Danielle Steel is my dirty little secret! I should hate them, the grammar is appalling (gotten is so not a word!) and the stories are far fetched but they tickle my reading tastebuds in a strangely hypnotic way. Whenever I see a new one has come out I get positively giddy as sad as that is.

A Good Woman is the story of Annabelle Worthington who is 19 when we join her in 1912. Her life is one of privilege and wealth but tragedy comes when her parents and brother are on board Titanic and only her mother survives. As a year of mourning commences her mother worries that she won’t find a husband as she had only just come out in society.

In comes Josiah Millbank who worked at the bank Annabelle’s father owned. A fine upstanding citizen by all accounts who is 20 years older than her but as she is greatly matured by the death of her father and brother he is an excellent candidate for a husband. Sadly he forgot to mention he was gay and having it off with his best friend and has been for the last 20 years! I try not to give spoilers but in this case it’s essential as otherwise it doesn’t explain the rest of the story.

When Annabelle’s mother dies, hubby decides he has to tell her the truth. He also has syphilis and is planning on going to Mexico with the boyfriend where he will end his days. He wants to set her free so tells her to divorce him but as she refuses he does it naively believing it will mean she can find someone else and lead a happier life. Sadly at that time the only way you can divorce someone is on the grounds of adultery so in one fell swoop she loses her friends and her respectability.

She’s been volunteering at hospitals and at Ellis Island for many years so has a lot of practical experience although there has never been the opportunity to take this any further as obviously she was meant to be at home as wife and mother. So with no reason left to stay in America she goes to France to work in a hospital on the front lines as WWI is in its full horror. She is approached by one of the doctors who thinks she would make an excellent candidate for medical school but study is broken up after the first year as WWI continues and they are desperate for medical staff.

 Unfortunately she comes across the wrong man at the wrong time and ends up pregnant but manages to complete medical school and sets herself up in practice in Paris. Her story isn’t finished yet but I have to leave something of it untold as otherwise what would be the point in reading it.

I must say I loved the book. It flows really well and while I’m sure it’s not exactly how life was in pre war New York, there must be an element of truth and it was fascinating to see just what can happen to a woman who loses her virtue – regardless of wealth and status. Whatever you might think about Danielle Steel I would urge you to give them a go, you could pretend it was a history book you were reading!

http://www.randomhouse.com/features/steel/

Cuando una viuda y su pequeña hija, encuentran en una playa a un divorciado solitario con el que unirán sus penas!!!

     Definitivamente me proyecto en contra de los préstamos, ya que este libro cayó a mis manos con la recomendación de la dueña, pero me dejó decepcionada desde sus primeras páginas…

     Aquí se nos narra la historia de Ophelie Mackenzie, una viuda de 42 años de edad que esta pasando sus vacaciones de verano con su hija Pip en el puerto de Safe Harbour, donde ambas esperan paliar un poco el lascerante dolor que las aqueja desde la muerte del resto de su familia…

     Estando ahí, la pequeña Pip deambula por la playa y conoce a un pintor maduro, solitario y atractivo llamado Matthew Bowles, que resulta ser una agradable compañía para la niña y mutuamente se brindan un rato de paz y conversación inocente…

     El primer encuentro de Ophelie con Matthew no es nada placentero, puesto que ella lo encuentra platicando con su pequeña hija de 12 años y supone lo peor de él, armándole una escena a voz en cuello y prohibiéndole que se le vuelva a acercar a su pequeña…

     Convencida de que lo que hizo era lo correcto, Ophelie se siente culpable cuando Pip le dice que Matt era en realidad un hombre con el que platicó tranquilamente, y que fue muy injusta al tratarlo de un modo tan cruel, por lo que Ophelie cede y le pide disculpas al hombre, ganándose en él a un amigo que lentamente comenzará a curar las heridas de su entumecido y dolorido corazón…

Matthew por otra parte, es un divorciado de 47 años de edad, que encuentra en Pip y Ophelie un bálsamo para disminuir la soledad que lo aqueja desde hace varios años, cuando su familia lo abandonó para mudarse lejos y ya no saber nada más de él…

