#13: Little Pink Slips, Sally Koslow

I was going to say that this book was decent, and recommend it as a good choice for a casual summer read on the beach. It has the usual mistakes, sure, as if no one at the publishing house bothered to read it before sending it to the presses, but it's suprisingly well-written. But there's one question that automatically comes up: How much was based on Koslow's experiences with Rosie O'Donnell, who, like the book's Bebe Blake, takes a venerable woman's magazine and attempts to turn it into a star vehicle? It turns out, not much, and if you manage to google this little factoid hidden under all the hype, you the reader feel deceived.

The basic premise: Protagonist Magnolia Gold is ousted from her enviable position as editor-in-chief of the venerable women's magazine Lady when the publishing company decided that it will be a bigger moneymaker if it's handed over to brash TV talk show host Bebe Blake, and turned into Bebe. Similarly, Koslow (who I usually call "coleslaw" before catching myself and inverting the letters) was given the boot as EIC from venerable women's magazine McCalls when the title was handed over to Rosie O'Donnell and turned into Rosie. Both magazines fail. See a pattern? But it turns out, this marketed-as-a "roman a clef" is basically complete fiction. According to the New York Times, Koslow and Rosie never actually worked together. Instead, the author penned this little expose from things she'd heard. Seriously? Things she'd heard?

She's trying to sell some books, okay, and one could argue that it's a conclusion drawn from her bio, and not explicitly stated. Perhaps I can accept that. But then do a Google. Koslow tried to start a mini-duel on the Huffington Post over some dismissive comment Rosie had made. It didn't work -- and seems a cheap cry for just a little more publicity. The whole thing really changed my opinion of the book. It's like both the writer and the publishing company is content to ride on someone-way-more-famous's coattails, hoping you won't figure it out.

Next Up? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. I'm already closing in on page 100, hoping to get to the end before I stumble across the ending somewhere else.

#12: A Mighty Heart, Mariane Pearl

This is a strange book -- and the first time I have ever been tempted to lie on a review. Why? It feels wrong to say that I thought the book had some major flaws, as if I'm tarnishing the memory of Daniel Pearl, rather than just judging the book on its literary merits.

Strangely, the biggest problem with A Mighty Heart is that it lacks emotion. It is essentially a 234-page newspaper article, filled with names, dates, and movements -- so many, in fact, that I had a hard time keeping track of who all the characters were. I didn't know that much about Daniel Pearl going in, and I don't really know anything more about him now -- he owned a mandolin, and occasionally wrote inappropriate emails to his friends. But that's not knowing a man. Perhaps that, most of all, makes me sadder than any part of the book...as a journalist, to read a book about a journalist who gave his life for this profession, and to admire that, while he still remains pretty faceless. I know that Mariane loved him, and it sounds like they had a wonderful marriage -- but her love doesn't shine through on the page, but more in the labor of love that is the book itself. (Reading other people's reviews on Amazon, I think that's where everyone gets confused.)

The most moving section of A Mighty Heart are, oddly, the letters in the back that were sent to Mariane and the unborn Adam, from people around the world. Some letters are from politicians, like President Bush and French president-at-the-time Jacques Chirac, but then others are from ordinary people. It's amazing how many people wrote to them, just to say, I'm sorry and have hope. It's the strength of that book, that ending.

But on a different track, the other bit of oddness is being plunged back in time, to 2001, but that's what resonated. Terrorism is still so real and present in our lives, but it's like we live in a completely different era, even though today it's only 6 years later. And I know that we cannot live in a perpetual state of fear and I don't want to, but there was also something beautiful about September 2001 -- it was a time when we were a united nation, and strangers actually looked at one another, and spoke to one another. Life was precious, and for a moment, everyone saw the phenomenal gift that they held in their hands. It was like we existed in this heightened state of awareness together, something that I have felt at only brief moments since.

But that's not really what A Mighty Heart was about. The book itself was a very detailed description of a search that, up until page 143, was on a wild goosechase. The grammar was bad (I know she's French, but she had co-writer), and some information was badly organized. At the same time, A Mighty Heart made me rememember, and more importantly, think. And that's it. I both liked and disliked it at the same time...and feel bad for saying so.

#11: Flower Confidential, Amy Stewart

I brought this book with me on a vacation to Hawaii last week, outwardly hopeful that it would be as great as it sounded, but inwardly nervous that it was not beach-appropriate. But I am delighted (and relieved) to report that it was fantastic, and I could barely put it down. (I went for a wedding, and I would even break it out when I had a spare five minutes.)

I was really impressed with Stewart's ability to take a complicated, international industry and reduce it to enjoyable anecdotes, from a 3rd generation violet grower in California to the early morning Dutch flower auction. Even better, I feel smarter now. (If I hadn't borrowed it from the library, I probably would have broken out my highlighter.) There's just so much information packed in there -- she clearly put a tremendous amount of hours and research into this work.

Having said that, I think you have to like flowers, at least a little bit, to really enjoy Flower Confidential. If you don't, I could see how you'd want to chuck it out the window -- for me, it would be like reading a towering stack of Car & Driver with no end in sight.

Up next for me? As I try to catch up on my reading (after all, it's July, and I'm only on book 12), I'm diving into A Mighty Heart and finishing up Don Cheadle's Darfur book.

#10: The Children of Hurin, JRR Tolkien

I'm not sure how I feel about this book. Like all of Tolkien's books, it was engaging and well-written, and his son, Christopher, did a stellar job of keeping Tolkien's vision entact while (most likely) eliminating the family tree references that bog down some of the other works. On the other hand, The Children of Hurin is totally depessing, the protagonist is too arrogant to be likeable, and the novel as a whole could have been strengthened by a link to, say, The Hobbit and/or The Lord of the Rings, since it's the history of Middle Earth in an earlier period -- I didn't really see (or worse, feel) how the devastation of these earlier wars between men/elves and Morgoth led to the later, greater showdown, but that element could have givn the novel a real power.

This posthumous book clearly mimics the classic dramas of say, Sophocles and Euripides (and that may be an automatic turnoff for some), but strangely it lacks the chorus wrap-up at the end that helps the readers feel fulfilled with some sort of moral, even if everything else has gone to hell.

But still, I liked it. I looked forward to coming home and cracking it open. So go figure...