Lisa Daily's debut novel Fifteen Minutes of Shame is the kind of book I don't read in public. Its breezy cover screams CHICK LIT as loudly as a siren; I hate to sound like a snob, but this is a genre I'm embarrassed to be seen reading. Why? Well, it's got a reputation for being substanceless fluff, definitely less-than-literary. So, imagine my surprise when I not only liked this book, but actually considered giving it one of my coveted "A" grades. Pick your jaws up off the table now, and read on ...

The story features 31-year-old relationships expert Darby Vaughn. Not only is she a successful writer, public speaker, and radio host, but she's also married to handsome publicist Will Bradley, generally known as The Perfect Husband. Darby and Will have custody of his two kids from his former marriage to "a formerly sane beauty queen" (6). Even though the kids aren't technically hers, Darby takes care of them full-time and cherishes them as her own. She lives in an exclusive gated community, has a close circle of friends (her Dreamgirls) and legions of fans all over the country. Her life is the very definition of "charmed."

When Darby catches her husband at a gas station in Florida at the exact moment he's supposed to be boarding a plane for Atlanta, she panics. When he lies about his location, she gets angry. When a perusal of his locked desk drawer brings forth a handful of suspicious receipts, she gets paranoid. Could Will really be cheating on her? She's written articles and books on cheating men, wouldn't she have recognized the signs? When Will assuages her suspicions with a rational explanation, she is relieved. Feeling guilty for suspecting him, she heads off on her book tour. All is well until Today show host Matt Lauer confronts Darby with the morning's big news - publicist Will Bradley has filed for divorce, dissolving his current marriage so he can reconcile with his first wife, Gigi Bissanti. When the news sinks in, Darby expels her breakfast all over the chrysanthemums on Matt's coffee table. Live. On national television. Right before she passes out.

By the time Darby comes to, her career has taken a serious plunge down the toilet. Images of her puking on Today play out in living color on news programs, YouTube and newspapers everywhere. The public humiliation tortures her, but the real blow comes when she returns home to find her husband, children (she has been their primary caregiver since Gigi abandoned them for a spot on Hollywood's newest reality show), and whole life has up and gone away. The Dreamgirls encircle Darby, plying her with margaritas and creamy comfort foods. When she finally emerges from her grief, she's ready to follow her agent's advice and "mov[e] on with your life as a fun, fabulous, single girl" (126). So, she hires a killer divorce lawyer, starts a couple "fauxmances" with gorgeous playboys, and stars in a career - enlivening reality dating show.

Finally, her life appears to be back on track, but appearances are decieving. Darby soon finds there is a big difference between being successful and being happy. On a night when she's dressed to the nines, she wishes "that someone who cared about me could see me looking this way" (141). Another day filming her reality show just feels "pitiful and empty" (201). She misses her life, especially the kids. Just to make her life more complicated, Darby finds she's attracted to her lawyer. To make matters even worse, Will calls begging her to reconsider their marriage. He offers her the thing she wants most - "her" kids. But, what will happen to her fragile career, not to mention her life, if she breaks her own advice to "Never stay with a cheater! Never!" (240). Darby adores "her" kids, but can she risk staying with a man she will never trust again? Can she shoot her credibility, thereby destroying her career just to be near kids who aren't even hers? And what about the electricity that shoots through her body every time she touches her "killer" lawyer with a heart of gold? Darby has to make some tough decisions in order to reclaim her life, including the most important one - is it even the life she really wants?

Like I said, this is a fluffy book with deeper issues. At its heart, it is a story about success v. happiness, career v. family, and thriving v. surviving. It's about identity ("Without my family, my house, my career, without all the things I've dedicated my life to over the last several years, who the hell am I?" [84]), misconception

I imagined that married bliss looked a lot like a Pottery Barn catalog, complete with shed-free chocolate labs, beach barbecues with a handsome, adoring husband who rakes in $200K and still makes it home in plenty of time for every family event, and two charming, mannerly children who wipe their feet in the mudroom and play together for hours without conflict in the $900 lemonade stand. (16)

and the truly important things in life.

Of course, Fifteen Minutes of Shame is not without its chick lit fluff. There's a laugh-out-loud funny scene with a gay room service waiter, as well as lots of feel-good female bonding. Dating tips are sprinkled throughout the book. There's also plenty of the requisite male-bashing, male-lusting, and male-loving.

Given all this, the thing that surprised me about the book is how well it is written. It's sharp, funny, and actually very heartwarming. Daily writes what she knows; since she's a real-life relationships expert, she knows exactly what life for a fictional relationships expert would be like. This gives the story a realistic feel, even if certain parts seem a little far-fetched. Daily's writing is surprisingly original (even if her plot is not) - Darby's mind "starts whirling, with horrible, panicky thoughts spewing out like Lotto balls" (21), her city is "a town full of social climbers and no ladder" (96), and a party host's decor is "often imitated, always boring" (96).