     Así pues, se va dando entre ellos una muy, pero muy lenta relación, que inicia como la más inocente de las amistades, y que se va hadciendo más intensa cuando ambos descubran que tienen mucho que admirarle al otro (ya que ambos salieron enteros de sus respectivos dramas familiares)…

     Los personajes secundarios de la historia cumplen con su función de apoyo a los principales, y no aportan nada significativo a una de por si raquitica novela en cuanto contenido argumental…

     Una historia lenta, llena de momentos que pretenden ser sentimentales, pero que a causa de la repetición de la autora (se te menciona hasta la saciedad como se murieron el marido y el hijo de Ophelie y el dolor que eso le causó), terminan siendo cansinos y ridículos, causando sopor en el lector y haciendo que te replantees seriamente si la historia llegará a algún lado interesante…

Lo mejor: Me agradó que fuera una historia no muy larga, ya que como la terminé a pura fuerza de voluntad (ya que considero que no puedes criticar algo que no terminas de leer), no estoy tan segura de que si hubiera sido más larga lo habría logrado…

Lo peor: Francamente me desagradó sobremanera la prosa de esta autora, puesto que a lo largo de todas las descripciones, tuve la sensación de que quería obligarnos a sentir empatía con sus protagonistas, no a base de una narrativa desenfadada y sin pretensiones, sino más bien a base de una monótona repetición de las pasadas tragedias de sus personajes… Dejándote harto de leer lo mismo, en vez de ansioso por conocer si lograrían reponerse de sus sufrimientos…

Título Original: Safe Harbour…

Calificación Subjetiva: 2/10…

Danielle Steel är en sån där författare som jag tror att jag vet hur hon skriver, trots att jag aldrig läst henne. Skulle någon frågat mig om jag kunde tänka mig att läsa en bok av henne hade svaret blivit ett tveklöst nej. Men nu upptäcker jag att det finns en bok av henne jag kan tänka mig, hon har nämligen skrivit om sin sons psykiska sjukdom och självmord.
Upptäcker jag i litteraturhänvisningarna i Åsa Mobergs Vara anhörig, som jag läser lite av och till just nu.
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Läs även andra bloggares åsikter om Danielle Steel, Åsa Moberg, psykiska sjukdomar

Cut to us standing there alone in the classroom, hair magically tousled by an invisible fan, asking, “But what language do you love in?”

You can’t beat that, Danielle Steel.

One Day at a Time

Ok, so I have not read a Danielle Steel book in a long long time and reading “One Day at a Time” reminded me why. I must admit that this is a beautiful love story. Coco is a rebel hailing from a family of achievers. A law school drop-out is now a dog walker and is constantly ridiculed by her successful mother and her lesbian sister for her lack of ambition. She then meets Leslie a major Hollywood star while house sitting for her sister. Not-so-suprisingly Leslie and Coco fall madly in love inspite of all the warnings Coco receives from her sister. Meanwhile her mother is dating a much younger man and her sister is expecting her baby. Well, the book has a happy ending for all of them as we would expect.

It would have been a decent book had it not been for the repetitive verbiage. As you make the slow progress through the various chapters you start to feel that you have already read this before or better yet you know what is coming. Darn!!! how annoying can that get.

If you are an ardent fan of Danielle Steel then this would probably be a 4 or 5 but I am going to be a bit too generous and rate it a 2. Honestly, I am just grateful that I managed to grab this book from the library shelves and not shell out money (there werent too many takers anyways) .

Judul : Heartbeat – Debar Hati
Penulis : Danielle Steel
Penerbit : PT Gramedia Pustaka Utama
Tebal : 544 Halaman
Sinopsis:

Dalam kesedihan karena ditinggalkan oleh Steven, Adrian Townsend bertemu dengan Bill Thingpen, seorang pencipta acara opera sabun. Di antara mereka tumbuh benih-benih cinta.

