The Lost Symbol, by Dan Brown

I know exactly where I was when I read Dan Brown's book The DaVinci Code. We had flown down to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico to spend a week with Mark's parents in their timeshare. My mother-in-law was reading the book when we arrived, and she spent many hours sequestered in her bedroom with it. Then, she handed the book to Mark and he caught it like a virus, declining invitations to come out for lunch so he could just keep going. He was "out of it" for a couple of days, and then he rejoined the world of the living. It was my turn. From page one, I was hooked. I remember sitting on the patio with the ocean breezes chilling me, but not wanting to go inside where two little girls would demand my attention. I remember sitting by the pool, my swimsuit going to waste as I became caught up in the relentless pace of the story. It was OK, though. All the adults understood, and we raised our grand/daughters together that week so that, one at a time, each of us could surrender to the wild ride of this book.

So it was with great forethought that I purchased Brown's newest book, The Lost Symbol, for Mark's October birthday. It took him awhile to get around to reading it, but I wasn't bothered, as long as he finished it by the end of November. I had my eye on Thanksgiving week as the perfect time to come down with a bad case of Dan Brown. We would be in the car for 13 hours, then guests of my in-laws for a week (again!). There would be old friends in Oak Park to see, and pies to bake, of course, but if I timed things right, I could get swept away and recover in time to meet all of my obligations. It worked like a charm. I really enjoyed The DaVinci Code, so I tried to keep my expectations low. Once again, I found myself staying up 'til all hours and waking up early (unheard of!) to read. On Monday morning, Mark brought me tea in bed at 10:30, with a not-so subtle hint that I might want to think about getting dressed before too long. The family was beginning to ask after me!

I devoured the book in the course of two days, and enjoyed almost every minute of it (with the exception of the grisly, violent scenes Brown seems to favor). Professor Robert Langdon is back, along with familiar character types: the fanatical villain, the aging mentor, the smart and lovely heroine along with the government agent who is working against Langdon (or is she?). In fact, although the setting and context are completely different, the book does read exactly like The DaVinci Code in terms of the author's didacticism and frequent lapses into history lectures, and the breakneck speed of the plot which takes place over an extremely short period of time. While the themes surrounding the mystery are not nearly as controversial as those of the knights templar, Mary Magdalen, the Holy Grail, etc. from Brown's earlier book, they were equally compelling but more relevant, and potentially life-altering to me. Most importantly, I can't wait to travel to Washington, D.C. again and look at its famous landmarks with the new perspective and insight given to me by Dan Brown. I recommend The Lost Symbol, with this qualification: make sure you carve out a couple of days to read it undisturbed, because once you enter the first page, you won't want to come up for air until you read the last.

Meditations of John Muir: Nature’s Temple

A few weeks ago, I received a package in the mail from Amazon. Neither my husband nor I had ordered anything so this came as a pleasant surprise. As it turned out, a beloved friend had sent us Ken Burns’ new DVD series, The National Parks: America’s Best Idea. Since we are avid hikers and outdoor adventurers who happen to live on the side of a mountain, she thought we’d enjoy this wonderful, historical account of the country’s national parks. She was right!

Throughout the six-disk series, writers and historians recounted the words and sentiments of John Muir, a naturalist and patriarch of the American environmental movement. With every passage read, I became convinced that he was as close as I could come to finding a spiritual prophet. I knew John Muir was one of the founders of the Sierra Club and that he helped conceive the national park system, but I had no idea that he wrote such beautifully inspiring and poetic scripture. I was hooked. I had to have more.

For this Thanksgiving week, I thought it would be apropos to read some of his writings. Thankful that my friend had sent the series and thankful to rediscover this connection inspired me to devour Meditations of John Muir: Nature’s Temple by Chris Highland. This is a short book of passages of John Muir’s writing. Highland writes, “John Muir (1838–1914) made enticement a spiritual quality. His enthusiastic preaching for the natural world sprang directly from his joyful immersion in the soul of it all.”

