Will an Sarah live in a small Maine community which they want to stay as it is. As a result of a loophole in zoning regulations, a man is killed who was selling his land to a Sprawl Mart chain.
This book was more like an outline of a story to me than a fleshed out book. The characters have very short interactions and no development. The basic story is okay and could have been pretty good if it was less superficial. what was 80 pages should have probably been twice that - with more enriched characters and dialogue. So that I could like or even dislike then -- instead of not caring at all.
I didn't hate the book or anything, I just feel like it will be totally forgotten in a few days.
I am afraid this a trend I am seeing more often these days. Basic story -- bare bones. No real surprises or twists or interactions other than a few moments of questions to a few people. I want authors to write and give us stories where we care what happens. Not just spin them out every couple months without much development or growth. There is a huge different between fleshing out a story and throwing in fluff to add words. I think some authors are afraid of the IDEA of fluff and leave too much out to really give us a well rounded book.
A lot of reviewers will just not review a book they don't care much for, but I think it is important to review what works for US and what doesn't. I don't want to be cruel -- I support authors and want them to succeed. I just think this trend is sad.
Terri
Blog for Pamela and Terri from the CozyArmchair Group on yahoo http://groups.yahoo.com/group/cozyarmchairgroup/
Wednesday, June 28, 2017
Monday, June 5, 2017
Guest Blogger - Alice Duncan
It’s June, by gum!
Good grief, the
year’s half over. Seems like the older one gets, the faster time flies.
I’ll be in touch
with May’s winners of SPIRITS REVIVED individually. And at the end of June, I
do believe I’ll be giving away copies of UNSETTLED SPIRITS again because I have
lota of copies of that one.
Anyhow, since I
just had surgery to repair a piece of personal plumbing, this blog’s not going
to be very long, but I had a lot of
help and fun collecting its various parts.
It all started
when my neighbor brought me a jelly doughnut (because he and his wife know I
adore jelly doughnuts, but don’t eat them often because I try to eat healthily
– I know, how stuffy, huh?) Anyway, he said he got it “from the bottom of his
spleen.” That got me to thinking about some of the sayings I grew up with, and
I asked folks on Facebook to lend me some of their remembrances. I’ll start
with my own home.
When my dad
thought someone was a meanie, he said the person had a scab over his liver. If
he thought someone had done something particularly bone-headed, he’d say, “One
more brain, and you’d be a halfwit.” My dad and my nephew Stephen were both in
the U.S. Navy for eons and of course, for them both, creamed chipped beef on
toast was always shit on a shingle. Stephen also mentioned that his mother (my
half-sister, by gum) would say something was slick
as a fart in a mitten.
My younger
grandson, Riki, called Albuquerque “Albu-turkey” for a long, long time before
he learned the proper pronunciation (well, the way New Mexicans say it,
anyway).
My daughters both
called hamburgers “han-gurmers.” Ever since I was given a black dachshund by a
friend of mine, my kids said I was Weenie’s (that was the hound’s name)
“grammoi.” So I am now Grammoi to my grandsons and both of my
great-grandchildren.
My mom’s cousin’s
husband, Miles Gilbert, when asked how he felt, would generally say, “Fine as a
frog’s hair split four ways.” I’ve heard other people say “Fine as frogs’
hair,” but Miles had his own unique take on the expression.
Here are some
other gems folks added to the list:
J.M. Cornwell
produced these: Hope the crick don’t rise; lyin’ like a rug (when someone was
fibbing); looks like the running gears of a katydid (when someone is skinny);
gimlet butt (for someone who doesn’t have big hips); dumb as a box of rocks; a
few bricks shy of a load; and a revolving door on her bedroom.
Judy Reutebach
recalls her mother telling her “Your face will freeze like that” when she wore
an unpleasant expression.
David Bedini’s
family’s philosophy was, evidently, “Todays plums are tomorrow’s prunes.”
Vicky Fannin
offered this from her dad, Byron: “Never say only
and money in the same sentence.”
Carola
Dunn’s son used to say donedies
for donuts. To him all four-legged animals were “maus” (probably for meow).
Nina Paules’s
grandmother, when asked what was for dinner, would say, “Layovers for
meddlers.”
