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Gods of Jade and Shadow Author, Silvie Moreno- Garcia by Jarad Johnson A blend of mythology, fairy tale and history, Gods of Jade and Shadow is captivating and original. There are many characters, events and places packed into three hundred pages, but essentially, a Mayan death god and a mortal girl embark on an adventure across Mexico, with the help of their demon friend. Yes, demon friend. We all have one of those. It’s epic in scope, and chock full of interesting mythological references. How could I resist? How could you resist?
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Review: Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother And Other Botanical Atrocities5/29/2020 Wicked Plants Author Amy Stewart By Jarad Johnson Nature is something that the gardener must revere. In many ways, it is our greatest teacher. Nature can be beautiful, wondrous, fascinating and otherworldly. It can also be violent, dangerous, and mischievous. All of that encompasses the general term of nature, and it’s much more complex than many people make it out to be. When people go for a walk or a hike, they are generally seeking a peaceful retreat. Nature can be peaceful, but as Amy Stewart points out, you might not want to relax too much. On a walk through the woods (a favorite activity of mine to do) there are many mischievous plants, some that can harm you, some that can intoxicate you, and some that might even kill you given the chance.
Wayward Women Author, Holly Wardlow by Jarad Johnson This is a book that I read for my Anthropology class this semester (when we were still in actual classrooms!) and one that I thoroughly enjoyed. I don’t know about you but learning about different cultures has always fascinated me. It not only reveals how different from each other, but also the base humanity that we all share.
Will My Cat Eat My Eyeballs? Author, Caitlin Doughty by Roy Peak Caitlin Doughty is a mortician living in California, known for her charming YouTube videos in which she answers questions about death. In this, her third book, she tackles questions from kids about that same morbid subject. And you just know that kids are going to come up with the best questions—right? Questions such as "Can I keep my parents' skull after they die?" and "If I died making a stupid face, would it be stuck like that forever?" and of course the always fun to think about "Will I poop when I die?" These are the kind of questions that when kids ask their parents, the parents hardly ever have the real answer and just make something up: "Um, no Uncle Ken gets to keep daddy's skull. Your father did lose that bet to him all those years ago," and "Of course, it would. Now stick your tongue back in your mouth,, and eat your asparagus," and "Duh. Doesn't everyone?"
Go Home Author, Sohrab Homi Fracis by Roy Peak The protagonist of Sohrab Fracis' novel, Go Home, is a young college student named Viraf, from India, in America during the time of the Iran hostage crisis. (Viraf, rhymes with giraffe, and if you're a regular of this website you know that we think highly of anything that reminds us of a giraffe.) Truly torn between wanting to stay in America and going back to India, Viraf loves rock music, has intense feelings for his neighbor's girlfriend, drives around in a Ford Pinto (Remember those? And why no one wanted one?). He works hard, and often has trouble telling the difference between his long-haired American friends and the dangerous rednecks in his town. The Strange and Beautiful Sorrows of Ava Lavender Author, Leslye Walton by Jarad Johnson Sometimes, a book comes across my reading pile that has a striking title and nice cover, but doesn’t give any indication of the contents hidden within. This particular book cover featured a feather. (Please note the slight pathology of a person who buys books based on the cover without even knowing, based on the cover, what might be inside. I may have a problem. I buy a lot of books, okay?) I pondered the jacket, wondering if I had bought a book about birds. In a way I had, but I couldn’t glean that from the cover. Nothing to do but open the cover and stop puzzling over it in the middle of the Starbucks line. People might start to think I was weird. We can’t have that, can we?
Skin Memory Author John Sibley Williams by Jarad Johnson Poetry and I have a love hate relationship; when we get along, it’s fantastic, but when we disagree, we really don’t like each other. For example, Poe and I are great friends, but Bukowski and I are not on speaking terms. It’s hit and miss is what I’m trying to say. Poetry is distinctly different than reading a novel. A book may leave you with ideas and messages to think about, but poetry to me always seems to keep its secrets close. It’s up to the reader to interpret whatever message we may or may not glean, and the interpretation either hits you or sometimes takes much longer than for prose. Poetry is an introspective process, and I often find that the messages interpreted from it are specific to the reader. But perhaps I’m just a lazy reader. I do like a story that buttons itself up. This little collection of poems is definitely a hit for me. It’s published by Backwaters Press. I appreciate the name, and the contents within. Titles for poetry books are very important. I need to have a starting word or concept. There are so many poems I loved in this collection, and I would like to go through them one by one. Unfortunately I can’t, but I have chosen four poems that really struck a chord with me. Instead of just a cursory glance, and a recommendation, I would like to really get into a few of these.
Mrs. Greenthumbs Author Cassandra Danz by Julie Carpenter I am not a fan of winter. Granted, now that I’m older and my internal thermostat is broken, I’m better able to deal with cold weather - if taking off and putting on layers of clothes every thirty seconds and opening and closing windows can be considered “dealing with it”. It’s no longer the temperatures that get me. At this point my main objection to winter is that I feel lonely while all the plants are sleeping. I miss the leaves, the flowers, the buzz of nectar drunk bees. All I get in winter is cold gray sky and blank expressions from naked trees. There’s certainly no use talking to them while they’re napping – and trust me, I’ve tried. (But why not have a long conversation with an evergreen you might ask, say, a pine or a cedar? The cedars are serious and somewhat taciturn, and just between you and me, the average Georgia pine has very little depth so to speak. It’s why they topple over on houses during storms. Don’t get me wrong, they’re very sweet…but no sparkling conversation there. Anyway, evergreens never want to discuss my favorite topic: spring.) After Christmas, I wish I could go dormant with the oaks, fall asleep among the roots, covered with a blanket of withered leaves and wake with the buds in the spring. But alas…that is not to be. So, I do the next best thing. I read and dream about gardens. |
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