The gist: The story follows the life and times of Art Barbara, starting from his high school days through middle age. Written as a memoir, the book chronicles Art’s many struggles, including his decades-long sort-of toxic friendship with a goth/hipster girl named Mercy. Since the first day she joined his Pallbearers Club (a most intriguing extracurricular activity, I might add!), it’s anyone’s guess if she’s a friend or foe. But then again, that could be said about most people, eh? They just don’t wave as many red flags out in the open. But I digress. This girl is truly odd, and as the story progresses, you may start wondering if she may in fact be an evil incarnation of a 19^th century vampire—dum dum duuuuuum!

What I liked: As you flip through the pages, you’ll see Mercy’s red-inked notes scattered throughout the margins. Somehow, she got ahold of this manuscript before it went to press, and she has a few things to say! This was a brilliant move on the author’s part because her side-jabs added some humor to many pages of dark, troubled ruminations. And just when you think you might have Mercy or Art Barbara figured out, the annotations will add another twist, leaving you with even more questions.

The scare factor: I’ll admit that I’m still chasing that high I got from “Head Full of Ghosts.” Even though this one wasn’t as spooky, there were some disquieting elements that gave me the willies. Do any of these bizarre events have anything to do with the supernatural? Maybe. Rationalists (like my husband) will chalk it up to paranoia. But, since I still hold true to the belief that the headless horseman spirited Ichabod Crane away on that fateful Halloween night, I’m banking on supernatural forces here. But that’s the kind of reader I am. It’s really up to the readers to choose their own adventure!

What irked me: So, I must confess. I’m not a music aficionado, so a lot of the punk rock references were lost on me. Reviewers have surmised that Art Barbara and Paul Tremblay are one and the same, and perhaps that’s true. Obviously, Mr. Trembley is a punk rock maven and grew up listening to this music. So yeah, there were many pages devoted to rock and punk and garage band stuff that didn’t really interest me. However, I did appreciate his reference to Rocket from the Crypt—and oldie but goodie from my San Diego days! Don’t get me wrong, I do enjoy punk music. My eyes just glaze over when people start going on and on about the nuances of the genre and blah, blah, blah…snore.

Overall: A reviewer once said that looking for answers in a Paul Tremblay story is like trying to hold water in your hands. I couldn’t think of a better analogy to describe his style. Was this book meandering and a tad overindulgent? Perhaps. Yet, I somehow read it in one day! Seriously, y’all, I could not put this thing down because I kept searching for answers behind all of the bizarre happenings—from the levitating dresser to the animated jackets to the polaroid photos with ghostly green blobs. Did I get my answers? No, but I do have some theories.

Disclaimer: Snaps to the publisher and to NetGalley for the free ARC in exchange for an honest review!

Synapsis: Our sassy, headstrong teenage sleuth, Enola Holmes, is practically all grown up! Where does the time go? She’s living independently in a boarding house of sorts with a bunch of likeminded women who refuse to bow down to the patriarchy—YA YA, sistas! This time around, she’s on a mission to rescue her good friend Lady Cecily, who’s on the run from her nefarious father/prison guard. It’s up to Enola to rescue her poor friend from a life of sadness and confinement.  

What I liked: If you’re a fan of audiobooks, the narrator is top notch! Also, it’s just a little over four hours long—perfect for those long commutes.  Also, the cover art is gorgeous!

Thoughts on the mystery: Actually…correct me if I’m wrong, but this isn’t really a mystery, is it? From what I gather, this is just a wild goose chase for a mentally ill girl who is trying to escape the clutches of her sinister father. I mean…I guess there was sort of mystery happening on the down low regarding the father’s side-hustle, but really this story is just one big chase scene across the streets of London. I couldn’t’ really get into it, mainly because Cecily wouldn’t let anyone help her. Also, I’m just pain exhausted.

Thoughts on the main character: Enola is everything a young girl should strive to be—and more. She’s bright, ambitious, headstrong and always up for a challenge. But here’s the thing: Enola—and so many other Victorian era characters crafted by modern day writers—is highly anachronistic. It’s nice to think that women back then so brazenly fought against the patriarchy, took their careers by the horns and championed social justice with the moxie of a 21^st century feminist. But let’s be honest; aside from a few exceptions, this was not the norm. It also gives young readers a very skewed version of women’s history. I’ve seen this trope in so many other Victorian era mysteries and it’s rather annoying. I think these books would be more believable if these characters were plopped into Victorian London via a time machine. Otherwise, it’s kind of hard for me to buy any of this.

Pro tip: I read this out of sequence and quickly learned these books need to be read in chronological order. Do not attempt to read this as a standalone because you will get lost!  

