The Week was the cruel scalpel that had redefined my childhood the way tragedies always realigned the landscape of youth.
351053
Anne McAneny is that rara avis of a writer who creates a solidly entertaining story with as many unique aspects as the inside of a Faberge egg and then tells it with language that is equally as intoxicating as is the story she is weaving. There are many pages of both SKEWED and RAVELED, brilliantly novel mystery stories that pleads to be read repeatedly (or memorized) because the words are so magically strung together. From her bio we know that McAneny is a screenwriter of note (and that explains why this novel seems to plead to be adapted as a movie) but not all screenwriters can narrate strictly on the page without storyboards in head - simply dependent on the gift of writing well. Anne McAneny can.

To say Annes books are addictive would be an understatement. Each new release indicates yet more polish not only in her elegant prose but also in her outward spinning sense of intrigue that magnetically attaches to our attention span and will simply not release until books end.

The plot summary is well described: A fire ignites a whirlwind of action and accusation in a swamp town that hasn't seen excitement since the big lottery win twelve years ago. Little does reporter Chloe Keyes know that when she sniffs around for clues, shell end up facing her own demons while unsettling the very foundation of her hometown. Chloe starts her day by pulling a gun on two intrudersand things only go downhill from there. Driving to Boyds General for her daily caffeine fix, she finds the place ablaze. When the flames die down, she uncovers evidence that points to a dire fate for her missing childhood friend, Hoop. He disappeared twelve years ago, on the same day his girlfriend was struck and killed by a car. The events have left a dark mark on Chloe. Over the next two days, strange occurrences pile up: Chloes neighbor is found floating and bloated in Black Swamp; the head of a cosmetics conglomerate is arrested by federal agents; phone records point to a dead girl making calls; and a handsome stranger mystifies everyone he encounters. Through it all, the promise of a spectacular magic show captivates the local residents. Close calls with gators, crossbows, and armed felons lead to a startling conclusion, complete with illusion, chicanery, and the most divisive trick of all: cold, hard truth. Will Chloes murky existence finally be clarified, or will she succumb to the demons that haunt her?

Closing the last page of this book it is obvious that Anne McAneny is one of the more gifted writers of the day. Highly recommended. Grady Harp, August 15
1303088
Along the path of life, we all endure several hardships, but the worst by far is having to live on after the person we loved most dearly is gone.  It happened to me at the age of seven.  I could not believe that my mother would go away and leave me to fend for myself at such a young age.  She, too, died of cancer -- a long, lingering ordeal.  We'd visit every evening at the hospital and go outside to cry.  When the funeral was conducted, I kept asking "Why does she look like a man?"  They had simply pulled her long hair back and, that long ago, the funeral attendants did not use hair stylists or care how one looked to the survivors.  When my dad died, I inquired, "Why does he have a crooked nose?  He always had a straight nose."  Little things like this affect the daughter at any age.

Mrs. Rossi's death experience was heartbreaking.  When we have our first child, we are always so in love with life and so proud to be able to produce someone who looks like the one we love the most in this world.  Nowadays, with thousands of U.S. military men so far away fighting to this country, many young women will be left to raise the children alone.  A child is a blessing and sometimes, in later life, make all the difference for their mother from destitution and isolation to loving care.  A daughter, I think, is the most devoted.  It just wasn't my fate to have a daughter.  There couldn't possibly be another female like me.  It is harder on the girl when a mother dies, as there is no one around to lead her through the changes of youth into womanhood.  She has to literally face the world alone and learn to cope, be it as a meek little old woman, or a person with fierce determination to make things better in her hometown for posterity.

This book, a tear jerker like 'A Walk To Remember' and the movie, will stick around in the reader's psyche long after it is read.  I remember when Charles and Mary Alice had their first child, a little girl, and he played "The Naughty Lady of Shady Lane" on the radio when she was exactly nine days old; no greater love from a clever father.  I have often wondered what did happen to him and the dancing daughter.  Zach had to face the unexpected death of his son five-hundred days ago.  He still suffers great angony as nothing was left behind, as the little son of Nancy and John Ross.  The saying goes, "It is better to have loved and lost, than not to love at all."  The major thing is to look forward to the future and do the best you can for the wonderful child, a part of the one you lost.
3873766
A woman lies dying in the upstairs bedroom of her Cambridge, Massachusetts home.  Her grown children wander in and out, their own concerns evident as they try to understand the words she is saying to them.  Names they don't recognize, thoughts that seemingly make no sense.

