it to be. No man is ever an island or how else would we get our morning coffee? We bounce off each other forming thoughts and ideas every Continue Reading →

Book Review: Demon A Memoir

I will first say that I am a little biased. I did a writing workshop with Tosca and found her to be one of the highlights of the 2016 Florida Writers Conference. She is an amazing teacher and gave many invaluable tips on writing. Demon: A Memoir By Tosca Lee Wonderful debut novel. It is a slow burn, a story that digs its fingers into you as you read. It does have a Christian slant but it really didn’t bother me as a reader. I actually enjoyed the POV of creation from the demon. For me the greater themes of Continue Reading →

Printed in 1935

Quote

Last week I was sidetracked by a good cause. Rescuing old books from an uncertain future is a precarious habit given the current state of my bookshelves. There is something about a book, the feel of the pages, the slight imprint of the words, the smell, the binding that all converge into a prized possession even without me having read a word.

 

Books…

Those mystic things With timeless beings And worlds standing still They give my heart a thrill I walk through pages Of all the ages Battling countless foes And sharing in characters’ woes Whether digital, found on a Nook or Kindle  My how my battery does dwindle Or found on a self As if placed there by an elf With hard or paperback in hand I sit or I stand Until I have read I cannot go to bed They catch me with their hooks Those magic things I call books.

Self Professed Book Nerd

Aside

I admit I own more books than I do shoes, clothes and animals, although there may be a healthy debate as to who owns whom on the latter. Books are not mere things. They are the dust collecting chasm of my soul, the pulp on which tree and author have given their lives. In them I live and breathe a different life, as many as I chose. I have always been a dreamer. Diversity thrives in every writer’s words, in sentences that lay them bare. Found in the oddest of characters, settings and plots are rare sparkling gems which gleam with words so clear one rereads them, momentarily pulled from that other world into the something greater which connects us all. Here where the author and universe bleed through even the most clichéd of books has something to tell.

Maybe this is why I write, to capture that feeling which a great book gives once it is read. Fingers caressing that last page, a tinge of remorse at the parting, knowing it is time to say goodbye yet satisfied at having met.