Fun trivia fact: Did you know that left-handed women were considered unhinged and untrustworthy back in the day? That’s just one fun fact I learned while reading about the ambidextrous Lady Cecily.

Overall: If you’re a fan of this series, this book is for you. Enola is just as quirky as ever and always two steps ahead of her famous brother. However, if you’re looking for a good whodunnit, you’ll be sorely disappointed in this installment.

I’m not even going to sugar coat this for you guys; the Netflix movie was a DISASTER! They turned a beautiful book about a girl’s journey of healing and self-discovery into a romcom about a goofy teenager (more like a terrible two-year-old) caught up in a love triangle! No, just no. Everything about the main character was terrible, particularly her constant temper tantrums. That’s not how it went down in the book, people! Please do not watch this movie and vow to never read the book. I promise you, the book is nothing like this Netflix botch-job. Hell, they didn’t even set it in the same city for reasons unknown. Aside from a few problem spots, this is a quality read that is sure to satisfy escapists like me who yearn for world travel but prefer to do it vicariously through books. Hey—airfare is expensive! And then there’s the actual awful experience of airports and security checks. Na-Ma-Stay at home with my books, thanks.

Why I liked it: I’m a sucker for “girl abroad” books and have been chasing that high I got from 13 Little Blue Envelopes for quite some time. Finally, I found another fantastic summertime escapade to Europe, this time in Florence, Italy! I loved traveling with Lina and Ren (her soccer-playing love interest) on their motorcycle adventures as they trapsed across the city on clue-solving missions. If this was a book about a girl falling in love in Italy, I would’ve given it a hard pass, but this one is all about the mystery of Lina’s recently deceased mother. Why did she send Lina to live with a father in a foreign country–a father she never knew existed? And why couldn’t she have at least warned her that he lived in a cemetery??? I mean, she had some time on her deathbed to share some of this pertinent information, so why all the secrecy??? To be honest, I’m still a little mad about that, which brings me to my next section…

What irked me: All the miscommunication and secrecy!!! My God, it makes zero sense why Lina’s mother would leave her in the dark about her baby daddy. Did she just assume it would be better for Lina to read about it all in her journal? If so, that’s really lame. And let’s talk about the journal for a moment. When Lina arrives at the cemetery house, she is given her mother’s journal, which contains everything she needs to know about what went down in Italy those many years ago. What does Lena do? She obsesses about her mother’s past, but yet she can only read the journal in tiny little increments. While the answers are all just right under her fingertips, she spends her days in turmoil agonizing about what happened. To get answers, she makes Ren drive her around the city and go on desperate scavenger hunts for clues—clues that are all there for the taking in THE DANG JOURNAL!!! So yeah, this part really bugged me.

Thoughts on the main character: I have lukewarm feelings for Lena, mainly because she was just a little too aloof around Howard, the mysterious new dad. He tried so hard to make her feel comfortable in her new home, but she just kept blowing him off. Until the concluding chapters, she only asked him a couple very tentative questions about her mother, which kind of drove me bonkers. You’re desperate for answers and this man is the key! Also…have I mentioned the journal???

Thoughts on the setting: I loved, loved, loved that Lena’s new home was situated smack dab in the middle of a WWII memorial cemetery. It was interesting to see how, during the healing process, she started to see this place as less creepy and more peaceful and homelike. I really thought this symbolism of bereavement and healing was really beautiful. Of course, the movie had to be as generic as possible, so they stripped this part out and plunked loudmouth, goofball Lina in Francesca’s opulent apartment. Mind you, Francesca, her mother’s old college friend, didn’t even have a big role in the book. . This is a story about father-daughter bonding, and they couldn’t even get that right. But moviemakers do what moviemakers do, I suppose

The romance: I do love a splash of romance in YA stories, so I enjoyed Lina and Ren’s blossoming love affair. However, I could’ve done without the third potential suiter. Love triangles are annoying for so many reasons—one being the leading lady gets super annoying with her indecision. I hated how Lina strung the other guy along when she knew full well that she only had lukewarm feelings toward him at best. Really, this book would’ve been better without that unnecessary tension. The mystery of her mother was enough to keep me reading.  

Overall: If you love Italian escapades, fun summer reads and gelato, you really must read this book. It’s not perfect, but well worth a read. I must warn you though, you will be yearning for gelato, cannoli and all the sugary sweets while reading this thing!

In CeeCee’s world, the Fourth of July is all about ghosts, goblins and hot summer storms…not so much those loud, obnoxious fire hazards called fireworks. Seriously, y’all, most of us are living in hot, dried out tinderboxes these days, so let’s cool it with the pyrotechnics. Also, that shit is obnoxious AF.

Either way, I digress. Here, CeeCee has rounded up her favorite horrific summertime tales. Read on…if you dare!!!