Diane
Jasperson offered these charmers: Those maniac drivers passed me by like a dirty
shirt; as well as: drunk as a skunk; purdier than all get-out; coffee is strong
enough to curl your toenails; and does a bear poop in the woods.
James C. Work said
his mom, when entering a dark room, would say, “It's dark as Egypt in there." His father thought she had
mistaken "darkest Africa" but was too polite to mention it. James
also remembered these: Somebody
sure put a burr unner his saddle; don’t know him from Adam’s off ox; and dead
as a doornail.
Here are some
delights from Charlotte Westbrook McDaniel: So poor you don’t have a pot to
piss in; ain’t that a kick in the head; about as useful as teats on a boar (or
a boar-hog); It’s fixin’ to come a gully washer
(hard rain).
Marcia-Lee
Finocchio’s mom used to say she’d do something “after I eat this egg.”
Marcia-Lee still doesn’t know quite what it means. Nor do I, but I like it.
Kathryn McIntyre
grew up with these: She looks like the wreck of the
Hesperus; time to bring out the brass
monkeys; there’s frost on the pumpkin; like chasing a fart through a bucket of
nails (when something is entirely futile); colder than a well-digger’s shovel.
Vicki
Lemonds’ grandmother would say: It’s cold enough to freeze your pockets off
and, when something didn’t go as planned, “Must not have been holding my mouth
right.” For some reason, that last one really tickles me (editorial comment).
Sue
Krekeler recalls hearing: S/he looks like five miles of dirt road (when someone
is really tired).
Sherry
Davis Fritz’s father would say something was colder than a witch’s tit in a
brass bra; and something was “knee high to a tall Indian.” I have to admit I’d
never heard that last one. I recall something being “Knee-high to a
grasshopper” (editorial comment #2 or 3 or something).
Donna
Weatherfield (another intrepid dachshund-rescuer) recalls the following: Hell’s
bells and panther pants; Busier than a one-armed paper-hanger; and as nervous
as a whore in church.
Debbie Sanders’ husband’s Pawpaw (whoever that was) used to say:
Busy as a one-legged man in a butt-kickin contest; if frogs had
wings, they wouldn't bump their butts when they hopped. Her mom liked to say:
He don't have the brains of a piss ant; she don't know shit from apple butter;
and you’d better straighten up and fly right.
Gina
Gilmore offered the following: S/he don’t know
shit from Shinola; and s/he looks like s/he’s been rode hard and hung up wet.
Susan Eggers grew up with these: Enough blue sky to make a
Dutchman’s pants; it looked like the itch (if something looked really bad). I’m
extremely partial to the second one (another editorial comment).
Ann Watson Smith’s kids used to say nip-nops for flip-flops
and pasghetti for spaghetti. My own kids said the last one (editor again).
Julia Anderson
grew up with: Mad as a wet hen; I have so much wind, if I could finger it just
right, I could play “God Bless America.” The latter was generally said after a
meal containing beans, which “Stretch a meal and also cause gas.”
Debra Iverson
recalls people looking as if they’d been drug through a knothole backwards.
Jeanell Buida Bolton recalls hearing Hells bells and little
fishes.
Johannah E. Zimmerman (and I, too, actually) recalled people
being bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Susie Lonsinger remembers, when someone was getting uppity,
s/he’d be told to get down off your high horse.
Lea Hood’s dad
used to say she and her friends were a bunch of “wild Bohemians” when they were
having fun (maybe too much fun).
Tabitha Hall and I
remember calling a refrigerator the ice box. Becky Muth recalls the
refrigerator always being the Kelvinator.
Thanks, everyone,
for your input! I came away from this particular Facebook experiment with a
whole bunch of new (to me) colorful expressions to use when life is dull.
If
you’d like to enter June’s contest, just send me an email (alice@aliceduncan.net) and give me your
name and home address. If you’d like to be added to my mailing list, you may do
so on my web site (http://aliceduncan.net/) or email me (you
won’t be smothered in newsletters, because I only write one blog a month, and
that’s an effort). If you’d like to be friends on Facebook, visit my page at https://www.facebook.com/alice.duncan.925.
Thank
you!
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