Thankfully, Highland doesn’t spend too much time giving you his own impressions of Muir’s impact; instead he realizes that reading these passages will speak for itself. He does capture the essence of Muir by saying that, “Every spiritual lesson we need is subtly and spectacularly evident in Nature…mostly I have learned it in Muir’s teeming forest. He teaches that we can step out beyond the books, the traditions, the philosophies that restrict the free rivering of our minds and dam the creativity of our communities; we may follow our streams into forests yet to be found. “

This is a read for those who love nature and find peace and joy there. Muir captures in words what many find impossible to truly express when they peer upon such awe-inspiring sights as the Grand Canyon or Yosemite. He teaches us that in nature we can truly know ourselves in a way that only happens when you’re immersed in it. He writes, “Keep close to Nature’s heart, yourself; and break clear away, once in a while, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean from the earth-stains of this sordid, gold-seeking crowd in God’s pure air. It will help you in your efforts to bring to these people something better than gold.”

After you have your Thanksgiving feast, step outside and take a deep breath, feel the cool crisp autumn air on your skin, notice a tree mostly shed of its leaves, smell the change of season and the end of a cycle – you are part of the next beginning.

The School of Essential Ingredients, Part 2

Again without the picture... not sure why I was good at it at first. Beginners luck perhaps!

There is one benefit to having sick children at home- extra tv for them and extra reading time for me. Our tv time is so limited on a regular basis that it is freeing to have an excuse to say, "Sure, one more program is fine." Both girls have had fevers, headaches and coughs on and off since Saturday and truly all they have felt like doing is watching tv. As they have watched, I have read. Everyone seems well now so I will have to find more time in my day through other means. It has felt great to finish two books in such a short time- like a mini vacation- despite the bottles of Tylenol and Motrin lining the kitchen window sill.

Today I finished The School of Essential Ingredients. Even after turning the last page, I can't wrap my mind around this book. Many times, it felt over written. The imagery, similes and metaphors felt forced. The attention to the senses in all the descriptions felt overpowering. I longed for a sentence without description. I did feel, though, like I got to know the characters despite their fleeting appearances. One chapter was devoted to each student in Lillian's cooking class- barely enough pages to get to understand a person but in many cases I did.

My favorite line appeared early in the book. As Lillian's story unfolds, we learn that she cooked as a way to bring her mother out of herself after her father leaves them. Lillian's friend tells her that her skill as a cook is a gift from her mother. Shocked, as her mother never cooked and never cared for her, Lillian looks at Abuelita skeptically.

To which Abuelita wisely responds,

"Sometimes, nina, our greatest gifts grow from what we are not given."

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down

A pediatrician friend who teaches first year medical students requires that they read The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, the true story of the clash between the Lees, a Hmong family from Laos, with seven children and medical staff in a small hospital in Merced, California. After reading the book it’s easy to see why. A few months after her birth the Lee’s infant daughter Lia began experiencing seizures from epilepsy (in Hmong, epilepsy translates to ‘the spirit catches you and you fall down’). Because the Lees spoke no English and were inherently mistrustful of both Americans and the medical profession, a series of misunderstandings and mistakes were set in motion that lead to the worsening of Mia’s condition. Author Anne Fadiman spent over ten years researching Lia’s case and getting to know the family as well as all of the medical personnel involved in the story. Beyond that she also tells the fascinating and heartbreaking history of the Hmong people, their hundreds of years of nomadic living as well as their belief in spirits, gods and shamans (in their culture those with epilepsy were actually seen as ‘fit for divine office, often becoming shamans. Their seizures were thought to be evidence that they have the power to perceive things that other people cannot see.”) The story of Lia and her family struggling to survive in America is interspersed with the history of the Hmong people who fought on our side in the Vietnam War but were treated as lower class citizens when they immigrated to the States a decade later.

There are no ‘bad guys’ in this book. When doctors prescribe medication to help ease Lia’s seizures and her parents refuse to give them to her, it isn’t surprising that authorities are called in to take Lia away and put her in foster care, if only to try to make her well. The Lees, however, strongly believed that through rituals (like animal sacrifices and shamans) and prayer they could make Lia better on their own. The language barrier issue is unquestionably the most puzzling piece of this puzzle. When doctors tried to talk to the Lees they used whatever Hmong translators they could find, whether it was a janitor who worked in the hospital or the Lees younger daughter, not realizing that communication was at the root of the problems they were experiencing. Each side questioned the others motive yet each passionately wanted to do what was best for Lia. The story of what eventually became of Lia and her family is both heartbreaking and enlightening.

Fadiman’s style of nonfiction writing in a storyteller’s voice makes this book captivating, absorbing and the story of the Hmong people stays with the reader long after the last page has been read.

