River is Waiting

 

Wally Lamb

River is Waiting

I picked up this book simply because I’ve enjoyed Wally Lamb’s previous work. I didn’t even read the synopsis…I just dove in completely blind. In hindsight, I wasn’t prepared. I’m still not sure how to talk about it, except to say…this was brutal.

I finished it over the weekend, and if you’re considering reading it, I’d urge you to ask yourself…are you emotionally ready to take this on? The book demands your full attention and deep empathy. More than once, I had to walk away. It doesn’t sugarcoat the darkness, and even now, I’m trying to shake it off.

Within the first 12 pages…you’re delivered a very dark, disturbing and HEARTBREAKING intro to a book…haven’t read one like that in a while.  For some reason, I kept going.

The protagonist, Corby, is deeply flawed…believably so. Before the tragedy, he’s already unraveling. He’s selfish, impulsive, and makes terrible decisions. But aren’t we all flawed in some way? The thing is…he thinks he is fine.  His growth is messy, slow, and hard-earned. There’s no dramatic turnaround…just a painful crawl toward something resembling redemption.

Corby loses his job and starts his morning with Ativan chased with hundred-proof rum…the real kicker…he is a full-time care giver to his two-year-old twins during the day.  His addiction steals the life of his son, Niko.  I won’t say how, it’s revealed early, and in excruciating detail.

From there, the novel becomes a deep dive into the American prison system. We follow Corby as he navigates incarceration, and the story becomes a study in brutality, injustice, and survival. But at its core, this is a story about empathy….about facing your demons, atoning for your past, and questioning whether true change is even possible.

What did I like?  There’s a heron mentioned, lol. 

The title, River is Waiting, refers to the Wequonnoc river.  For Corby, it was a childhood sanctuary from his abusive father, and later, a place to quiet his racing thoughts. The river borders the prison, and he can hear it from his cell. He reflects that its current flows south…toward home. But does he even have a home to return to?

I expected the book to end with his release and a resolution with Emily, the mother of his daughter. Throughout the novel, she tells him she needs more time. She doesn’t know if she can forgive him. But maybe she always knew. The ending shocked me. Most stories follow predictable arcs…this one didn’t. I should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t.  

A quote that hit me hard…“Having hope was never going to hurt me, but having unreasonable expectations could clobber me.”

Horrible things happen to good people. This book is a reminder to check yourself…emotionally, mentally…before you read it.

Finally, I’ll leave you with this quote, “Worrying is carrying tomorrow’s load with today’s strength…carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.”

It empties today of its strength…what a powerful reminder to live in the present.  To be kind to others, and to be kind to yourself.  Aren’t we all just doing the best we can?

Can I recommend this book? Honestly, I’m not sure. Part of me wishes I hadn’t read it. But I did. Remember the book, Let Them?  I’ll let YOU decide.

 

 

 

Ordinary Grace

 

Ordinary Grace

By William Kent Krueger

1961. Frank Drum is thirteen years old, living in a quiet town in Minnesota. That summer will change his life forever. Ordinary Grace is his story…told from Frank’s perspective forty years later.

I spent most of my own childhood in a small town in Indiana. I remember riding bikes without helmets, playing kick the can until the stars came out, catching fireflies in jars. Looking back now, I realize how fearless our parents seemed…never doubting we’d return home safely. Those were the days.

In the novel, five lives are lost during that summer, each death rippling through the town and reshaping the lives of its people. I turned the final page late last night and lay there, thinking about this past year…about the many people I’ve lost.

Five friends. All but one my age. All gone.

• David – Suicide
• Kelly – Died in her sleep
• Michelle – Heart failure
• Fred – Heart failure
• Moses  – My dearest friend, Katie’s beloved dog whom I loved dearly - Died in his sleep

It’s staggering. Mortality feels closer now, more personal.

The book asks us to consider grace in its quieter forms…the kind that shows up without fanfare, through compassion, presence, and courage.

It made me ask myself: How do I respond to grief? How do I carry the weight of my mistakes…the pain I’ve caused others? And most importantly, how do I show up for others when life is hard?

I believe grace requires presence. It asks us to sit with others in their pain, even when our own hearts are breaking.

“The dead are never far from us. They're in our hearts and on our minds, and in the end all that separates us from them is a single breath, one final puff of air.”

Frank’s summer is filled with mystery, crime, secrets, prejudice, and lies. But this isn’t a traditional crime novel. It’s a meditation on family, community, and the nature of grace…whether granted by God or by flawed, fragile human beings in moments of crisis and loss.

Frank’s father is a Methodist minister and WWII veteran, carrying the weight of old regrets. His mother, artistic and restless, seems quietly disappointed by the life she’s built. His older sister is a gifted musician bound for Juilliard, and his younger brother Jake struggles with a severe stutter.

I won’t give everything away, but there’s a moment at a funeral when Frank’s mother asks her husband to offer, just once, an ordinary prayer. Jake, usually silenced by fear, stands, bows his head, and speaks without a single stutter:

“For the blessings of this food and these friends and our families, we thank you.”