But Ann Lord was once Ann Grant and a bridesmaid at her best friend Lila's wedding on an island off the coast of Maine.  Traveling backwards to that time feels like reclaiming who she once was.  Memories flood through the pain-filled realities of her present life.  Sometimes she cannot remember what happened last week, or five years ago, but the moments in that long ago time are almost as fresh and real as if they are happening right now.

The memories fade in and out, along with the present-day sounds and connections that blur and seem surreal to her.  Is she remembering that long ago time in order to recapture that feeling?  Is that once-upon-a-time weekend filled with love and rapture something she needs to treasure in order to grab onto what is left of her life?  And in recalling those treasured moments, must she also acknowledge that the weekend culminated in tragedy?

Or are the moments just a part of a drug-induced haze bearing little connection to reality at all?

As I read this book, sometimes I had difficulty distinguishing the past from the present, memory from fantasy.  Occasionally the words flowed like some kind of gibberish, but with distinctive thoughts at the core.  It felt a lot like the reality for someone on a lot of pain medication, who slips in and out of awareness.

Overall, the story came together and stood out in stark relief against the fading backdrop of a woman's slow passage to the other side.

<a data-hook="product-link-linked" class="a-link-normal" href="/Evening/dp/0375700269/ref=cm_cr_arp_d_rvw_txt?ie=UTF8">Evening</a>&nbsp;was difficult to read in its revelations of one woman's loss, regret, and pain, and how choice casts a long shadow over a lifetime.

Four stars...a difficult read that sometimes dragged and meandered, much like the final days of a life.
2494445
i thought it was a good account of that horrible time through the eyes and memory of a child.
902460
A very interesting look into the tragic story of these children's life's.  Having come from an extremely abusive home life, it was interesting and little scary to see how similar my own childhood was and how frightening close to crossing the line my own mother had come.
3467997
I was fascinated by the tragic story of Sister Surrendered. Why was this poor soul set on the path to destruction at every turn? The inconsistency of the medical profession that was supposed to aid in her healing only brought her pain and suffering. The story clearly illustrated that the bond between the sisters was deep and abiding.
1312115
There is nothing more heart-wrenching to me than a mistreated child. Rabe covers the topic well, with a ray of hope.
163901
At every turn, this book spoke to me and revealed the toxic parts of my life that needed to be revealed and cleansed.
1239840
Janusz Korczak was a pediatrician who gave up a potentially lucrative practice to found an orphanage for the children he loved.  And the children loved him; the nickname they gave their mentor was Mister Doctor.  In this book by the same title, his story is told from the perspective of one of the orphanswho could be any of the orphans or all the orphans.

The book opens with the last days in final period of the famous orphanage on Krochmalna Street; the Nazis invaded Warsaw on September 1, 1939, and shortly thereafter ordered the citys Jewish population into the Warsaw Ghetto.  The journey is one fraught with darkness and fear, as shown by the somber illustrations showing barbed wire.  They walk past the house of horrors they know as the Black Palace.  (I believe the author was referring to the infamous Pawiak Prison; I doubt the children actually passed that landmark, as it was on the opposite side of the Ghetto.  However, the episode adds literary value to the narrative.)  The horrors of the trek are in marked contrast to the soft, warm hands of Doctor Korczak and illustration of his favorite fairy tale character, Puss in Boots, bounding over a barbed blockade.

Their new home was the best Korczak could find, but the house of tears at 33 Chlodna Street is clearly nothing like their beautiful old home; in one illustration, even the houseflies on the window sill are dead.  Though flashbacks, the narrator recalls all the Old Doctors innovations: the childrens court, their newspaper, the bulletin board, postcards.  In the Ghetto, everyone clings to hope by celebrating their Jewish heritage and identity.  Some children learn Hebrew.  A professor teaches the children a poem, Brothers, by the great local poet, I.L Peretz, which they make into a song: Light and dark, and in between/ All the colors come together./ We are all sisters and brothers/ From one father and one mother,/ And God created all of us./  The whole world is our nation. / We are all sisters and brothers.

The most poignant part of the life of Janusz Korczak is the final march, which has been remembered in diaries, poems, movies, and statues.  In Mister Doctor, the last walk is portrayed in a beautiful fold-out.  But the story does not end there; the Rights of the Child would be taken up by the U.N. and given global stature.  Perhaps little Henryks canary wasn't buried after all.  Perhaps he flew up into the heavens.

