Because you know you want to know.
I am currently reading two books. Slummy Mummy, by Fiona Neill, and Neon Angel: A memoir of a Runaway, by Cherie Currie. Very, very different.
The first focuses on Lucy, an English stay at home mom, who is questioning her place in the world now that Fred, the youngest, is in nursery school. The second is the story of Cherie Currie, the oft copied, never quite bested inspiration for and singer of The Runaway’s hit, Cherry Bomb. I am enjoying both equally.
When I was a kid, I loved Joan Jett. She was my favorite to roller skate to at the Forum Skate. Joan Jett songs would come on, and I would race out onto the rink and go as fast as I could, singing along as loudly as I could. Not your average eleven year old when it came to my musical tastes, I guess. I also loved the Bloom County version of her, Tess Turbo. I loved Lita Ford. Of course I loved the Bangles and Micki Steele (who was in an earlier iteration of The Runaways.) I never knew much about Cherie Currie, though. It’s always interesting to find out how the rock-n-roll sausage is made, and Currie doesn’t pull any punches. Anyway, she had me at Thin White Duke.
What I love about Slummy Mummy, is that Lucy seems very real. Yes, she has the cutesy foibles of a Bridget Jones, but somehow they don’t seem as contrived. Lucy just happens. But while she is happening, she is also remarking on the wonders of motherhood, the wonders of loving a good man, and the wonders of how you can be perfectly happy and want to punch everyone in the nose all at the same time. She makes empathizing easy.
Recently, I read Citizen Girl, from the makers of The Nanny Diaries. It was all right. It made me think. That’s good. Not particularly well written, but also not badly written. I preferred The Nanny Diaries as far as characters go, but Girl was a decent way to spend three lunch hours.
When I finish the current books, I am on to Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, by Susanna Clarke. My husband has suggested it, and he has fairly good taste.
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