Namun tidak mudah bagi Adrian untuk melupakan Steven begitu saja. Bayi Steven yang sedang dikandungnya membuatnya berat untuk menerima Bill sepenuhnya, sebagai bagian hidupnya. Saat ia sedang bimbang menentukan pilihan, Steven muncul kembali, menawarkan untuk memulai hidup baru dan melupakan yang telah lalu. Adrian kian terjepit di antara dua pilihan. Namun keputusan tetap harus dibuat.

Danielle Steel, novelnya sekarang banyak yang dijual dengan diskon yang cukup lumayan, saya membeli buku ini kalau tidak salah sekitar Rp. 10.000,00. Tapi hal itu cukup wajar karena rata-rata usia dari novel karya Danielle Steel mencapai 15 tahun! Namun penulis cukup baik dalam menjabarkan ceritanya sehingga novelnya masih dapat dipahami dengan benar 15 tahun setelah dia menulisnya.

Saya tidak tahu apakah kesalahan dari penulis atau tim penerjemah, novel ini memiliki beberapa kelemahan, sebagai contoh, terkadang nama Bill Thingpen berubah menjadi William Thingpen (yang ada dalam benak saya, mungkin namanya sama?), lalu pendeskripsiannya benar-benar panjang dan kadang mengulang apa yang telah dideskripsikan, sehingga novel ini menjadi kurang menarik. Deskripsi yang diulang-ulang tersebut menjadikan novel ini sedikit membosankan, saya sampai bisa melompati satu atau dua halaman tanpa merasa bingung karena saya telah melewati sesuatu. Yah, saya kira kelemahan terbesar dari novel ini adalah cara pendeskripsiannya, padahal dalam novel Danielle Steel yang lain tidak seperti ini.

Apakah novel ini wajib untuk dibaca / dimiliki? Tergantung pada selera Anda menurutku, ide ceritanya sih menarik karena dapat digolongkan berbeda dan jarang ada konsep cerita seperti novel ini, namun jika Anda tidak menyukai novel yang memiliki banyak deskripsi, maka saya tidak menyarankan Anda untuk membacanya.

O projeto “Bibliotecas no Metrô”, teve início na estação Paraíso de São Paulo, em setembro de 2004, o Instituto Brasil Leitor (IBL), idealizador e gestor do projeto, desde que foi inaugurado o projeto no metrô já foram contabilizados cerca de 150 mil livros emprestados nas três bibliotecas da rede metroviária paulista.
Você também encontra a biblioteca nas estações da Luz e do Tatuapé, inauguradas, respectivamente, em 2006 e 2005. Isto significa que, juntas, as bibliotecas batizadas de Embarque na Leitura, emprestaram uma média de 143 livros por dia, gratuitamente.

Ao todo, são 21.000 sócios que têm à disposição um acervo com mais de 10,5 mil obras. Entre os livros mais procurados estão: O Código da Vinci, Fortaleza Digital, Anjos e Demônios, todos de Dan Brown; Memórias de Minhas Putas Tristes, de Gabriel García Marques; e A Casa na Rua Esperança, de Danielle Steel.
Além de Embarque na Leitura, em SP, o projeto Bibliotecas no Metrô conta ainda com mais duas bibliotecas em outras duas capitais: Livros e Trilhos no Rio de Janeiro (Estação Central) e Leitura nos Trilhos em Recife (Metrô Recife), inauguradas em dezembro de 2006 e em abril deste ano, respectivamente. No Brasil, as cinco Bibliotecas somam cerca de 25 mil associados e 14,8 mil livros.

Como funciona:
Funciona de segunda à sexta-feira, das 11 h às 20h, nas estações Paraíso, Tatuapé e Luz. Para se inscrever, os interessados devem apresentar documento de identidade e CPF (original e cópia), juntamente com uma foto 3×4. Também é necessário levar o comprovante de residência (original e cópia). Menores de 12 anos devem estar acompanhados dos pais. Os leitores são cadastrados e recebem uma carteirinha de identificação com foto e código de barra para fazer os empréstimos.

