I did so want to like If I Were A Boy by Erin O'Reilly. The title grabbed me right away, making me think it would be a lot deeper emotionally and romantically than it actually is. For me, the "If I were a boy" resonated, because it is something heartbreaking and real a gay woman might say (even these days) to herself or to someone else when the world makes it especially challenging to be a lesbian. One of the two central characters in the book mostly says it as a joke, though, which seems to be the catalyst for both women suddenly realizing there is an attraction between them.

The two main problems I have with Erin O'Reilly's otherwise sincere and (from what I can tell) good-intentioned tale is how physically-driven Helen and Katie's relationship is (Cinemax-driven might be the better word) and how one of the women's sister is so homophobic and so over the top about it, it almost becomes a farce.

At one point, Helen tells her mother she's worried her "overloaded baser instincts" have gotten the best of her, not knowing the woman she supposedly loves, Katie, has just overheard her. It's a very insulting comment, a very hurtful one, and yet it's kind of true...because so much of Helen and Katie's relationship is nothing more than sneaking around and lying to their husbands. Yes, their husbands are major jerks (horrific in the case of Helen's husband Bobby), but they still sneak around...grabbing sex whenever they can, mostly on a beach, when the rest of the group they're all vacationing with is away fishing for the day.

If I sound a bit bitter, I suppose it's because I am, a tad. Quality lesfic is hard to find, especially quality lesfic that represents love as something far more than physical. Sex sells, as they say (whoever "they" is), but some of us still prefer our love stories old-fashioned.

The writing itself is not bad and there is a plucky spirit I like (Katie is so so sweet in her fierce need and sincere desire to protect Helen) but that's just not enough for me...the innocence and mood of the kiss on the front cover is never quite matched within the book.

My favorite magazine is Mojo, which has a column called "All Back To My Place" where musicians talk about their favorite music. I love, love, love Frankie Valli (even more now that he considers Guilty one of his favorite albums.)

 

Guilty's cover always made me laugh, though I love the record itself. In the early 80s my mom played it on the stereo a lot, mostly because she adored Barry Gibb and liked Barbra Streisand's voice.

 

I've always felt a bit afraid to admit it's one of of my favorite albums...because, well, look at that cover! But time has been kind to it (the music, if not the cover) and I think it holds up rather nicely.

 

 

Review by William Ruhlmann

The biggest selling album of Barbra Streisand's career is also one of her least characteristic. The album was written and produced by Barry Gibb in association with his brothers and the producers of the Bee Gees, and in essence it sounds like a post-Saturday Night Fever Bee Gees album with vocals by Streisand. Gibb adapted his usual style somewhat, especially in slowing the tempos and leaving more room for the vocal, but his melodic style and the backup vocals, even when they are not sung by the Bee Gees, are typical of them. Still, the record was more hybrid than compromise, and the chart-topping single "Woman in Love" has a sinuous feel that is both right for Streisand and new for her. Other hits were the title song and "What Kind of Fool," both duets with Gibb. (The song "Guilty" won a Grammy Award for Best Pop Vocal by Duo or Group.)

 

 

 

Meanwhile, I can't get the Vince Clarke remix of "Dove" by Future Islands out of my head...it's great for chilling or listening to while exercising. :)

The best sampler cd from a music magazine I've heard in ages, The Dreamers has, aside from everything else great about it, two gorgeous covers of classic songs...

 

"You Don't Own Me" (originally recorded by Lesley Gore) more than holds up in Policia's hands while Julia Holter's take on "Don't Make Me Over" (Hal David/Burt Bacharach) is as absolutely mesmerizing as her wonderful treatment of "Hello Stranger" on her album Loud City Song. The woman truly makes interpreting well-known songs a magical thing...

 

Still, it’s the album’s centerpiece, a hypnotizing six-and-a-half minute rendition of Barbara Lewis' “Hello Stranger”, that might just be the most uncomplicatedly gorgeous thing Holter’s ever done. It’s risky to tackle a tune that’s been covered enough times to make it feel like a modern-day standard, but Holter’s atmospheric take finds a particular strain of longing and serenity in the song. It's a heart-stopper. Amidst the rest of Loud City Song’s chatty, high-concept vitality, “Hello Stranger” is a moment of comfort and instant connection, like suddenly spotting a familiar face on a busy street.-Pitchfork magazine

 

CMJ calls her "woozy" and I think they mean it in the best way possible...what a dreamy voice she has.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I really, really like The Girl You Left Behind, more for the writing and insights than the actual plot or characters. And how JoJo Moyes respectfully handles the subject of grief (she so gets that there shouldn't be a time stamp on when we stop hurting) is just beautiful at times.