As for negatives, there aren't that many, really. The characters in Fifteen Minutes of Shame are familiar, some (like Will) border on cliche. As I mentioned before, the book's plot gets a bit far-fetched, while remaining absolutely predictable. There were some irritating scenes, like the one in which Darby decides to start dating publicly (not seriously - just to attract media attention) before her divorce is final, then professes absolute shock when her lawyer reminds her that tramping around could ruin her case. Duh. I also could not understand why Darby works so hard to repair her marriage when she doesn't seem to miss Will at all after the breakup. She laments the loss of the children, but Will? Not so much. There just didn't seem to be much of a spark between them. The book was also filled with references to current events (Hillary Clinton's presidential campaign, Brittney Spears' flashing incident) and pop culture (YouTube, Google, Starbucks, etc) which will easily date it (not that I expect it will become a classic, but still ...).

All in all, though, Fifteen Minutes of Shame is a fun, witty romp that actually hits on some serious issues. Despite her somewhat glamorous life, Darby Vaughn is an Everywoman that readers will relate to and sympathize with. Her life makes for fast, entertaining reading that you might actually consider showing in public. If you're at the beach. Under an umbrella. Where no one can see how much you're enjoying chick lit, that most embarrassing of genres.

Grade: B

For all those mothers who refuse to read fairy tales to their children because the stories are just too violent and scary, I offer you vindication in the form of John Connolly's The Book of Lost Things. It gave me nightmares for two straight nights.

The story begins in London, where 12-year-old David keeps watch over his mother, who is slowly dying. He reads her stories and performs elaborate rituals, but nothing can save her. When she dies, David's world shatters. Before he's even had time to begin grieving, his father hits him with a double whammy: not only does he have a girlfriend, but she is pregnant. The year is 1939, and German bombs crash all over London, but David barely notices - his world is being torn apart by his very own father. Soon, the three of them move into Rose's country home. It is more peaceful than London, but David's heart continues to yearn for his old life. Things only get worse when his stepbrother makes his way into the world. The colicky baby wails non-stop, making the whole family tense and cranky. To make matters worse, David's father works constantly with the war effort, leaving him home with Rose and the squalling infant. His only escape is his bedroom, which is thankfully stocked with shelves of storybooks.

David loves books, but lately they have been making him a little uncomfortable. He can hear them whispering. The old tales, the ones that his mother loved, "seemed to recognize something in him, or so he came to believe, something curious and fertile. He heard them talking: softly at first, then louder and more compellingly" (10). As David examines the storybooks, he finds that many of the fairy tales have been cruelly re-written. Many of them bear the name "Jonathan Tulvey." According to Rose, Jonathan was her great-uncle, who disappeared along with his stepsister when they were children. With tales of werewolves, hobgoblins and witches swirling around in his head, David begins to have frightening visions of a creature skulking about in his room. The figure was "slightly hunched, as though it had become so used to sneaking about that its body had contorted, the spine curving, the arms like twisted branches, the fingers clutching, ready to snatch at whatever it saw" (50-51). Terrified, David tells his father, who dismisses it as his imagination. But the gnarled monster, which David dubs The Crooked Man won't go away. It haunts his bedroom, his dreams, and worse, his brother's nursery. In the midst of these waking nightmares, he hears his mother's voice, begging him to rescue her from the monster's clutches. David follows her voice to a sunken garden, through a tunnel and into a strange, new world.

David knows his mother is trapped somewhere in this alternate reality; he must rescue her. He trudges through a world that seems familiar somehow. He meets a woodsman, who speaks of a girl in a red cloak meeting a wolf in the forest while taking a basket of food to her ailing grandmother. He encounters seven dwarves who toil in a mine and share their cottage with a woman. He discovers a castle encased in thorns, wherein lies a slumbering princess. In short, he has found a land of fairy tales. But these tales have been twisted. Very twisted. Little Red Riding Hood seduces the wolf, producing wolfmen who prowl the forest for anything to tear apart. Snow White makes the dwarves' lives a living hell, and the sleeping beauty resembles Elvira more than a Disney Princess.

The fairy tale world horrifies David with its violence and bloodshed. Enemies taunt him at every turn, and The Crooked Man watches hungrily from the fringes. Still, David presses on, searching for his mother. With danger lurking in every direction, he journeys to see the King of the storybook land, who possesses The Book of Lost Things, which David hopes will help him return home. But, the castle produces the most gruesome sights yet. Can he rescue his mother in time? Or will David be trapped inside the book land forever?