For Campy Horror Movie Buffs

Summer of Night by Dan Simmons

This is a fun summer read for fans of Goonies, Stand by Me, and It. The author took his time with the setting and really lured me into the sleepy Midwestern town where kids filled their long summer days playing pickup baseball, riding around town on bikes and poking around in forbidden places. I also really enjoy a good campy horror movie setting, which this book delivers in spades. There’s a lot of creepy stuff happening to these kids. There’s reanimated corpses, a demonic truck driver, gun-toting bullies and the Mount Everest of haunted schools! A word to the wise: Read this with the lights on.

It by Stephen King

 I’ll start off by saying that the new movies are the perfect blend of camp and cheese, yet they don’t hold a candle to this massive tome. I mean, how could they? Stephen King took his sweet time with every character, allowing me to almost become one with all the kiddos. In horror stories, this is crucial because the fear isn’t real unless you can truly get inside the characters’ minds. And trust me, there are some truly frightening scenes involving oodles of monsters and ghoulies. Just to name a few, we’ve got Frankenstein’s monster, a man-eating bird, a pervy homeless leper — even an animated Paul Bunyan statue. Mister King really pulled out all the stops on this one! My only gripe is that he needed to rethink that concluding chapter, which was beyond cringe…and not in a fun spine-tingling way.

For the Disney Fans

The Watcher in the Woods by Florence Engel Randall

There’s no denying that The Watcher in the Woods is one of the darkest, spookiest Disney movies ever made. The old, paled-faced Bette Davis shrouded in black, the isolated estate surrounded by dark woods, the clairvoyant little girl – everything about it gave me the willies back when I was a kid. Oh heck – who am I kidding? This movie still gives me nightmares! The little hairs on the back of my neck still stand on end when I think about the funhouse scene where a blind-folded Karen appears in the mirror maze mouthing the word “help.” Or when the little bratty sister falls into a trance and writes the name “Karen” backwards on a dusty window. And who can forget the motorcross scene where a message from beyond saves Jan from getting reamed by a flying motorcycle? Go here to read my book v. movie comparison.

For the Forever Young Adults

Camp So-and-So by Mary McCoy

Magic and mayhem ensue as five cabins of campers fight for their lives in a series of paranormal events. Controlled by nefarious puppet masters, they must outsmart the evil overlords in order to survive. Very “out of the frying pan into the fire.” This book is nothing if not imaginative! It reads like a play, complete with a mysterious all-omniscient narrator, opening scene descriptions and theatrical actors. I’ve never read anything like this, so hats off to the author for pulling off a new and daring concept!

Closed for the Season by Mary Downing Hahn

This right here might be Mary Downing Hahn’s best piece of work! I love everything about this book—the murder mystery, the secretive small townsfolk, the spooky dilapidated theme park—it’s all good fun! I also just love a summer story involving kids tooling around town on their bikes looking for adventures and mysteries to solve. I really enjoyed watching the friendship flourish between the adorkable boy next door (think Kimmy Kibbler meets Erkle) and the new kid on the block Logan. They make a great crime-solving team, and I really enjoyed tagging along on their adventures!

Deep, Dark and Dangerous by Mary Downing Hahn

The illustrious Mary Downing Hahn is the Barbara Michaels of children’s books. I’ll download one of her titles whenever I have a hankering for a gothic ghost story devoid of predictable romance. As expected, this book is heavy on atmosphere and light on the mystery. But hey, this is for middle-grade readers, so I’m not going to hate too much on the plot twist. I will say that any astute ghost story aficionado will immediately figure out the situation with Sissy, the world’s worst girl-next-door who will never go away. Seriously, she makes Kimmy Kibbler of Full House look like a respectable houseguest, and that’s not OK! Aside from my gripes, this is a great G-rated book for young readers who, like me back in my misspent youth, like to walk on the dark side. Parents, have no fear! I’ve seen scarier Scooby Doo cartoons, but the gloomy scenes in the overgrown graveyard and on the misty bank of the haunted lake were enough to give me the shivers on a hot summer’s day.

The Lake by Natasha Preston

This book is on the short list for my top scary summer reads due to the nostalgic summer camp setting and the whole Fear Street vibe. The whodunnit guessing game was fun, and I really liked playing along with the conspiracy theory game. Could the killer be in cahoots with the uptight camp director in high-waisted shorts? Or could it be the hunky CIT’s with questionable backstories? Maybe it’s the quiet, Nervous Nelly CIT with secrets to hide? The ending had me…what are the kids saying these days…all shook! I really thought I had the conspiracy theory all worked out, but then the author ripped the rug out from under me with the grand finale! 