Mister Doctor is a picture book, but with the amount of text on each page, it is more suitable for older children to read on their own.  The illustrations are beautifully executed and complement the narrative perfectly.  The book is a little pricey, but the quality of materials is exceptional; it is issued in a library binding.  Clearly, this is a book to be kept and treasured.  It is curious that Mister Doctor is also available as an e-book.  I fear an electronic medium would not do justice to the work of art this book is.  The title is noteworthy, as it is the same as the first Polish biography, the one written by Hanna Olczak, who knew Korczak and Madame Stefa personally.  A two page biography of Janusz Korczak puts the narrative in perspective; that, along with a short bibliography, will help students doing a book reportor a report on Mister Doctor himself, to pass his legend on.
61440
I shouldve listened to that little voice in my head and that feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I havent. If I had, today wouldve been different. Tomorrow would be like all the better yesterdays.

A single choice, a single moment could change the entire course of your life. For Lena this choice completely implodes her entire senior year. She thought her biggest worry was getting into her dream school and having a crush on her best friend and boy next door, Sebastian. But one night, one choice changes her life forever.

This tragic event could happen to any of us, teenagers or adults alike. I won't say what happened because its a huge spoiler, but its devastating and the consequences affects so many lives.

The only reason I gave this book 4 stars instead of 5, is because I couldn't stand the incessant whining and self blame. I understand where she was coming from and what she was going through, but I feel like she shouldve been stronger and used the support of her family and friends instead of pushing them away.

Overall, this book is fantastic and devastating. It will stay with you long after its over.
4184109
planting the tiniest seeds of hope in a person and watching them birth through a layer of grief

Still reeling from the unrelenting emotions I found in Dear Hearts, the Ericka Clay book I read first, I knew I was in for another painful read. And I was right.

This was no story-book romance or mystery, Erickas books get you by the throat and force you to witness real life as she sees it.

I know how accurate she is, for I have known people like the characters she portrays and parts of my own life have unfortunately been similar. I suspect there are many more people living lives like this than we know, for some people, life can be hard and unforgiving, making their struggle and determination to find a better one all the more remarkable.

This story was raw, bloody and powerful. The author lays bare all the emotional detritus of human life with the accuracy of a surgeon, exposing the underbelly.

Compelling and vicious, you will remember this book for a long time
1692415
I had a difficult time reading this as it brought some memories to the front of my mind that I rarely think about anymore.  My own history of abuse is similar to Quinn's in some ways, yet vastly different in others.  My heart especially goes out to the poor child.  I was fortunate in that I never had a child with my abuser.  This story was well written and it highlights some of the major reasons why it can be so difficult for those of us who are mistreated to leave our tormentors.
4583576
Not only does this moving book remind us of a horrible part of our history which must never be forgotten, and teach us about the reality at the time, but we also witness the war and its atrocities first hand through the eyes of this little blond, Jewish five-year old boy with blue eyes.

Despite of being deeply troubling and heart-wrenching, the author makes us smile tenderly as he recalls his crush on his teacher and his cousins girlfriend as she tries to teach him how to tie his shoelace. We must have practiced for several days before I finally got it, but that probably because I kept looking at her face rather than at the laces.

Mr. Hepner takes us on a painful journey from he is 5 to 12 years old throughout WWII and its aftermath. He shows us his world, with his fears, apprehension, disappointments but also his joys. He subtly blends in his observations from childhood and his realizations as an adult.

I never forgot this moment. Because of Lunecs words, Ive always felt responsible for my mothers well-being as well as that of every woman in my life.

Mr. Hepner not only depicts the horrific reality of the Jews at the time, but also how the war changes people and last but not least, the profound emotional consequences on a human being as a result of going through these experiences. Mr. Hepner opens up and shares his scars with us.

The time Id spent at the house of the old couple, the Van Burens, sitting quietly looking out of the window in idle isolation, filled with feelings of total empty despair, served me well, as they have throughout my life. Sitting quietly, hiding, even with strong emotions within.

But to this day I continue to hide so much more of who I am.

This is a very important book, that everybody should read, young and old, especially today, where there is so much discrimination and hate in the world. It is not only their existence in so many shapes and forms that is scary, but above all its acceptance.
Thank you, Mr. Hepner for sharing this with us and making a difference!
4084786
As a small child, I read East of The Sun West of the Moon, in awe and wonderment. The strangely delicate and yet colorfully ornate and fierce illustration of Kay (Pronounced Kigh, like high) Nielsen blended with the prose of the Nordic Fairy Tales, which in original translation were more than a trifle erotic and violent, even a bit horrifying, were an odd combination, like a bowl of chocolate banana split, with strawberries, and whipped cream, followed by a three inch, giant T-bone steak smothered in pork chops, tomato sauce, onions, garlic and chicken livers, topped with an oyster. However, throughout my life thereafter, Nielsen's art reminded me of those fairy tales and the fairy tales of the Northlands, reminded me of his art of his art, and of my life back then in the 1940's paralyzed for the better part of two years as a polio victim, with naught to do but read.

