Stages & Pages

Every time I go to the grocery store, I forget where I park my car, so I can’t even begin to imagine the stress of forgetting a few years of my life. In her latest novel, Remember Me?, New York Times Bestselling author Sophie Kinsella takes us into the newly complicated world of London native and Deller Carpet’s employee Lexi Smart.

Twenty-eight-year-old Lexi wakes up after a severe injury to the head to find that she has suffered from retrograde amnesia and has forgotten the past few years of her life. After panicking about the situation, she quickly learns that her newfound glamorous life is nothing like she remembers.

As a girl who was once awkward, dating losers, and in a low-end job, Lexi now finds herself thrown into a storybook marriage surrounded by wealth, power and high-end living with not the slightest clue of what to make of it.

Every day she learns more about her current life through the people she meets and supposedly knows already. She can’t help but wonder what events she has forgotten that have molded her into the drastically different person she is now.

Every page is more enticing as she draws closer to regaining her lost memory. The people of her past give her clues that help her unfold, and unravel, the life she once had.

Lexi’s Cinderella story is jolted by confessions of “strangers” and deceitful actions of family, co-workers and “friends” seemingly set on bringing her down from her high-power profession and posh lifestyle. Her frustration builds as the people closest to her expect her to know everything about her life. She finds herself struggling to understand what is really true, who her real friends are and what has made her become someone she is not proud of.

Through heartbreaking realizations she finds the strength to overcome her family’s clouded past, a failing job, out-of-touch friends and a tangled love life. Her progression throughout the story is not only unpredictable, it is inspiring.

In the end, Lexi’s life becomes everything worthy of a modern-day fairy tale, only this was one fairy tale she couldn’t have dreamed up if she tried.

Kinsella’s ability to capture the struggles of amnesia through the life of a well-intentioned young woman is enough to make any heart bleed with sympathy. Her witty and sometimes crude British jargon may be unfamiliar at first, but never hinders the pace or the reader’s understanding of the novel.

She is able to interject relatable humor into Lexi’s stark realizations about pop culture (“I can’t get over this. Jennifer and Brad are divorced. The world is a different place,” “I can’t help gasping. ‘There’s a sixth Harry Potter?’”) as well as her awkward reintroduction into refined environments (“The sound of breaking glass interrupts my thoughts. I stop twirling in horror. Somehow I accidentally caught my hand on a glass leopard that was leaping through the air on a display shelf. Now it’s lying on the floor in two pieces.”).

Don’t be surprised if you find yourself day dreaming about even the smallest things that you would miss from your life if you were the one in Lexi’s shoes.

I was gripped by each page, hoping and praying that Lexi’s amnesia would be gone and all of her confusion would be cleared. I felt for her as she went through all her ups and downs. When her husband Eric was compassionate, I felt her excitement and when mystery man Jon entered a room, I felt her tension.

I wanted to yell and cry with her when her co-worker Byron was overheard bad mouthing her in the hallway. Every word drew me into her chaotic life more, which I feel is a great talent on behalf of the author. I could barely drag myself away from the pages as each chapter ended with a dramatic turning point or a new glimpse of truth. Lexi was just that girl everyone wants to be, the ugly duckling turned beauty queen.

Kinsella above all teaches an important life lesson to women of every age about finding the things in life that make you happy while still allowing you to stay true to yourself. As for me, I may not be finding my car in the parking lot anytime soon, but I will undoubtedly find my way back to the bookstore to indulge in more of Sophie Kinsella’s captivating work.

I never thought I would enjoy reading a romance novel, but Lisa Jackson’s Left to Die gave me a reason why.

As I searched the suspense section of a local bookstore for a novel about a serial killer targeting women in the mountains of Montana, I was disappointed that it was nowhere to be found.

My genres of choice are horror and suspense, and I particularly enjoy a good Stephen King novel. But I wanted to venture outside my King comfort zone and explore something different, which led me to Jackson’s New York Times best-selling book.

I decided to use the in-store computer system to find the book and to my disbelief, it was in the romance section. Approaching the check-out line and handing the book to the cashier, I felt the flush of embarrassment spread across my cheeks.

Yes, I admit I am one of those readers who scoffs at “trashy romance novels.” Never had I imagined finding myself purchasing a novel with a cover depicting a woman in the throes of passion.