The Housekeeper and the Professor

I have now tried three times to upload the pretty blue cover of this book and have decided that the 'three strikes and you're out' rule applies to this blog. I finished The Housekeeper and the Professor two days ago, ahead of the weekly schedule, and I think that technology shouldn't slow down my posting.

I discovered this title while reading the Indie Fall/Winter flyer. I can spend a lot of time reading over the titles and the recommendations written in these flyers. Each title is reviewed by an independent bookseller, their bookstore named below their recommendation. Sometimes the names of the stores are almost as fun to learn about as the books. As someone who dreams of having her own bookstore one day, I am always on the look out for a great name...

The Housekeeper and the Professor caught my eye immediately as the professor suffers from brain injury. I spent two years working as a speech pathologist with brain injured patients and found the work beyond fascinating. The twist in this story is that the professor suffered an injury that leaves him with functioning memory of the time before the car accident but only eighty minutes of memory for all after the accident. To compensate, this brilliant mathematician pins notes to his rumpled suits to remind him of important information.

Throughout the book, the professor teaches the housekeeper and her son about prime numbers, amicable numbers and the function of the elliptical curve. As a person who has always disliked math, even I became intrigued through the professor's teaching. I came to wish this man had sat across from me in seventh grade math. Had he, I might have gone down a very different road. A born teacher, the professor "seemed convinced that children's questions were much more important than those of an adult. He preferred smart questions to smart answers."

Yoko Ogawa's writing is translated from Japanese which at times effects the flow of the story. For the most part though, the writing is almost poetic despite the mathematical subject matter. We learn through this story much about not only math but humanity. We learn that perhaps math is truth in just the same way that love is truth.

The following is what I took away from this powerful book:

"The mathematical order is beautiful precisely because it has no effect on the real world. Life isn't going to be any easier, nor is anyone going to make a fortune, just because they know something about prime numbers. Of course, lots of mathematical discoveries have practical applications, no matter how esoteric they may seem...But those things aren't the goal of mathematics. The only goal is to discover the truth."

Her Fearful Symmetry... a Haunting Book by Audrey Niffenegger

I am posting an edited version of what I posted to my blog... hope this not a faux pas.

I am just finishing Audrey Niffenegger's latest novel, Her Fearful Symmetry. The subject matter is completely different from the Time Traveler's Wife, no time traveling, and no encounters between soul mates at different periods in their lives, but it has the same haunting effect on the reader. You will keep on pondering its premise long after you've put it down.

Aundrey Niffenegger interweaves four fascinating themes in this novel: twins, ghosts, obsessive compulsive disorder and grief. I wanted to read more about each of the themes, equally disturbed by twins who refer to themselves as "we" and a man who knows he is ill, but yet continues to wash the floor with bleach as his cracked hands bleed.

The novel begins with the death of Elspeth, a middle-aged twin living in London. She dies alone, unable to call out to her partner Robert who has just stepped out to buy a candy bar in the hallway. Elspeth had stopped speaking to her twin, Edwina, after she eloped with Elspeth's fiance, Jack. From beyond the grave, Elspeth manages to get her revenge, by leaving her London flat to Edwina and Jack's daughters (twins with a striking resemblance to their mother and her twin) provided they live in it for a year before selling it. The revenge lies in the stipulation that Jack and Edwina are not allowed to step foot in the apartment, thereby separating the girls from their parents for a year.

The two girls arrive in London and move into the apartment, still filled with Elspeth's books and furniture. Although the girls are in their twenties, they have not begun working, and seem to float in and out of colleges without ever finishing. Valentina is eager to settle down and finish her studies, but Julia, her listless twin, keeps forcing her to quit.

And so Elspeth begins to haunt them in earnest, attempting to connect with her nieces in death, as she could not in life. But the girls are haunted by more than the ghost of their aunt. There is also Robert, Elspeth's lover who refuses to make contact with them but follows them from a distance around town, Martin, their obsessive compulsive neighbor who scrubs the floors above their heads, as well as their own relationship as they struggle unsuccessfully to forge lives with some degree of independence from each other. All of this takes place on or around the grounds of Highgate Cemetary, with its elaborate Victorian tombs, where Elspeth is buried.

