Book reviews – Page 2 – Bookish Butch

The Letter Q

Hot and hazy,

this morning,

ah,

Summer in the city,

eesch.

Gets hot in the apartment,

don’t want to install,

the air conditioner,

worried about my sinuses,

I think fans,

might manage,

we’ll see,

if it gets Too hot,

and,

I feel,

homicidal tendencies,

surface,

I’ll just,

wheel the sucker out:-)

I’m trying to keep,

my head on straight,

this week,

so excited,

I can hardly breathe!!!

Seems to me,

I haven’t ‘talked’,

about books,

much,

lately.

I did finish one,

last week,

an advanced readers copy,

The Letter Q: Queer writers’ Notes To Their Younger Selves.

A nice read,

lofty goal,

to help queer teenagers,

to ‘see’,

that life,

doesn’t and shouldn’t,

end,

with their teenage years.

Very much like the,

‘It Gets Better’ project.

I applaud such projects,

tools to combate,

teen suicide,

are,

necessary.

Apparently,

suicide amongst gay teens,

is higher,

much higher,

than their,

‘straight’ counterparts,

and,

since teen suicide is at an,

alarmingly high rate,

it stands to reason,

that anything,

that tries to help,

is a good thing.

I liked this book,

I found that like all,

anthologies,

it was uneven,

but,

as a whole,

good.

Some of the letters were,

touching, funny,

some a tad,

weird,

nothing too preachy,

or new agey.

Of course,

I’m not the target audience,

I haven’t been a teen,

for decades,

and,

the angst,

I suffered as a teen,

had little to do,

with being a dyke,

As I said to,

a special someone,

recently,

I just was,

didn’t really question it,

I just knew.

I realise that could be a,

minority position.

If I knew any,

questioning,

literary type,

teens,

who looked like,

perhaps,

a quiet nudge,

in the ‘it’s ok’

more of us,

than you think,

direction.

I’d leave this book,

on the coffee table.

It warms my heart,

to think,

all these people(contributors)

and,

many others,

care,

about our youth.

We may have come,

a long way,

no doubt,

but,

there is still,

much ground to cover,

these efforts,

help,

in my humble opinion.

Later girls,

An overdue review

It’s a sunny hot morning,

here at bookish butch central.

A few months ago,

I received a book for review,

I had intended to ‘publish’

the review in Kissed By Venus,

but,

alas,

KBV is no more,

sad but,

these things happen.

So,

I’ve decided to post it here.

Info about the author and synopsis:

About the Author

Taryn Rose When Taryn Rose is not weaving sexy tales of female lust, longing, and betrayal, she can be seen people watching while sipping a martini at one of her favorite lesbian hot spots in New York City. You can visit Taryn at her personal blog at http://tarynroseauthor.blogspot.com and follow her on twitter @TarynRose1

L World — Synopsis Blake Sanders, a partner at a top Manhattan law firm and newly minted divorcee, is shocked to find herself lusting after her sexy female hairstylist. But when her trendy tufts are not at all what she imagined, Blake’s fiery temper takes over and she stiffs the hottie who fashioned them. After her new look causes a splash at work, Blake has a change of heart and returns to the salon with a generous tip for Janie, the sexy stylist, only to find her cozying up with another woman on her way out. Intrigued, she follows the pair downtown to a Greenwich Village bar called “L World”. When Blake discovers that her fantasy girl is an out and proud gay chick, her attraction to Janie becomes very real. She pursues her, setting in motion a torrid affair that turns both women’s lives upside down, and leaving a trail of damage behind!