Last month, this lucky girl left her heart in San Francisco—land of the Golden Gate Bridge, the Painted Ladies, China Town and ALCATRAZ!!! Weeks leading up to this extremely exciting getaway, I had to methodically plan out my trip with a San Fran-themed reading list complete with ghosts, legends, mystery and mayhem. Since it has always been my dream to visit The Rock (aka Alcatraz), I had to bone up (see what I did there?) on its haunted history, and let me tell you, that foreboding behemoth structure breathes new meaning to the phrase “if these walls could talk.”

Here are a few books from my San Francisco reading extravaganza:

Alcatraz Believe it or Not by TC Baker

This was a score at the local bookstore that I fortuitously stumbled upon at the Ferry Building! This book is made for kids, so you’re not going to find anything too frightening, but some of the chapters hit on very creepy aspects of the island, such as the shrunken Peruvian princess head and random bits of bones that landed on the island back in the 1800s when some sea merchants slipped up and purchased a bag of bones instead of salts. Yikes! There’s also some really great stories and illustrations describing a myriad of ill-fated jail breaks. My favorite escape attempt involved some very creative arts-and-crafts projects, which included fake dummy heads with real hair collected from the barbershop (gross!), and makeshift wooden fins for swimming the torrential waters. If you find yourself on Alcatraz, do yourself a favor and purchase this book from their little gift store. It’s a great entertainment for the plane ride back—and you’re also helping out the National Parks Service—win-win!

Ghosts and Legends of Alcatraz by Bob Davis and Brian Clune

This is one of the very few books you’ll find about ghosts and legends in San Francisco. I’m not sure why, but there really isn’t much out there for paranormal enthusiasts looking for creepy historical accounts bout the Golden City. So, naturally, I had to book myself a ghost tour so I could hear some stories that would leave me up at night in my hotel room, which by the way was located across the street from the very haunted China Town! But I digress, this book doesn’t cover any of that, but it does hit on some spooky legends and lore tied to Alcatraz Island, some involving a benevolent bigfoot-type monster, others pertaining to ghosts of prisoners who died suddenly or perished after years of isolation and torture.

Sadly, the National Park Service doesn’t indulge in ghost stories, so my self-guided tour was lackluster to say the least. But I did feel the heebie jeebies walking around that place that seemed weighted down with despair. Should I chock this feeling up to the power of suggestion? Maybe, but I do believe in bad energy, the intangible weight in the atmosphere that gets under your skin and raises those little hairs on your arm. Someone once told me, “When you get that hair-raising feeling, so matter how subtle, trust it and get out as soon as you can.”

Either way, this short book is worth your while if you’d like to get a little bit more than that watered-down tour at The Rock. Some of the stories seem a little far-fetched, but a few of the chapters did give me the creeps, especially the one about the dungeon—jeepers!  

Murder in the Balcony by Margaret Dumas

A murder mystery series set at a haunted grand ol’ movie palace in San Francisco? Yes please! This is the second installment in the series, and I am LOVING IT! I’m not even a classic movie buff, but this book had me yearning for a big tub of popcorn and a classic movie marathon night–starting with Roman Holiday. I would love to watch movies all day at Nora Page’s beloved theater and possibly catch a glimpse of Trixie the resident ghost floating by in her old timey usherette uniform!

This is a cozy mystery that follows the standard formula: 30-something woman flees to a new town after a horrible breakup¸ abandons her fast-paced city slicker career, makes new friends, stumbles upon a dead body, etcetera, etcetera. Yet this series stands out from the rest because the amateur sleuth Nora Page is actually likable, and not in a sweet, girl-next-door, Mary Sue kind of way. I just love her passion for old movies and her determination to keep the old theater running in defiance of rapid corporate development. She also has a hilarious, wisecracking sense of humor that she also fuses into her old movie blog, “Movies My Friends Should Watch,” which I discovered is a real thing!

Even if you’re not a fan of the Turner Classics, I highly recommend this series for some fun and fluffy crime-solving in a city filled with history and mystique!

Synchronized Sorcery by Juliet Blackwell

When scouring the cozy mystery bookshelves at Barnes & Noble for the perfect San Francisco-themed whodunnit, I immediately homed in on this awesome cover of a vintage-clad fashionista and her pink pig/hobgoblin amidst the backdrop of the Golden Gate Bridge. And what’s this? A mermaid tail swishing above the sparking waters? I’m so in!

True, you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but in this case, I judged correctly! This was, yet again, a solid mystery in the long-running Witchcraft Mystery Series that revolved around the murder of a random guy who rescues pigeons on Treasure Island. Somehow, he’s linked to San Francisco’s underground magical society, but nobody knows why. As our main character, the vintage clothing shop owner/witch Lily Ivory, searches for clues, she finds that they all lead to a group of Hitler fans who seem to be plotting something big.

