The Piano Teacher (2001)

 Unsettling and provocative, "The Piano Teacher" is at once a study of the lives of deeply unhappy people and a commentary on the dangers of repression. It's not pretty or pleasant, but one can expect nothing less from controversial Austrian filmmaker Michael Haneke. He shines an unyielding light on his character's perversions, prejudices, and desires.

   The piano teacher of the title, Erika (impressively portrayed by Isabelle Huppert) is an aging spinster living with her crazy-domineering mother (Annie Girardot,) who still treats her like she is a girl on the cusp of puberty, who needs to be nettled and looked after constantly. They fight viciously, share the same bed, and there's an incestuous subtext going on. Even when that subtext is confirmed, we still can scarcely believe it.

   Erika is a very lonely and repressed soul, but she's not a particularly sympathetic character. She is cruel, petty, sexually aggressive, and at one point inexplicably maims a promising student's hand with shards of glass. However, it is impossible not to feel sorry for her at some point. She is an extremely hard character to read, and her seeming lack of emotion puzzles us deeply.

 We are given virtually no backstory on Erika at all- her father is locked up in an asylum somewhere, and she and her mother have long be entangled in a sick, co-dependent relationship. That is all. When Erika meets Walter Klemmer (Benoît Magimel,) he pursues her, but neither of them know what they're in for. They promptly head down the path of Sadomasochism and mind games.

   I was surprised that this was categorized on my favorite site as 'erotica.' Frankly put, this is not in the least bit erotic and has some of the most unsexy sex scenes for a film containing so many. "The Piano Teacher" is not unlike "Shame" by Steve McQueen in that respect. There is no joy or virility in the 'love' scenes, even the consensual sex has a not only clinical but aggressive feel to it as well.

   Isabelle Huppert is fabulous here, and Susanne Lothar (late, great actress and one of the only good things about Haneke's pretentious bore-fest "Funny Games") has a small part as the mother of one of Erika's students whose distinct lack of warmth mirrors Erika's mother's own.

   I wish Walter's character had been developed a little more. He exists simply to pursue Erika's character for one half of the movie and brutalize her emotionally and physically for the other. If his motivations had been considered more thoroughly, and his attraction to Erika better explained, the movie would have been better.

   There's a lot of ambiguity and subtext in Haneke's films, and "The Piano Teacher" is no exception. This ambiguity is both a gift and a curse, as it is endlessly frustrating but also intriguing and may command multiple viewings. There were some thoroughly 'What the Fuck' moments as well, for example when Erika urinates on the ground of the drive-in theater.

   "The Piano Teacher" contains some distinctly 'Haneke'-esque annoyances like superfluous long takes but the film is startlingly adept in its power and never betrays itself with Hollywood B.S. or an inappropriately upbeat ending. Ultimately it is as as it's as enigmatic as it's heroine but less weirdly naive- it knows what it is and doesn't pretend to be anything else. Worth watching.
                                                   Rating-
                                                7.0/10

A Room For Romeo Brass (1999)

Shane Meadows knows how to do a slow-burner. One of Britain's most powerful filmmakers, Meadows is a master of racketing up the tension in a seemingly ordinary situation. Never stupid, never sensational, he casts his unblinking eye on modern life in the UK and the fragilities of human relationships. If I had to choose between Meadows and Mike Leigh, I would pick Meadows, every time.

   "A Room For Romeo Brass" is about how an ordinary friendship can undergo extraordinary duress when a dangerous third party is added to the mix. Two preteen friends, white Gavin and mixed-race Romeo share a brotherly bond that is equal parts camaraderie and constant teasing. Gavin (Ben Marshall,) called 'Knocks,' has a bad back and a limp, and is in transition to another surgery.

   He's always up to a bit of mischief, and Romeo (Andrew Shim) is his softer-hearted other half. When a man named Morell (a very young Paddy Considine) rescues Gavin and Romeo from some bigger boys, he seems like a harmless, if eccentric, addition to the group. With his 'Simple Jack' haircut and halting speech, he doesn't readiate 'cool,'but he is friendly and can tell a sensational story like anyone.

   The thing about these kinds of stories is, if they sound too good to be true they probably are, but this matters nada to the boys and one of them, Romeo, is sucked in by his dynamic personality. Gavin thinks that Morell is a sucker and good for a mean practical joke. He's deadly wrong. As Morell reveals a dark, violent side, Romeo and Gavin's friendship is tested to it's outer limits.

 Shane Meadows found two good little actors in Shim and Marshall, but Considine is the main draw here. Considine, who would later astonish audiences, including myself, in Shane Meadows' grungy revenge indie "Dead Man's Shoes", puts a unique spin on a character who is probably suffering from an undiagnosed mental disorder.

   Like "Sling Blade"'s Karl or"Buddy Boy"s Francis, Morell's uniqueness is electrifying to watch. At times I was wowed by this apparently simple man's ability to coerce and manipulate, and wondered if his limitations were a ruse and he was, in fact, a very clever psychopath. The truth is much more complicated.

   Wait for the precise moment when the up-til-then likably dotty Morrel becomes suddenly sinister. It's mind-blowing. "A Room for Romeo Brass" glues your eyes to the screen, and tells a intense story about friendship and betrayal, about a wolf in sheep's clothing who fleetingly wins- if not earns- our sympathy nonetheless. With it's three-dimensional characters and incisive writing, it's nothing less than riviting. Bravo, Shane Meadows. Keep them coming.
                                                      Rating- 
                                                  9.0/10

Julien Donkey-Boy (1999)

"Julien Donkey-Boy" is an occasionally emotional, mainly tedious foray into the art of Dogme 95, laden with grainy visuals and non-existent plotting. It recalls the much better film "Buddy Boy," which came out the same year. "Buddy Boy" director Mark Hanlon knew how to engage your interest and make you care about his main character, despite his shortcomings.

Julien is a 20-something paranoid schizophrenic played by Ewen Bremner, one of the most underutilized character actors of today. Julien lives with his equally disturbed father, younger brother, and sister, who he has impregnated before the film's beginning.

Uncomfortable yet? The whole movie works to make the viewer feel discomfort while also invoking sadness and emotion. At this it is only moderately successful. The dialogue is often random and directionless. The experience of the film is akin to having hundreds of puzzle pieces of differing shapes and sizes, none of them fitting together in the least.