Published by Ravenous Romance, release date, 01-25-2012

My Review

This romance isn’t very wild sexually, pretty much every one’s cup of tea. Two women having sex, making love, in satisfying and beautifully ordinary ways. Women who kiss, who touch, who caress , who lick and suck and love each other intimately and intensely. Taryn Rose, does a good job of ‘showing’ how hot, raunchy and mind blowing sex between women can be and also how caring and tender. I like the characters, which to me is essential, the main character, Blake, is a high powered lawyer who has been married(to a man) and has pretty much ignored the gay part of herself. The woman she falls for, Janie, is younger, a hair stylist, who has a very supportive and close group of friends, they hang at a club, The L World, owned by a lovable butch, who’s a player but, has a heart of gold, what makes her a player? Is there a secret in her past that stops her from forming meaningful attachments, committed relationships? A few scenes I liked very much, in one- they recount how they came to know, they were gay, and Blake the lawyer asks Dom (butch club owner) how she knew- one of the other girls says, “oh Dom is a lifer” I liked that it resonated with me, and I think it would for many readers. Another scene I found particularly hot and poignant, Blake is assertively sexual and yet…when her girl takes the reins, she gets shy, she wonders if she should, it turns into a very hot scene, the hottest in the novel- very true to life, you have a feeling of being there, appeals to the voyeur in all of us<wink> I liked this novel, a lot, I read it right through and will probably read it again. I thought the couple fit, had chemistry. I liked the fact that Blake has a teenage son and she struggles with how to tell him, that rang true to me. Janie has a very supportive group of friends around her, nice to see. The L World is Taryn Rose’s first novel, it is eminently likable and sexy, a perfect ‘take you away from it all’ romance. It has it’s limitations but, I think that has more to do with format and the necessity to deliver a novel with X number of words. This isn’t Literature but, it doesn’t aspire to be. A good solid romance that will bring you a few hours of enjoyment, nothing wrong with that, is there? Available in an inexpensive ebook format, fun read. Try it I know you’ll like it:-)

So, That’s my review,

I hope you check out the book,

it’s good.

Later girls,

Legends

It’s a rainy,

slightly,

miserable morning,

the kind of morning,

you wan’t to,

pull the blankets,

over your head,

and,

cuddle your….

cat.

Alas,

this is not to be,

I have things to do,

people to see,

miles to go,

before I sleep

<wink>

I haven’t written much,

about books,

lately,

I’ve been reading,

a constant in my life, I read:-),

haven’t finished much,

been reading some,

dense non-fiction,

and,

that takes a little longer,

to get through,

than romance,

for instance,

I figure I’ll be slowly,

making my way through,

Alexander Berckman’s Prison Memoirs,

for a few weeks.

I have been re-reading,

Parnassus On Wheels,

and,

The Haunted Bookshop,

by Christopher Morley,

two delighful short novels,

about a used book seller.

I feel they are destined,

to become favourites,

like,

84 Charing Cross Road.

I read them last year,

had them taken out,

of storage,

at La Grande Bibliotheque.

wish I could find a nice hardbound, a vintage Modern Library size, but, all I find on the internet are cheap paperbacks, I like a small bound book, the library copy is just such an edition, Doubleday from the fifties.

Earlier in the week,

I read through,

Schwartz’s Hebrew Delicatessen: The Story.

Small book,

anecdotal history,

of a Montreal legend.

Schwartz’s,

there is no other place,

for smoked meat,

for those of you unfortunate enough to not know smoked meat, it is like Pastami, only a hundred times better!!! Moist, spicy, drip down your fingers goodness, served on rye bread with mustard and a sour kosher dill, pretty much…. heaven:-)

Schwartz’s is one of those,

great unifiers,

in the city,

it isn’t about,

French-English,

or politics,

and,

culture,

it is as important,

and,

mythical,

as the Canadiens,

everyone goes to,

or has gone,

to Schwartz’s,

a rite of passage.

The decor is non-exissatant,

the food,

amazing,

it hasn’t changed,

much,

in seventy-five years.

Bill Brownstein book,

tells about,

the characters,

who inhabit it,

both employees,

and,

customers.

It’s fun,

and,

informative,

for those of us,

interested,

in ‘small’ history.

Made me nostalgic.

I haven’t been to Schwartz’s,

since ’96,

went with my dad,

last time.

It was his idea,

and,

of course,

I paid,

that was dad,

great ideas,

no money:-)

He died,

less than a year later,

and,

I haven’t been back,

since.

Our local Diva,

and,

her impressario husband,

Celine Dion and Rene Angelil,

have bought,

Schwartz’s,

with some partners.

Some local press,

fear they will change it,

but,

Celine,

is a hometown girl,

she knows better,

than to change,

Schwartz’s,

that would be like,

modernising,

the Habs logo.

