Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness. —Mary Oliver
It's after midnight and my fifty-something husband is out driving around in the snow with a couple of our kids, spinning donuts in every empty parking lot he can find. This is one of the many reasons I find it easy to forgive him for not being a reader. I've stayed back to keep my sick daughter company and am content to sit and watch those big beautiful flakes quieting the world outside my in-laws' front window. I could watch this show for hours. I ask, as I do more times than I care count, how did a snow lovin girl like me end up in the desert? Following that donut-spinning husband of mine, that's how. Truth is, I'd follow that boy anywhere.
We're in Utah for my nephew’s wedding and Donut Spinner forgot his suit. He’s questioning his priorities a bit as he's pretty sure he did remember to bring every piece of ski clothing he owns. Someone's got visions of Snowbird dancing in his head. While my nephew, Gavin, would understand if he showed up to celebrate the nuptials in ski clothes, my mother most definitely would not. Looks like we’ll be doing some quick shopping in the morning, so I thought I better hop on and write this post while I have the chance. Forgive me if it’s a quick one, I’ve got a snowfall to watch.
We like to keep things positive around here, so as a general rule, you won’t find negative reviews. We’re in the business of recommending, not writing scathing critiques. That smacks of pure drudgery—for us and for you. Every once in a great while, we may feel the need to warn you about a book we find exceptionally awful. Go Set a Watchman was such a book. If you haven’t read it yet, and are thinking you might, please read this first and I’ll sleep better tonight.
I just stopped reading A Song for Issy Bradley. As I mentioned my excitement about it in an earlier post, I thought it only fair you should know. I’m already lamenting the time lost reading over a half of its three hundred or more pages, so I’ll keep this short and as sweet as I can. At the heart of this story is a Mormon family grieving a horrible loss. The writing is good and the story, while sad, is somewhat compelling at the start. A little deeper in, I began to realize this wasn't so much a story about a family dealing with devastating grief, but an author's attempt to besmirch and drastically misrepresent a religion she's left behind. What a sad waste of talent.
The good news is instead of adding to your stack of books, as we are so prone to do, we've made it easier to take one off—which means more time for Downton Abbey viewing. I feel better already, don't you?
*This is posting 24 hours later than planned. While my in-laws have a lovely home with an even lovelier view, their wifi is not so lovely. I'm happy to report that proper attire was purchased and the wedding was enjoyed by all, especially the bride and groom—who, by the way, could not be lovelier. Congratulations Gavin and Meredith!