Her Fearful Symmetry is the type of novel that makes its way into your dreams because of the power of Niffenegger's story setting. As I read it, I could feel the fine London rain and could close my eyes to imagine the landscape of beautiful abandoned tombs and mausoleums. I normally loathe stories and movies about ghosts, but found myself cheering for Elspeth, believing in her life after death, and hoping that she would finally right the injustice she suffered, while teaching her nieces how to avoid the same mistakes.

I wonder if this novel, like the Time Traveler's Wife, will also be turned into a movie. Niffenegger's intriguing characters and exotic locales seem to lend themselves powerfully to that medium. However, if Hollywood does snap Her Fearful Symmetry up, I will certainly avoid seeing it, as I avoided The Time Traveler's Wife movie, preferring to keep the mental images she gave me with her words unspoiled.

Half Broke Horses, part 2

When Jeanette Walls wrote her first book The Glass Castle a few years back she was best known (to me at least) as the gossip columnist for msnbc.com, writing snippets about celebs like Paris Hilton and Jude Law. So it was surprising that she produced such a well written and touching memoir about growing up poor. Raised by parents she adored, Rose Mary and Rex, who by any standards would be considered unfit and even abusive, Walls and her siblings were frequently uprooted and moved to new places, each one in worse shape than the one they left behind. Her optimistic outlook on their dire circumstances and the way she writes, with humor, about overcoming her upbringing and becoming a success, was poignant. In particular her mother, clearly mentally unstable was a curious character. So in Walls’ new book Half Broke Horses, a ‘true life novel’ it isn’t surprising that she delves into the background of her mom when she tells the story of the life of her grandmother Lily Casey Smith.

The book, told in Lily’s voice, begins on an August afternoon on their family farm in west Texas. She writes, “Those old cows knew trouble was coming before we did.” When the animals started to act “all bothered, stiff legged and straight tailed” Lily pressed her ear to the ground and felt a rumbling. She got up, grabbed her brother and sister’s hands and ran for the tallest tree they could find and climbed to the top just as a flash flood slammed into the tree. Thus began her story. Written in short chapters, only about two pages each, it reads more like a diary than a novel which makes it a very quick read. She writes of her childhood breaking horses for her crippled dad, leaving home at age 15 to travel 500 miles on horseback for a teaching job on the frontier. Walls doesn’t lose her penchant for humor when she writes of Lily’s mom: “Mom didn’t quite know what to make of me. She feared she might have trouble marrying me off because I didn’t have the makings of a lady. I was a little bowlegged, for one thing. Mom said it was because I rode horses too much. Also, my front teeth jutted out, so she bought me a red silk fan to cover my mouth. Whenever I laughed or smiled too big, Mom would say, “Lily dear, the fan.” Lily lives life to the fullest, flying airplanes, driving a ‘taxi’ (actually a hearse), surviving the suicide of her sister and running a ranch with her husband.

Though worth the read, Half Broke Horses, doesn’t have the emotional impact of Glass Castle, maybe because even though it was her family’s story she was telling, it wasn’t her own and though she was careful to tell how brave, strong and tough her grandmother was, I wish Lily could have had a crack at telling her own story, just like her granddaughter did.

Laura Rider's Masterpiece

Please don't expect the typical, intense and deep Jane Hamilton novel from Laura Rider's Masterpiece because you'll be disappointed in this read. However, if you're looking for a light, amusing and short book (a little over 200 pages) you should give it a try. Jane Hamilton really knows how to tell a story!

Laura Rider, childless entrepreneur, has a secret desire to write a romance novel about the “Every” woman. Bored with her Midwestern life she decides marriage isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be and embarks on a selfish manipulation of her husband, Charlie, and her idol, Jenna Faroli, a public radio host; all to obtain material for her novel. Laura has decided to stop sleeping with her husband and so encourages an affair between Charlie and Jenna. This is an interesting new twist on the Machiavellian theme.

If you enjoy reading about the human condition and think you have an ounce of emotional intelligence you will find this novel interesting and fun to read. The characters are well developed and the story, as it unfolds, keeps you wanting more. For women in midlife who are beginning to experience the physical changes of aging there is much to consider from both of the female characters. And, for anyone who has secretly dreamed of being a writer themselves this book poses some important, and yet sometimes elitist, points.