Some things,

just aren’t done

🙂

Later girls,

War is Hell, from both sides

It’s a little grey,

today,

but,

if yesterday,

is any kind of measure,

today,

will turn into,

a magnificent day,

let’s hope:-)

I know this sounds,

silly,

but,

it feels like Spring,

no,

really,

it does!

How the week of,

February twentieth,

in Montreal,

can feel like Spring,

I don’t know,

but,

in matters of weather,

and,

seasons,

not much surprises me,

anymore,

so,

I’ll just enjoy,

the light,

the sun,

the crispness,

while it lasts.

🙂

The Habs have been,

on a major losing streak,

they aren’t playing,

so bad,

but,

they are losing,

consistently,

oh well,

that’s life,

and,

hockey,

I guess?

🙂

This week aside from,

freaking and fussing,

about my blog,

I’ve been reading,

All Quiet On The Western Front,

by Erich Maria Remarque,

the dust jacket,

states,

simply,

The Greatest war novel of all time.

Quite an assertion.

I am in no way,

an expert,

on war novels,

but,

this is a powerful work,

of autofiction.

Paul,

the main character,

is a young man,

very young man.

in fact,

barely,

a man,

he enlists,

along with most of his classmates,

to fight the good fight,

for the Fatherland.

An act of patriotism.

He soon discovers,

that war isn’t glorious,

war is hell.

The cold,

the wet,

the stink,

the hunger,

the boredom,

the fear,

the pain,

the grief,

for men as young,

as Paul,

and his fellow soldiers,

it is about losing,

your innocence,

before you’ve had,

a chance to live,

it isn’t cynicism,

it’s about going to hell,

and,

crawling,

lame and wounded,

back.

Disturbing.

Masterfully written,

not one word is too much,

yet,

he fills your mind,

with sights,

with sounds,

that even,

experienced through fiction,

I won’t soon forget.

Trench war fare,

mud,

blood,

screams,

and,

cries.

Chilling.

Having just read,

Robert Graves’,

Goodbye To All That,

in an effort to know,

more about,

the first World War,

the war to end all wars.

I am struck,

by the sameness,

of the tone,

boredom,

horror,

futility,

and waste,

that’s what comes through,

for me,

from both readings,

and yet,

these men,

fought on,

opposite sides,

were of similar backgrounds.

Hmm.

Both are strong works,

Remarque’s more sparse,

truer,

I thought,

but,

Graves gives,

a fuller picture of society.

Remarque’s is a novel,

Graves’ is a memoir,

both are worth reading,

and haunting,

both illustrate,

the folly of war.

…and yet,

wars are still fought,

crazy world.

Later girls,

Wallace Stegner’s The Spectator Bird

“We write to make sense of it all.” ― Wallace Stegner

Wallace Stegner, was an American writer, 1909-1993.

I have just finished,

The Spectator Bird,

a beautiful novel,

about aging,

about the choices,

we make,

about the choices,

we don’t make,

deceptively simple,

full of truths,

I’m so glad I read it.

From the back blurb:

Joe Allston is a retired literary agent who is, in his own words, “just killing time until time gets around to killing me” His parents and his only son are long dead, leaving him with neither ancestors nor descendants, tradition nor ties. … A postcard from a friend causes Allston to return to the journals of a trip he had taken years before, a journey to his mother’s birthplace, where he’d sought a link with his past.

Stegner is a master craftsman,

a plot that appears simple,

is in fact,

complex,

indeed intricate,

a lot like peoples lives.

Joe, who appears ordinary,

and somewhat passive,

a spectator bird,

is really a man of great feeling,

who has known,

love and heartbreak,

and has made a choice.

The characters are well drawn,

the settings are well drawn,

you feel the cold and damp,

of Copenhagen,

smell the mustiness of the castles,

feel the California wind,

roaring,

and the rain,

pounding down.

Both urbane and naturalistic.

When he wrote this novel,

Wallace Stegner was an old man,

it bears witness to years,

of living,

of craft,

the wisdom,

the truth,

the longing,

and the love.

A book I will not soon forget.

I want to read more of his work,

and after reading this,

I understand why,

Stegner is reffered to as,

The Dean Of Western Writers.

If you are looking for a dense,

yet,

remarkably short novel,

214 pages,

a satisfying, meaty read,

that will provide a perspective,

on,

aging and how we remember,

about raging, quietly,

against the dying of the light,

Stegner is your man.