Film Review: Silver Linings Playbook

After coming home to find his wife in the shower with another man, Pat Solitano (Bradley Cooper) snapped and almost almost beat the man to death. He was court ordered into an inpatient psychiatric facility, where he discovered he had undiagnosed bipolar disorder. Rejecting medications, because their side effects compromised his sense of self, Pat learned to talk the talk and go through the motions of treatment. After eight months, his mother checked him out AMA. Uh oh!

Repost of an Old Favorite: Buddy Boy

    Buddy Boy, Mark Hanlon's debut, is a haunting and potent film about dead end lives that provokes more questions than answers but remains bizarrely interesting throughout.
 
   The film provides a look into the surrealistic existence of emotionally stunted, stuttering misfit Francis (Aidan Gillen), who lives with his trollish invalid stepmother (actual amputee Susan Tyrell), in a squalid apartment.

   Suffering from overwhelming guilt concerning his sexuality, his religion, and himself, he goes to confession monthly, admitting every impure thought and indiscretion. The contrast between faith and the id is revealed in the opening, which presents the viewer with a montage of religious imagery followed by Francis, uh... pleasuring himself to a pair of voluptuous breasts in a magazine.

I sat through a Lars von Trier film. The world MUST be ending ...

As we all know, the world is scheduled to end in two days, right after the winter solstice. There have been many apocalyptic predictions made in my lifetime, as there have been throughout history. And every time, Doomsday comes and goes with nobody being raptured -- the husband and I are still stuck paying off our mortgage. And humanity keeps on goin'.

Nevertheless, I didn't want this pending event to go ignored. So my daughter and I watched Melancholia, Lars von Trier's apocalyptic film, to mark the occasion.

Sunday Shorts: A Round-Up Of Short Book Reviews

This post is a collection of short reviews of some of the books I've read in the past month.

In a Perfect World by Laura Kasischke

This author won me over with The Life Before Her Eyes, and when I finally started In a Perfect World, I couldn't put it down. Jiselle is a thirty-something flight attendant, with an open heart and naive nature, who falls for a pilot. Mark seems perfect -- he's handsome, charming and sexy. Jiselle quickly agrees to marry him, quit her job, and raise his three motherless children. Do you sense trouble coming? 

The story of Jiselle's marriage is one layer of this novel. In the background of her life, the "Phoenix flu" is killing indiscriminately, and no one understands why or how to prevent or treat it. Furthermore, the United States is blamed for this growing worldwide epidemic. We see society change gradually around Jiselle, beginning with occasional electrical blackouts and shortages and ending with a world that is almost unrecognizable.

I love Kasischke's lyrical, poetic writing. Her vivid imagery and attention to detail make her stories seem realistic and concrete, yet you're being drawn into a world in which nothing is quite as it seems. I love the fact that, unlike other dystopian fiction, this novel takes place in a culture that is clearly our own. The apocalyptic events don't come in one dramatic moment. It's a slow progression, painted vividly with realistic details. This made it eerily easy to imagine these events really happening.

In a Perfect World creates an apocalyptic universe interwoven with a drama about falling in love, marriage, and becoming a stepmother. This novel reflects the zeitgeist of post 9/11 America. It's also full of allusions to history, including the Bubonic Plague, and folklore. The author spent a great deal of time researching how cultures respond to plagues. Most of all, however, it's a story about who you become when life demands every bit of strength and fortitude you have -- and more -- and about the glorious and agonizing journey of becoming a mother. 


(4.5/5 stars)

The Story Sisters by Alice Hoffman

Three sisters – Elv, Claire, and Meg -- have a deep bond. They share stories of a secret, magical land and a private language. One summer, after their parents' divorce, things go terribly wrong. While trying to protect Claire, Elv becomes the victim of a vicious, depraved crime. She carries this secret for the rest of her childhood, and it leads her down a tragic path that changes everyone's lives. 


I used to be a devoted reader of Alice Hoffman's books. This is my first in many years. She is the queen of quirky, lyrical magical realism. She weaves together realistic, raw, painful experiences with mythology and fanciful stories. For example, the brutality Elv suffers becomes intertwined with her fantasy world, and she lives in a dark fairy tale. Hoffman is also masterful at intermingling aesthetic beauty with darkness and pain: a necklace made of a bird's bones, a young woman hobbled by guilt and grief making intricate, beautiful jewelry in a tiny, secluded studio, or a tiny black demon, with delicate wings, bringing tragedy and sorrow.

I had mixed reactions to this novel. It is dark and sad, to the point of being emotionally manipulative at times. The characters seem to be relentlessly bombarded by tragedies. Even given the fact that the line between reality and fantasy is porous, as it always is in Hoffman's novels, it sometimes strained credibility for me. 

However, I was often mesmerized by the storytelling, characters, lyrical storytelling, and vibrant imagery. I also found parts of this story deeply moving. One piece of the story that particularly tugged at my gut involved a program in which prison inmates rehabilitate severely abused dogs. This provides some sense of purpose to a very troubled character who has always had a tremendous heart for hurt or suffering animals. At this point, the novel actually made me cry, leaving me with feelings that have stuck with me ever since. 

(3.5/5 stars)

Triggered by Fletcher Wortmann 

Imagine the worst thing in the world. Picture it. Construct it, carefully and deliberately in your mind. Be careful not to omit anything. Imagine it happening to you, to the people you love. Imagine the worst thing in the world.

Now try not to think about it.

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, particularly the "Pure O" kind (uncontrollable obsessive thoughts with relatively few compulsive rituals) may be the most misunderstood mental illness. People continually joke about OCD, which makes me cringe. "I can't stand it if my CDs aren't organized. I'm so OCD." Or they imagine it's just a frenzy of hand-washing and lock-checking. The reality is generally much darker and definitely not funny.

Anyone who knows me understands that severe OCD, particularly the "Pure O" kind, is a subject painfully close to my heart. Wortmann describes it, from the inside out, so much better than any other writer I have seen. His account of his experiences is sometimes cerebral, sometimes raw and confusing, and sometimes absolutely brilliant. And much of the book was hilarious. As a person who gets through pain with dark humor, I felt like I "got" it -- I kind of wanted to take this young author out and buy him a drink. He definitely has a keen intellect and a sharp wit, and at times he reveals himself with painful honesty. The book made me laugh out loud and cry at the same time.