That was it. Simple. Ordinary. Yet across the forty years since it was spoken, Frank has never forgotten a single word.

Ordinary. Grace.

This book is about life and death, and the emotions that shape us. It’s about bearing witness to pain without being consumed by it. Grace often lives in the small moments…a stranger’s smile, a shared meal, a hand reached for and held in silence. These are the acts that hold us together when the world feels like it’s falling apart.

Grace isn’t unattainable. It’s ordinary. Woven into our daily lives. Waiting to be recognized. Waiting to be shared.

We only need to choose it.

 

 

Just Like That...A Complicated Return to the City

 

Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what kept me hooked… but faithfully, I was.

As someone who adored Sex and the City, I came into Just Like That with high hopes and a heart full of nostalgia. SATC wasn’t just a show…it was a cultural awakening. It made me dream of becoming a journalist, living a life as bold and stylish as Carrie Bradshaw’s. It was groundbreaking: women choosing careers over marriage, owning their independence, and smashing gender stereotypes with wit, heartbreak, and unapologetic glamour.

But Just Like That is not SATC. And maybe that’s the only way to watch it…by separating the two entirely.

Carrie’s return to dating is… frustrating. Her storyline with Aidan feels like déjà vu in the worst way. His decision to disappear for five years to focus on his kids? Maddening. Watching Carrie repeat the same emotional missteps makes you wonder….has she learned anything?

Worse, Carrie herself seems changed, and not for the better. There’s a despondency in her eyes, a coldness in her interactions. She’s arrogant, selfish, and strangely disconnected from the vibrant, fun and light-hearted woman we once knew.

The best part of the show? Carrie’s cat. And the worst part? The absence of Samantha. Her energy, her humor, her fearlessness…none of the new characters quite fill that void. Seema and Lisa feel like placeholders, not people we’re invested in.

Sure, there are still the outfits, the romantic flings, the odd celebrity cameos, and the kind of New York real estate that borders on fantasy. But the scenes often feel awkward, the chemistry forced, and the sparkle dimmed.

It ended with Carrie twirling in a tutu-like red dress and pink heels, as the voiceover declared, “The woman realized she wasn’t alone, but on her own.” Isn’t it all about perspective?

Those final scenes...intimate glimpses into each character’s private world…felt strikingly real. Charlotte with her family, Miranda and Joy, Seema and Adam, Anthony and Giuseppe, Lisa and Herbert…each vignette captured the quiet, messy, beautiful moments of everyday life. Yes, shit happens (literally). But it’s in those unassuming moments that we see what truly matters.

All of those people are Carrie’s family. She may be on her own...but she’s certainly not alone.

So why did I keep watching? Maybe it’s loyalty. Maybe it’s hope. Or maybe it’s just the lingering magic of a show that once made me believe in the power of female friendship, self-discovery, and a really good pair of heels.

Turning the Page: A New Chapter in Columbia

 

I’ve officially relocated to Columbia, SC.

 

Over the past few months, life has been a whirlwind—changing jobs, selling my house, relocating, unpacking, producing a Dealer Meeting (with a photoshoot to follow), and trying to keep my sanity somewhere in between.

 

Anyone who’s ever packed up their life knows the drill: boxes everywhere, giving things away you swore you’d keep, endless logistics, and a healthy dose of unexpected chaos. No one asked…but if you’ve been wondering why it’s been quiet around here, I’ve been busy trying to calm the storm.

 

As much as I’d love to be curled up with a book and sharing my latest thoughts...the move, the show, and the mountain of unpacked boxes have temporarily taken over my schedule.

 

But I’m finally starting to settle in…thankfully, Vanessa came to the rescue.  She literally walked in the door…set down her bags and started moving things into organized piles.  Within three hours she had created a living room, a reading nook and told me to order some pizza. 

 

The photo is of my new reading nook, a little corner of calm in the midst of the madness.

 

It is starting to feel like home, and I’ll be back soon with fresh thoughts, bookish musings, and maybe even a TV series or movie review.

 

The Correspondent

The Correspondent

By Virginia Evans

Dear Readers,

Do you ever write a letter? I mean truly write one…sit down with pen and paper, jot down your thoughts, seal an envelope, place a stamp, and send it off through the postal service?

I do. I did. I used to love writing thank-you notes, always including a photo from the moment we shared, hoping my words carried the weight of my gratitude.

I love hand-written letters…both sending and receiving them.

Last week, I moved. While packing up, I found a love letter dated June 26, 2000. Twenty-five years ago! I smiled as I read it, grateful I’d held onto it all this time. I’ll never throw it away. I adored his words…the way he wrote them, the penmanship, the spacing, the red ink. But mostly…I loved his words.

Then there’s Sybil.

She’s 72 when we meet her in the novel…crotchety and outspoken, intelligent and well-read, fiercely independent and beautifully flawed. She’s just learned she’ll gradually lose her eyesight. She’s made some devastating, life-altering mistakes and carries the weight of guilt. She tries to make amends where she can, but that isn’t always possible. Like the rest of us, she’s doing her best.

