Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson is one of those memoirs, like The Glass Castle written by another Jeannette but with the last name Walls, that leaves you feeling flabbergasted, angry, and sad at the way grown folks who choose to become parents treat their children. In the case of Winterson, she is the adoptive daughter of a woman whom she refers to as Mrs. Winterson. Jeanette writes: “Books, for me, are a home. Books don’t make a home–they are one, in the sense that just as you do with a door, you open a book and you go inside. Inside there is a different kind of time and a different kind of space.”
I am a freaking cliché thanks to this damn pandemic. Excessive online shopping, cooking, baking, drinking, exercising, protests, plant babies, alternating between being glued to CNN or binge-watching popular series.
I don’t usually gravitate towards psychological thrillers. I’m unsure about the reason. I enjoy them, even if a majority of the time I figure out the plot before it’s revealed. Things unfolded slowly and kept me guessing. The only part that felt rushed to me is the obligatory explanation of the villain’s backstory. It seemed to come out of nowhere, but it explained a lot and allowed for the book to progress as it did.
King’s Hawaiian rolls can be enjoyed with or without butter. Straight out of the fridge or warmed slightly in the toaster. More often than not, I’m too greedy to wait for the toaster and eat it chilly. A bad habit I have is putting a smattering of butter, taking a bite, then adding more butter to take another bite. Unhealthy, I know, but we all have our vices. It could be drugs!
I am a published writer in an anthology with Nikki Giovanni, V (formerly Eve Ensler), Kevin Powell, and over a hundred other writers. 2020: The Year That Changed America has changed my life.
I don’t care if the last episode I watched was the season finale or the series finale, I’m missing the characters, plot twists, great dialogue, writing, cinematography, lighting, bomb outfits, enviable hair styles, steamy sex scenes, stuck-in-your-head soundtrack, relatable themes, podcast recaps, WTF moments, and group text chats about these shows.
Let’s be clear: no actor can fill the shoes of Chadwick Boseman as Black Panther, but Black Panther did not die. Chadwick Boseman an incredible person with a beautiful soul has left us in the physical form. That is who we mourn. His legacy will be with us forever. Today we should celebrate him on what would have been his 44th birthday.
No real self-respecting book lover abuses books. By abuse, I mean crack the spine, mark it up, rip pages on purpose or by accident, toss around carelessly, and most definitely do not dog ear pages. Only monsters do that.