There’s a lot going on in this book, making it the perfect read for a long plane ride (thankfully direct!) from Texas to San Francisco. I kept pouring through the chapters to get to the bottom of multiple mysteries tied into one—from the case of the mysterious mermaid costume, to the quest for the hobgoblin’s missing mom, to the questionable appearance of Lily’s long-lost brother. Is he a friend or foe? And will he have a hand in the big cataclysmic plot to annihilate the entire city of San Francisco—and maybe even the whole planet? Guess I’ll have to keep reading the series to find out. Darn cliffhangers!

I’m sorry, but I didn’t like this, y’all. I LOVED the concept of a fictional horror story set at a hotel inspired by the Cecil and–my God would you look at this cover?! I want to blow that up and frame it on my wall! If only the story was just as glorious, but it was a dud. Here’s my list of gripes:

The multiple narrations: Each chapter is narrated by one of the members of the Scooby Doo gang of kiddos, and they ALL SOUND THE SAME! I had to keep flipping the pages back to see who was narrating what because their voices just morphed into one–same tone, same snarky commentary, same lingo, same self-serving decision-making, yada yada. As per usual with young adult books, it was hard to like any of the characters. Hmm…maybe I need to just stop with YA once and for all and just read the classics. Either way, I digress. I had a hard time caring about the poor little rich boy/wannabe YouTube viral sensation, the flirty fashionista “influencer” girl, the edgy nose ring girl, or the sensitive girl who sees dead people. They all sounded like one person to me in each of the short, choppy chapters, making this thing a real bear to get through.

The hiding of bodies: So, the gang stumbles upon not one, but two murder victims while staying at the Hearst Hotel. For me, personally, my kneejerk reaction would be to call the police because– oh, I don’t know, maybe because a murderer needs to get caught?! But that would throw a wrench in their plans to reach their 1-million hits on YouTube while investigating the Hearst, so it’s just best to hide the bodies, contaminate the crime scenes and continue on with the ghost hunt. Cool. I’m sorry, but this is just very strange decision-making, and I’m just not sure I’m understanding. Then again, we live in a weird “look at me!” society, so I guess this is just par for the course.

The whodunnit: So, this is supposed to be somewhat of a whodunnit with a killer on the loose and all. I was hoping to have the rug ripped out from under me at the end, but nope. The killer turned out to be the most likely suspect, so whomp whomp.

Sorry if that was a spoiler. I’m just keeping it real here. At the risk of sounding like an ol’ lady, YA books just ain’t what they used to be. I’m becoming more and more disappointed with these books filled with vapid characters, people speaking in acronyms and really flat character development. If you’re in the mood for a spectacularly spooky haunted hotel book, pick up The Shining by the dark master Stephen King. The Sun Down Motel by Simone St. James was also quite thrilling and atmospheric.

This is a ho-hum little cozy for us mystery fans who enjoy beachy tourist-trap settings and a teeny tiny dash of mystical magic added to the mix. I’ll start with the good: The Bay Island setting lured me in, making me think of my vacations in Port-A, where I love to spend my days at the tourist shops and licking ice cream cones on the boardwalk. I also really loved the gay male BFF who provided some comic relief here and there with his sass and charm.

Now onto the bad: The main character is a cardboard cutout of all the other amateur sleuths in traditional cozies. She’s just this super nice “Mary Sue” character who inevitably throws herself into the killer’s trap like a suicidal idiot. She also has the requisite detective boyfriend who constantly nags her about staying out of the murder investigation…blah, blah, blaaaaahhhhh. And OMG!!! What was this girl thinking in the opening chapter when she went through with her big psychic reading event while the a/c was on the fritz??? I live in Texas, so the very thought of this gives me the hives. And while her handyman is temporarily incarcerated, why oh why must she wait to fix her a/c out of respect for him?! Girl, I think he would understand since you’re trying t run a business during a heat wave.

I don’t know. Maybe somewhere deep in her subconscious, she wants to drive customers away. If so, that’s the way to do it! And speaking of customer service, I’m not understanding why she provides psychic readings to her costumers while simultaneously running the entire shop. I don’t know much about psychics, but don’t they need full concentration to look into people’s auras and stuff? If I was paying good money for a reading, I would be a little perturbed if the psychic interrupted a message from a dead loved one to greet a new customer.

I’m sad to say that the bad outweighs the good in this series, so I will just mosey along to something a little less cliched and a lot less crazy-making.

Oh my word, y’all! This book truly sings to me on so many levels. While reading this, I just kept thinking, “Yes, Queen!” Aubrey Gordon is venturing into a highly contentious territory and putting herself out there in defiance of the legions of fat-phobic haters and trolls who just don’t get it and, sadly, probably never will.

