So I learned I can still read books. But apparently I can only read books people send me for my birthday. Figuring out what's out there on my own is apparently too difficult.
What? It's been more than four years since Annabel was born and I've read a total of four books in all that time?
Four years, and the number of books written for people beyond the age of six that I've read can be counted on one hand. Good times, hey?
Well let's cut to the chase, shall we?
Jill Smolinski's "The Next Thing on My List" is everything the back cover says it will be: It's a fun read; it's quick; It's light hearted; and it ends all neat and even. In other words it's poifect.
It's the youngish woman's version of The Bucket List. Only the protagonist doesn't bother us with her own glorious dreams she's racing to accomplish before some unforeseen or tragic end befalls her ... because that would just be creepy.
Instead Smolinski gets the tragic stuff out of the way first thing. Our lovely leading lady, June, has an accident in her car and kills a woman - a virtual stranger - she'd offered a ride. Afterward she finds the unlucky person's list of things to do before she turns 25, and, out of a sense of guilt (or maybe just early middle-aged-but-not-yet-started-her-own-life enui) decides to complete the tasks in honor of the dead woman.
Because that's not at all creepy. No, not in the least.
I have to say the book is predictable, silly, lightweight and with a charming off-Hollywood Hollywood ending that brings it all back to our heroine reclaiming her own life. No way is it literature but who cares? It ends well.
Take this one to beach, folks. It's a page-turner that will bring a smile to your face on at least four separate occasions. You might even laugh (or at least chortle). I did.
(SELF) PUBLISHING UPDATE
The books I ordered from Blurb arrived. Cheapy-shipped and all, they arrived in time for the big dad day, and in perfect condition as well. They are each 20 pages hardbound with pictures imbedded in the covers (rather than a dust jacket).
The only thing that would have made them better is if I were a better page designer (within Blurb's templates of course) or if I was a better phographer/photo editor. Some images I selected, upon reflection, weren't terribly good. So I guess that's what? Cut and paster's remorse?