Post by Hucklebubba on Apr 1, 2004 1:46:52 GMT -5
More book reviews! Fiesta!!
Who I Am by Melody Carlson
You know, I once considered myself to be a fairly deep person. But, as compared to the average fictional teenager, I'm shallow to the point of nearly being dry land.
During my high school tenure, I don't recall ever once saying anything along the lines of, "X-men vs. Street Fighter? I'd rather contemplate the nature of the universe and my place in it." or "I can't go to Mazzio's right now. I'm too busy stamping out racial strife."
I guess I'm just wierd. Incidentally, I think most of my classmates believed beer was evil, and needed to be self-sacrificially eliminated by way of consumption.
Stallions at Burnt Rock by Paul Bagdon
Imagine my ecstasy upon finding an actual western on the fiction shelf at the store where I work. Go ahead, imagine it. You can't.
Actually, you probably overshot it, as I tend to not get ecstatic. I'm not even sure I'm able to. Regardless, I was pretty happy.
And for good reason. At first glance, this book has a lot going for it, in the form of several critical western elements: Stallions. Rocks. Burnt. However, all is not well. Or perhaps, all is too well.
Y'see, the thing I remember most about the few chapters of Stallions I actually read was that the praying:shooting ratio was woefully imbalanced towards the former. I found myself thinking things like, "Yes, Jesus does a lot of loving. Is there going to be a gunfight soon?"
When it comes to westerns, there are two hard and fast rules regarding religiosity that must be abided by at all times:
1. Theistic references should be limited to Lords and Books. ("Good" iterations of both.)
2. Every preacher is an ex-Deadliest Gun Alive, with a dark past.
Let me just go on record here as stating what a complete jerk I feel like for criticizing this book. Sadly, my admission of jerkhood does not make me like said book any better.
Dead Man's Noose by Morgan Hill
Now we're talkin'. The author has an appropriately western-sounding name, and, according to preliminary reports from my dad, this western runs under the sort of oblique, quasi-agnostic atmosphere that I've previously deemed western-appropriate.
Now, if I can only find where it went to, and actually read it, I'll be in great shape.
Understanding Bible Prophecy For Yourself by Tim Lahaye
Subtitled: "According to what I tell you."
Is There Really Sex After Kids? by Jill Savage
...with the short answer being, "Nope." Or perhaps, "Your kids would rather you didn't."
And thus ends my pithy comments regarding the actual content of this book. Fortunately, when content fails, cover steps in. (You'll have to click on the link for any of this to make sense.)
Said cover sports a delightfully blurry photo of a couple of allegedly beleaguered parents, who presumably just wanna get butt nekkid. Unfortunately, they can't, because their kid is jumping on the bed. At least, we're left to assume it's their kid. It could be their very small, weird neighbor.
Okay, it's covers like this that reinforce my belief that I need to get a job editing book covers to make sure people like me can't misinterpret them to horrid effect. It's just that, if you (I) look at this cover a certain way, it seems like maybe Beleaguered Parents have had all they can take of their child's nookie-interference, and have thusly resorted to extreme measures.
I don't want to come right out and say it, because it's just too morbid. Look at the cover for a while. You'll figure it out.
Dating Clues for the Clueless by Various
O Various, how I loathe thee!
I can't decide which aspect of dating books I like more: The fact that they're almost always trite and over-simplified, or that they espouse the wildly popular opinion that singleness is some sort of leprous malady that needs curing.
Third option: You can use them to fix wobbly tables.
Who I Am by Melody Carlson
You know, I once considered myself to be a fairly deep person. But, as compared to the average fictional teenager, I'm shallow to the point of nearly being dry land.
During my high school tenure, I don't recall ever once saying anything along the lines of, "X-men vs. Street Fighter? I'd rather contemplate the nature of the universe and my place in it." or "I can't go to Mazzio's right now. I'm too busy stamping out racial strife."
I guess I'm just wierd. Incidentally, I think most of my classmates believed beer was evil, and needed to be self-sacrificially eliminated by way of consumption.
Stallions at Burnt Rock by Paul Bagdon
Imagine my ecstasy upon finding an actual western on the fiction shelf at the store where I work. Go ahead, imagine it. You can't.
Actually, you probably overshot it, as I tend to not get ecstatic. I'm not even sure I'm able to. Regardless, I was pretty happy.
And for good reason. At first glance, this book has a lot going for it, in the form of several critical western elements: Stallions. Rocks. Burnt. However, all is not well. Or perhaps, all is too well.
Y'see, the thing I remember most about the few chapters of Stallions I actually read was that the praying:shooting ratio was woefully imbalanced towards the former. I found myself thinking things like, "Yes, Jesus does a lot of loving. Is there going to be a gunfight soon?"
When it comes to westerns, there are two hard and fast rules regarding religiosity that must be abided by at all times:
1. Theistic references should be limited to Lords and Books. ("Good" iterations of both.)
2. Every preacher is an ex-Deadliest Gun Alive, with a dark past.
Let me just go on record here as stating what a complete jerk I feel like for criticizing this book. Sadly, my admission of jerkhood does not make me like said book any better.
Dead Man's Noose by Morgan Hill
Now we're talkin'. The author has an appropriately western-sounding name, and, according to preliminary reports from my dad, this western runs under the sort of oblique, quasi-agnostic atmosphere that I've previously deemed western-appropriate.
Now, if I can only find where it went to, and actually read it, I'll be in great shape.
Understanding Bible Prophecy For Yourself by Tim Lahaye
Subtitled: "According to what I tell you."
Is There Really Sex After Kids? by Jill Savage
...with the short answer being, "Nope." Or perhaps, "Your kids would rather you didn't."
And thus ends my pithy comments regarding the actual content of this book. Fortunately, when content fails, cover steps in. (You'll have to click on the link for any of this to make sense.)
Said cover sports a delightfully blurry photo of a couple of allegedly beleaguered parents, who presumably just wanna get butt nekkid. Unfortunately, they can't, because their kid is jumping on the bed. At least, we're left to assume it's their kid. It could be their very small, weird neighbor.
Okay, it's covers like this that reinforce my belief that I need to get a job editing book covers to make sure people like me can't misinterpret them to horrid effect. It's just that, if you (I) look at this cover a certain way, it seems like maybe Beleaguered Parents have had all they can take of their child's nookie-interference, and have thusly resorted to extreme measures.
I don't want to come right out and say it, because it's just too morbid. Look at the cover for a while. You'll figure it out.
Dating Clues for the Clueless by Various
O Various, how I loathe thee!
I can't decide which aspect of dating books I like more: The fact that they're almost always trite and over-simplified, or that they espouse the wildly popular opinion that singleness is some sort of leprous malady that needs curing.
Third option: You can use them to fix wobbly tables.