As a 45 year old, childless entrepreneur, I found myself intrigued by this book. This is not your typical trashy novel about sex, love and adultery. Jane Hamilton, even though this is not her usually heady stuff, tells a compelling story with interesting characters. If you’re looking for an intellectual read stay away from this book.

Should you prefer something a lot smarter, you must read some of Jane Hamilton's other books. I highly recommend The Book of Ruth, The Short Life of a Prince, Map of the World and Obedience.

This Lovely Life

I love it when a book comes at just the right time. This Lovely Life, written by Vicki Forman, has been sitting in my pile since it's release but I just opened it's pages last week. I have followed Vicki's writing since first discovering her on Literary Mama and then on her own blog over a year ago. As I was familiar with her writing, I knew that Vicki's book would be a treasure, one that would stick with me. Given it's topic, the birth her extremely premature twins, the death of one and the early childhood of the other, I knew the reading would be intense. What I did not know were the lessons it would teach.

Caroline's anxiety was sky high this weekend. She is scheduled for her second sleep study on Wednesday and her mind is adrift with worry and the 'unfairness' of life. She lashed out at Katherine, at me and Rob. Never able to settle into play or even to relax as I read aloud to her. Needless to say, this was a long weekend for each of us.

For me, though, I took 'breaks' from my life to dive into Vicki's. This Lovely Life, being the book from which I couldn't escape. At one point, I followed Katherine as she rode her scooter, my book held up in front of me as I walked. She asked why I couldn't keep up with her and I responded that it was hard to walk and read at the same time. Even as I said this, I knew I should put the book down but I just couldn't.

As I read, I desperately needed the book to be over. I needed to run away from the suffering but also from the intensity of Vicki's persistence and love of her son. The emotions were too strong and I needed to shut them down. As I read though, I couldn't help thinking of the obvious. I could put this book down. Soon it would be over. But Vicki could not close her book. Living with a multiply disabled son was her life. And instead of titling her book, 'This Hard Life', the title is 'This Lovely Life.'

As I struggled to settle Caroline and remembered the annoyance of needing to sleep with her at the hospital as machines measured any improvements in apnea and restless leg, I thought of Vicki and her lovely life.

And embraced my own...my own lovely life.

Half Broke Horses

Last week, I began reading and writing for this blog- A Book A Week. I immediately fell in love with the idea and began to read feverishly. Always an avid reader, I was thrilled for the challenge. My reading has always been an aside. Something I get to when everything else is done. It's not like my writing though... I do eventually get to it- always. I always have a book. I can't remember a time in my life when I haven't been in the middle of a something. Each time I finish book, I feel the need to start a new one right away... scared of the nebulous purgatory of not having a "book."

With the idea of A Book A Week, there was a goal surrounding my reading. There was a reason to read before the dishes were done or the laundry folded. There was a reason to read instead of checking e-mail. There was a reason to sit with Katherine while she watched Little Bear- chiming in about Little Bear's foibles while quietly turning the pages of Half Broke Horses.

I read Jeanette Wall's first book the Glass Castle, with strong combined feelings of love and hate. The book feeling to me like the car wreck you just can't turn away from despite your fear. Half Broke Horses is a True Life Novel- a memoir that has too much invention to be a true memoir. The story told is of Jeanette's grandmother and within her tale, Jeanette's mother, Rosemary, was revealed. As a novel, the book fell flat. The language plain, the characters relatively under-developed. In reading, I felt Jeanette Walls should stick with memoir and journalism and leave fiction to others.

The School of Essential Ingredients by Erica Bauermeister

I have two daughters, 11 and 13, who read between 3 and 5 books a week. Often, when they finish a book, they tell me, "Mom, you should really read this. It's so good." I dutifully add the title to my list, knowing that I probably will never get to it. I have enough trouble getting through the Sunday New York Times newspaper that is delivered to my doorstep each weekend, the couple of magazines to which I subscribe, and the one book chosen by my book group for discussion each month. So when Lucy came up with the idea of reading a book a week, and blogging about it, I embraced the challenge. I've got to show my girls I can keep up!

When I climbed into bed at the end of a long day to read the final chapter of Erica Bauermeister's book The School of Essential Ingredients, I felt like tucking a napkin under my chin. I had fallen into the comfortable rhythm of this book, and was looking forward to savoring vicariously one last delectable Slow Food meal and the interwoven peek into the private life of the last of the eight students whom I had been getting to know. The conclusion did not disappoint, and when I closed the book, I had a satisfied feeling in both my stomach and my heart.