Fonte: www.brasilleitor.org.br

Danielle Steel – Akhir Musim Panas [1],[2],[3],[4],[5 tamat]

have this emblazoned on t-shirts to be sold graveside at my funeral & also put this in my obit, thanks, mom:

We guess when you’re making millions publishing steamy and successful novels, $400,000 doesn’t seem like much!

M

(steele got stoled)

I’ve been absent.  I’ve not communicated.  I’ve pretty much been thinking aloud, but I’m back on the keys eager to be what you wanted.  Tendonitis has reared its evil head and held me hostage for a couple weeks, but I’m easing back into overusing my hand again. 

Since you’ve been gone, abandoned my Hyperbole as it staled during my ailment, a lot has happened.  So lift your eyes if you feel you can, and I’ll show you a plan.  Okay, no more Air Supply references, I promise.

I’ve hit the 100 page mark on my manuscript, and instead of another rewrite or continuing on to the next 100, I’ve decided that I’m going to start shopping it.  Bear in mind, I started writing the book in 1998 and laid it down for a year nap at the ripe page count of 150.  When it woke up to the milk and cookies of my intermittent creativity, it aged like a fine wine to 250 pages.  Of course the sultry mistress of circumstance told my wife of writing that we were having an affair, so I was kicked out into the mean streets of making money.  My soul prostituition was becoming a cross I could no longer bear, so I pulled out the manuscript and whittled it down to the bare bones of 50 pages.  Without a real story, I went back to my roots and carved into the branches a splinter-free 100 pages.  Ten years later, I’m throwing the manuscript to the wind for either a serendiptuous pairing or a door stopper. 

Writers are a funny bunch, and I’m pretty convinced we’re the only species that can span many diagnosis codes without being in a straight jacket.  Highs and lows within one sentence, and obsessive compulsive fingerprints left all over the manuscript.  I’m not sure about other writers, but I can manage to watch a (legal) YouTube Music Video of Boys II Men’s “Down On Bended Knee,” write a blog, text, gather passport documents, and skim a short story I wrote a few years back for any elements to be used in my forthcoming romance novel. 

Excuse me?

Oh, I said ROMANCE NOVEL. 

After much debate, I have decided that I’m not ready to rouse memories that make me spiral into depression again.  I’m finally stable, and unfortunately the trauma (I was officially diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder circa NYC 2004) still saws me to the core.  We struggled to survive for the five years my brother was missing and in 2006 when we found out his fate, we were finally able to grieve.  Grief is like an old sports injury, just when you think you can run like a kid again it’ll give out on you and make you fall.  I knew it was too soon when just his name in generic passing evoked tears, so sitting with all that he was (see now I am crying again) and all he has become is like labor; unbearable pain that results in a miracle.  I’m not ready to have a baby.

I’ve struggled with my books and they have always mimicked my life’s theme, so now I’ve decided to escape a little into a world that is made-for-television.  It’s already proved to be a gateway to creativity, and so now I’m going to be lost in love for a while.  Besides, Alisa Olander is TOTALLY a romance novelist name!

Once a year I engage in what I like to refer to as Charlie Bucket-ism.

For those of you not familiar with Charlie Bucket because you’re all a bunch of heathens,  he is the intrepid and plucky hero of childhood literature staple Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Wee Charlie lives in extreme poverty, but once a year he splurges an entire dollar (maybe a quarter? I don’t know. I remember it’s some ridiculously small amount of money, but Roald Dahl wasn’t even American, so it’s all very confusing) on a Willy Wonka chocolate bar. This is of course before he (spoiler alert!) wins a golden ticket to visit Willy Wonka’s factory and then inadvertently ends up inheriting the whole thing by proving his purity of spirit or some such childishly wonderful bullshit.

The point is, once a year I, like Charlie, buy my proverbial chocolate bar in the form of a trashy romance novel that I read on my vacation to Sandy Island. The only difference is that while these books are, like Charlie’s chocolate bars, delicious, they also cause my brain to have minor seizures and actually atrophy my smarty-parts. So really it’s like the Charlie Bucket analogy, if Charlie only had one chocolate bar a year because otherwise he’d go into a diabetic coma. (I’m not sure how this works, exactly. Maybe he can only afford one insulin shot a year? Clearly, I have never had diabetes.)