Once inside the privacy of my apartment, I began to lose my preconceptions and give Jackson’s work an open mind. Nearly 200 pages into the 484-page-novel, I was ready to admit that reading a romance novel was not the worst thing I could do for my intelligence.

But I was still unsure why it was a bestseller. The writing is simple and in many cases unimaginative. Jackson’s use of “damned” to make a point gets particularly annoying after a couple hundred pages.

Stephen King’s Misery meets an episode of Law & Order in the story of Jillian Rivers, an unsuspecting woman pulled from her mangled car in the middle of the snow-laden woods by a suspicious man after nearly becoming the victim of a psychotic female-stalking serial killer.

But despite the predictable plot line, Jackson threw me for a loop as I strained to determine if Jillian’s rescuer, Zane MacGregor, was the much-alluded-to serial stalker. Jackson uses the thoughts of Jillian to plant seeds of doubt in my mind about Zane, and I will admit that it worked.

Jackson cleverly hides MacGregor’s intentions and keeps me wondering if he is a threat to Jillian. I do not find out the truth until Jillian does, our suspicions in sync throughout each turning of the page.

During the course of Jillian’s debacle, two female detectives search for the person leaving naked women to die, tied to trees in the woods with mysterious messages etched above their heads. Though it is commendable that Jackson makes the characters in her novel predominantly assertive female figures, I felt a lack of emotional connection. I was unable to truly identify with Jillian Rivers or the two detectives, Selena Alvarez and Regan Pescoli.

The women’s problems seemed trivialized and in many cases served as filler. Pescoli’s problems with her children and ex-husband should create a sense of reality to her character, but Jackson misses the mark and makes Pescoli just seem whiny and irresponsible.

Alvarez and Pescoli work well together, exemplifying the idea that opposites attract. Pescoli is something of a sex-pot, chasing after emotionally unavailable men, whereas Alvarez is reserved, hiding a secret which keeps her from pursuing romantic relationships.

Jackson’s obsession of referring to her characters in various ways made creating a character connection and keeping up with who was being depicted a difficult task. Jackson refers to each of her main characters by first name, last name or in some cases both. This makes it difficult to remember which character is which, especially in the beginning of the novel when we are still being introduced to the protagonists.

Perhaps the most unfortunate part of this novel is that Jackson intentionally ends it with many questions unanswered. For readers who want everything wrapped nicely in a bow by the final page, disappointment awaits.

Closure will not come until August 2009 when Chosen to Die is released. If this novel is any indication, I am unsure if even then Jackson will reveal all the secrets and questions of Left to Die. But if you can get past sometimes unimaginative writing and predictable plot lines, then Jackson’s novel is worth the read.

Book trailer:

The young adult pop-culture sensation Twilight and its subsequent series of three more vampire romance novels may seem silly and sad to any novice.

I, too, was once a naysayer, but I succumbed to the intrigue of frenzied young readers. How could anything that made so many teenagers want to actually pick up a book and read rather than play video games or watch TV be anything less than exciting?

Sure, the books aren't literary inspirations, but the story lines and the characters are entertaining; shouldn't those be qualities of a great book?

Sometimes I don't feel like deciphering a Joycean stream of conscious. Sometimes I just want to escape real life, and what farther place is there than the romantic plight of a mortal girl and her vampire boyfriend?

Breaking Dawn is the fourth and final installment in Stephenie Meyer's Twilight series. Her first three, Twilight, New Moon and Eclipse all sat pretty on best-seller lists and this one followed suit. The hype alone was enough for critics to compare the series to J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter books.

I, for one, was ready to read through the book as quickly as possible so I could embrace a social life once again. But to Twilight fans everywhere, prepare to be disappointed.

I don't know if by this point I realized how far-fetched the plot was, or if I just craved a little bit of realism, but Breaking Dawn finally made me embarrassed to say, "I like the Twilight books."

Without giving too many surprises away, which there are a lot of in this book, Meyer addressed several topics which I no longer cared to experience vicariously through Bella Swan, her main character and narrator of the series. Bella has met her soul mate vampire, Edward Cullen.

She's met and survived his entire vampire family, as well as several close encounters with other more dangerous vampires. She's been heartbroken and left alone, become best friends with a werewolf, and then reunited with her one true love, and now fiancé.

