Julia London's Blog, page 27

What’re You Reading? It’s Wednesday

We’re continuing our book excerpts on Wednesday for the month. Next month, we’re moving it to Friday– and do we have some new fun in store for you! Stay tuned. Today, I’m sharing my love for author Emma Donoghue. I’ve read two of hers now, and they could not be more different books but they were equally engrossing page-turners.

The first, for historical fiction lovers (but not romance- this book gets dark and gripping) is Slammerkin.

Born to rough cloth in working-class London in 1748, Mary Saunders hungers for linen and lace. Her lust for a shiny red ribbon leads her to a life of prostitution at a young age, where she encounters a freedom unknown to virtuous young women. But a dangerous misstep sends her fleeing to Monmouth and the refuge of the middle-class household of Mrs. Jones, to become the seamstress her mother always expected her to be and to live the ordinary life of an ordinary girl. Although Mary becomes a close confidante of Mrs. Jones, her desire for a better life leads her back to prostitution. She remains true only to the three rules she learned on the streets of London: Never give up your liberty; Clothes make the woman; Clothes are the greatest lie ever told. In the end, it is clothes, their splendor and their deception, that lead Mary to disaster.

We used to do a Whine Sisters Book Club (which I would like to bring back) and I read this book with Julia London and Kathleen Givens years ago when it came out. We all had quibbles, as we always did and do, but our general impression was “wow.”

The next is Emma Donoghue’s Room, as told by a five-year-old narrator who doesn’t seem to realize that his existence in one small room with his mother and Old Nick who comes to them every now and then and locks them in after spending the night is at all unusual. Yes, creepy. Scary. Sad. Amazing. Intriguing. And finally, hopeful. It’s a book that I couldn’t put down.

My sister loved it, too, but not my mom. She did not like it. So not all Thumbs Up on Room but I still recommend you read it. Emma Donoghue writes fascinating books.

I can’t find excerpts of either book, but here’s a great site detailing Room that puts you directly in Room. Click here. Pretty cool.

More on Room:

To five-year-old Jack, Room is the entire world. It is where he was born and grew up; it’s where he lives with his Ma as they learn and read and eat and sleep and play. At night, his Ma shuts him safely in the wardrobe, where he is meant to be asleep when Old Nick visits.

Room is home to Jack, but to Ma, it is the prison where Old Nick has held her captive for seven years. Through determination, ingenuity, and fierce motherly love, Ma has created a life for Jack. But she knows it’s not enough…not for her or for him. She devises a bold escape plan, one that relies on her young son’s bravery and a lot of luck. What she does not realize is just how unprepared she is for the plan to actually work.

Told entirely in the language of the energetic, pragmatic five-year-old Jack, ROOM is a celebration of resilience and the limitless bond between parent and child, a brilliantly executed novel about what it means to journey from one world to another

What are you reading? Have you read Slammerkin or Room? Are you intrigued?

 

 

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The Good, the Bad, the Ugly

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

Let’s start off with the Good because there’s a lot of it:

I’m halfway through my current WIP (yay!). My two BFF’s are coming to visit on Thursday. My book club is coming on Sunday along with their husbands and we’re all going to cook an Italian meal together. I’ve uploaded four new e-books to Amazon. The US Open is in progress, so lots of great tennis to watch. The diet and exercise program the DH and I started on two months ago is going well and we’re both feeling great. Our son just landed a job he’s very excited about and that pays well! We had a great Labor Day weekend on the lake—here’s some photographic proof.

 

A beautiful day on the lake

 

The Bad:

Since all is well at Casa D’Alessandro, my Bad consists of a whine. I am sick and tired of uber-wealthy movie stars who get paid ridiculous amounts of money to make films complaining about how awful it is to be famous and pestered by photographers and fans. Shut up. Seriously. Shut. Up. The celeb who causes this rant is Jeremy Renner. I watched him on Live with Kelly last week while I was on the treadmill. I know nothing about Mr. Renner. I’ve never seen any of his movies, although the latest Bourne flick is on my list of movies I want to see. He came out looking very dapper and sat next to Kelly. He mentioned that he’d been traveling then she said something (and I’m paraphrasing here) to the effect that it must be lots of fun to make a movie but then be a “big bummer” and “a drag” to have to go out and promote it. Mr. Renner agreed that it was tough—five cities in twenty-four hours, so tiring, blah, blah, blah.

