The Help

So I picked up a new book the other day. And amazingly enough, it's not for book club. I've lamented in the past how the only books I've managed to get through this year have been the monthly picks for my book club, but The Blind Side was so good, I ended up ahead of schedule. It's only the middle of July and I've already read through August.

As luck would have it, my sister-in-law Nicole was interested in borrowing some of my books and offered a swap while she was here: my The History of Love (her book club's pick and one of my top three favorite books ever) for her copy of The Help.

Up until now, I've avoided The Help. Why? Well, I'm a bit of a book snob. If it's popular and everyone plus their neighbor is reading it, every book club is doing it, Oprah is preaching it, Barnes and Noble has a table devoted to it, well, I'm probably going to ignore it. I don't like reading something just because everyone else is reading it. Stupid, I know. After all, if everyone is reading it, it must be good. Still, it took me months to jump on the Twilight bandwagon (and then the last book completely ruined the entire series for me - sorry Twiheads or whatever you call yourselves). I only managed to read Eat Pray Love after it hit the discount table. I like discovering my own books and then recommending them on. I don't like books shoved in my face.

But with The Help sitting around, knowing I have to return it eventually and my current book list up-to-date, I bit the bullet and cracked it open. And you know what? Everyone and their neighbor is right - it's a great book. Of course, the problem with picking up a new, exciting read is that I don't want to put it down. Except right now my life includes something else that doesn't want to be put down. Since you probably know all about it and read it yourself six months ago, I won't go into the details, except to say that it follows the lives of three different women and their struggles and triumphs... (okay, must stop because I sound like a cheesy soundbite from the book jacket).

Besides, I write terrible book reviews. I know why I like a book, how it moves me or makes me terribly envious of the author... I just can't seem to express it properly. Books live in a sacred corner of my soul. I like books that linger with you, even days after you close the cover for the last time. Out of nowhere you'll find yourself remembering a line or thinking of a character as though they really exist somewhere outside the pages of the story. Books you know you'll read again. Know any like that? I'll add them to my ever expanding list. And if I recommend a book to you,  you'll just have to trust me that it is a good one. Rarely has anyone ever been disappointed by my recommendation (at least not that they've confessed to me - probably because I warn them that I'll think slightly less of them for not appreciating a book the way I have).

Future reader! 

(Plus, I hate posting without a picture. Just doesn't seem fair to keep all this cuteness to myself. (Plus I know you guys don't read the blog just to hear me go on and on about books... I know why you really show up!))