My Life Uncovered by Lynn Isenberg (2003)

Where to start? Whew, this is some bad chick lit. Okay, plot: Chick is a screen writer, well, she wrote one screenplay and no one will produce it, so she starts writing adult films and her career takes off. And some other stuff happens, but not much. I read half and skipped to the end. Trust me, nothing happens. What makes this book so bad? First of all, I've seldom read such clunky dialogue. Filled with clumsy exposition and long speeches, this is so remotely not how people talk. Oh, and in case you were wondering what her original, legit screenplay was about?

"My college summers were spent as a podiatric assistant in my dad's, Walt's, officer where I had come to adore Lily. During her ritual footbaths, I came to understand the sacrifices she made in her life, the dreams lost in self-recrimination and the vast love gained in the sweet solitude of surrender. I was deeply touched by her story, steeped in loss and self-renewal."

And the old chick tells writer chick to tell her story. What story? Plot much?

This book is abysmally written. In addition to the clunky dialogue and awkward exposition, she loves her some adverbs and has a knack for turning such a bewildering phrase that I wondered if perhaps English was not her first, or even second, language. She has literally no character development and after reading half the book, I could barely tell the characters apart. Clearly this is why there's a character list in the front of the book. The author also seems to have an odd sense of how things work in the real world. I don't care how great a writer this chick is, if the adult film producer generally pays $500 for a script and he pays her $3500, there's something really wack there. Especially since she's had nothing produced. Plus, allegedly the character had worked at an agency for three years and she's never heard the term "units" (used in a video context)? Weird.

But what's REALLY weird is the content of this book. Chick lit is about chicks, for chicks, written by chicks, right? After reading (half) this book, I think Lynn Isenberg is a man, baby, and an old one at that, who lacks any insight into the female mind. Example A: She refers to the naked women in the posters lining the adult film producer's office as "stacked." I've never heard a woman use that phrase (nor a man, for that matter, after 1964). Example B: Dressing to go to a party, "I sift through my wardrobe trying to compose a hot outfit I can put together in a hurry—I know, the black Tara Jarmon pantsuit with a sheer top, a charcoal leather duster and black leather calf-high boots that Bennett gave me last year." If that's not convincing enough, a few weeks later she dresses for a party in her go-anywhere black cocktail dress and black loafers. Loafers! And it's not like being fashion-challenged is part of her personality. Everyone thinks she's wonderful and beautiful, so clearly that's just some wrong writing. Example C: She writes a film for the adult film industry that centers on two girls who are dating until one decides she wants to be heterosexual and the other hires a guy to date her and dump her so she'll come back to her. Not only was this already a movie (Three of Hearts, I think, and there might be a Baldwin in it), but the vast majority of the movie centers on girl on girl action. Not only that, but when our heroine goes to Victoria's Secret to watch her sister try on lingerie for her wedding (??), the adult film star (female) and her girlfriend get busy in the next stall, while our heroine listens in. Then, she meets a film producer (female) who invites her to dinner and hits on her in a big way. "And then my mind races with competing thoughts, emotions and questions that go something like this: 'Oh my God, a woman is kissing me.' 'Hmmm, I can't believe how nice it feels.' "What am I doing? I'm not gay!' 'This is wrong for me.' 'God, I miss the arms of a man, a man who loves me.' 'What is the meaning of this?'"

It goes on for quite a while in that fashion and women keep coming on to her. Then she goes on blind dates with men and acts sex-crazed and licentious and actually scares them away. She's on a first date with a guy at Cirque du Soleil and can't understand why he drops her off right after the show. After all, "during the entire performance I whispered to him how I couldn't wait to duplicate all those contortions for him in bed." On a first date! Who behaves like this? (A man's fantasy, that's who.) Her second date is with some guy who she goes to see sculptures with "where I couldn't help but see, and express, something sexual in every object we looked at." He runs away, though clearly, this is another's man's (the author!) fantasy.

But anyway, this is supposed to be chick lit and the guy she ends up with isn't even introduced until more than halfway through the book. The author spends no time on him, seemingly only including him at the end because someone reminded the author that this is supposed to be chick lit. Whew! This book sucked. It's amazing that stuff like this gets published. Red Dress Ink should really stick to importing Brit chick lit.

One Day by David Nicholls (2001)

British, witty and charming novel about two friends who hook up after university and then have a Harry and Sallyish friendship. The novel checks in on their lives on the same day every day for twenty years. Great characters, insightful, realistic relationships. Really, really well written and lovely. Love this quote: “At the best of times she feels like a character in a Muriel Spark novel -- independent, bookish, sharp-minded, secretly romantic.”

Girl, 15, Charming But Insane by Sue Limb (2004)

Absolutely adorable young adult novel about a young British girl living with her mum and struggling with all the usual teen troubles--boys, friends, etc, but the dialogue (mostly in the voice of the heroine Jess Jordan) is beyond witty. Plus, Mom's a librarian! See awesome quote.

