book review: me before you

~ GennaClaire ~ 8 Comments

Title: Me Before You

Author: Jojo Moyes

Genre:  Literature and Fiction

Publishing Date: 2012

me before you book cover
Me Before You,
Jojo Moyes

REVIEW

Favorite Quote:

“Some mistakes…just have greater consequences than others. But you don’t have to let that night be the thing that defines you.” (pg. 242)

Synopsis: Set in a quaint English town, Me Before You, tells the story of two unlikely companions—Louisa Clark and Will Traynor—who spend six months together and change each other’s lives forever.

Louisa Clark, born and raised in the small town where she still lives with her parents, never dreamed bigger than her minor existence. With no ambitions, no experiences, no passions, Louisa goes through the motions of life never questioning if there could be more.

Will Traynor once lived life to its fullest. A successful businessman from a wealthy family, Will traveled, explored, dared, adventured, and loved. But a motorcycle accident ended all that, leaving Will bound to a wheelchair with no use of his arms or legs.

Will is determined to end his life. And Louisa, hired as his daytime caretaker, is determined to change his mind.

Opinion: I pulled Me Before You off my Goodreads To-Read shelf because it had the highest average rating of the nearly 50 books waiting for me there. Although I adored it—and sped through it in a single, rainy weekend—I’m not sure it’ll actually best all those others still waiting on that shelf.

Me Before You is, at its core, a love story. It’s heartwarming, humorous, and screams to be made into film. I’d be lying if I told you there weren’t some tears let loose along the way.

It’s also a book about assisted suicide. It forces you to think through tough questions about whether or not it’s okay to give up on life: Is it possible to have nothing to live for? Is it right to force those who don’t want to live to stay alive?

I love books that shift your perspective as you read. Although, I never quite gave in to Will’s argument for suicide, I was guided to better understand it, and ultimately, respect it—all while holding out hope that he would still change his mind.

The one complaint I have about this book is related to the perspective shifts. The vast majority of the story is told exclusively from Louisa’s point of view. But a few chapters in the middle switch to the perspective of other characters: her sister, Will’s mother, Will’s father, and even a second caretaker. To me, these shifts were confusing (I kept forgetting I wasn’t seeing the story from Louisa’s eyes) and didn’t actually offer any new insight. I could have done without them.

Overall: 4 out of 5

Who Should Read This Book: Those who enjoyed A Fault in Our Stars (which, of course, is anyone who read it). Anyone who enjoys quirky and ornery characters combined with witty dialogue. Those looking for a sweet, but not-too-sappy romance or an easy read on a rainy weekend. And anyone who enjoys reading books in English accents.

book review: the invention of wings

~ GennaClaire ~ 1 Comment

Title: The Invention of Wings

Author: Sue Monk Kidd

Genre: Historical Fiction, Literature and Fiction

Publishing Date: 2014

The invention of wings book cover
The Invention of Wings,
Sue Monk Kidd

REVIEW

Favorite Quotes:

“He didn’t like any kind of talk about heaven. He said that was the coward’s way, pining for life in the hereafter, acting like this one didn’t mean a thing.” (pg 185)

“If you were a slave toiling in the fields in Carolina…I suspect you would think the time had fully come.” (pg. 311)

“How could I choose someone who would force me to give up my own small reach for meaning? I chose myself.” (pg. 320)

“The world depends upon the small beating in your heart.” (pg. 321)

“I’d chosen the regret I could live with best.” (pg. 322)

“In Pepperell, we were forced to deliver our message in a barn with the horses and cows. ‘As you see, there’s no room at the inn,’ Nina told them. ‘But, still, the wise men have come.'” (pg. 359)

“The time to assert one’s right is when it’s denied!” (pg. 362)

Synopsis: Based largely in Charleston, South Carolina during the 19th Century, The Invention of Wings shifts between the perspectives of its two heroines: Sarah Grimke, a wealthy daughter of a southern plantation owner, and Hetty “Handful,” the slave given to her on her 11th birthday. The novel follows the two girls as they grow, one shackled by society, the other by slavery. Over the course of the decades covered in the novel, both women face tremendous adversity, suffer devastating losses, and have nothing handed to them during their separate, unique, and equally moving journeys to take flight.

Opinion: This was the book selected by my newly formed book club for our first meeting in September. I imagine most folks were interested in it due to its setting in Charleston, but I’m sure having Oprah’s seal of approval didn’t hurt either.

I’m not new to Sue Monk Kidd. My mom introduced me to her after she fell in love with The Secret Life of Bees, which I also read and enjoyed. Although I don’t think the Bees will stick with me over time the way this novel most certainly will.

I can’t speak for other places in the United States because I’ve only lived in the South. But in the South, we don’t talk about slavery. It’s a dark, blind spot on our histories. We don’t think about it. We learn it briefly when we’re too young to comprehend it, and then we tuck it away and imagine it was all just a bad dream. Just hearing the word “slave” itself makes me wince in discomfort.