This all started one year when my friends and I found a trashy romance novel lying around and had far too much fun reading aloud portions of it aloud in our best salacious movie announcer voice. (I believe that year it was about a plucky virgin cowgirl who gets seduced by a wandering vagrant.) The next year we found another (this time, taffeta and high-society longing!) and decided to make it a tradition. And by we, I mean that I had so much fun reading these affronts to the English language that I decided I should make a point to engage in reading them yearly. I think my favorite is still the one about a time-traveling Viking who ends up in present-day California, where he meets and falls in love with a plucky (they’re always plucky), exotic beauty helplessly trying to keep her family’s winery afloat. (The neighbors, are, of course, an evil rich corporation engaged in shenanigans. There are always shenanigans.) This was made even better when I realized halfway through, upon paging back to the beginning to wonder at what else this “author” had written – that this was an installment series of time-traveling Vikings in modern California falling for plucky ladies. It’s an epidemic! Who knew!

This year, I selected from the library Untouched by Anna Campbell. This turned out to be a mistake, but I simply could not say no to the description, with its Stephanie Meyers-esque use of ellipses, promises of compromised virtue in a virtuous woman (referred to as, I shit you not, “no common trollop”). Of course, I was sure that inevitably she would surrender to the mysteriously dashing Lord Sheene, who’s a crazy shut in that’s not really crazy. Except for how he probably would be crazy by any normal standards. It’s like The Hunchback of Notre Dame, if the Hunchback had sex! It was as if there was a Willy Wonka bar that had marshmallows in it, and those marshmallows were on steroids.

But oh, how far this story fell in my estimation.

Sure, everything that was promised to happen happened. Grace Paget, the heroine (who is not so much “plucky” as “wilted”), gets kidnapped by some no-good-very-bad men who mistake her for a whore. She is brought to a far-away manor where she awakens to find herself bound on a table like a pig at a feast and a mega-hottie gazing at her with his dreamy golden eyes. That should have been my first clue that this book would suck. Look, for the last fucking time, there is no such thing as golden eyes. You can have amber eyes. Flecks of amber can look gold. But there is no such thing as actual golden eyes unless you are some sort of bird of prey or cat. For crying out loud, trashy authors, will you stop with this bullshit already?!

Anyways, genetically impossible dreamboat Lord Sheene is gazing down at our heroine, and he is obsessed with her breasts. Obsessed. Which is actually the least creepy thing about him. See, Lord Sheene has been trapped in his house since his psychotic break (which the author constantly assures us he is totally recovered from), and is now being held there as a helpless pawn so his one-dimensionally evil uncle can continue to control his considerable wealth. And since he’s getting restless, his uncle and his henchmen decide the one way to keep him happy is to kidnap him a whore to rape any time he feels the urge. Now that is what I call a birthday present!

Despite the author’s obsessive reminding us that Lord Sheene is totally the picture of manly health, the guy’s a loony bin. He’s constantly prowling places, his golden eyes flashing, having paranoid delusions, obsessive thoughts about Grace’s breasts (though that seems to be her only redeeming feature, so maybe not so crazy?) and bouts of explosive temper. Grace is righteous, sniffy, cries more than a leaky faucet, and has this insane complex over the fact that she ran away from her life of luxury to be with a political revolutionary who failed to rev any of her engines. Yawn. Snore.

The book goes like this: Lord Sheene sees Grace. He wants her, but can’t have her, and is convinced his uncle planted her to gain information from him. (Why his uncle would need information is never explained. Apparently, he’s just that much of a douchebag.) Thereby, he swears never to fall sway to her hypontic boob powers, lest she take advantage of him. Grace spends a lot of time running around in filmy nightgowns and dresses that put the ta-tas on display (since, of course, they planned only on outfitting a whore), whining that there’s been a dreadful mistake and she’s not a whore! Only to be told to shut the hell up or the uncle and his goons will rape and kill her. So she’s shut in with her dreamboat, Lord Crazypants. There are a lot of scenes that are like a really low quality production of the Something’s There sequence from Beauty and the Beast, only without any of the good music, animated household objects, or pure Disney-fied joy. Grace (it’s always Grace, you know women and their passions) decides she simply must sleep with Lord Sheene, so she goes down in her see-through nightgown and seduces him, and they have amazing, orgasmic, life-altering sex.