That’s when I turned off the show. Cry me a river, uber-wealthy celebs. Sorry it’s such a chore to have to wear fabulous clothes and fly in private jets to exotic locations and be forced to hobnob with gazillions of people who adore you. Seriously—real bummer for you.  And you know what? I bet it is tiring—jet lag and all that. But hey, in the grand scheme of things, you’re getting paid plenty to suck it up and put on a happy face. Even if that’s the way Mr. Renner felt, he’s a freakin’ actor—PRETEND you like it. Really, there are a lot of people who are a lot worse off than you. In an effort to be fair to him, I think it was a pretty lame comment by Kelly to begin with and he might have been caught off guard. Still, this entire rant would have been avoided if Mr. Renner had just said something along the lines of, “Why, no, Kelly, it’s not a drag at all. I actually like meeting all the fans who are responsible for me being able to make films in the first place.”

So, here’s a news flash to everyone who wants to star in movies—BE WARNED! Being a movie star means that people with cameras are going to take photos of you, even at times when you don’t want them to. It means people are going to be interested in your comings and goings. It means strangers are going to talk to you in restaurants, airports, etc. It means fans are going to ask for your autographs. If you can’t handle that, then please stick to regional theatre where no one will know who you are, and no one will care what you do.

Okay, rant over.

As for the Ugly:

Sadly, that honor goes to my latest attempt to grow an herb garden. As I’ve mentioned in the past, I am really bad with plants. This latest attempt is so, so sad. So, so ugly.

 

This is supposed to be basil, parsley, and oregano. Instead it's an Epic Fail.

 

Did you have a nice holiday weekend? What’s your latest Good, Bad, and/or Ugly?   

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WHEN TEMPTATION BURNS

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Happy Labor Day – what’s on your plan for the day?

Happy Labor Day everyone!

It’s nice having a three day weekend. The kids are home, my husband is home, the yard beckons (as does the grill). And, yes, revisions, too! That’s my plan: housework and revisions.

Not the traditional concept of Labor Day, I suppose, but to be honest, I’ve never known what the traditional point of Labor Day was. Did you? Well, if you did, yay for you. If not, I did the work so you don’t have to. The work being that I hauled my little cyber fingers over to Wikipedia, where I learned the following:

In 1882, Matthew Maguire, a machinist, first proposed the holiday while serving as secretary of the CLU (Central Labor Union) of New York. Others argue that it was first proposed by Peter J. McGuire of the American Federation of Labor in May 1882,[2] after witnessing the annual labor festival held in Toronto, Canada.

Either way, thanks Matthew or Peter for the idea. And whichever one of these dudes originated the idea, it became a National Holiday in 1894, apparently in order to smooth things over at the tail end of the Pullman Strike. In other words, create a holiday, avoid violent outbursts. Hmmm.

So what is one supposed to actually do on Labor Day? Wikipedia shares that, too:

The form for the celebration of Labor Day was outlined in the first proposal of the holiday: A street parade to exhibit to the public “the strength and esprit de corps of the trade and labor organizations”, followed by a festival for the workers and their families.

While we do some parades in our relatively small town, today will not be a parade day, nor even a get out of the house day, in the Kenner household. We’ll be celebrating with cleaning, writing, gardening, and lounging about lazily. And grilling burgers and hot dogs!

Of course, wiki also mentions shopping, which has probably become the biggest component of Labor Day (as well as the paradox that a Black Friday style shopping tradition on “Labor Day” creates):

To take advantage of large numbers of potential customers free to shop, Labor Day has become an important sale weekend for many retailers in the United States. Some retailers claim it is one of the largest sale dates of the year, second only to the Christmas season’s Black Friday.

Paradoxically, because of the importance of the sale weekend, some of those who are employed in the retail sector not only work on Labor Day, but work longer hours. More Americans work in the retail industry than any other, with retail employment making up 24% of all jobs in the United States.