“Unfortunately she met her mum by the gate, and she could tell by her face that Mum had had one of those days. Occasionally people came into the library and peed, pooed, or got drunk and starting shouting abuse. Drunks and vagrants went to sleep in the reference section. Once a very old man who lived on the streets had died on the Oxford English Dictionary. You might think that being a librarian would be a quiet, cushy job, but sometimes it seemed that the library was really a nightmarish extension of the mean streets and that librarians were just cops and paramedics disguised in tweedy cardigans and long dangly parrot earrings from the charity shop.”

Magic or Madness by Justine Larbalestier (2005)

Compelling young adult novel about a young girl in Sydney on the run with her mother. When her mother is committed and she goes to live with her grandmother, she learns some truths about her family, her life, and the reality of magic. Split between Sydney and NYC, it’s filled with Aussie slang (glossary included!) and a refreshingly diverse cast of characters. Followed by two sequels: Magic Lessons and Magic’s Child.

Tuscany for Beginners by Imogen Edwards-Jones (2004)

Enchanting novel (by the author of Hotel Babylon) about a woman who runs a B & B in Tuscany and models herself after Frances Mayes. For those who read Under the Tuscan Sun and found Mayes insufferable, this clueless character is especially hilarious and delightful. Great characterizations all around especially the expat community (Derek and Barbara) in her valley, her long-suffering daughter, and the American who moves in to start a hotel of her own. Plus, hilarious recipes—yes, hilarious recipes! So witty, so British, and such dishy, soapy fun!

Driving Sideways by Jess Riley (2008)

Driving Sideways is about Leigh, who just recovered from a kidney transplant, and is taking a road trip from her native Wisconsin to try to find her mother in California. Riley has a beautiful Midwestern voice, and fabulous humor. There are at least four laugh out loud moments on every other page of this hilarious novel. Plus, it's poignant and touching as well. SO good. So so so good.

How Reading Changed My Life by Anna Quindlen (1998)

This is a lovely volume that includes Quindlen's thoughtful writing on the meaning of books and reading in her life and in society. There's no better argument for the pure pleasure of leisure reading out there.  She also includes some fun reading lists, like "10 Books That Will Help a Teenager Feel More Human," "10 Mystery Novels I'd Most Like To Find in a Summer Rental," and "10 Modern Novels That Made Me Proud To Be a Writer." 

Y: The Last Man series by Brian K. Vaughn and Pia Guerra (2003)

Ten volume graphic novel series about a guy who is the last man on earth, and his monkey and the adventures he has with the agent who protects him and how he tries to get back to his girlfriend in Australia. Yorick Brown is quite a character and awfully cute, with floppy hair and great self-deprecating humor. Incredibly addictive, filled with adventure, and good, good fun.

Fitcher's Brides by Gregory Frost (2002)

From the amazing Fairy Tale series by Terri Windling. This one is a retelling of Bluebeard set in the 1800s among a doomsday cult led by a very charismatic preacher. Although some of the conventions of the original tale don't serve the retelling as well as I'd like, such as the personalities of the three sisters who marry Bluebeard, this book is one of those that just stayed with me. Plus, the story of Bluebeard is always fascinating, and I never remember the name of this book.

Once Wicked, Always Dead: A Novel by T. Marie Benchley (2010)

I read a lot of books. I pick up and discard even more, because life is too short to read bad books. But every once in a while, a book comes along that is so awful that it's almost a sport to read it. This is one of those books. From the first incoherent paragraph to the last ridiculous page, this is bewilderingly bad. (I should note that it's published by M.M.W.E. Publishing House in Tampa, FL in case you'd like to check out more of their fine selections. I can't find them online, but maybe you can.)

Quick summary, then we can get to the bad writing. Two storylines: One is about a beautiful woman who is killing pedophiles and other sexually criminal men (her motto is the book's title). The other concerns Molly Madison, socialite who is married to Philip, a lawyer with political aspirations and a secret gay life. When Molly's parents die unexpectedly, she takes over the ranch and fends off potential buyers who will use any means to get to the ranch. She splits up with Philip and takes up with Clayton Leatherbe, head foreman of the ranch. Also, she has a half sister in town who (spoiler alert) is Molly's best friend and responsible for killing or trying to kill most of the people Molly knows.

I give you the first lines of the novel:

"The dimly lit room was specifically designed to create a soothing atmosphere for his patients. An illusion of safety and warmth was his mastermind. He was a Picasso when it came to the details of decorating his office."

Picasso? What? On to Chapter Two, as Philip goes to the gay bar:

"The city lights cast shadows that stretched along the brick walls upon the back of the buildings that lined the dingy alleyway. It reached up like bony fingers providing shade to mask the faces of those who wished to keep their dirty secrets from others."

Just think about it logistically . . . It's at this point that I couldn't help thinking of Inigo Montoya--I just don't think those words mean what she thinks they mean. At least not in the order that she uses them. Let's join Philip at the gay bar!

"The electric voice of Donna Summer swirled in his head. He took great pleasure watching the sweat glisten from the men who simultaneously grinded their bodies together upon the dance floor and felt shivers of excitement run from the back of his neck all the way down to his groin."