(4.5/5 stars)

Wild Roses by Deb Caletti

Cassie Morgan, the smart, funny and edgy 17-year-old narrator of Wild Roses, is adapting to her parents' divorce. She's also coping with the fact that he father is still madly in love with her mother and is obsessed with digging up dirt on Mom's new husband. But that's not the worst of her problems. She also has to coexist with Dino, the self-centered, mean-spirited and emotionally unstable composer and violinist who is her stepfather.

My stepfather was both crazy and a genius ... Supposedly there's an actual, researched link between extreme creativity and mental illness, and I believe it because I've seen it with my own eyes. Sure, you have the artists and writers and musicians like my mom, say, who are talented and calm and get things done without much fuss ... But then there are the Van Goghs and Hemingways and Mozarts, those who feel a hunger so deep, so far down, that greatness lies there too, nestled somewhere within it. Those who get their inner voice and direction from the cool, mysterious insides of the moon, and not from the earth like the rest of us. In other words, brilliant nuts.

As Dino prepares for the concert that will mark his comeback to the music scene, an event eagerly awaited by his admirers, he turns a corner. He becomes more hostile and increasingly paranoid. Cassie learns that he was on psychiatric medication and stopped taking it while preparing for the concert because it dulled his ability to compose music. As Dino increasingly loses his grip on reality and slips out of control, Cassie and her mother struggle to keep a grip on the situation and hide the truth about him. This is the beginning of an erratic, terrifying journey, and as Cassie will soon learn, Dino is hiding secrets of his own.

In the midst of this maelstrom, Dino takes on a violin student, seventeen-year-old Ian Walters; he is gifted, handsome and gentle. From the moment he rides up on his bicycle, "his violin case sticking out from a compartment on the side, and his long black coat flying out behind him," Cassie feels a passionate attraction. But dating Dino's student provokes conflict with her stepfather, causing tension in both families. How could this possibly work?

From the first paragraph, I was pulled in by Deb Caletti's beautiful writing and by Cassie's voice, which was intelligent, hilariously funny and heartbreakingly honest. The author painted each scene so vividly that much of the novel felt wholly really. And the frightening story unfolding among Cassie, Ian, Dino, and Cassie's mom was quite compelling; I found it this novel difficult to put down.

I especially loved Cassie's character. I connected with her immediately, loving her brains, honesty and snarky wit. And as I sank deeper into the story, I also saw her compassionate side. It broke my heart when she decided not to move out of her mother's house, to protect herself from Dino, because she cared too much about Mom to let her think she'd failed her daughter. Cassie's fluctuating reactions, sometimes angry and edgy and sometimes open-hearted and wise beyond her years, made her a fully developed, believable character. And I saw her grow and mature during the story, which gave the novel depth and richness.

The weakest point, for me, was the development of secondary characters. There were many interesting characters in the mix, including Cassie's best friend Zebe, who is also edgy and funny, Siang Chibo, a budding musician and passionate admirer of Dino, who becomes Cassie's friend, and Cassie's father, who is unable to break his emotional bonds to her mother. I never felt I fully knew these characters, and I wanted to. At some points, this dulled the clarity of the story for me a bit. I was especially disappointed in Ian's brother Bunny and his friend Chuck. At first glance, they were unique, interesting and fun characters, but throughout the story, I found them one dimensional and predictable.

Overall, this is an outstanding Young Adults' Novel, passionate, funny, and unafraid to tell the truth about serious issues. It also gives readers a narrow glimpse of mental illness, one that is unsentimental but not without compassion. I admire this author's wit, honesty, and above all, her ability to create an unforgettable seventeen-year-old character. I look forward to reading more of her work.

Read More Reviews of This Book At:
Once Upon a Book Blog
Book Addiction
The Zen Leaf


Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Fight Club

   David Fincher's 1999 adaptation of Chuck Palahniuk's novel, Fight Club is visceral, like a punch in the the chest. It is unapologetic, gritty, subversive, and at times blatantly sexual. And it's funny. It is a story about what happens when a movement that promises freedom becomes more constricting then conformist society ever was.

   Think Animal Farm with abnormal psychology and bloody, bone-crunching fistfights. The unnamed anti-hero of this film, Narrator (Edward Norton), is a disturbed office worker who can't sleep at night. His insomnia presents reality as some kind of waking dream. Well, he doesn't look as bad a Christian Bale in The Machinist, but he's still pretty rough in appearance, and he can barely work up enough enthusiasm to go to work in the morning

   . Because he works repossessing unsafe cars after fatal accidents, he gets to travel a lot, but his life remains at a virtual standstill. All this changes when he meets Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), a nihilist rebel who believes humanity should be reduced to its most primal state. After Narrator's apartment blows up under suspicious circumstances, he goes to live in Tyler Durden's home, which must have been a beautiful house at one time but is now repellent in its decay and inefficiency.

    Soon, Tyler and his new house-guest start a Fight Club, which temporarily releases men's feelings of inadequacy minus a few teeth, and might seem like a great idea if you're into boxing and WWE. Add the Borderlinish, suicidal Marla Singer and the men's own twisted psyches, and you've got a recipe for disaster. The first thing that strikes me about this film is the overwhelming loneliness. Narrator is a cynic, so much so that he alienates himself and everyone around him.

    "How could Tyler thing it was a bad thing that Marla Singer was about to die?" he muses when Marla swallows a bottle of Xanax and invites Tyler over for a night of lovemaking. In my "Favorite Characters" description of Edward Norton's character, I said this: "like Chuck Palahniuk's character Victor Mancini, the sex addict at the center of the book and film Choke, "Narrator" pretends to hold the human race in contempt, but at the same time cries out in pitiful loneliness, 'love me, love me, love me!!' I think we cynics can relate." I think this is pretty accurate.

    Although his character is dark-dark, I cannot help but sympathize with his urge to make things right after he finds out the truth about Tyler. This is not a film for everyone. The violence comes in droves, and no character presents themselves as noble. Furthermore, it is not really a realistic presentation of it scontent, and is more stylish than literal in its subject matter. But it makes you think while it entertains you, and I cannot really find any movie to compare it to. It is utterly original.

   Note- This film is a work of fiction and any decision to partake in an actual Fight Club would be utter stupidity.

  

Angela (1995)

 
   
     Movies are hardly ever made about mentally disturbed children. I think it's because people envision childhood as some kind of Eden before they grow up and life gets messy - people get jobs, come of age, and possibly lose their minds - but before that, life is rosy and carefree. Angela, a dark, dreamy film from first-time director Rebecca Miller, proves just how wrong they are. The eponymous character (Miranda Rhyne), who could be diagnosed with any number of psychological ailments, has moved to a ramshackle house with her parents and younger sister Ellie (Charlotte Eve Blythe).