This takes about fifty pages.

By around the fiftieth page, Lord Sheene wakes up and decides the woman he’s had sex with was only that good because she was a whore, Grace doesn’t understand why What’s-His-Face is ignoring her after he introduced her to the wonder that is an orgasm, so she goes around flaunting her boobies righteously, and the whole cycle continues for another thirty pages. After thirty pages, Lord Sheene says “fuck it!”, sleeps with her, only to have he spirited away by his uncle who reminds her of his avowal to rape and kill her unless she performs her whore duties. The fact that she even talked to his uncle is enough to make the clearly genius, completely mentally balanced, and not at all paranoid Lord Sheene decide that he can’t trust her or her breasts. At least not until he sleeps with her twenty pages later.

Honestly, I’m pretty sure this vein continues for the rest of the book, but by about halfway through I got so fed up I decided that I couldn’t bear to continue. This is not the Wonka bar I signed up for! Luckily, the island has a little “library” which is basically just a tiny cabin designated as a silent adult area, and people leave their old paperbacks there when they’re too lazy to bring them back. Perfect breeding ground for trashy romance novels, right? That is, after all, where the first two came from. After combing through way too many non-fictions or Chicken Soup for the Souls, I found a classic Danielle Steel, Season of Passion. Can’t go wrong with a Danielle Steel, I thought!

Hah. Hah hah. Hah hah hah.

Okay, to be fair, this book was written in 1980. I’m aware that a few things have changed since then. We stopped mass wearing fabrics that were not found in nature, started not wearing pants at our armpits, and decided that feathered hair was a really bad idea.

For instance, now authors can actually write sex scenes which, let me tell you, is a huge narrative improvement. Nothing kills the emotional impact of a romantically charged moment faster than a blunt “and then they got down and did the nasty”. As uncomfortable as I, as a reader, tend to be with sex scenes (oh God, why are you putting that in there??? Stop describing nipples! For the love of God, STOP DESCRIBING THE NIPPLES), they’re exceedingly telling of two characters’ emotional states, especially in regards to each other, following the good old “show,, don’t tell” credo everyone learned in high school English. Plus, without them, how would phrases like “his throbbing manhood”, “his quivering sex”, and “the core of her womanhood” have ever entered into our collective conciousness?  Thanks for that, trashy romance novels. One day when a hot boy and I are going in for some naked good times, I’m sure that inappropriately the phrase “his hot love rod” will pop into my head and I’ll burst into helpless laughter, thus ruining the moment completely. (No sinking into my coral petals of flesh! Alas! Also, ick!)

Now, if this book had just been lacking in sex, I’d go “how quaint!” and move on with it, but no, I’m pretty convinced that even by the standards of thirty years ago, this book was pretty reprehensible from a social and moral responsibility point of view.

Because whenever I started whining about this, people looked at me like an idiot, I’m going to clarify – I’m not expecting startling insights into the feminst paradox or positive portrayals of gay characters or other minority groups. I know what I’m getting into. I know what I’m about to embark upon has the psychological insight of Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus and are so whitebread and heteronormative it makes Disney films look like multinational gay orgies. But I have some standards that I try not to play with, namely, don’t play around with rape, and try not to be overtly insulting or getting down with the hate speech.

So when, a good while into the book, a fashionable older woman in a fur coat is described as being “followed by her faggots”, my eyes nearly popped out of my face. I went back and re-read it. And re-read it again. Nope, not a typo, they’re really describing a woman as being followed by her faggots. And this was not a once-off thing! Later in the book when the hero Nick is explaining to the heroine, Kate, why he’s gone so long without a girlfriend, he helpfully brings up that some people have thought he was a faggot, but don’t worry, sweetbuns, he isn’t really! Oh, thank god. What a mensch, am I right?