 

There are many times when Liv (one of two main characters the novel focuses on) is engulfed in her grief. When she goes to a gay bar (not wanting to be alone, but not wanting to be hit on either) she drinks (or tries to) herself into oblivion:

 

 Now she is trying to climb back onto her bar stool. She makes two attempts, the second sending her stumbling backward clumsily. She pushes her hair out of her eyes and peers at the bar as if it’s the summit of Everest. She propels herself…

 

Not too long after, she tries to explain to Paul, a man she has just met, that she and her husband really did have something special:

 

We didn’t really fight. Not about toothpaste or farting or anything. We just liked each other. We really liked each other. We were . . . happy.” She is biting back tears and turns her head toward the window, forcing them away. She will not cry tonight. She will not.

 

Her daily "coping strategy" is way too familiar to anyway who has ever tried to forget:

 

She had begun running after she had realized that she could use the world outside, the noise in her earphones, her own motion, as a kind of deflector. Now it has become habit, an insurance policy. I do not have to think. I do not have to think. I do not have to think.

 

One of my favorite passages, though, comes from the first half of the book, where another woman (living in 1916) is also missing her husband (a prisoner of war) terribly. She remembers their first impressions of each other, thinking he reminded her of "a cross between a Roman emperor and a Russian bear." He, in turn, told her:

 

"The first time I saw you I watched you standing in the middle of that bustling store and I thought you were the most self-contained woman I had ever seen. You looked as if the world could explode into fragments around you and there you would be, your chin lifted, gazing out at it imperiously from under that magnificent hair…"

 

There is so much genuine love in both women's stories, whose lives intertwine through a portrait, the same title as that of the book.

 

This is the first Jojo Moyes book I've ever read. I think what surprises me most about The Girl You Left Behind is how natural the read feels, even when there are elements that could seem contrived or gimmicky (like Mo, the snarky sidekick hiding a big heart behind her Goth appearance or the emotional plot twists that make you cry despite your determination not to.)

Never once did I feel manipulated by the author or roll my eyes at the sweetness of both love stories...with a less skilled writer, this could have easily happened. As far as I can tell, there are no plans to film this in the immediate future. Maybe that's for the best...this is the kind of novel you want to play out on your own mind's screen.

 

 

 (There is also an underlying sense of humor within that keeps everything from getting too morose.)

I finished She Sings of Old, Unhappy, Far-off Things a few days ago, but needed some time to think about it. The writing is most definitely lovely and the story compelling. There is a lot going on in the novel and the author's style makes you want to savor every single word. The characters talk to themselves way more than I'm used to in fiction, but don't many of us do that in real life?

She Sings can dig down deep and pull at the reader's heartstrings. Though nothing like this has ever happened in my life, I relate all too well to Wyck when she says: "I don't want this, damn it."

You can find yourself feeling things you never wanted in your heart, things that are better left outside of it. Wyck has a philosophy that speaks to anyone who finds humanity a bit too much sometimes: “Plants and animals – give them enough time and attention and love, and they’ll never let you down." But, telling yourself you won't fall for somebody doesn't actually keep that from happening, would it be that it could.

The distinct differences between Wyck and the woman she grows to adore, Margaret, drive this novel, making it both oddly endearing and exasperating. Margaret, supposedly older and wiser, had me putting down my Kindle a few times to blow off some steam. I get how hard it is for her to give up the life she has known for decades for a love that her own relatives find hard to accept. I do get that. Homophobia hurts most when it comes from family.

But I also understand Wyck's disillusionment with Margaret's reluctance to come out: “When was the last time your life was threatened because you were a lesbian, Margaret? Oh, that’s right. It would never happen to you because you’ll never acknowledge the truth of who you are, right? You’ll lie and deny and get married so no one will know."

It's these heartache and struggles swirling through the story that make it both believable and less sappy when Margaret finally (and genuinely) finds others' attitudes about love bewildering: “What scandal? I’m a fifty-three-year-old widow who fell in love with someone else after my husband died. Where is the scandal in that?”

I will definitely keep this on my Kindle to be reread someday soon. :)