     The girls' mother, Mae, seems to be Bipolar - dark moods come over her unexpectedly and her daughters would do anything in their power to make her happy. Solemn pre-teen Angela, however, is having internal struggles of her own. Obsessed with religious imagery and sin, she is visited by Lucifer, a pale winged man who tempts her with promises of a better life. When young Ellie sets the curtains on fire, Angela puts her in a protective circle surrounded by dolls to purge her of her sins and save her from eternal damnation.

    All right, I'll be downright controversial here - this movie shows how damaging extremist religion can be for children. It is hard to argue (but some people will, anyway) that young children shouldn't be troubled by these things.  By the time they can read "are you saved" slips, even those not born of fundamentalist families will wonder what lengths they should take to follow the right path. This and a chemically unbalanced mind tend to take these things to an obsessive level.

     Okay, now that I've offended two-thirds of he audience and driven them away, I'll get to the technical aspects of the film. The sound, as you might of heard, is really bad. This may or may not only apply to the Netflix Instant version of the film, but the actor's mouths move discordantly with the dialogue so that you hear the sound effect ten seconds after the said action occurs. For a low-budget movie, the acting is pretty good, and the little girls do decent jobs. There is some child nudity, which could be artistic or offensive depending on your point of view, but it bothered me a little bit - can't these girls afford bathing suits?

     I liked Peter Facinelli as the devil- sly rather than overtly threatening and easy to confuse with a good angel (but watch out for those cloven hooves). Last was the sudden, tragic ending, whose implications were more disturbing the more I looked into them. If you like arty, deliberately paced dramas that fly under the radar, this could be a good choice for you. It has a moving message about the psychological vulnerability of children, especially unstable ones, and what happens when they go unnoticed (Rated NR.)

 Rating-** Stars

 

Requiem

     When it comes to rating movies, how should a film like Requiem be treated? Taken as entertainment, it is horrible. The viewer waits, sickened by the inevitable conclusion, but when it comes it is still like a poke in the gut. It is horrific, yet not horror, and shouldn't be advertised as "scary" in any conventional sense.

     But it strikes me as brave how directer Hans-Christian Schmid delivers his story -- sharp and gimmickless. His viewpoint is clear -- the girl was mentally sick. Nothing other than ignorance and her own mind conspired against her. Whether this notion would have helped anything remains distant.

     But the film doesn't need vomit or swiveling heads, shocks or hallucinations. It has Sandra Huller. Fully absorbed in her role, Sandra furiously portrays Michaela Klinglar, a character based, apparently, on a real German girl named Annalise Michaels, who lived in 1970's Germany.

    Michaela, as many young people would, hopes to leave her parents for college, and eventually, a career in teaching. She announces she will be leaving for university. She seems healthy and capable enough, but her mother speaks quietly and archaically of her illness and its eventual effect on her future.

     Michaela lives with three people, her parents and a younger sibling. Her mother coldly talks of her daughter's limitations in way that radiates cruelty, not care.  New clothes that show Michaela's figure are promptly thrown away in the night for being trampy. Even when her mother presents a gift, tension lies in the air.

     The girl's father secretly resents serving as his daughter's shield. But her mother relents, and she is given a chance to try a life of classes and socialization. The family is religious, as is Michaela, but at her school, belief in a higher power has gone out of style. Her mention of God is met by snickers. An at first aloof old classmate hangs around with her, as long as religion and self-help are not brought up, even with earnest intentions.

     When Michaela first begins to suffer seizures, black-outs, and hallucinations, she manages to cover up the incidents.  Her requests for help from a priest invoke less-than-helpful response. She begins going out with a boy who promises, when asked, to stand by her, foolishly ignoring the conditions.

     When her parents do discover her degeneration, they make the tragic decision to involve the church in her rehabilitation. While her stretches of coherency become rarer, she becomes a spiritual guinea pig for exorcisms and is denied the psychiatric care she so desperately needs.

     Two films have been made involving the case of Anneliese Michels, the other being a Hollywood courtroom thriller titled The Exorcism of Emily Rose, which concentrates on the supernatural aspects of the case.

      Schmid has no use for the superstition of the latter, but at times his stance becomes all-too-clear, involving overwrought scenes with a harsh priest and an earnest member of the church whose cure for insanity is a good round of bible study.

     Even as Requiem falters, Sandra Huller's intense performance, conveying the hope for normalcy and pain of rejection and illness, almost single-handedly keeps the viewer's interest. Some say the docu-style filming is boring, but I say it is a courageous attempt to strip Annalise's story to the basics, dropping the shocks and visualized nightmares that distract from the reality of the situation.

For more information on Anneliese Michels, check out this link (Spoilers!) here

The Living & the Dead

  Not your first pick for Mother's Day, The Living and the Dead is morbid and horrifying, and I mean that, strangely, as a compliment. It is a family drama, a psychological thriller, a tragedy, an art film, all these things at once, and and despite it's flaws, it doesn't overextend.

   The film opens with Lord Donald Brocklebank (Roger Lloyd-Pack), a worn-down, silent shell of an old man, pushing an empty wheelchair through a quiet room. The image delivers the same feeling as a dark grey painting, lonely and despondent. He watches, lip quivering, as an ambulance pulls into his massive estate. Cut back an undetermined amount of time. Donald stands straighter. He maintains a kind of pride that must come with being one of the British elite, but he is grieving. He has a lot to grieve about.

    His wife, Lady Nancy Brocklebank, is terribly sick and probably won't be with him much longer. The bills are piling up, and they will soon lose their mansion. His son James (Leo Bill, in an over-the-top performance that works), dashes around the house with little clear purpose.

    James is in his mid-to-late twenties. He is stuck in a kind of permanent childhood, the kind of childhood that is made up of nightmares, not whimsy. Although Simon Rumley, the director, describes him as "mentally challenged," I suspect paranoid schizophrenia.

    James is by far my favorite character in the film. He is a complicated movie creation, and his emotional limitations do not hold back his complexity or ambiguity as a person. Donald treats James with the casual cruelty that is most likely inflicted on the mentally ill more often than we think, condescending to him, forbidding him to use the phone or answer the door. James is desperate to prove to his father that he is an independent adult and plans to do so by taking care of his mother.