Sybil pours herself into her letters…her love, grief, regrets, humor, and hope. Her relationships unfold through correspondence with her brother, sister-in-law, children, old work associates, and, delightfully, literary icons like Joan Didion and Larry McMurtry. Some letters she sends. Some she doesn’t. The most haunting are those she writes to a shadowy figure from her past…never mailed, but full of ache.

One letter to a young correspondent reflects deeply on the immortal power of writing; others are hilariously blunt, layered with her sharp, salty charm. Evans crafted Sybil with brusque vulnerability…a woman brimming with opinions, keen advice, and blind spots about her own tangled truth. Through her letters, Sybil slowly peels back the layers of her heart. The book reads like a character study told through correspondence…a slow unraveling of what makes Sybil who she is.

I’ll sign off just as Sybil does in letters to a beloved friend: What are you reading?

Where the Forest Meets the Stars

 

Where the Forest Meets the Stars 

by Glendy Vanderah 

My book club friends would probably say I read this book simply because Jo is an ornithologist…an expert on birds…and I tend to choose books with birds on the cover or in the storyline. I didn’t even realize I did that until they pointed it out. Funny revelation.

The book itself is part contemporary fiction, part sci-fi…or maybe part soap opera, part fairy tale. Quick synopsis: a little girl lost from the stars, a woman reclaiming herself after illness, and a man burdened by his mind and family. Each of them discovers life and love in spite of their individual traumas. There’s a forest. A constellation. An alien girl?

Before she can return to her alleged planet, Ursa must witness five miracles. She latches onto Jo, an ornithologist and cancer survivor, who’s spending the summer doing research at a remote cabin. Concerned for Ursa’s safety, Jo allows her to stay temporarily. Jo also meets Gabriel, her reclusive neighbor, and soon the two are working together to figure out what to do about Ursa. A slow-burn romance develops between Jo and Gabe.

What follows is a series of domestic, lovey-dovey drama where the leads play house and play parents to Ursa, wrapped in a cliché love story that glosses over the fact that both characters have significant trauma and mental health issues to work through. There’s also a mystery element centered around uncovering the truth about Ursa’s past. She appears out of nowhere and resists every attempt to return her home. Instead of calling the authorities, Jo decides to take her in.

We’re never told definitively whether Ursa is truly an alien or if her story is a coping mechanism for her trauma...but deep down, we know. Personally, I think the story could’ve ended after she witnessed her fifth miracle and said she had to leave. If she had died in that moment, it could’ve closed with a haunting ambiguity: “Did the little girl just die? Or did she return to the stars?” That would’ve been powerful. But instead, we get another 50 pages of detectives unraveling the mystery, explaining every detail, and tying it all up with a happily-ever-after ending.

Ultimately, it’s a story about love in all its forms, and the healing process of broken hearts and broken lives. It’s about finding a way to live that allows for the acceptance of love. Broken people searching for healing, for something…or someone…to believe in.

Maybe love isn’t the answer to everything, but sometimes, love really is all you need.

Local Woman Missing

 

Local Woman Missing

By Mary Kubica

Local Woman Missing is a gripping psychological thriller that is intense and suspenseful.  It felt like a rollercoaster ride at times… filled with twists and turns.

“Behind every smile lies a story, and not all of them have happy endings.”

This quote from the book encapsulates its emotional depth. It’s a powerful reminder that beneath every cheerful facade may lie a hidden narrative…one shaped by pain, resilience, and complexity. The story urges empathy, highlighting that life isn’t always neat or fair, and not every tale ends happily.

This book explores themes of loss, family dynamics, trauma, and the dangers lurking beneath seemingly ordinary lives.

Shelby Tebow vanishes late one night while out for a jog. Meredith Dickey and her six-year-old daughter, Delilah, disappeared shortly thereafter, just blocks away from where Shelby was last seen. 

Fast forward 11 years, and Delilah shockingly returns, sparking renewed questions as to the true nature of all three disappearances.

Throughout the story, the characters face various challenges and traumatic experiences, yet they all display a remarkable ability to bounce back and find the strength to keep going. This resilience is portrayed as an essential quality that helps them cope with their circumstances and ultimately find closure.

The book explores the discovery of long-buried secrets and their role in the plot. It serves as a reminder that even seemingly ordinary lives can hide dark secrets, and that these secrets can have far-reaching consequences.

The book shows the power of community in times of crisis. As the investigation unfolds, the community bands together and supports one another, forming a tight bond that tends to unravel the mysteries surrounding the disappearances. 

There are plenty of secrets in this neighborhood, and plenty of suspects to choose from

This book is a masterclass in psychological suspense. It’s not just about solving a mystery…it’s about understanding the people behind it. Honestly, I thought I had figured it all out before I was halfway through the book.  But then in the last 100 pages…it turned out I knew absolutely nothing.

In the end…it felt like a good whodunnit.