And that’s why I loved this book.

Not because it’s about slavery, but because it’s honest about slavery. It’s honest about what it was and why it existed and what it did to the people who experienced it firsthand.

I loved this book because it wasn’t some warm and fuzzy benevolent-slave-owner-befriends-her-slave story. Although Hetty and Sarah do bond on some level, it’s clear with every encounter that they are not friends.

I loved this book because both heroines end up having to create freedom for themselves. Because society wasn’t ready and no one was going to help them.

And most of all, I loved this book because it made me think about the horrors of slavery outside of the physical (which are horrible enough on their own). It helped me to begin to understand the psychological pain of being owned. The way it devastates one’s soul. The way it crumbles you from within.

Kidd says it best herself in her Author’s Note at the end of the novel: “History is not just facts and events. History is also a pain in the heart and we repeat history until we are able to make another’s pain in the heart our own.”

In The Invention of Wings, Kidd successfully goes beyond facts and events to accurately portray an institution we struggle to understand or even acknowledge today. For that, I’m thankful to have read this book.

Overall: 4 out of 5

Who Should Read This Book: Kidd fans, of course. Anyone who feels trapped in society. Young women looking for books with incredible, strong heroines. Historical fiction lovers. And everyone who would like acknowledge slavery with less discomfort and more empathy.

impatiently waiting

~ GennaClaire ~ 37 Comments

He waited for an hour, a painful hour. And during that painful hour, he reread the note in his mind 227 times. Two hundred and twenty-seven!

Meet me at Wal-Mart 2nite—school supplies aisle.

He agonized over it. Maybe he should have made it sound more like a question. Meet me at Wal-Mart 2nite? Maybe he should have said Target instead. Margret Ann’s family probably shops at Target.

He paced among the back-to-school clearance leftovers, willing her to show up. Margret Ann may not have said “yes” exactly, but she hadn’t said “no” either.

When he finally saw her bouncy red curls and eight-year-old swagger turn the corner by the spiral notebooks, he shoved the pink gel pens behind his back. Waiting until her red Converse with the rainbow laces were just inches from his flip flops, he presented them like a bouquet of fresh carnations.

These are for you.

 

Eight Years Later

He waited for an hour, a lingering hour. Because that’s how long it takes high school girls to get ready.

So even though she said Pick me up at 7:00, he sat with her parents through Wheel of Fortune AND Jeopardy.

Margret Ann’s parents weren’t quite sure what to make of sixteen-year-old Toby Malarky, frozen on their couch with the best posture they’d ever seen. His favorite shirt ironed crisp and tucked into his “nice” blue jeans. Hair slicked to one side, school-picture-day style. Cologne overdosed by about two and half pumps.

When Margret Ann finally came down the stairs, pink lips the color of those gel pens in his memory, all the air Toby held inside his whole body seemed to get vacuumed out in an instant.

 

(Still) Eight Years Later

He waited for an hour, an indecisive hour. Before texting her after that first date.

He’d heard his buddies say, Don’t call her for at least three days, Malarky. At LEAST three days.

But they didn’t say a damn thing about texting. So Toby wrote, revised, erased, and rewrote texts for 60 fat minutes before settling on one identical to his first draft.

2night was perfect.

U r perfect.

<3 Tobes

Margret Ann danced around her pink bedroom before flinging herself on the bed, giggling with glee.

Ur perfect 2. xoxo -MA

 

Two Years Later

He waited for an hour, a panicked hour.

Sweat ran down his face like condensation on a Coke bottle. He wiped it away with the cloth napkin every chance she looked away, but she wasn’t looking away enough. She hardly ever looked away.

Margret Ann prattled on about Yale or Georgetown or even NYU. Five acceptance letters had arrived just that week. Her freshly-painted pink fingernails flew through the air with every animated word.

Toby couldn’t focus on her excitement. He nodded and smiled and munched on the most expensive meal he hoped he’d ever have to pay for. But all he could think about was the ring in his pocket, the question on the tip of his tongue.

After one hour and four courses he cut her off mid-sentence and blurted it out.

Margret Ann, marry me.

Immediately, he wished he’d made it sound more like a question.

 

One Year Later

He waited for an hour, a terrifying hour. Smack-dab in the middle of First Presbyterian. Standing by the altar with two best friends by his side, Toby’s insides bubbled like a pot about to boil over.

At first they said she was just running late, but as minutes swelled into half-hours, he knew it was something else. He saw concern and pity beginning to fill the eyes of the guests.

Staring up at the rafters of that old sanctuary, Toby willed her once again to appear. With his mind racing and face growing hot and pink, Toby pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. His fingers flew over the keys; he knew what she needed to hear.

Margret Ann, you don’t have to do this if you’re not ready just yet.

I’ll wait for you as long as it takes.

<3 Tobes

Minutes passed. You could hear a pink gel pen drop in that airy church.

And then you could hear the soft buzz of a phone vibrating. Toby took a deep breath and looked at the text.