So for those of you Whiners in the U.S., what are your plans? Home? Shopping? Or are you laboring today…?

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Back to School!

Finally, the Northeast heads back to school. Colleges and Universities are back in class. Everyone is up and out early. Which leads to our Friday question:

Are you a Morning Person? Or a Night Owl?

Sherri’s kids. Nick and Elissa, first day of school 2003 (7th and 5th grades) and now in college, age 21 and 19. Time flies! Enjoy those school days. 

 

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Dog Days of Summer

So for many of us, the kids are already back in school.  Mine left in early August to head back to Boston.  And now will be heading out to the Netherlands for the semester.  But in the theme of our lazy days and backyard meals, I’m sharing another menu favorite from around our house!

This is an easy summer salad.  Perfect for a Labor Day potluck.  Or just a last lazy day by the pool.

 

 

Pesto Pasta Salad

1 lb bowtie pasta (cooked)

1 cup pesto sauce (see recipe below)

1 cup pecan pieces

To make the salad, simply combine the pasta, the pesto and the pecan pieces.  Toss together and refridgerate at least an hour for flavors to combine.  Can add more pecans if desired and adjust amount of pesto sauce to taste.

Store bought pesto is fine, but it’s also an easy thing to make your own, and the brightness of the homemade far outshines anything you can buy at the store.

Pesto

1 cup (tightly packed) fresh basil

2 cloves garlic

¼ cup pine nuts

½ tsp sea salt (1/4 if  regular salt)

¼ cup + olive oil

½ cup parmesan cheese, grated

Add first four ingredients to food processor.  Process until paste is formed.  Slowly add oil while processor is running.  Add cheese and blend with processor briefly.  Will store in fridge for a month in freezer even longer.

So what’s your favorite Labor Day picnic food?  Got anything fabulous planned?  Please share!!!!

 

 

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Wednesday Reading

Today, in honor of Julia London’s leave, we’re taking a look at her latest release, THE SEDUCTION OF LADY X:

Picture of an actual, on-sale-now romance novel

Twenty-eight souls served the Carey family at Everdon Court, and every one of them, from the young girl who peeled potatoes in the kitchen, to Mr. Brock, the head butler, knew to cut a wide berth around Lord Carey, if they wanted to keep their position. His lordship had a cold and calculating temper, and with a tot or two of whiskey in him, he could be provoked by the most innocuous thing. With a few tots in him, he could be easily moved to dismiss a groundsman who had served for twenty steadfast years, but had failed to trim the shrubbery to the marquis’ exacting standards on the day he commanded it done. Or to send a young stable boy to pack his things and leave at once when Lady Carey laughed at something he said as she mounted her horse.

The servants avoided the marquis when they could, and when they did not have the luxury of doing so, they kept their eyes down and their lips sealed. Lady Carey, however, could not avoid her husband. How she managed to abide her marriage to such a cold man was a source of endless fascination for two old friends in the family’s employ: Miss Foster, the cook, and Mrs. Perry, the housekeeper. Miss Foster believed that Lord Carey’s prowess in the marital bed was the one thing that must have kept the marchioness loyal to him in the six years they’d been married. “A lady might put up with quite a lot if she’s properly handled between the linens, aye?” she’d cheerfully hypothesized.

Mrs. Perry, who had been married quite a while longer than six years, argued, “You are mad if you believe a romp is all that is required. I’d wager what brings her to heel is more likely the threat of being handled in a manner she doesn’t find the least bit pleasing.”

“Nonsense,” Miss Foster said. “We’d hear of it from Nancy if that were true,” she said, referring to Lady Carey’s personal maid. “And besides, she’d not be willing to leave any of this behind her, would she, now?”

Miss Foster was referring, of course, to the monstrosity that was Everdon Court. It had been a keep at one time, but through the centuries the Careys—the title and name deriving from the borderlands once known as Careyridge—had added wings to the central tower and taken down battlements. Now the house boasted eighteen bedrooms, two courtyards, and a banquet hall appended to the ballroom that could seat one hundred guests. It was filled with the finest French furnishings obtained during the dismantling of the French aristocracy in the last twenty years.