Later girls,

Alma Rose, a lesson in it’s never too late

Muggy and smoggy day,

today,

in Montreal.

The weekend was remarkably,

cool,

lots of rain.

It was,

a weekend,

filled,

with bliss,

three days,

that you wish,

could be frozen,

in time.

If I could save time in a bottle…. anyone remember Jim Croce??

I’m happy:-)

Today, back to work,

really good day,

everyone in,

a good mood,

and looking to,

buy some books,

oh yeah,

good couple of days,

a little hormonal,

but,

nothing to keep,

a good butch,

down:-)

A few days ago,

I told you all,

I was reading,

a lovely book,

Alma Rose,

by Edith Forbes,

this book,

didn’t disappoint,

good to the end.

A book about how,

it’s never,

too late,

to wake up,

and,

live your life.

Pat lives in,

a small town,

very small town.

She has barely lived,

her life,

working for her dad,

and taking care of him,

she gave up,

going to College,

so he wouldn’t be lonely,

and so,

she could run,

his business,

all the while,

letting him,

believe he does.

Pat isn’t a martyr,

she’s more like,

a ghost,

drifting through her life,

never expressing,

her opinions and desires.

She has them, she reads, she’s smart, she just never allows herself a voice.

One day,

Alma Rose appears.

A flamboyant,

lady trucker,

who sweeps her,

off her feet,

and leads her to realise,

all she has,

been missing.

There are twists,

and turns,

nothing is contrived,

but,

many of the twists,

are unexpected,

and surprising.

A novel,

about how it’s never too late,

to stand up,

be accounted for,

and live,

your life.

Let’s hear it for late bloomers,

and brushing off,

quiet desperation.

A lovely book,

a good writer,

a much appreciated gift.

Well,

I should get some sleep:-)

Later girls,

Of Bruins, Coyote and Malamud

Well girls,

congratulations,

to,

The Big Bad Bruins,

they won,

the Stanley Cup,

and,

honestly,

they kicked ass:-)

The better team won.

Tim Thomas won,

the Conn Smythe,

for most valuable player,

much deserved.

So,

my Habs,

1993,

edition,

are the last,

Canadian team,

to bring home,

Lord Stanley’s trophy.

That team,

rough and tumble,

had,

in net,

in my opinion,

the greatest goalie,

who ever played,

Patrick Roy.

The Canucks,

could have been,

better,

but,

I don’t think,

they could have won.

Congratulations to them,

finishing second,

ain’t nothing,

it’s a tough league.

So, to the relief,

of a few,

of you,

I’m sure!!

<wink>

no more,

hockey talk,

’til,

October,

well, maybe a little if there’s a big trade or something:-)

Earlier in the week,

I told you all,

I had read,

Ivan Coyote’s,

Bow Grip,

it’s a terrific read.

Her first novel,

don’t know,

if she’s written,

others since,

I’ll have to,

look into it.

If you haven’t read,

Coyote,

you should,

and her,

spoken word,

stuff,

some of which,

is available,

on You Tube,

is a charming,

foray into,

the mind of the butch.

Bow Grip,

is the story of,

Joey,

a mechanic,

from a small,

Alberta town,

a very sympathetic character,

dealing,

with modern,

evolving,

relationship issues.

His wife of five years,

left him,

for a woman.

Joey,

is not in the least,

a knee jerk reactionary,

or,

a redneck.

He is a good man,

not a saint,

a good man.

Bow Grip,

is a novel,

about putting,

the pieces,

back together.

Nothing,

melodramatic,

or stereotypical,

about the characters,

or the plot,

loved every bit of it.

I highly recommend it.

Today,

I finished Malamud’s,

The Assistant.

At the beginning of,

the year,

I read The Tenants,

by the same author,

I considered it,

an excellent book,

for many reasons,

it spoke to me,

it was about,

writers,

the creative process,

it took place,

in Brooklyn.

I liked it,

a lot.

The Assistant,

is undeniably,

a good book,

it paints a clear,

picture of a time,

and place,

of hard working people,

trying to make it,

and being,

beat down.

The writing is tight,

clear, precise prose,

dialogue, you can hear.

Morris, the grocer,

is a good, honest man,

he can’t seem to catch,

a break,

and you keep hoping,

he will.