On a personal note, I have been dealing with my own fat-phobic beliefs against myself and others for many, many years. I’ve been giving money to the diet industry with hopes of chasing that high of losing a ton of weight and getting back into my size 8 jeans, which are still mocking me in my closet. Needless to say, I still have a lot of unpacking to do with my therapist, but I’m getting there. When she recommended this book, I knew it would be a cathartic experience, especially since I have been packing on the pounds over the years and dealing with many of the same issues Aubrey writes about in this amazing book that I’m going to call a tour de force! What issues, you ask? I will enlighten you by breaking it down like this:

Overly Praising Fat People

In Aubrey’s book, she talks about her experiences with “othering” when well-meaning people praise her for being “so brave” to wear a certain outfit in public. Mind you, the sensible belted black dress she’s wearing is far from risqué, but yet someone just had to point out that it takes “bravery” to wear it at a public event in a larger than average body. I cannot tell you how validating it felt to read about this awful experience because I’ve been there too. Just yesterday, I was pulled aside by a fellow athlete at an all-women triathlon who just had to tell me, “You did so great, and I’m truly inspired.” These are really nice words, aren’t they? I would’ve been flattered if I did something remarkable, like placing in the top three or just smoking everybody on the course. But to be honest, I did a mediocre job at best. So, what is it about my performance that “inspired” this person so much? Oh, I don’t know…is it because I’m a good 30 to 50 pounds heavier than the average triathlete? You may be thinking that I’m being overly sensitive and that her comments really were genuine, but I never received praise like this from strangers until I gained three extra dress sizes. Thanks so much, lady, for reminding me that I don’t look like I belong. Awesome.

Trauma Trolling and Food Shaming:

One of the many important lessons Aubrey points out in this book is that food- and fat-shaming people is counterproductive. All of my life, the “mother figures” have supervised my eating, telling me things like,” Honey, don’t put that much cereal in your bowl. That’s how people get fat.” I’d like to say that this is a thing of the past now that those women have been cut out of my life, but yet I still get that “concerned” friend who says at the dinner table, “So how’s Weight Watchers going?” or “You already had one mimosa, do you really want to add on more calories?” So yes, Aubrey, I see you and I hear you when you talk about those seemingly well-meaning strangers and family members who nitpick your food choices! All the while, our thin friends are eating just as much, maybe even more, without getting any heat from “concerned” friends. That must be nice, huh?

Now onto the trauma trolling. I never even thought of this concept until I read about it in this book, but it is A THING. Have you ever watched the voyeuristic fat-phobic-fueling TV show called “My 600 LB Life”? Well, if you have, you can probably recall that they make it a point to delve into a traumatic backstory that explains the person’s troubled relationship with food. Because fat people must be completely broken and shattered inside get that way, right? They couldn’t possibly have anything to do with genetics or other contributing factors.

 It’s so important for people to have all the answers as to why people are fat. It must all have to do with trauma because why else would they let it get so out of control? I found this chapter to be particularly fascinating because it unpacks the psyche of fat-phobia—and how people feel they need to have all the answers so they can judge others and, deep down, find ways to avoid their deepest fears of becoming fat themselves. And that’s really what this is all about, isn’t it? It’s about them, not the objects of their “concerns.”  Absolutely fascinating stuff, I tell you!

Being Fat = Less Than

All my life, I have been taught that thin people can have it all. My EXTREMELY fat-phobic aunt (no longer in my life, thank you very much!) would often say things like, “Oh, Jessie, if you could lose some weight, you can get a boyfriend.” When I did lose the weight—so much that I ended up losing my period—my uncle praised me for finally getting my act together and becoming a success. Let me tell you, my short-lived stint as a skinny college girl was quite nice. My coworkers wanted to hang out with me after work. I was scouted by modeling agencies at the mall. Cute boys would smile and open the door for me. I felt like I was really worth something. I was a success! If you can fit into the feminine ideal, the world is such a nice and inviting place. Why? Because the diet industry and corporate America in general has fed our beliefs into equating thinness as the pinnacle of success–a triumph, the American F*****G dream! Fat people, however, get to the butts of jokes in rom coms (even to this day), and they’re universally believed to be sexually undesirable, unless for those like “Shallow Hal” who have been hypnotized to see fat women as foxy ladies. Cringe.

“I choose to believe that fat people can be genuinely attractive, truly loved, actually lovable, sincerely wanted.”