   His father understandably rejects the idea. In an matter of days, James will have locked the door, shut out the nurse, skipped his pills, and may have destroyed the lives of those closest to him. Soon, as his lucidity deteriorates, the viewer begins to wonder if the past events were only in James' head. This is a film for a patient audience -- it's a while before anything happens and the reality of the events is questionable.

    The atmosphere is palpable, and the characters are well developed. There are many plot holes and unanswered questions throughout the film, as the story itself seems on the edge of reality, with its Gothic features and abstract images.

    People have had different opinions on whether James is "good" or "bad." He is a disturbing character, to be sure. He is not a sex maniac, mad slasher, or stony-faced killer, but an exceptionally childlike and deeply disturbed man. This movie might make you feel differently about a crime, in the paper, in which mental illness was a factor. Despite naysayers, The Living and the Dead is an emotional bombshell and thought-provoking film.

Spider

  Ralph Fiennes transfixes in this post-Freudian, Gothic psychological thriller. In 20th century Britain, Dennis, nicknamed "Spider," is released from an asylum and makes his way to a halfway house. One of the first scenes shows an array of passengers getting off a train. Spider gets off last, feet shuffling, perpetually astonished by the hustle and bustle of the world as well as the chaos culminating in his own head.

   Spider speaks primarily in an incomprehensible mumble, so be sure to turn on your subtitles. Once he arrives at the halfway house, he is coldly greeted by Ms. Wilkinson (Lynn Redgrave), the nosy matron in charge of the establishment. He also meets Terrence (John Neville), a strange but friendly occupant, whose morbid anecdotes reflect Spider's own fractured mind.

    But this film isn't about creating a new future. It's about a man who's stuck in the past, and his intricate and often inaccurate thought process. The halfway house is located near Spider's childhood home, and Spider begins to "follow" his younger self around. Young Spider (Bradley Hall), who is about nine or ten, lives in a poor part of town with his father (Gabriel Byrne), who likes to spend an awful lot of time at the bar, and his mother (Miranda Richardson), who despairs at their relationship. Spider loves his mum just a little too much, so much so that the name "Oedipus" comes to mind.

    Spider is just fine having his mum to himself, but Spider's mum wants Dad back in the picture. Then the unthinkable happens, but in Spider's mind everything must be taken at face value, and nothing is certain. Davis Cronenberg creates a unique, uninviting atmosphere of British Gothic. where bathwater runs brown with rust, smoke from a nearby factory billows into the sky, and something strange is buried in the garden -- or is it?

The acting is exceptional, especially from Ralph Fiennes, who portrays a schizophrenic mind so delicately. This is the movie that made me like him. He's good at anything he does, but Voldemort's Voldemort, you know? The other Potter-less Ralph Fiennes movie I recommend is The Constant Gardener. He handles both dramatic roles with dignity and grace. Spider is the kind of movie, that's twist lingers right under your nose, but you don't guess it, anyway, til the end. Then it seems obvious.

   I would compare it to films such as Memento, The Butcher Boy, and The Living and the Dead. It is not a mega budget concept movie like Inception, but should be watched for its tremendous acting and psychological undercurrent.

The Butcher Boy by Patrick McCabe

Francie Brady, the young narrator of this dark Irish novel, opens the book by saying, "When I was a young lad twenty or thirty or forty years ago I lived in a small town where they were after me on account of what I done on Mrs. Nugent." It's safe to say the reader has fair warning that the book will not end well.

Set in Ireland in the early 1960's, this novel takes us into the home of the Bradys, a poor Catholic family. Francie's father is an alcoholic, and his mother is mentally ill -- my guess is that she has bipolar disorder. The reader lives in Francie's mind, carried along by a stream of consciousness that reminds me a bit of James Joyce's A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. The flow of his thoughts and experiences is beautiful, brutal and often confusing.

As Francie's family unravels, he becomes increasingly obsessed with the Nugents, a relatively affluent Protestant family. Their cherished only son, Philip Nugent, is one of his classmates; he has an impressive comic book collection and takes piano lessons. When Francie enters Philip's room, it is like stepping into a different world. Mrs. Nugent looks down on the Bradys and calls Francie a "pig." This only stokes his obsession. And gradually, Mrs. Nugent becomes Francie's scapegoat for all the problems and tragedies in his life.

We follow Francie's descent into madness, which continues through the death of his parents, his taking work as the butcher's boy, the only job he's considered suitable for, and the loss of his best friend. It also continues through his stint at a Catholic home for troubled boys, where he yearns to get his "Francie Brady is Not a Bad Bastard Anymore Diploma," and his encounters with a pedophile priest.

Throughout all this, the narrative veers between the real and the surreal; realities and delusions mingle fluidly. As he plunges into sociopathy, Francie remains heart-breakingly human and funny. And while the story is often disorienting and bleak, at times it's incredibly beautiful.

While this novel was difficult to read, it is one that will stick with me for years to come.

You might also like this review at The Guardian.

Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

The Nature of Jade by Deb Caletti

published by Simon Pulse February 27, 2007

The boy's head is tilted to the sky. He reaches his arms back and unclenches the baby's fingers from his hair. But once he is free, he keeps his chin pointed up, just keeps staring up above. He watches the backlit cotton candy clouds in a lava-lamp sky, and it is then I am sure this is a story I'll be part of.

Jade is a high-school senior, almost ready to take flight in the world. She is applying to colleges, looking for a school where she can explore her passion for animals. She is also coping with an anxiety disorder, with the help of counseling and medication, and she spends a lot of time in the safety of her room. She spends hours watching elephants at the zoo via webcam. On her computer screen, which gives her an eye on this corner of the world, she spots a boy with a baby on his shoulders. Although he appears to be only a few years older than Jade, she suspects he is the child's father. This fills her with questions, and she can't get him out of her mind. She knows she wants to meet him, and she is sure she wants him in her life.

Jade's character was vibrantly painted by the author, and I was drawn into her conflicts. She is struggling with separating from her family at the same time her parents' marriage is dissolving. She is also dealing with her anxiety disorder and her fear that her panic attacks might return. As she explores the uncharted terrain of her first romance, something about her boyfriend's life doesn't add up. But can she trust her own instincts? Is she experiencing genuine intuition, or is it just her anxiety rearing its ugly head?