Is it just me, or did that shiver of excitement take a u-turn? Even emotions take twisty turns within a single sentence, as when Molly finds out about her parent's accident:

"She expected to hear the comfort of her father's voice calling to inform her that they would be arriving that night, only to be emotionally overthrown by the voice of a compassionate state trooper informing her of her parent's deadly accident."

Molly flies to Montana, "pained with guilt over the fact that she and Philip were being pampered in first class along with her mother and father's charred remains that had been stuffed into body bags and placed in the cargo hold of the large airliner." She drinks Bloody Marys, cries and sleeps on the flight. But "as she stepped off the plane, the mountain air slapped the inebriated woman square in the face and awoke her dulled senses." Just in time for her to meet Clayton Leatherbe:

"Molly noticed the tall, brawny cowboy calling her name. She could not help but admire the thick blond hair that lay beneath his black cowboy hat or the way his tight fitting Wrangler jeans complimented his perfect ass. As Clayton approached them, Molly's swollen eyes spotted the silver rodeo belt buckle that rode just above the large bulge that filled out the front of his pants.

Remember, she just lost her parents. Man, that mountain air really does work wonders. Plus, was he spinning around in circles? At this point, I'm starting to think this is some elaborate publishing joke. On every single page is an example of genuinely weird writing. The descriptions make no sense at all, as in this bit about Molly's father's study:

"As he looked around, his nostrils were filled with the aromatic scent of cherry tobacco that still lingered thick in the air. He spied Gavin's expansive collection of assorted pipes sitting on the large hand carved desk as if anticipating his arrival to be puffed upon once more. A massive fireplace made out of Ancient River rocks, which had once been painstaking hand selected and gathered specifically for their color, emerged from the floor to fill the corner of the room."

I'd love to see an old-school grammarian parse the descriptive sentences in that scene. And what's with the random capitalization? Believe me, I could go on and on. But let's close out with one final scene--a love scene to end all love scenes.

"Clayton gazed down into the depths of Molly's blue eyes with such intensity that he was able to reach in and pluck out her soul. [Literally?] All of her desires were mounting and taking over and she knew that she had lost control of the lust that was building inside her. Neither one of them had any control over the passion they felt for each other. As her body quivered under his touch, Molly reached up for Clayton's lips, parting them ever so gently with her moist tongue. [Just picture that. Try it yourself for fun!] From the first moment that Clayton pressed his lips to her, Molly knew that they were destined for each other and she would never let him go. She loved this man, and for the first time in her life, she felt whole and complete. As Molly inhaled heavily, the aroma of spice and leather swirled off from Clayton's masculine skin and filled her nostrils with delight. [Mmm, swirly AND masculine.] He enthralled her. He had heightened her senses to a level beyond her wildest dreams. Clayton could not contain the burning passion he felt for Molly. He slowly unzipped her coat and reached under her denim shirt, longing to feel her swollen breast. [Just the one?] Even though Molly was in her forties her breasts were firm and ample and seemed to reach out with anticipation for his touch, as if they were aware of the great pleasure that awaited them. [Sentient breasts? Sure, why not?] As he gently caressed her peaks he looked again into her spectacular eyes, blue as the glacier lakes that lay amongst the surrounding mountains. [You'll note the peak theme. Pay attention, it pops up again.] [the watching horses snort with approval, no other love existed before this, blah blah blah and back to the sweet lovemaking] She grabbed hold of her muscular cowboy's tight rear and tugged at his zipper in feverish desperation to free his manhood from its tight confinement. [At the same time? Is he Flat Stanley?] Clayton felt the heat rising from between Molly's legs. He moved forward almost touching the warm, wet invite. [Almost? Hot.] The full moon moved out from behind the clouds where it had been hiding in order to take a peak [SEE??] and shine its bright beam down as a spotlight upon the two lovers."

I tell you what, it's hard to type this. I keep inadvertently fixing the punctuation and correcting the word choice. It would be one thing if it was just the writing--writing like this can be fun to read and critique, but there is a genuinely hateful undertone in this book concerning the gay characters.

Sloan, who is Philip's boyfriend, outs Philip to Molly (or as Benchley refers to it, "ousted") and as a result the mystery vigilante woman pricks him with a syringe filled with HIV and two kinds of hepatitus. He, of course, instantly develops full-blown AIDS. But wait: He goes out to Montana and is killed by two of Molly's enemy's henchmen. They break his neck and set him on fire in his car. And no one, not Philip, not Philip's new more manly lover Jack, even blinks an eye. Remember, all he did was have a consensual relationship with Philip. Just . . . wow.

But wait, there's more! After Molly's friend/half sister/murderer falls off the side of a cliff into the cold, dark water, and Molly and Clayton are joined in holy matrimony, an epilogue informs us that the mystery vigilante is still at her work. After all, they never found Molly's friend's body. BAH BAH BAH! Sigh. Perhaps a sequel in the works? But how could the author top this one?