One commenter compared The Book of Lost Things to Cornelia Funke's Inkspell, so I was prepared to be as charmed with the former as I was with the latter. A couple chapters into it, I realized John Connolly's novel was not that kind of book. Instead of charming, The Book of Lost Things is creepy, gory and just downright disturbing. Yet, I could not put it down. Why? In the words of a reviewer with the Houston Chronicle, "Connolly writes like a poet about terrible horrors." It's true. The book's writing is masterful. An observation David makes in the story describes this book perfectly: "David could not equate the beauty of the craftmanship with the sinister place that now held them" (243). The Book of Lost Things is dark, sinister and strangely beautiful. I appreciated Connolly's originality, his mastery of language, and his subtle symbolism, but I can't say I liked the story. It was just so ... disturbing. I kept wondering why Connolly made the book so dark. I finally found this explanation in an interview printed in the back of the book. The author stated:

"In general, though, I was reluctant throughout the book to "sanitize" the old tales in any way, and they remain 'red in tooth and claw' ... to remove the violence and threat from the stories is to take away much of their potency, as well as to undermine the messages they communicate about the sometimes troubling and terrifying nature of the world children inhabit" (417).

If you like the idea of a storybook/fairy tale plot, but don't want all the gore, stick with Inkspell. If you're made of tougher stuff, you may enjoy this book. Just remember when you scream yourself awake at night to chant this mantra: It's just a story. It's just a story. And, if you start hearing your books talk, and seeing visions of The Crooked Man, you may want to set John Connolly's creepy masterpiece aside.

Grade: B
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I really liked this quote about reading, which also appears in the interview at the back of The Book of Lost Things:

"I think the act of reading imbues the reader with a sensitivity toward the outside world that people who don't read can sometimes lack. I know it seems like a contradiction in terms; after all, reading is such a solitary, internalizing act that it appears to represent a disengagement from day-to-day life. But reading, and particularly the readinf of fiction, encourages us to view the world in new and challenging ways. I have always believed that fiction acts as a prism, taking the reality of our existence and breaking it down into its constituent parts, allowing us to see it in a completely differnet form. It allows us to inhabit the consciousness of another, which is a precursor to empathy, and empathy is, for me, one of the marks of a decent human being."

I have a long-standing policy of reviewing everything I read, so it feels kind of wrong not to write about the two books I just finished. Don't worry, I'm not breaking policy, I'm just not going to review these two right now. I read Lisa Daily's Fifteen Minutes of Shame, a chick lit novel that actually had some substance. If you want a sneak peek at this fun book, check out Lisa's official website. If you want my take on it, come back on April 2, when BBB hosts Lisa on her virtual book tour. The other book I finished is The Hostile Hospital by Lemony Snicket. I've been reading his A Series of Unfortunate Events books. When I've finished them, I'll review the series as a whole.

The other thing I want to mention is a fun new reading challenge called Soup's On. You can get all the details here. Basically, you have to "read" (not every word, just enough so you have an idea what it's about) 6 cookbooks and make 1 recipe from each between April 1, 2008 and March 31, 2009. Sounds fun, doesn't it? My reading list will be on my challenge blog in the next couple of days.

Right now, I'm trying to decide what to read next. I've got a pile of review books, a TBR mountain chain, plus I just ordered a bunch of books using MyPoints rewards (have you heard of MyPoints? If not, check it out. I've been doing it for years, and I love the program. If you sign up, would you mind putting my name in as the one who referred you? You will probably have to use my email address susanrjensen[AT]yahoo[DOT]com. Thanks.), and I've got a bag full of books from the library. Hmmm ... choices, choices.

It's come to my attention that I am earning a reputation as the Simon Cowell of book reviewers. First, I got an email from an author telling me how much she enjoyed my "very honest and candid" reviews. This, she wrote is "something I appreciate very much as a reader but which terrified me a little as an author who is very aware of my own limitations." I laughed at the thought of little ole me being that intimidating. Then, last night, I got an email from a friend who has been telling me about an author she really enjoys. I've "met" this author via email, although I haven't gotten to her books yet (I promise I will, R). Anyway, my friend wrote, "I'm nervous about your review of R's books and I didn't even write them!" Between these two conversations as well as other comments I've received, I've realized that I'm starting to resemble Mr. Cowell (although I don't wear undershirts in public). I really am a very nice person. Seriously. In real life, I'm much more like Paul Abdul (without the hit records). I would be more likely to gush, "It wasn't your best performance, but you look gorgeous" than "It was horrendous. Absolute rubbish."

The funny thing is, I am the least opinionated person you'll ever meet. If my husband asks where I want to eat, I usually say, "Oh, Olive Garden. Or Applebees. Or Outback. Whatever. I don't care." But, when it comes to books, I know what I like and what I don't. Amazingly, I form very strong opinions about the things I read. So, if I slam a book you've written and/or loved, I just want to quote my favorite American Idol judge: "Saw-ree, it's just my opinyon."

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