Each chapter takes the reader into the intimacy of Lillian's restaurant kitchen for one of a series of eight Monday night cooking classes, and also into the past of that night's student "helper". To call them cooking classes, however, is to miss the point. They are more like life lessons, intuitively aimed at exactly what that week's special student needs at that moment. Even in her childhood, Lillian is wise about life and food: "It was the cooking that occurred in her friends' homes that fascinated Lillian--the aromas that started calling to her just when she had to go home in the evening. Some smells were sharp, an olfactory clatter of heels across a hardwood floor. Others felt like the warmth in the air at the far end of summer. Lillian watched as the scent of melting cheese brought children languidly from their rooms, saw how the garlic made them talkative, jokes expanding into stories of their days. Lillian thought it odd that not all mothers seemed to see it--Sarah's mother, for instance, always cooked curry when she was fighting with her teenage daughter, its smell rocketing through the house like a challenge." It's no wonder her students look forward each week not just to sampling her food, but to being in her presence and listening to her voice, as did I each evening as I curled up to read. The descriptions of the meal preparations are a feast for the senses and the portraits of the students and Lillian herself are just as rich.

If you love food and are yearning for an escape from the busy-ness of your life, you'll delight in the slowness and deliciousness of this book. You might even find yourself dashing out, not to your favorite restaurant, but to the produce section of your favorite market to linger among the apples, holding them to your nose and inhaling deeply, as I did. Through reading this book, I became one of Lillian's students as well, wishing that I could stumble into her kitchen in my neighborhood and be nourished by her food and words of wisdom, like these: "It's not easy to slow our lives down. But just in case we need a little help, we have a natural opportunity, three times a day, to relearn the lesson."

Mudbound by Hillary Jordan, is an unblinking view of race relations in post WW2 Mississippi. Set on a remote cotton farm owned by the McAllan family and sharecropped by the Jacksons, a black family, it is written, chapter by chapter in the voices of members of both families.

Laura, married to Henry McAllan, the farm’s owner, begins her first chapter with the words ‘When I think of the farm I think of mud. Limning my husband’s fingernails and encrusting the children’s knees and hair.’ Raised in Memphis, her move to Marietta was not of her choosing when Henry surprised her with the news he had bought a farm. From there the story moves seamlessly through the voices of folks like Ronsel Jackson, son of sharecroppers Hal and Florence, just returned from fighting in Europe where black men were if not treated equally, at least left alone and given a measure of respect. Ronsel’s thorny transition, moving from a place where he could openly dance, spend time and fall in love with a white woman, to returning home where, as a black man, he was unable to exit a grocery store from the front door or ride in the front seat of his (white) friend’s car. (Unbelievable to read that this treatment was possible for any human being, much less one who was called to serve his country.) But the spotlight on racism doesn’t stop with the folks in the grocery store. Even likeable characters such as Laura and Henry believe in their hearts that blacks had their place, and it wasn’t on their front porches or in their homes, unless (like Florence and Hap) they worked for them.

The story takes us into the mind of Henry’s brother Jamie, also just back from the war, shattered by what he had done and seen as an army pilot, dropping bombs on innocent people. Says Henry: “The war broke my brother, in his head where no one could see it.” Jamie’s appearance on the farm sets in motion a series of events that would shatter the lives of everyone involved. Not surprisingly, the Klan shows up (though of course, they were there all along), and naturally Ronsel is on the receiving end of their sickening hatred.

The only voice not heard, without a doubt the least likeable character in the book is Henry and Jamie’s father Pappy. A racist from the inside out, he spews his hatred every chance he gets. Even his son Jamie is not immune from his extreme disgust.

A twist in the end, while giving hope for the future of those in the book, doesn’t successfully take the taste of sadness and gloom out of your mouth. Small acts of kindness could never erase the pain and hardships those on the receiving end of such misery felt every day for most of their lives.

Jordan, a first time writer, writes beautifully of redemption, sacrifices and ultimately some measure of forgiveness.

PLEASE don't wait to post if you've read a book you love! I won't get to my book review until wed... when my 7 days are up!!

Caroline and Lucy created this blog to challenge themselves to read a book a week then post reviews on books they have read.