Eventually I grew out of polio racked paralysis and gained strength and my taste in art and illustration moved on to more powerful art: the American Brandywine painters, and John Singer Sargent, Frank Brangwyn, Dean Cornwell, Joaquin Sorolla and the utterly brightly sun splashed colors of the Italian Macheollists, like Irolli and Boldini. Despite that, there was still a soft spot in my heart for the consumptively, pale, wane, tall and willowy figures of Nielsen which delighted me in my childhood and shed some light on days spent in a bed of a boy stricken with polio which eventually and happily healed. At that time I in my paleness, pain, and weakness, identified with those frail looking warriors and their heroism despite their scant physique cheered me, giving me hope.

This book revives Nielsen's interpretations of the Brothers Grimm, Hans Christian Andersen and East of The Sun West of the Moon and other Nordic tales collected in: In Powder and Crinoline. It brought back sunny and dark memories of an era of World War, Classic baseball, healthy food, and after I healed, summers at our lake house and learning how to hit fast pitching, to paint and write. The book is a feast for the eyes of an era long gone and a style no longer popular, but like old movies on TCM, and older wine, mellows with age and lights a fire of reminiscence of childhood in simpler times and simpler art and writing. Those ancient fairy tales were probably more literary and rough, for a more rugged breed of people than present day Americans, and more now for adults than children, but the art is probably not so restricted, especially if you loved the art and writing of the 1920's-1940's.
There are 59 color illustrations crammed into 64 pages and all are full page (with borders and titles).
3130803
Whenever someone survives something horrible, whether it's a terrible event,  an awful experience, a life-threatening disease, or this case, the racist regime of Apartheid, often one emerges from the other side of it, forever changed.  Perhaps those sweet, fragrant things in nature begin to smell better, more intensely.  Maybe they develop a deeper sense of compassion.  Sometimes they are imbued with a different vision of the world we inhabit.

Don Beukes, the author of The Salamander Chronicles, is a writer, a poet, and a man.  But before any of that, he was a child; a child of Apartheid.

It was an ugly time... archaic, cruel and often even deadly.

Ironically, for such a demonic practice, in the final analysis, it has shaped him, as well as informed and educated him.  As terrible, shameful, and ungodly as the practice was, it has alarmed, bittered, and yet ripened him..

I've read his poetry before.  It has always contained bite and bile, and sometimes even Beauty. The poems within these pages reveal a terrible beauty exquisitely written by the hand of a survivor.  Vividly drawn and achingly penned,  The Salamander Chronicles contains a voice steeped in life's more harsh realities.  Beukes  uses his art to describe the dozens of inequalities, and it will teach you a horrid history.

More than this, the gist of these poems will enlighten you in the hopeful hue of a brighter day.

That alone is quite an achievement.  But then again so is this book, The Salamander Chronicles because it is more than a collection of poems.  In fact, it contains lessons in survival.

One.
1572871
This book is breathtakeing in scope. Suzzan Blac's early years were the stuff of the darkest nightmares: abject poverty and spirit-crushing emotional and sexual abuse. The monster in her house was hardly imaginary, but her very real mother. In her tough urban neighborhood, even school did not offer a safe haven--merely institutionalized mayhem. The only solace and release for Suzzan was in the art that allowed her to express her anguish: surreal drawings of monsters crying red tears. But the intensity of her drawings was too stark for those around her and so she suppressed her expression--then stopped altogether.

Adolescence brought a harrowing coercion into the horrific world of the sex trade where she was brutalized and held prisoner. She escaped, but spiraled into depression and substance abuse. Eventual marriage to a kind man brought her the greatest joy--two beautiful children--and a sense of "normalcy" for the first time in her life. But the long buried memories of her nightmarish past kept her an emotional hostage. She realized that to free herself and truly heal, she needed to release them in the best way she knew how--through art.

And so she began to paint--42 stunning, graphic pieces, done over four years, capturing the raw, unvarnished truth of a child used and terrorized by those who were supposed to protect her. It would be a decade before she could summon the courage to show the artwork to anyone. When she did, she realized that bringing the paintings to light, enabled other victims to speak up and seek help. Not surprisingly, international acclaim has followed: her art is shown in galleries around the world.

This spellbinding book is ultimately an inspirational story of resilience, healing and the power of unconditional love.
2298339
This book had me lost in a city torn, two kids trying to find themselves among chaos & pain. It is now one of my favorites.