And then, as if to prove how totally un-faggy he is, Nick starts with the rape jokes. You read that right, rape jokes. Because nothing makes me fall into a guy’s arms faster than him saying something along the lines of “You look so hot I’m tempted to rape you right here”. I’m not kidding, he says stuff like that. Multiple times. Because rape is just dreamy!

This book, I finished. I figured it was just an antiquated standards thing, but when I was telling my mom about it, she assured me that no, that was equally as repulisve thirty years ago as it was today, and why on earth did I waste my time reading this tripe?

After this year, I’m not sure. All I know is this – Charlie Bucket never had to deal with this shit.

Reading Message From Nam by Danielle Steel, I came across a few sentences that really made sense to me.

“How could you be okay when you lost someone you loved that much? What did you believe in after that, except loss and pain and sorrow. A part of you felt vulnerable for the rest of your life, and in a secret part of you, you always knew that at every moment.”

After you’ve faced a number of losses in your life, you change. Some changes are good, yes. Just like an athlete who goes through the pains of training, you come out stronger and with more endurance for what life will throw at you next.

The problem is, you always wonder what the next pitch is going to be, you expect it. At least once a day I brood over whether I will lose yet another person close to me. My greatest fear is that the people I love are going to eventually die or move away and I will lose touch with them. You become afraid of abandonment.

People say to me that my maturity level is way up there, that I’m so wise; they ask me how I know so much. The truth is, I’ve had no choice but to grow up fast. When you lose things that you held close, it becomes clear very quickly what is important to you and what is important in this world. You realize what never really mattered to you in the first place, and discard those things to leave room for more noteworthy causes.

You don’t have to go through the pain of loss to realize what is important, though. If you’re reading this, whether you have been under the same circumstances or not, I urge you to take a few moments to just write down or even think about the things that really matter to you, and also the things in your life that have always been there that you don’t really care for, or that other people think should be important to you. Life is too short to spend it messing with things you don’t want, just to live up to someone else’s expectations. Once you take a step away from the insignificant things and towards things that matter, you’ll be walking towards a better life, I promise.

If there’s one piece of advice I could give you, it’s that.
I know what comes first in my life,
Do you?

There is a widespread belief that Black People don’t read books. This is 50% false. Although most Black People may not have a series of New York Times Bestsellers on the shelf next to their bootleg DVDs, chances are they will have a copy of Desperate Hoodwives, a Triple Crown Publication book, or at least one novel written by Kiki Swinson or ZANE. You will never find a copy of “Pride and Prejudice” or anything by Jane Austen or William Shakespeare anywhere within a 100 foot radius of any Black Person’s home.

As was mentioned in #14. Not Using Contraceptives, Black People have an insatiable appetite for “boning“. However, when a Black Person isn’t currently attached to anyone, they must find other was to feed their sexual desires. For Black Males porno usually does the trick, but for more educated Black Males and nearly all Black Females, they usually find solace in erotic fiction books.

Pretty much all these books tend to follow the same key plot-line: Black People having sex with each other and/or cheating on their significant other. This is the only subject that interests Black People, save for books about famous Black People like Michael Jackson.

If you are a Non-Black Person and wish to impress a Black Person you know or just met, be sure to mention how you’ve just finished reading the latest Zane novel and tell them how her writing is so much better than anything James Patterson or Danielle Steel could ever hope to write. This will automatically make you not a racist in the Black Community.

‘Ricominciare’ di Danielle Steel (la scrittrice più popolare del mondo con oltre 570 milioni di copie vendute in 47 Paesi), pubblicato in Italia da Sperling & Kupfer, è una storia di sopravvivenza e di dignità, di piccoli miracoli e di grandi sorprese.