“Aye, but what good is all this when she’s married to a man like him?” Mrs. Perry had countered. There little that would entice her to stay if Mr. Perry if he were to treat her as unkindly as the marquis treated the marchioness. “These are only things. Lady Carey deserves a man’s esteem.”

“Perhaps it is a child she wants,” Miss Foster suggested. “An heir to this would serve her well.”

Mrs. Perry gave Miss Foster a withering look. “If there was to be a child born to that union, it would have been born long before now.” Every one of the twenty-eight staff knew of the trouble on that front. They waited every month with anxious anticipation—was she, or wasn’t she?

“What, you think her ladyship is barren, then?” Miss Foster asked.

“No,” Mrs. Perry said pertly. “I rather think it is him, what with all the whiskey.”

“Perhaps you are right,” Miss Foster said. “And then again, perhaps he’s unable.” The two ladies looked at each other and snickered.

What they could not know was that the marriage of the marquis and marchioness of Carey existed perfunctorily between the linens, and beyond that, scarcely at all. On most occasions, Lord Carey was neither a demanding nor an exciting lover; he performed his marital duties as was necessary to gain the heir and saved his personal preferences for a young woman in town who had been happy to receive him for some four years now.

Four years ago, Lady Carey had thought herself pregnant. As any woman would have done, she’d shared the joyous news with her husband, who was overcome with relief and gratitude. Alas, when two months passed, Lady Carey realized that she was no longer, or had never been, pregnant and the marquis’ disappointment was so great that he’d never fully recovered from it.

Lady Olivia Carey, who had enjoyed a highly public and fashionable wedding among England’s haut ton, had long since abandoned any hope of having a marriage of mutual respect and admiration. There was nothing she loathed more than her husband’s twice weekly visits to her room—unless it was his tendency to drink to excess—and she was ever thankful that it was over within a matter of minutes.

Sometimes, while Olivia lay there as Edward attempted to impregnate her, she wondered what it must be like to have an exciting lover. Or a caring one. She would settle for a lover who did not rut about like an animal answering some primordial need to procreate.

Sometimes, she lay there and counted the tiles on the ceiling, guessing what number she might reach before he finished.

And still other times, when he reeked of whiskey and clumsily groped her, Olivia passed the time by imagining the ways she could murder her husband and avoid being found out. Shooting him was too risky, as Olivia wasn’t entirely certain how to fire a gun. She imagined fumbling with the thing and losing the element of surprise.

Pushing him from the roof of Everdon Court seemed a better alternative, but she might draw attention if she invited him to a meeting on the roof. And then, of course, she would need him to stand at the edge, preferably where she could take a bit of a run at him to have enough force to topple him over.

Poison seemed the most sensible, but Miss Foster would never allow Olivia near his lordship’s food. The woman was entirely too conscientious and prided herself on the meals she served. It would take some convincing that Olivia was suddenly interested in preparing a dish for her husband to consume. And really, how much poison was necessary to kill a man? What if she did not use enough? Or so much that the taste of the food was ruined?

Lately, the murderous thoughts had lost their luster for Olivia. For one thing, Edward had not been able to perform “his duty,” as he called it, for more than a month due to his fondness for drink. It certainly didn’t stop him from trying, but he gave up quickly and Olivia rolled over and stared at the gold silk ties that held the heavy canopy curtains back from her bed and felt a well of envy bubbling up for her younger sister Alexa.

She did not envy Alexa’s disastrous situation. What she envied was the fact that Alexa had fallen so deeply in love with some man that she walked about with a look of yearning in her eyes. Alexa refused to reveal to Olivia who had earned this devotion from her; the only thing Olivia knew was that it was a gentleman Alexa had met in Spain while on tour with Lady Tuttle. Alexa could scarcely speak of anything else but the fine brown shade of his eyes, or the timbre of his laugh, or the intelligence of his speech.

Finish reading from THE SEDUCTION Of LADY X at Julia London’s website here. Or just go buy the book! You know you’ll want the whole thing.

What are you reading?