This multi-layered novel offers a glimpse at mental illness which, while not in-depth, is believable. I always appreciate novels for young adults that explore teen mental illness in a way that is direct without being overly didactic. No one wants a good novel to be burdened with a psychology lesson. And I found Jade's experience compelling, especially her struggle to separate her instincts from her irrational fears.

Jade's boyfriend, Sebastian, was an endearing character, and he drew me into the joy, vulnerability, frustration and just plain old scared-shitlessness that most new parents experience, whether they're 17, 27, or 37:

Mostly, I'm all about Bo right now. I'm Bo's father. It freaks me out to say it sometimes. I'm someone's father. God. It shouldn't be allowed. But you have a baby and they take over your world. One little person and " ... "Your whole life.

I had mixed feelings about Sebastian's character, because he'd made a choice that really disturbed me. However I was drawn to him, and I enjoyed the budding teen romance. While the novel doesn't explore the challenges of teen parenthood in depth, it makes it believable.

Overall, I found this to be a beautiful story of coming of age, psychological recovery, and first love. Jade's character was memorable; she was a believable combination of strength and vulnerability, childishness and maturity. The secondary characters were painted with a light hand but are three-dimensional and real. I highly recommend this novel to all lovers of YA lit.

Read More Reviews:
The Zen Leaf
Once Upon a Book Blog
Reviewer X

Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Half Life by Roopa Farooki

Several years ago, Aruna abandoned her lover in Singapore, without saying goodbye, and emigrated to London. She was fleeing a revelation that had irrevocably changed her life. She was also struggling with a psychiatric illness. The medications used to treat it left her feeling at half life; the world around her and her own emotions seemed less vivid. So she abandoned her treatment when she left Singapore, self medicating with alcohol, cigarettes and other drugs.

Now she lives in London, using her doctorate to secure teaching positions. She's been married for almost a year to Patrick Jones, a British doctor she married on impulse. They have a passionate sexual relationship, but Aruna doesn't let Patrick know who she really is, and his frustration fuels continual fighting.

Aruna is unable to free herself from her past in Singapore, and she feels like a piece of driftwood, floating between two cultures. Desperately unhappy, she impulsively leaves Patrick and boards a plane for Singapore. Across the ocean, her former lover, Ejaz, is waiting for her, and she has a chance to finally finish their story.

In a parallel narrative, Hassan, a Muslim Bengalese poet living in Singapore, lies in a hospital bed. He is slowly dying, but his son has refused to allow a Do Not Resuscitate order so he can end his long life naturally. He yearns for his estranged son for forgive his past sins and set him free, and he is struggling to make peace with the past.

Each of these parallel stories shifts back and forth in time. We see Aruna, Ejaz, and Hassan in the present, then we delve into their memories, uncovering long-held secrets and revelations that help us understand their present predicaments.

The writing in this novel is absolutely beautiful. All the threads of the story mingle smoothly, and it's rich with metaphors and literary and poetic allusions. The novel deals with disturbing themes, including death, suicide, mental illness, addiction and incest. It also explores the turmoil in India in the wake of English colonialism and the bloody civil war in Pakistan. The characters were vibrantly drawn. Though I found Aruna easy to empathize with, I found her difficult to like. I actually found Hassan's story more compelling. Nevertheless, they are both memorable characters, and their stories fit smoothly together in the end, like pieces of a puzzle.

Because of the author's gorgeous writing and vibrant storytelling ability, I will find this book hard to forget. And the forays into Asian history and culture added another dimension, making it much more interesting. I recommend it to people who enjoy multicultural fiction and knotty family stories.
A memorable passage, to give you a sample of the writing -- the author is describing Ejaz's mother, who suffered from cancer:

And besides, his mother's well-being plummeted shortly afterwards; not her physical health, as she had been given good news, it seemed she was in remission, but her mental state. Having prepared so long for death, it was as though she seemed to have no idea how to live; she carried on like a walking ghost, a survivor of a nuclear accident who carried the promise of dying within her. She had once had her own vocabulary, as precise as poetry, all to do with the concerns of wifehood, motherhood, the beauty of domesticity: car pool, pooris, dry cleaning, lemon drizzle cake ... But now she left these words scattered behind her for someone else to pick up and make use of.

Read Another Review: Booking Mama


Rating: 4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Bad Mother: A Chronicle of Maternal Crimes, Minor Calamities, and Occasional Moments of Grace by Ayelet Waldman

Ayelet Waldman was a highly driven, successful defense attorney, married to a full-time novelist, when she left her job to become a full-time mom to her first child, Sophie. Fifteen years later, she is writing about her experiences with marriage and motherhood. Bad Mother was not what I expected. I checked it out expecting a memoir, and while revelations about the author's life run throughout the book, it's actually a group of loosely connected essays. They explore marital roles, breast-feeding, maternal guilt, and other topics that are familiar to many of us.

I am not sure Waldman represents the "typical" mom, as she is clearly highly educated and upper middle class. As she was expressing mild guilt over hiring maids to help with housework, I was thinking about the years my husband and I couldn't afford heating fuel. :-) However her essays are beautifully articulate, a bit edgy, and often laugh-out-loud funny. As a mom, I could relate closely to most of what she had to say; at times, reading these essays was like chatting with a friend.

The first topic she discussed was the unrealistic expectations and judgments we mothers put on ourselves and each other.

.

Being a Good Father is a reasonable, attainable goal; you need only be present and supportive. Being a Good Mother, as defined by mothers themselves, is impossible. When asked for an example of a Good Mother, as defined by mothers themselves, the women I polled came up with June Cleaver and Marmee, from Little Women. Both of whom are by necessity, not coincidence, fictional characters. The good Mother does not exist, she never existed, not even in those halcyon bygone days to which the arbiters of maternal conduct never tire of harking back. If the producers of Leave it to Beaver had really wanted to give us an accurate depiction of late 1950s and early-1960s motherhood, June would have had a lipstick-stained cigarette clamped between her teeth, a gin and tonic in her hand, and a copy of Peyton Place on her nightstand. But still, this creature of fantasy is whom the mothers in my sample measured themselves against, and their failure to live up to her made her feel like Bad Mothers. It's as if the swimmer Tracy Caulkins, winner of three Olympic gold medals, setter of five world records, were to beat herself up for being slower than the Little Mermaid. (p. 11)

Other topics explored:

• Some parents are incredibly dogmatic about parenting philosophy, and this often seems to pop up in relation to attachment parenting discussions. Despite some of the rhetoric I've seen on the interwebs, there's no solid evidence that my kids will grow up to be serial killers because I didn't wear them in a sling for the first nine months, sleep with them, or breastfeed until they were in graduate school. I appreciated that Waldman was on the same wavelength. ;-)
• Roles partners adopt in a marriage, whether they be traditional, egalitarian, or mixed. While Waldman considers herself a feminist, she never changes a light bulb. :-)
• Keeping intimacy and passion alive after marriage and children.
• Her experiences with seeking parenting support on the internet.
• Teenage sexuality, her own sexually adventurous youth, and how she talks to her kids about physical intimacy.
• The burdens of homework.
• That unrequited longing for another baby, that just won't quite die.

