The BookFetish Blog

I don’t normally blog about photography books, but I have to share two I came across recently. Thanks to my favorite non-profit, Rolling Dog Ranch Animal Sanctuary, I learned about Melissa McDaniel’s Photo Book Project.

After becoming the owner of a deaf dog herself, Melissa became an advocate for disabled dog adoption. Melissa photographed and told the stories of  deaf and rescued dogs.  Often misunderstood as untrainable and aggressive, deaf dogs are routinely turned into shelters and often euthanized if they cannot be adopted out.

In Deaf Dogs, McDaniel pairs photographs and heartwarming stories of deaf dogs who have found their forever home.  I found myself turning pages quickly, smiling and, I confess, tearing up a bit as I read through the book in one sitting.

McDaniel did the same thing for rescue dogs in Rescued in America. Again, beautiful photographs that really capture the personality of the dogs and the stories of their journey to their families.

These books are now proudly displayed on my coffee table.  Anyone who loves animals, or has a special place in their heart for disabled or rescued dogs will love these books.

When I sat down to write, this is not the post you were going to read. But editing last night, it was late, I was tired, and I decided final editing needed to be done with a less sleepy mind than mine was at that moment. What’s here now is a result of more time to think, and reactions to changes from the original post that sparked all of this.

In a nutshell, a little controversy got started in the book blogosphere yesterday when author Sylvia Massara took “unprofessional reviewers” to task on her site, Authors Helping Authors. Please note, Massarra has since updated her original post . All passages from her blog that I use are taken from the original posting and may not reflect what you will see on her site at this time.

The point Massarra was trying to make on her blog yesterday is below:

When you offer your book to be reviewed, first take the time to check out the reviewer. Have a read of some of the reviews they wrote in the past. See if they trashed someone else. Make sure they back up their reviews with facts and objective criticism.

This is sound advice.  The problem is, the author asked some sites to review her books, and then she didn’t like what they had to say. And, she called them out – by name and link-  in her post and trashed them.  The links and call-outs of the specific blogs have since been removed, although you will see the original text below.

Well, for starters, the reviewers were not professional. They were not objective in what they had to say. I found their comments to be subjective and sometimes downright malicious. Two such blogs that have set themselves up as reviewers of books are “The Book Binge” and “Chick Lit Plus“. Now, I don’t expect everybody to like my books, but what really gets me is when amateur reviewers use words like “predictable” and “one dimensional”, but they don’t quantify this. They don’t back up their comments with facts.

Except that both the reviewers actually did back up the reasons they didn’t care for the book. And these were not attacks on the author, but problems that they had with plot or character development that made the book not work for them.   So the author lost a little credibility with me right there.

Massara then went on to say:

Oftentimes, the people who set up these kinds of blogs have never written a thing in their lives, except maybe a grocery list. Most are avid readers who think they are qualified to review someone else’s work. So it’s very sad when they go about damaging the image of upcoming small press and indie authors with the rubbish they write.

… Please bear in mind that writers work very hard at their craft and the last thing they need is a smartass who makes subjective comments because they don’t know how to do anything else.

Y’all, that fired me up a bit. I am an avid reader, and  I do write grocery lists. She’s got me there. I thought it was a bit condescending to say that because readers aren’t necessarily writers, well, we’re just not qualified to judge whether or not we like something. Sorry. I think that because I get so much joy out of reading and that because I read such a variety of books, I’m at least a little qualified to blog about why a book appeals to me. Reviews are by nature subjective, whether someone is paid to be a book reviewer (which I assume is what the author means by professional) or does it as a hobby. The point of a blog like mine, like Chick Lit Plus, The Book Binge and any number of other sites, is to share opinions about what we’ve read.

A book either speaks to me or it doesn’t.  It makes me want to turn a page, or it doesn’t. It makes me want to read more by the author  or say, hm, this author/genre/book is not for me.  Maybe, in my very small sphere of influence, someone is going to read a book because I suggest it.  Or maybe they’re going to read something despite me saying, “I didn’t care for that one,” and explaining why.