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Break Time at the OK Corral

Sometimes, if you are a dog, you chase a million balls and fetch them, and then at some point you realize you have to lie down and say whew! I’m beat.

I am not a dog, but that sort of happened to me recently. Kathleen O’Reilly said she was wandering off to do a few things (which she will talk about in a very whiny, but observant, blog post), and we whine sisters were whining about the blog, and what do you do when someone dies (Kathleen Givens), or wanders off (Kathleen O’Reilly) or, gets tired (me).  It occurred to me that I have been blogging here since 2004. Kathleen Givens, Sherri Erwin and I started it way back then and bitched about lo-rise jeans, Brittney Spears, and Real Men Don’t, to name a few.  That’s a lot of snark. It’s so much snark that I am beginning to re-snark. I am snarking my own snark.

Something else happened this summer. I figured out, after almost 15 years in this business, that I really can’t control much than the writing, and writing is what has always brought me the most happiness in this posh job. I’ve gone full circle. I have lost interest in promotion of my books (horrors! Of course I will keep doing it, but…) I want to focus on writing. I focus on writing now, but I want to focus really hard on writing.  With all my brain cells.  Thoughtfully. Without distraction. I want to get out in the universe and live, then come back and write about those things that have enlightened me. I don’t want to be tied to a computer blogging about Bachelor Pad.

What does this mean for you, dear reader? It means that you will see less of me in the blogging. I am still a Whiner, I will still be here to comment and keep Sherri in line (someone has to do it), but I won’t be re-snarking my resnarked snark.

It also means new Whiners are coming, whiners who have not yet lifted their howls of snark to the heavens. Whiners who may have seen as many episodes of Bachelor Pad that I have and are not ashamed to admit it. It means fresh perspectives and insights. New topics, new wits, new fun. Just what you deserve.

And, on those occasions my pals need to lay down and stop chasing balls, I will step in and remind you how stupid Bachelor Pad is, and why we should all watch.

Thanks for a great 8 years of snarking with me. Thanks to all our regulars, old and new. Thanks to everyone for being such a sport about Whine Sisters and checking in with us. We love you, man.

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In case you’re just joining us, I’ve been sharing our adv...

In case you’re just joining us, I’ve been sharing our adventures in Italy during the trip we took earlier this summer for our son’s college graduation. After three fabulous nights in Venice, we took the train to Florence. Both the DH and I had been before, many years ago, but neither of us had been to the Uffizi Gallery (where Botticelli’s Birth of Venus is housed) or the Accademia, home to Michaelangelo’s David, so those two sights were on our “must” list.

 

On the train from Venice to Florence

Since we were spending only one night in Florence, we hit the ground running as soon as we arrived, walking around the city, soaking in the local flavor, visiting the famous Ponte Vecchio bridge. Florence further proved that it’s pretty impossible (if not completely impossible) to have a bad meal in Italy. If only pasta and gelato were calorie free! But the amount of walking does help to keep the cellulite in check.

 

Gorgeous gelato!!!

 

Pictures inside the museums were forbidden, so we had to make due taking pics of one of the outdoor copies of David. It was lovely, but not nearly as magnificent as the original.

 

The dh, the kid, and David

 

The Duomo was magnificent–massive and constructed of marble. It boggles the mind to think of how these buildings were made. A climb to the top of the bell tower netted some gorgeous views of the city.

 

beautiful view of a beautiful city

 

Our time in Florence was short, but that’s just a great excuse to return some day!

 

Arrivederci, Firenze!

 

How is your summer going? Any Italy memories to share? How about memories of your favorite vacation?

 

 

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Touch Me

Pleasing a man is something former mistress Genevieve Ralston does very well. But after her lover callously dumps her, she’s definitely off men…until she meets Simon! He’s brooding. Sexy. And she can’t keep her hands off him…

But Simon Cooperstone, Viscount Kilburn, is a spy. His mission: retrieve a mysterious letter in Genevieve’s possession. Intent on seducing her secrets from her, he forgets to guard one thing: his heart.

Each stroke of Genevieve’s talented fingers unleashes his deepest desires. Too late, he realizes that while he may be a master of the art of seduction, he’s no match for a sensual mistress…

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