She also explored parents' inflated hopes and expectations for their kids' development. Her family lives in Berkley, in the heart of an academic community, and intellectual achievement is clearly important to her. But she has learned to leaven this with realism and allowing herself to live in the moment. I liked this passage:

When Rosie was little, she was a slow talker ... She would sit on the floor, her fat legs stretched out in front of her, as I built and rebuilt a tower of blocks, , laughing each time I toppled it over. I was so busy saying, "Rosie can you say 'boom'? Say 'boom' for Mommy," that I barely registered her full-body smile, the way every inch of her, from her cornflower blue eyes to the pink tips of her toes, wriggled as she grinned at the tower's collapse. The most toxic thing parents can do is allow their delight and pride in their children to be spoiled by disappointment, by frustration, when the children fail to live up to expectations formed before they were even born, expectations that have nothing to do with them and everything to do with the parents' own egos. (pp. 205-206)

There were several things that touched me deeply. I connected with Waldman's account of her son's diagnosis with ADHD and coming to terms with the unexpected twists presented by a child's learning differences. I was also moved by her disclosure that she's bipolar and struggled with the decision to use medication during pregnancy. I went through this too. I had to make a choice, with each of my last two pregnancies, whether to use medication for anxiety and depression. Despite my severe history with my mood disorder, which runs in my family, and although increasing medical evidence indicates that SSRI use during pregnancy and nursing is safe, this was very difficult.

I also related to Waldman's fear that her children would inherit her illness. She wrote about constantly gauging her kids' emotions and reactions, looking for signs of bipolar disorder. She also described the stress her illness puts on her children. This almost made me cry.

I recommend this book if you enjoy essays and memoirs and motherhood is a topic close to your heart. I also think it would be a great book club pick. There is enough fodder for discussion here to keep you up well into the night.  

Other Reviews: The Book Lady's Blog; A Good Stopping Point 


Rating: 3.5

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Betrayal of Love and Freedom by Paul Huljich

 

Betrayal of Love and Freedom by Paul Huljich is an ambitious novel, spanning four decades and four continents. It weaves together three separate stories. The first has overtones of a thriller. It finds Luke Powers, a powerful international businessman, in a courtroom, facing life imprisonment for the murder of a woman he once loved. The second focuses on Luke's previous life. It begins on a tragic day, when he was eleven years old, and ends with him as a middle aged man on trial for his freedom. The third story is about Rick Dellich, another wealthy, successful businessman whose life intersects with Luke's several times. Rick's story begins in medias res, as the New Zealander begins his stay in an American psychiatric hospital. He has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, separated from his wife and two sons, and stripped of his rights as a New Zealand citizen. We learn about the events that led him to this point and about what comes next, as he begins his gradual journey to recovery.

This is largely a character driven novel, relying on narrative and exploration of the characters' thoughts and feelings. Overall, I didn't find the character development as subtle and rich as I might have hoped. On the other hand, Huljich created characters I cared about, which is no mean feat for an author.

Rick's character, and his story, was the most compelling. Perhaps this was because it was loosely based on events in the author's own life. One of the main reasons I agreed to review this book was because it explored a character's battle with bipolar disorder. As some of you know, mental illness is a deeply personal subject for me, and I wanted to get a glimpse of the author's journey through a fictional window. I was not disappointed. While Rick's experiences were vastly different from my own family's struggles, it was a captivating and inspiring story. Rick refused to accept the assumption that his illness was biogenetic and that he would be on psychotropic medication for the rest of his life. Keep in mind that he had no known family history of bipolar disorder and his illness was relatively late in onset. Rick stepped away from the mainstream medical establishment, rehabilitating himself through nutrition, including organic, nonprocessed foods, exercise, and making courageous changes in his life.

One of the things I enjoyed most was the author's exploration of Rick's relationship with his wife, Kate, before and after his "breakdown." While their marriage had been incredibly difficult before Rick's illness was treated, it became even harder in recovery. This is often the case. The problems in Rick and Kate's relationship were fairly complex, and this part of the novel felt real to me.

One of the most interesting things about Betrayal of Love and Freedom is the breadth of scope. It visits several decades and many countries, including the author's home country of New Zealand, Australia, Europe, China, Hong Kong, Singapore, and the United States. I discovered interesting cultural details about some of these countries, including a Maori creation story and an exploration of the Chinese sense of duty to ancestors.

My main complaint? This novel took me on so many fascinating journeys, from a pilgrimage to a rocky mountainside in Medjugorje, where the Virgin Mary had appeared, to scuba diving around the Great Barrier Reef. While it included interesting details about the characters' travels, I wanted much more descriptive detail. Perhaps this is the wannabe traveler in me. I was disappointed at having "visited" these places without really "seeing" them.

Furthermore while Betrayal of Love and Freedom is written in an articulate style, the prose seemed labored at times. It struck me that there was a lot of that "telling rather than showing" that's anathema to us writing teachers. :-) The author spent a great deal of time telling us what characters thought and experienced rather than leaving room for readers to explore that for ourselves.

On the other hand, this novel has many interesting facets, especially in its exploration of a man's experience with bipolar disorder and its geographic scope. At times, it was a real page-turner; the plot kept me guessing until the end. I think it will be enjoyed by many readers, and I hope to see it more widely reviewed in the near future.

FYI: The first part of the novel contains explicit sex scenes, in case you're sensitive to that ... or in case it sweetens the deal for you. :-)  

Many thanks to the author and to Eric Glover, publicity assistant with Planned Television Arts, for providing a copy of this novel for review.

Read Another Review: All About Bipolar


Rating: 3

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me

Choke by Chuck Palahnuik

This is the first book I've read by Chuck Palahnuik, who is not only a critically acclaimed, best selling author but, according to my daughter, a bit of a cult phenomenon. Well. I am not puritanical; I enjoy a bit of steamy literary smut as much as the next person, as long as it enriches the storytelling. But having just finished Choke, I feel like getting rid of the book then taking a scorching hot shower.