I don’t believe in trashing an author. I would never say on my blog “oh, you’re a crap writer and should never put pen to paper again.”  But I think Massara did herself a great disservice in her ranting post.  Her well-intentioned message of check out reviewers before you ask to work with them was lost in petulance and name calling that came across as something that should have been lamented with a best friend rather than through the blogosphere.

And although I did check out Massara’s site to see what all the fuss was about, nothing that I have seen is sparking a desire for me to read her book. That is, perhaps, what is most sad about this whole thing.

No, I’m not pregnant.

I had a severe allergic reaction on Saturday night. The kind where I was struggling to breathe, couldn’t get a good deep breath without extreme effort.  My chest was tight, I was coughing and I nearly made a trip to the emergency room.

I’ve had an allergic reaction like this before, to medication.  I knew a bit about what was going on, took a couple of Benadryl, and decided that I was  not in imminent danger of death.  So I stayed home, wheezed through the night, and decided Sunday morning to visit the urgent care center near me because really, my symptoms were not much better.

The culprit appears to be either histamines or sulfites in wine.  Although given the reaction I had and that it built up from a minor annoyance with some wines to a full blown reaction on Saturday, sulfites appear to be the more likely cause.  There’s also a chance that I’ve evolved into someone who suffers from alcohol intolerance, although that doesn’t seem as likely.

Considering that it is now Monday and I’m still suffering lingering effects, it is safe to say that for the foreseeable future, I am a non-drinker.  Why? Because in everything I’ve read from reputable sources, sulfites are in most alcoholic beverages.  While red wines have the most, on Saturday, I was drinking a light white. And I didn’t have much. Sulfites are a natural byproduct of the fermentation process in wine and beer.  But many liquors use them, too, as a flavor and/or color preservative.  Clear liquors may be ok, but frankly, I’m scared to try any of them right now.

So this is interesting.  I rarely eat desserts. As long as chips are not in my house, I’m fine staying away from them.  My wine or cocktails have been my little indulgence.  But since this incident, I’ve not been at all tempted to pour a glass of anything other than water or a Coke Zero (I allow myself, at most, one a day in normal circumstances).  I didn’t even have coffee yesterday, and I couldn’t make it through two cups today. In all fairness, though, I think that was because they never restocked the coffee supply at work today, and therefore, I wasn’t able to make the coffee I like the best.

Still, the cocktail is a feature at most events in my social calendar.  It will be interesting to be the one who is sipping the sparkling water with lime. With people I don’t know well, will they assume there’s a drinking problem? Will people even notice? Will I be bored at the tipsy conversations going on around me if I’m not sipping on something myself?  Will that one person who always drinks too much annoy me even more, now? Or will I find it calming?

So yes, I’m giving up a bit of entertainment. At the same time, I’ll be giving up so many empty calories.  And I hope, once this ridiculous coughing stops, the gym will be more appealing as a stress reliever since pouring a nice glass of wine won’t really be an option.

I want to make sure sulfites or something in the alcohol is the cause.  I’m planning to change nothing else in my diet, and make sure this doesn’t happen again. I want to make sure nothing else is wrong. And if I can never have a drink again, well. I’m sure I’ll miss it a bit. I do like them and it would be hypocritical to say otherwise.  But I’d rather be the non-drinker than go through that feeling again of not being able to get a breath, to feel the panic rise up as I struggle for air. To wonder if I’m taking too big a risk by not going directly to the hospital.

As is typical of me, I’m looking for the good things here.  I’ve already mentioned the empty calories I’ll be saying goodbye to.  There’s also the lower tabs at restaurants and the grocery store, without these items on the list. I don’t drink every day, but I still think I’ll get better sleep and more mental clarity giving it up totally.

On the other hand, it also means I get to find a new indulgence.  Suggestions?