― Aubrey Gordon

Fat-Phobic Doctors

I think a lot of people, even those who are just slightly overweight, can relate with the chapter in this book that delves into our ubiquitously fat-phobic medical industry. Back when I was just a tad over my “healthy weight” (whatever arbitrary number that is), my doctors were already pushing diets on me. Most recently, my primary care doc advised me to go on some Whole 30 diet, which I later learned is a short-term diagnostic diet not a “sustainable” weight loss program.  I use the word “sustainable” lightly because—guess what?! Just a tiny fragment of the dieters can actually sustain their goal weight for a lengthy amount of time, no matter what diet they’re on. Don’t believe me? Google it.

What bothers me the most about this is that people are not getting treated for real ailments that have nothing to do with their weight. In fact, people actually die from undetected conditions because their doctors attach all their symptoms to their “unhealthy weight.” This is some scary stuff, my friends. And good luck finding a doctor who gets it because they are few and far between.

“I’m just concerned for your health. I’m concerned for your health, so I have to tell you, again and again, that you’re going to die. I’m concerned for your health, so I have to tell you that no one will love you at your size. I’m concerned for your health, so I cannot treat you with basic respect.”

― Aubrey Gordon

The Everyday Haters and Trolls

When you’re fat, you are a member of an oppressed community. That’s just how it is. People have very, VERY strong opinions about what fat people should do, and how they should feel when they’re insulted and marginalized on a continuous basis. Guys, didn’t you know that it’s all very easy? Didn’t you know that the answer is to just get off your lazy ass and lose the weight? Didn’t you know that you are the result of your own victimhood? Didn’t you know that you’re just an annoying little snowflake? I’m being facetious here, but you get the gist, right? As an athlete, I am obsessed with cycling and love to get tips on the Bicycle World Facebook page. Unfortunately, that page is rife with fat-shamers who are enraged when they see stories about fat cyclists. They don’t bother to read the stories, but when they see images of 300-plus cyclists smiling and having fun on their bikes, they just see red! The fat acceptance movement is a very triggering subject for athletes, particularly the elite cycling community, which is comprised mostly of affluent white males. Against my better judgement, I scroll through the comments and find gems like “Oh great, we have to be woke about fat people on bikes?” or “More people finding reasons to be victims.” I’ve noticed that in a lot of people spouting their vitriol against oppressed communities often default to the word “victim.” It’s  a tried-and-true way to shut a conversation down by slapping a label on it. This is a great tactic for those who do not wish to think constructively or openly about a complex issue. Why? Well, hell, it’s just easier. Just slap a label on it, feel smug and superior, then crawl back under the rock from whence you came.

Don’t even get me started on the “biking for weight loss” success story posts that juxtapose the “before and after” shots depicting a sad, miserable fat person morphing into a “healthier” thin happy person. Heaven forbid people just bike, run and swim for fun without a means to an end.

Either way, our society has a very unhealthy aggression toward fat people that Aubrey alludes to in her book, especially in her opening chapter when she described the abject hostility she faced by her seatmate and fellow passengers on a plane. People are just furious about fat people, and they all have the answer: lose the weight and stop complaining. Well golly, I had no idea I could do that. Let me go flip the “lose weight” button on my brain and get rolling.

“I guess if you hate it that much, you should just lose weight. But despite its ubiquity in conversations about fatness and fat people, that is the logic of abuse. You made me do this. I wouldn’t hurt you if you didn’t make me.”

― Aubrey Gordon

I sure wish I could sit next to Aubrey on the plane so we could talk about this book for hours—and I would love to pick her brain on writing in general. Aside from the knowledge bombs she drops in every chapter, she is a phenomenal writer—way above my caliber.  I try to avoid using the word “brave” because it is almost always used in a backhanded way, but what she’s doing with this book and her podcast is indeed brave. She is speaking her truth—and the truths of many—knowing that she will have to face some really nasty trolls.  It’s hard for me to even write this post because it’s not easy telling the world that I’m fat. We have all been taught to be ashamed of how we look, to believe that we are less than, to apologize for inconveniencing others. This blog post is my first step to putting myself out there and speaking for my fat friends—and most of all—thanking Aubrey Gordon for writing this book and continuing this dialogue through her My Fat Friend podcast!

I must confess, I’m a sucker for those Hallmark mystery movies! Guilty as charged, officer! I especially enjoy the Emma Fielding mysteries starring Courtney Thorne Smith and the hunky James Tupper—my God, what a good-looking man! The plots are rather thin, and the acting leaves much to be desired, yet it all makes for fine Friday night brainless entertainment! I especially love the concept of an archeologist-turned amateur sleuth solving mysteries in a cozy coastal village, such fun! Usually, the books are far better than their cinematic adaptations, but this, I’m sorry to say, is an exception. Let me break it down for you like this:

The actual story: In the movie, Emma is called to a historic castle at the bequest of her gal pal, Adelle, who fears a thief is at large and—gasp—the family curse is wreaking havoc on the inhabitants. She needs Emma to do some sleuthing and digging to find the culprit! Oh, how I love a cursed castle mystery!! Sign. Me. Up! The book’s storyline, however, proved to be less than stimulating. Emma’s just doing some digging at a large estate (not a spooky caste) along with her team of grad students to find old pots and pans and whatnot…blah. She stumbles across a couple dead bodies and, in between squabbling with her husband and her sister, she starts searching for clues. I think the Hallmark movie makers realized that the book was a total snooze-fest, so they dramatically altered the plot and the characters to keep viewers intrigued. Honestly, I’m OK with this.