I don't know how to review or rate this book. I admire Chuck Palahniuk's well honed writing ability, his outrageous imagination, and his black sense of humor.  And just as I was ready to toss the book aside, perhaps aiming for the toilet, I would stumble across something so clever, original and hilarious that I'd catch my breath. How do I review a book that I found so cleverly crafted and original yet so pointless and disgusting? Especially when I suspect that this paradox is exactly what the author was striving for?

"If you're going to read this, don't bother," Victor Mancini, the novel's protagonist, begins. (At least I can't say I wasn't warned) "After a couple pages, you won't want to be here. So forget it. Go away. Get out while you're still in one piece."

In alternating chapters, the author tells the story of Victor's bizarre childhood, in which his mentally ill mother repeatedly kidnapped him from foster homes, to his even stranger adult life. Victor is a sex addict, who spares no detail in describing some of his exploits and attends Sex Addicts Anonymous meetings because -- well -- they're a great place to hook up with sex addicted women.

He is also a medical school drop-out who works as an interpreter at a Colonial theme park, telling groups of fourth grades morbid and disgusting bits of history, both real and invented, after having sex with their teacher in the corner of a barn. He spends Saturdays visiting his senile mother in a nursing home. The senile residents of the nursing home mistake Victor for people who have hurt them -- a brother who sexually molested them in childhood, a person who cheated them, someone who had sex with their cat. He pretends to be all these people, allowing them to vent their anger and offer forgiveness.

Victor also spends time with his best friend and fellow sex addict Denny. They enjoy pastimes like roaming an affluent neighborhood drinking the dishes of beer set outside to kill slugs. (They pick out the insects and bugs, first, of course). Best of all, to raise money for his mother's medical bills, and to garner attention, he repeatedly pretends to choke on food in restaurants.

Palahniuk's bizarre world is populated with decaying, senile patients and deformed chickens who suffered birth defects when fourth graders deliberately shook the unhatched eggs, scrambling the fetuses, as well as strippers, psychotics, and sex addicts. None of the characters are three-dimensional people who a reader cares about; they're just a canvas for Palahniuk's vision of the world.
In this world, the realistic and the bizarre are side by side, and the line between them is often blurred. Sexuality is deliberately portrayed and crude and lifeless, and relationships are empty. In this world, stripped of sentiment and meaning, people constantly numb themselves with alcohol, drugs, and compulsive sex. If you look at this as a reflection of the society we live in, it is easy to see why The San Francisco Examiner praised this author's "Swiftian gift for satire."

Palahniuk's protagonist has a relentlessly nihilistic view of life. In Victor's mind, there is no God, though he briefly fancies himself a Christ figure, and humans have no souls. More to the point, there is no sense of awe and wonder, love does not exist, and nothing we do matters.

Ultimately the author seems to be conveying the idea that this view of reality liberates us to create our own meaning. This is illustrated in an interesting scene, near the end of the book, in which Victor and Denny take a pile of randomly collected rocks and begin creating their own structure. While I don't see eye to eye with him in his vision of the universe, I find this existential theme to be intriguing and rich with possibilities. However, for me, it never really came together in this novel. In the end, I still just saw a pile of rubble.

So, dear readers, I wouldn't presume to recommend this book or steer you away from it. The author is clever, even gifted, or his book is just bent, pointless and painful to read. Or maybe both. Your mileage may vary.

By all means, if you have read this, or if you have any thoughts about Chuck Palahniuk's work, please leave a comment. I am very interested to hear what you think.

Read Another Review At: books i done read

Rating: I don't know how to rate this one.

600 Hours of Edward by Craig Lancaster

 

Thirty-nine-year old Edward Stanton has obsessive compulsive disorder and Asperger's Syndrome. His illness -- the OCD -- is treated with medication and therapy, and the Asperger's is just part of who he is: a bright, funny, methodical man who likes concrete facts and predictable routines. Edward has many abilities, but his rigidity and difficulty communicating with others have kept him from holding down a job. He is supported by his father, a wealthy developer and county commissioner.

Edward is often baffled by other people's behavior, and he vents his frustration by writing letters of complaint. After his complaints to a popular Country-Western singer escalated to the point where he faced legal action, an event later known as "The Garth Brooks Incident," his father decided Edward needed to move out. He now lives in a house his parents purchased and structures his life around careful routines.

Edward is sliding into middle age; like T.S. Eliot's J. Edgar Prufrock, he measures out his life in coffee spoons, focusing on quotidian household tasks, errands, visits to his therapist, and his favorite television program, Dragnet. However, changes are coming. Through his tentative forays into internet dating, his budding friendship with a neighbor -- a single mom recovering from an abusive relationship -- and her 9-year-old son, and a crisis that strikes his family, Edward finds his life changed in ways he'd never expected.

 This is not a fast-paced edge-of-your seat kind of story. We're guided through 600 hours of Edward's life, an existence that is defined, in many ways, by repetitive routines. However it is a wonderful character study with several interesting twists. As an Aspergian with OCD, Edward dislikes ambiguity. He has spent his life avoiding shades of gray; as he often tells you, he prefers facts. However he is facing incredibly ambiguous, emotionally laden questions -- the kinds of things that often overwhelm "neurotypicals." For example, how do you forgive, and fully love, a parent who has been unkind and has shut you out of his life? What should you do when what you're supposed to do conflicts with what you believe is right? What are the "rules" and boundaries of friendship? And, for God's sake, when you're on a date, how do you figure out what a woman wants?

All of this leads to a turning point in Edward's life -- a coming of age. And yes, I believe "coming of age" can happen at any stage of life. This is a sweet, funny and occasionally heartbreaking debut novel that will appeal to fiction lovers who enjoy character-driven stories. I look forward to seeing what Craig Lancaster creates in the future.

 Hat Tip to the FTC: I received a copy of this book, from the publisher, for review. Many thanks to Chris Cauble at Riverbend Publishing for this opportunity.  

Read more reviews: Life With Asperger's, That Chick That Reads, Coffee Books and Laundry; hear from the author at For the Sake of Joy  





Rating:4

5- Cherished Favorite	4 - Keep in My Library	3 - Good Read	2 - Meh	1 - Definitely Not For Me