Eleanor Brown’s The Weird Sisters is my first “must read” book of 2011.  Although the title conjures images of the three witches in MacBeth, The Weird Sisters aren’t witches; they aren’t even terribly weird.  But like all of us, they have their issues. And while they love each other, they don’t particularly like each other.

Rosalind (Rose), Bianca (Bean), and Cordelia (Cordie) are the daughters of a Shakespeare professor. Growing up, the things that bonded the family were Shakespeare and books. They communicate in letters filled with the Bard’s words, and all are voracious readers.

Rose is a mathematics professor, engaged to the love of her life, but terrified of the unknown. Bean has escaped the small university town of her youth for the glamour of New York City and has been seduced by all it has to offer.Cordie is filled with wanderlust, a modern hippie, moving from city to city and town to town as she sees fit.  But a family emergency brings them all back to Barnwell,and each with her own secret.

The first thing that drew me into The Weird Sisters was the narration.  I don’t want to give too much away with it, but it is a technique I’ve rarely seen used well, and I loved the use of it.  While reading, I often felt as though I were hovering on the periphery of the room, watching the story unfold in front of me. Other times, I felt as though I could see inside each sister’s head, that I was a part of her thoughts. The second thing that drew me in were the references to and the quoting of Shakespeare.  The reader does not need to be a Shakespeare scholar to grasp it, but a familiarity with some of the most popular plays (Romeo and Juliet, King Lear, The Taming of the Shrew, MacBeth) will certainly make the story more appealing.

Reading The Weird Sisters, I was struck about the loneliness that must sometimes affect even children with numerous siblings.  Each of the sisters feels as though she has somehow been overlooked in the family. Despite that, there’s a tenuous bond drawing them all to each other. Even though Rose, Bean and Cordie don’t particularly like each other, their bond as sisters transcends that dislike, allowing them to be each others’ harshest critic and fiercest ally.  In fact, it was the subtle evolution of the sisters’ understanding of themselves and each other unfolding throughout the story that drew me in and kept me turning pages.

Last year, my “thing” was to read 52 books in 52 weeks.  This year, inspired by a book I read last year, I decided to do my own Happiness Project.  You can read about The Happiness Project here and my own thoughts about it here.

For January, I am speaking only the truth. I don’t tell BIG LIES, but like most people, I am guilty of the occasional white lie. I think they are harmless, told to spare feelings, not necessarily to make myself look better in a situation. But I wondered what would happen if I spoke only the truth.

Talking about it over dinner the other night, my friend Lisa laughed when I told her. She said, “I lie a thousand times a day. ‘Mommy, do we have any cookies?’ ‘No.'” And that I totally get. Those are the easy things to stop doing or to justify. But what about those times when it is certainly easier to say what the other person wants to hear, but it isn’t the truth?

Before I speak, I now think about what I really feel is the truth of a statement. I weigh saying nothing at all. And I weigh the white lie. I track my progress every day, and the first few days of January were a piece of cake. Then, inevitably, I had my first big challenge. A friend confided that she is having an affair and wanted to know my thoughts on the situation.

I paused for a few moments, collected my thoughts, stuck to my commitment and told her the truth. Thankfully, my truth was something that she absorbed without ill feelings (that I’m aware of) towards me for being honest with her. The easiest thing, by far, would have been to say what I thought she wanted to hear. But I didn’t. And while it was hard, I am glad I did it.

Similarly, I was glad when I didn’t make excuses and told a friend that I preferred to stay on my side of town the day the big snowstorm was to hit here last week. He had invited me to his place for a chili cook-off. And I wanted to go. But if the weather came earlier than predicted, I didn’t want to be away from home in a city that is rarely prepared for winter weather. I could have made a million excuses why I couldn’t be there. It ended up being easier to just be honest. He understood completely.

So far, this has been an interesting undertaking. It gives me pause when I’m speaking, because speaking truthfully does not mean speaking without tact. And I still think there are situations where no good comes from the truth and feelings are spared by a white lie. But this is an interesting undertaking, nonetheless.