January’s BlogHer Book Club selection is The Underside of Joy. It’s a beautiful book, really: it’s complex, lushly layered, and elegantly written.

Here’s a blurb from the author’s website:

To Ella Beene, happiness means living in the Northern California river town of Elbow with her husband, Joe, and his two young children. For three years, Ella has been the only mother the kids have known. But when Joe drowns off the coast, his ex-wife shows up at his funeral, intent on reclaiming the children. Ella must fight to prove they should remain with her while she struggles to save the family’s market. …

… The Underside of Joy explores a complex relationship between two women who both consider themselves to be the children’s mother. Their conflict uncovers a map of scars — physical and emotional — to their families’ deeply buried tragedies, including Italian internment camps during WWII and postpartum depression and psychosis.

*sigh* I’ll be candid. This was one of those books where if I had it to do over I would probably have not read it because the first 250 pages seriously stressed me out. Or at the very least I should have read the last few pages to know how things would shake out and then gone back to the story with the ability to enjoy the writing. (I suppose I just spoiler’d you, but I think this is a special case.)

I suppose fiction being able to elicit physical response from people is a sign of the writer’s skill, so Halverson gets props for that. However, due to my own upbringing, which I talked about in the past, I worried the conclusion wouldn’t be satisfactory. It was, but getting there I had a very strong opinion on who I thought the kids’ “mother” was. Then I got confused because I started feeling sympathy for the antagonist. Ella Beene worried the kids would think their mother didn’t love them when she truly did but just couldn’t cope. Isn’t feeling abandoned exactly what I struggled with as a child?

I hate it when books make me examine my own emotions. I like being curmudgeonly and set in my opinions, damn it.

Okay, so, should you read it? Yes. I give you the go-ahead. You’ll probably want to talk to someone about it after you finish, though.

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Disclosure: This is a paid review for BlogHer Book Club, however I read the book in entirety and the opinions expressed are my own.

You know, Scott and I didn’t have a wedding. We did a non-frills civil ceremony officiated by the Orange County magistrate. It just wasn’t important to me that I did the whole big white dress thing. It was important that my grandmother stop stressing out about the fact that I was giving away the milk for free (or something). She was old-school – she couldn’t help it. We figured we were probably going to get married anyway (how’s that for confidence?), so we just went and did it.

Now, I don’t miss not having a wedding, but I am a bit of voyeur and enjoy seeing how other women plan their weddings. Every now and then I watch those shows on t.v.: Say Yes to the Dress, Bridezillas, My Fair Wedding (isn’t David Tuterra a hoot?), and ogle all the expensive odds and ends and think “Wow, what a production.”

Very rarely do you watch those shows and feel like you understand the bride’s history and motivations except for short little interviews they do in between visiting one vendor or the next. That’s why I found Jeffrey Zaslow‘s The Magic Room fascinating.

Fowler, Michigan is a town that’s quickly dying out (a “town of widows”) but its most robust business, Becker’s Bridal, is still holding on. Currently helmed by Shelley Becker Mueller, the third generation of Becker woman owners, women from all over the Midwest flock there in search of the perfect bridal gown. Their “magic room” is actually the vault of their building which used to be an old bank. It’s fitted with a pedestal for brides to twirl on and wall-to-wall mirrors. It’s where brides make their final “yes” decision about the dress they think they want.

Zaslow spotlights a group of brides on their quest for the dress, but delves back into their pasts to profile what their upbringings were like and what influenced their thoughts on marriage. At the same time, Zaslow weaves in the history of Becker’s and how it went from a small operation of just a few dresses in a general store to a huge operation with thousands of garments to choose from.

Although the tone of the work is decidedly optimistic, quite a few of the brides have had more their share of struggle before making it to the magic room. Some, like one young bride, walk down the aisle with physical scars covered by their veils and distracted from by their bouquets.

While reading about the brides was interesting sociology, just as fascinating was reading about the angst from the Becker women who feel so compelled to keep the bridal business going, but also feel pulled in other directions to see where their talents lie. Can you imagine being Alyssa, the next in line to run the business, and making the decision that “Nah, I’m good. I don’t want to do this.” and letting it fall to someone else?

Me neither.

The Magic Room is organized in a way that you can read a chapter at a time, put down the book and come back later without having missed important details. It’s photo-rich, so it’s sort of like a real-life story book for grown-up women who love having visuals to go with all the talk of romance and weddings. It’s a good read.

I read The Magic Room as a reviewer for BlogHer Book Club. I am being compensated for this review, but as always, all content above is my own opinion and has not been influenced in any way.

I’ve been trying to learn about our new state to better understand the politics and general atmosphere here so I’ve checked out a few books from the Boulder Library. Sometimes knowing just a little bit about a state’s history explains a lot about the way the people behave. North Carolina was one of the original thirteen colonies and a fair chunk of its residents to this day are descended from the original British settlers who went forth and multiplied (I’m included in that clump — I’ve got a knight or two in my family tree, yo. *flips hair*). So, it’s not really a huge surprise that NC is still pretty conservative in a lot of ways.

Colorado is a couple of hundred years behind on the timeline when it comes to American history compared to North Carolina but its history is no less colorful. Bloodstained, in fact. Apparently the Indians here didn’t take kindly to white people all up in their business so there were a few gory battles. (Why does that sound like a familiar theme?) There was also a fair amount of gunslinging around here over things like gold, cattle, horses, land, etc etc etc. Lots of rabblerousers and not a whole lot of government to control them for a while. Colorado didn’t have statehood until 1876 (North Carolina entered the union in 1789).