Frank, the Assistant,

is a man trying to go,

the right way,

find redemption.

This novel,

has many things,

to recommend it.

I guess,

it just wasn’t my thing.

I preferred,

The tenants,

I’m sure,

college professors,

wouldn’t agree.

One thing I did,

really like about,

The Assistant,

you are left,

with a sense of hope,

a happy ending,

sort of.

Well,

I’m caught up,

on my reading notes,

I hope you’re all having,

a great week.

Later girls,

Drag King Dreams

Yesterday,

being so bloody,

hot,

and the,

air conditioning,

at the bookstore,

not really,

working,

I wasn’t very busy,

but,

you know,

enough.

I finished,

Leslie Feinberg’s,

Drag King Dreams.

I was going to,

write about it,

last night,

but,

I had to let it,

marinate,

seep in.

Anyone,

who has read,

this blog,

more than,

once,

knows,

I have much,

respect,

and,

admiration,

for Feinberg.

Hir life,

hir struggle,

hir politics,

and most,

of all,

for hir work.

Transgender Warriors,

is an important,

contribution,

to furthering,

our collective,

understanding,

of,

transgender,

and in fact,

the whole notion,

of gender.

Stone Butch Blues,

is a work,

of such power,

that it shook me to,

my core,

I hardly have,

words to express,

what a,

moving experience,

reading that book,

was,

for me.

So,

I very much,

wanted to like,

Drag King Dreams,

I didn’t expect ,

to like it as much,

Stone Butch,

the bar being,

as high,

as it is.

Well,

I have to say,

I’m glad I read it,

and I read it,

all of it,

but,

I am disapointed.

I didn’t hate it,

I woudn’t have,

finished it,

if that was the case,

but,

it left me,

wanting more,

or maybe less?

I know,

that’s a strange,

thing to write,

but,

that’s how I feel.

Some of the characters,

were fascinating,

and I wanted,

to know more,

and yet,

there are,

too many.

Some of,

the plot directions,

are very interesting,

and it seemed to me,

they could have been,

a novel in of themselves.

For instance,

Max and Ruby’s past activism,

Max’s growing up,

the relationship with hir Aunt Raisa,

before and after,

the death of hir mother.

The cyber connection,

she makes,

and what could,

come of that,

perhaps,

finally a love,

to call hir own.

So many threads,

not spun.

And yet,

I really liked,

Max,

hir sadness,

hir loneliness,

but,

also,

how she lives hir life,

with pride and honour,

principles.

They are all of them,

beautiful brave people.

I think,

too much was attempted,

in one novel,

maybe it’s the sophomore jinx,

how can you top,

a grand slam,

like,

Stone Butch Blues?

If you read one Feinberg,

let it be Stone Butch,

if you are interested,

in all hir work,

check this one out.

I don’t regret reading it,

for any number of reasons,

but,

I wish she had written,

a series instead.

I’d like to know,

what you girls think.

Later girls,

Giovanni’s Room

Something strange,

is falling,

from the sky,

not really,

snow,

not really,

rain,

perhaps,

textured rain?

The Canadiens,

won on Tuesday,

but,

one of our best forwards,

was seriously injured,

the way he was hit,

he could have been,

killed,

ugly stuff,

there are limits,

the league should do,

something,

before someone dies.

I hate that,

it’s a contact sport,

not shuffleboard but,

this is insane,

it also gives Hockey,

a reputation,

as a barbaric sport.

It’s not,

it is,

an exciting, fast,

sport.

Our national pastime.

Been, an odd,

kind of week,

I’m tired and manic,

simultaneously.

Spring?

I’ve been thinking about,

Giovanni’s Room.

Sometimes,

when reading great works,

of literature,

what I call literature,

with a capital L,

I’m not sure,

I understand,

all that is being,

“said”,

and I don’t think,

it is necessarily,

important.

To me,

Giovanni’s Room,

is about coming to terms,

with loving,

someone of your own sex,

and how difficult,

that can be.

No matter that we live in a more accepting era, it is still difficult and sometimes heart wrenching, the pressure to conform is still massive.

David,

the protagonist,

has experimented with,

homosexuality,

from a young age.