That's the juice I like to read. The sensational fantasy filled with action scenes and topped off with an innocent, young-love story. Breaking Dawn moves beyond everything Meyer's written about thus far and all of a sudden Edward and Bella are adults, dealing with adult problems, problems I'm trying to escape from.

You're not helping me out here, Meyer.

I found this book much easier to put down than the others, almost as if it were intended to ease me back into normal society life. But to give credit where it's due, Meyer wraps up the series nicely with the ending of Breaking Dawn.

She reverts to her tried and true method of nail-biting conflict, a method perfected by fantasy writers because they can essentially create any outcome with the invention of characters and powers that would be impossible for the reader to predict, thereby increasing the thrill. But beware; the thrill doesn't come until about 500 pages into the book. The first chunk focuses on weird vampire "problems" that I'm not sure I wanted to consider.

The bottom line is that Twilight fans will read this book regardless of even the most scathing review. And if you haven't read the Twilight series yet, only curiosity or an obsessed friend will drive you to read it now, and then you'll be sucked in and have to finish the series.

But for the fans, the ones who choose to escape with a guilty pleasure of teen-romance, mystery and fairy-tale-monster-turned-prince charming, Breaking Dawn might not be what you expected, or hoped for. If you're looking for your Twilight fix, re-read the first book and call it a day.



Interview with the author:

Something is off.

Surely, a chapter must be missing from my book. I fervently flip through the 205 pages of "The Last Lecture" again to make sure. Nope, all pages are intact, as is my untouched box of Kleenex next to me.

Could it be? Is it possible to read about a dying professor's final reflections without losing it?

47-year-old Randy Pausch proved me wrong – it is. The Last Lecture is based on a poignant talk given at Carnegie Mellon University, where Pausch taught computer science. Jeffrey Zaslow, a columnist at The Wall Street Journal and The Last Lecture co-author, attended the 70-minute speech titled "Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams."

Inspired, he quickly passed on Randy's tale to his column readers. With the aid of Zaslow's publicity, Pausch's lecture became an overnight YouTube sensation. A month and a half later, the book version was in the hands of a publisher.

"My father always said if there's an elephant in the room, introduce it," Pausch said in his Sept. 18, 2007 talk, in front of an auditorium packed with students, colleagues and his wife, Jai. The elephant in the room: Pausch is dying of pancreatic cancer, and will die in three to six months. He stopped teaching months ago, but returned to Carnegie Mellon for his "last lecture."

Professors are often asked to give the talk under hypothetical pretenses, so when he was asked to do it post-diagnosis, he knew it would be a hefty emotional investment. He accepted, however, using the video-taped opportunity to pass on a lifetime of advice to his children – Dylan, 6, Logan, 4, and Chloe, 2.

The Last Lecture isn't about dying. It's about living. Like the similarly plotted Tuesdays with Morrie, I read the book prepared to cry and mope, but instead felt incredibly rejuvenated by its finish.

Pausch is not in denial – he knows he's dying. But he's not dead yet. He's simply squeezing the most joy out of each remaining day without a second wasted.

"I won't let go of the Tigger inside me," he wrote, citing the jubilant "Winnie the Pooh" character. "I just can't see the upside in becoming Eeyore. Someone asked me what I want on my tombstone. I replied: 'Randy Pausch: He Lived Thirty Years After A Terminal Diagnosis.' I could pack a lot of fun into those thirty years. But if that's not to be, then I'll just pack fun into whatever time I do have."

Pausch radiates a goofy, childish enthusiasm in all aspects of life. His trademark energy pushed him to achieve his childhood dreams, which he describes in enjoyable storytelling detail.

As a child, he wanted to become a Disney Imagineer, write a World Book Encyclopedia entry, meet Captain Kirk from "Star Trek" and play in the NFL. He didn't quite make it to the NFL, but worked on Disney World's "Aladdin: The Magic Carpet Ride," authored the World Book entry on virtual reality, and eventually did meet Captain Kirk.

His book is punctuated with what I like to call "Pausch-isms." They're simple, but highly useful tidbits of advice to use in everyday life. Each epithet is backed up with personal life experiences, adding to its impact in the reader's mind.

"Loyalty is a two-way street," he said, describing past colleague relationships.