On my way! Sry I alwys keep u waiting. xoxo -MA

Toby just shook his head smiling.

No need to be sorry, he thought. I love every horrible minute I spend waiting on you.

 

stop retweeting nude photos, you idiots

~ GennaClaire ~ 5 Comments

A series of online events took place today that made my insides boil while simultaneously making me want to crawl into a hole.

In case you missed it, here’s a recap:

An anonymous hacker (not to be confused with an Anonymous hacker) breaks into iCloud and steals photos of celebrities. Unfortunate photos. Vulnerable photos. Nude photos.

Hacker then leaks them slowly throughout the day, one celebrity victim at a time.

American people go crazy.

Not crazy that someone would invade these people’s privacy, mind you. Not crazy that someone would take a photo that was never meant to be shown and share it with the small, friendly audience known as the Internet. No.

They go crazy to see them. To retweet them. To mock them. To make memes from them. To antagonize them. To criticize their bodies, their positions. To suggest what they’d be willing to do or not do sexually based on how they look in these images.

The nude photos blow up on Twitter. Everyone clawing from their keyboards to see them, critique them, share them, come up with the most hilarious captions for them.

No one thinks, maybe I shouldn’t take part in this. Maybe I shouldn’t encourage this. How would I feel if this was my wife or girlfriend or mom or sister or me? What would I do if something so private, so personal was broadcasted to the world without my consent? And then the world responded by making a mockery of it? By using it as the punch line for their jokes. As a tool to get a few follows.

We’re making fun of Ariana Grande for being too skinny, Kate Upton for being too curvy, Jennifer Lawrence for being too sexual.

We imagine that we’re entitled to pass judgments and make jokes because they’re celebrities and we’re just regular people–safely hidden behind our computer screens. It’s fair game, right?

Shame on all of us.

We are the same people who cannot possibly imagine why children get bullied in school. Why they get picked on until they reach a breaking point. Why those not even 10 years old are driven to suicide.

Where do kids today learn to be so mean?

My God, they learn it from us.

before you have a baby

~ GennaClaire ~ 10 Comments

I’m not a parent. And I have no plans of ever becoming one. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand the concept.

And I have one question for those considering bringing another living, breathing, tiny human into this world: Will you love it?

You could have a boy. Or you could have a girl. He could be short. She could be tall. Attractive or homely. Smart or slow. Quick-tempered or easy-going. You could have a child who’s mentally handicapped. Who suffers from anxiety. Or multiple personalities. You could have a child who is blind. Or deaf. Your child could be gifted. A prodigy. A genius. You could have a boy who likes boys. A girl who likes girls. A boy who wants to be a girl. You could have a child born with no clear gender at all. You could have a child born with extra toes. Or one eye. Or no hair. Or terrible, incurable diseases. You could have a great athlete. A talented artist. A beauty queen. Your child could be perfect in your eyes.

Or they could be anything but.

And you have to think for a moment before creating that new person: Will you love it?

Now I don’t mean: Will you raise it. Teach the child right from wrong. Impart your beliefs, your prejudices, your religion. Rearing up an immaculate version of yourself who thinks the way you do, makes the same choices you do, never disappoints you. That’s not what I’m talking about.

I’m talking about what happens when your freckled-face 13-year-old tells you he’s known he was gay since before he knew he was supposed to be straight. I’m talking about what happens when your all-star quarterback wants to go into theater. Or your Bible-school daughter wants to pursue Islam or Buddhism or atheism.

What do you do then? Will you love them?

Will you say Go on; explore the depths of your own soul. Find what makes you feel most honest, most joyful, most true. 

Or do you call them a disgrace and declare they are no longer welcome under your roof. Do you blame them for making these “choices.” Choices like seeds planted in their souls. Choices that have been growing in them and with them and because of them. Choices that are tucked into the farthest corners of their being. Choices they have no choice in.

Will you love them?

There are no qualifiers for being a parent. But maybe there should be just this one: Unconditional love.

If you are not capable of it, I ask that you think hard before having a baby.

Because we all deserve to be loved.

No matter who we are.

 

the artist’s prayer

~ GennaClaire ~ Leave a comment
"Muse of Creativity," a painting, poem, and prayer by my mom
“Muse of Creativity,”
a painting, poem, and prayer by my mom

–Muse of Creativity–

Come to this table filled

with brushes, paints and

water, a candle, a purple iris,

and most importantly,

Mother Mary. Come and

assist me in using my talents

to make beauty, to offer love,

to spread joy. Alone I cannot

create. With you, I am

emblazoned on the artistic path.

Never alone. Never afraid.

Always Brave. Thank you

for guiding me.

-KDS

gamophobia

~ GennaClaire ~ 30 Comments

We dodge the questions like two school kids playing tag, chirping “We’ll do it when we’re ready.”

“We’re saving up.”

“We’re not in a rush.”

But really, we’re just plain scared.

We see what happens when there’s nothing left to run from.