Still a boy,

when he has a romance,

with Joey,

but,

he turns on Joey,

sees him as weak,

and bullies him.

It’s actually easier,

for him,

to be cruel,

than to accept,

that he is gay.

Says a lot,

about what we teach,

boys.

David moves to Paris,

to get away from,

his life,

his family.

He meets Hella,

a young American woman,

she is smart,

attractive,

and,

free.

Hella, goes to Spain,

basically,

to decide,

if she wants to be with David.

While, she is away,

he meets Giovanni,

and lives with him,

in his room.

David loves Giovanni,

but,

he is incapable of,

that love,

or so ,

he thinks.

Hella,

comes back and decides,

to marry David,

because,

to her a woman,

only becomes,

a woman,

through the eyes,

of a man.

Says a lot,

about,

what we teach girls.

Do we really think, it’s all that different today? Is De Beauvoir’s line about not being born a woman but, becoming one, a thing of the past? I wonder?

This is a novel about,

discovery,

love,

betrayal,

and ultimately,

acceptance.

Hard to take,

for the rawness,

and honesty,

of it’s emotion.

I’m still amazed that,

Baldwin had,

to guts,

to say,

these things in 1956.

This is not a feel good book.

There is no happy ending.

But, David does find,

clarity.

This novel,

as do all works,

of naked truth,

shook me to my core.

I will never forget it.

Later girls,

*I hope I didn’t give too much away*

What’s your favourite book? And Why?

I have spent a good part,

of the last two days,

reading,

Where The Red Fern Grows.

I am sure many of you have read it.

It’s something of a classic,

there are over,

eight hundred reviews,

on amazon, alone.

OK,

I’m sort of embarrassed to admit,

I had never heard of this book,

until about a month ago.

A woman I met,

told me about it,

it seemed to mean,

a lot to her.

I was intrigued and interested,

by both the book and the woman.

So, a couple of Sundays ago,

I took it out of the library.

It was the first time,

I went to the children’s section.

It’s a wonderful book.

Full of fun and adventure.

It’s about the importance,

of friendship,

of family,

of loyalty,

of sacrifice,

and of hard work.

Full of love and compassion,

as well as,

pain and heartbreak.

An exemplary piece of children’s literature.

One of the first questions,

I ask someone who I find interesting,

is,

what is your favourite book?

It’s important to me.

I also know it’s not really,

that easy a question to answer.

It can vary,

depending on life circumstance.

For instance,

the summer I was fourteen,

I read a giant opus of a book,

Youngblood Hawke by Herman Wouk.

I was really taken with it,

all I remember about it now,

is that it was humongous,

and it made me dream of being a writer.

It was about a writer and I thought,

wow,

that is the most interesting of lives.

I have never re-read that book,

I don’t know if I would still like it,

so,

I will go on remembering it,

vaguely,

and dreamily.

It’s better not to tempt,

dissapointment.

One book I love and have re-read is,

The Catcher In The Rye,

I know many people don’t like this novel,

but,

to me,

it is the best portrayal,

I have read,

of how alien and marginal,

a sensitive, intelligent,

teenager feels.

I read it last year and I felt,

the gnawing in the pit of my stomach,

I was fifteen again,

not in a nostalgic,

wasn’t it great sort of way,

but,

in a,

my God,

will anyone ever get me, way.

But, my favourite book of all time is,

The World According To Garp.

I have been thinking about this,

the past few weeks,

and wondering,

what this says about me.

I think it means I expect the worst,

but,

fervently hope for the best.

I also think it means,

I think you should be weary of,

joining anything,

that orthodoxy,

even when it starts from a good place,

more often than not leads to fanaticism.

It says I know love is imperfect,

and,

sometimes painful,

but,

always worth the risk.

It means I should always try to,

remember what being a child is,

that flippant off hand remarks,

can lead to years of misunderstanding,

and sometimes permanent scaring.

It means that life is both,

hysterically funny and tragic,

sometimes,

simultaneously.

An odd choice as a favourite granted,

it’s about a man,

raised by a single mother,

who has a family and is a writer.

I am none of these things.

And yet,

somehow,

I always felt that someway, somehow,

I was Garp.

Strange.

But, if,

I am anything,

I am strange:-)

Tell me what your favourite book is,

I’m interested.

Later girls,