Pausch's personality is a mix of practicality and passion. It leaps right off the page. He has a sound logical side that competes with a booming, often nerdy personality.

"During my cancer treatment, when I was told that only four percent of pancreatic cancer patients live five years, a line from the Star Trek movie 'The Wrath of Khan' came into my head ..." Just when I'd be ready to reach for the tissues, I'd laugh out loud.

The last thing Pausch wants in The Last Lecture is the reader's tears. Instead, he aims for his audience to make the most of life, regardless of circumstances.

"We can't change the cards we are dealt," he said, "just how we play the hand."

Interview with the author:

I have a wicked sweet tooth, and there is little else in the world that I like more than a hot-fudge sundae. With the creamy, the gooey, the crunchy, the warm, and the cold all in one simple glass, a sundae really satisfies all of my sweet cravings with one fell swoop.

Sloane Crosley’s witty new collection of essays, I Was Told There’d Be Cake, is just such a perfect sundae: a heaping scoop of New York City spirit, covered in witty sarcasm with a sprinkling of unabashed girliness, topped off with a cherry that has long since been popped.

I Was Told There’d Be Cake is a sampler tray of some of the more awkward moments of Crosley’s quirky journey through life. It’s a delightful read that can be consumed in chapter-long tastes or one sitting.

She smacks of fellow essayists David Sedaris and Dave Barry, with a self-deprecating, helplessly blunt approach to storytelling and an ability to find the sweeter side in even the grittiest of situations. But unlike the Davids, she makes her audience somewhat narrow; this is a feminine book with a feminine cover that talks about feminine things like girls’ summer camp and being a bridesmaid. She is genuinely clever and talented, but some of her material might not connect with Y-chromosomed readers.

This bubbly debut seems to be really representative of her personality, showing a whimsical imagination but also firmly planted feet. Crosley isn’t afraid to be a little crispy around the edges, and certainly doesn’t shy away from asking someone “why [they] had to be such a f– face.”

Imagine a younger, shorter, and more jovial female Larry David. Even the cover – extreme close up of a flower-patterned mattress circa 1970 – is a Monet-like reflection of Crosley: from far away, it’s pretty and girly and nice, but up close, you can see how a painfully average suburban existence brought out the sardonic in her.

Now after reading this book, I realized that I am unfairly predisposed to Crosley’s work. We come from exceedingly similar suburban areas, with the same kind of religiously apathetic, dysfunctional (but unbroken) upper-middle class families.

We have the same hair and college major, and are both frequently told that we “don’t look very Jewish.” We failed at being legitimately vegetarian, but love to bake and share a burning desire to have a cultural heritage other than American.

I am admittedly biased, because I feel like these laughable and embellished memoirs could have been my own if I were 26 years old and writing a book.

But biases aside, I Was Told There’d Be Cake is a really enjoyable read. Her essays, creating a Ben Stiller-like comedy of errors in the end, are hilarious and intelligent from the very first page.

With a snarky irreverence Crosley is able to point out the comedy in everyday tragic situations of work, roommates, sex, drugs, college, weddings, family, and favorite childhood computer game Oregon Trail. She tosses in a fun (but tasteful) little helping of bathroom humor and shows a real talent for wit and metaphor.

Crosley includes wonderful little nuggets of insight in her work: “You can’t pick your girlfriends’ teeth, but you can sure as shit pick your girlfriends.”

I loved her points about our “universal desire to avoid being the asshole” and how she had to “cut the pink wire” after being in an over-the-top fairy-tale wedding. She comically notes how “being vegetarian in New York is not unlike being gay. Veggie restaurants and options abound [...] but being Vegan, of course, is like the dietary equivalent of being a transsexual.”

My favorite was her wistful recount of a moving day in which she locked herself out of two different apartments. Her descriptions are spot on without being superfluous; I laughed out loud and had a smile plastered on my face throughout the entire book.

I Was Told There’d Be Cake is a rollicking good and easy read, and is a perfect little comedic treat to pick up and read again. It might be a little on the girlish side, but this book is genuinely funny and well written, and shows real potential for Crosley as a writer.

It is a sweet and whimsical delight, and I bet Crosley could venture to a darker, heavier side; think chocolate ganache. I can’t wait to satisfy my craving for her next book.

Interview with the author