Anyhow, the most interesting thing I’ve learned about Colorado is that public schools here have open enrollment. That means you don’t have to be concerned about your school zone – you can enroll your kid an any school as long as there is a space available. This is awesome news because it means that we can enroll Rosco in kindergarten *before* we have a permanent address. If he gets put on the waitlist and doesn’t make it into our top school choice he would go to the school in his zone.

Dude. That’s pretty sweet.

I’m also bolstering my Colorado knowledge by watching season one of Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman.

Don’t judge me.

I read a good amount of fantasy. It’s escapist and so stinkin’ creative. When a book has elements of folklore and mythology (which I’ve been fascinated by since I discovered it in an encyclopedia as a child) combined with a little bit of romance, I get all geeked out. I love having to consult Wikipedia to help explicate little-known references and Googling pictures of things I’ve never heard of. A couple of months ago, A Discovery of Witches had me all a-flutter. Now what’s got me all giggity-giggity is Juliet Dark‘s The Demon Lover.

Okay. The title may make you raise an eyebrow and go all o_O, but it’s actually a bit of a double entendre. It refers to a lover who is a demon (incubus, to be precise) and the woman who loves the demon. Witty, huh?

I’m not going to give you a synopsis because it’s hard not to engage in spoilery, so instead here’s a list of what made the book full of win:

-The main character Cailleach (“Callie”) is likeable and a bit ironic. She’s annoyed by female characters in literature who sit around and let things happen to themselves…but, she kinda does that too. (Hello, demon lover lover.) As a professor, she totally has that whole “those who can’t, teach” thing going.

-The fictional small college town of Fairwick, New York is filled with such creatures as witches, vampires, fairies, demons, deities, and various other things with fur and sharp teeth. Because I didn’t read a blurb for the book before reading it I was surprised when the first preternatural character popped up. Surprised in a good way, natch.

-I liked that some things couldn’t be easily answered for Callie or made simple for her. For instance, a witch wouldn’t be able to recognize another witch (or a fairy or demon or etc.) unless the other outed herself in some way.

-Comic relief: see “Phoenix.”

-Callie’s house scared the bejesus out of me even more than the malevolent creatures.

-Parallel plots – there’s a bunch of stuff going on: there are elements of horror, mystery and romance that all come together to form one bigger story.

-General unpredictability: I HATE it when I can guess “whodunnit?” by the middle of a book. Sometimes I had inklings that something was amiss with certain characters, but then when I got to the reveal, what was wrong with them wasn’t what I thought it would be (I can’t elaborate. Sorry.).

-The Demon Lover is the first book in a series so that means the un-conclusion regarding Callie and lover-boy can be addressed over time.

Just in case you’re a prude about this sort of thing: there’s lots of sex. An idiom about bunnies comes to mind. Please refer back to that “incubus” part to see why that’s important.

The Demon Lover is due out in paperback from Random House in December. It’d make one hot book club read. Invite me and I’ll bring the wine coolerz (and antacid).

Hey, look at me! I’m blogging a book review from the road! Right now we’re stopped for the night in Clinton, Oklahoma where it is currently cold enough to freeze the life right out of you. I don’t even know what timezone my body thinks its in. (My computer says Eastern.)

Anyway, let’s talk about The Lake of Dreams.

As an amateur genealogist I’m guilty of occasionally trying to rake up some muck. All families have skeletons in their closets, and the way I see it all dirt comes to light for a reason (even if that reason is just nosiness). Lucy Jarrett, our protagonist, inadvertently shakes some long-hidden secrets out of her own family tree while visiting her childhood home in New York. In the process of learning truths about her own father’s death she digs up an intriguing set of writings that not only introduce her to relatives she never knew existed, but may threaten her family’s livelihood.

That’s the 25-cent synopsis for you, now here’s the opinion bit:

1) I liked that we got two protagonists for the price of one (you’ll see what I mean).
2) I didn’t like the love triangle. I understood why it was there, but I felt like something was too tidy about how it was wrapped up.
3) I liked that Lucy, at nearly 30, still hadn’t really grown up.
4) …but at the same time, sometimes Lucy’s impulsiveness made her come across as unintelligent when she is in fact a self-confessed science nerd.
5) I liked how Edwards wove in the past with present using letters. It made the history seem richer.
6) …but I have to confess that sometimes the language in the letters confused me. Rose Jarrett seemed to write really “old” even as a teenager. There was no sense of maturity over time–whether she was 19 or 35, her quality of writing seemed the same. (I’m nitpicking here, but seriously – it made me raise an eyebrow.)
7) I felt a bit unsatisfied with the conclusion–not so much for Lucy as I’m glad she ended up where she did, but because of the fates of other unsavory characters. Literature always makes me feel that way, though, and I’ve figured out that I don’t like my fiction to be like real life.

So, should you read it? Yes. Slowly, though. Take the time to admire the prose because it’s well-crafted. Don’t go rushing through the story trying to find the “whodunnit.” It’s a book you’ll want to have a conversation with someone about…and maybe make you go dig up some family dirt of your own.

Disclosure: Thanks to BlogHer Book Club and the kind folks at Viking Penguin I got to read a galley copy of Kim Edwards’ new novel so I could give you my unbiased opinion. I am being compensated for this review, but all thoughts are my own.