Thoughts on the main character:  Although Courtney Thorne Smith seems to be dialing it in, she’s still likable and even has a little spunk. The literary Emma Fielding, on the other hand, has the personality of a sea slug. She reminds me of my elderly neighbor who is tired of people’s bullshit and is unabashedly cranky. I commend her for her authenticity, but that doesn’t mean I want to be around her much. Emma Fielding seems to have a similar vibe. The author paints her as a young, pretty red-headed schoarly woman, but I just picture a cantankerous middle-aged woman whenever she speaks. When I read this genre, I’m accustomed to fun, plucky women with quirky sidekicks and maybe even some kitty cats. This book has none of that. In fact, I don’t even think Emma Fielding is a friend to animals, which was evident in the beginning when she remarked on her impulse to throw some stones at a seagull but restrained herself because people tend to frown on those actions. What? I seriously should’ve DNFed right there.

The romance: Keeping true to the cozy mystery formula, the movies intertwine a little push-and-pull romance between Emma and her detective sidekick Special Agent Jim Connor. Sidenote: I would like to thank the casting director for selecting this man for the job because HE DOES IT FOR ME! As for the books, the romance is just not happening. Emma’s a tired married woman who is constantly getting lectured for putting herself in danger. It’s sweet that the husbands in these books are so protective, but it’s also extremely annoying. If they’re so worried, they need to get off their lazy butts and help their women solve the dang mystery!

The suspects: In the movie, I really love how the suspects in the movie played out like a game of Clue. We’ve got a bitter butler, an entitled playboy/heir to the Chandler Castle, an obsessively superstitious personal assistant, and many other quirky suspects. In the book, the manor’s inhabitants were a lot less colorful and rather forgettable. To be perfectly honest, I’m having a hard time recalling anything specific about the slew of suspects other than the fact that they were all unpleasant and distrustful of outsiders.

More Gripes: Toward the climax of the book, I was just astounded by the utter stupidity of this woman who is supposed to be a brilliant tenured archeology professor. Despite her husband’s incessant admonitions, she does something incredibly stupid—to the point where I’m convinced she just wants to get killed.  Obviously a killer is after her, but she elects to climb a latter to the rooftop of the manor—at night by herself—to get a bird’s eye view of the surrounding village. Why? So she can imagine what it must’ve looked like 200 years ago? I simply don’t understand this logic whatsoever! At this point, I was just rooting for the killer to take her out.

Overall assessment: Steam it! This book is too long, too dry and just too full of unsavory characters with piss-poor decision-making skills.

I’m sorry, y’all, I did NOT like this one. Sloan is just killing me with her secrecy, and the anticlimactic reveal of the killer just had me beating my head against the table. OK, not literally, but I really was throwing an internal temper tantrum over this thinly plotted, insufferable hunk of garbage. Let me ask you something. If you knew you were being stalked by a highly trained assassin, wouldn’t you want to tell all of your friends and loved ones to be on the lookout for suspicious strangers–especially if your kid was a target??? Sloan, being the notably private person that she is, waited until the mid-part of the book to tell her ex-husband to be on guard, and she made him swear to secrecy because heaven forbid anyone else know that someone is after her! I’m sorry, Sloan, but you’re a nimrod, and I’m sorry your kid had to suffer the consequences of your piss-poor decision-making skills. The murder mystery is actually a subplot to this book, which seemed strange, but whatever. I can’t give away any spoilers, but I will say that the big reveal of the killer had me going, “OK, that person…huh.” It’s like the author just realized she needed to close the loop on the whodunnit part of the book, so she just picked a name out of a hat and shoehorned it into the final chapter. While I’m on this tirade, I must ask why a highly sophisticated hitman decides to snuff out a woman who witnessed his crime over 40 years ago–when she was just a toddler??? Why is she such a threat at this random point in life? I do not understand this logic whatsoever. I guess this is the end for me and the Sloan Krause mystery series. To use a beer analogy, it felt like I went into my favorite microbrewery and got served a Coors Light. Whomp whomp. I’m only giving this two stars because I love the town of Leavenworth and the microbrewery setting. But not even a lovely beer-infused escape to this Bavarian village is enough to keep me hanging on to this series.