Honor Thyself, questo il titolo originale del nuovo romanzo della Steel, crea il ritratto indimenticabile di un’eroina affascinante, le cui speranze, paure e sentimenti sono reali come quelle di ogni lettore. La coraggiosa “rinascita” della sua protagonista è un insegnamento per tutti.
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Libri News segnala:

Matematici nel sole di Franco Stelzer – Edizioni Il Maestrale

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Ricominciare di Danielle Steel - Sperling & Kupfer

Titolo: Ricominciare
Genere: Narrativa Straniera
Autore: Danielle Steel
Editore: Sperling & Kupfer
Anno: 2009
Collana: Pandora
Informazioni: pg. 368
Codice EAN: 9788820047689

Prezzo Book Shop: € 15,92
Prezzo di listino: € 19,90
Sconto: € 3,98 (20%)

IL LIBRO – Carole Barber si è appena trasferita in una Parigi autunnale, lontana dai riflettori e dalla curiosità degli ammiratori a cui l’America l’ha abituata. Carole è una stella del cinema, simbolo di grazia e bellezza, dedita alla famiglia e impegnata in cause umanitarie in tutto il mondo. Ma in una fredda serata di novembre, mentre viaggia su un taxi a poca distanza dal Louvre, una devastante esplosione riempie la città di terrore e provoca centinaia di vittime.

Carole è ricoverata priva di conoscenza in un anonimo pronto soccorso parigino, dove giace per giorni sola, senza che nessuno scopra la sua identità. A Londra e in California, amici e famigliari cominciano a cercarla. Finché apprendono la sconcertante notizia: l’attrice sta lottando tra la vita e la morte.

Nei giorni che seguono, i paparazzi accorrono a frotte. In ospedale si presenta un misterioso uomo francese, venuto a rivedere quella donna che un tempo ha amato e non ha più dimenticato. Anche i due figli di Carole si precipitano al suo capezzale, in preghiera e in attesa, fino a quando il miracolo arriva…

A poco a poco la paziente si risveglia dal coma, ma ignora tutto di sé e del proprio passato. Lontani ricordi riemergono a fatica. Il dramma, come a volte succede, si rivela un’opportunità: per fare i conti con il passato, per curare le ferite del cuore, per ritrovare un amore perduto. E ricominciare da zero, con una nuova priorità: lottare per i propri sogni.

L’AUTORE – Dal 1981, Danielle Steel, è regolarmente presente con uno o più romanzi nella classifica dei bestseller del New York Times e detiene il record assoluto di esserci rimasta per 390 settimane consecutive.

Autrice di oltre settanta bestseller internazionali, tutti i suoi romanzi sono pubblicati in Italia da Sperling & Kupfer. Ha anche scritto un memoir, Brilla una stella, dedicato alla tragica vita e morte di suo figlio Nick Traina. I lettori possono trovare ulteriori notizie visitando il sito: www.daniellesteel.com

DELLA STESSA AUTRICE

Dolceamaro di Danielle Steel - Sperling & Kupfer

Atto di fede di Danielle Steel - Sperling & Kupfer

Vanessa Traina is not only the daughter of romance novelist Danielle Steel, but she is also a model/stylist/socialite/fashionista and thus worthy of the “it-girl” title.

This San Francisco native has been a part of the fashion industry since she was a little girl. From attending fashion shows in Paris with her mom and sister Victoria, to always dressing in head to toe designer labels and couture, it’s not surprising that Vanessa has made a name for herself in the fashion industry as well as having a contract with Elite Model Management.

with her sister Victoria (far left) and her mother Danielle Steel

Like most other it-girls, Vanessa keeps a very elitist group of friends. To name a few: Nicole Richie, Mary-Kate Olsen, Jen Brill, Harley Viera-Newton, and Alexander Wang. And of course Vanessa dates the famous skateboardist Chad Muska, since being an it-girl requires an edgy boyfriend.

She now resides in NYC and can often be found on websites like Park Avenue Peerage and Patrick McMullen. However, she can also be found in the party section of almost every Vogue/W issue as well as in all kinds of editorials.  

Her style is definitely edgier than most it-girls today and I think that is what makes her stand out. She knows how to combine feminine pieces with rougher looks to create a style that is entirely her own. I’d like to call it a “rough biker chic” but I think it’s more than that. Vanessa continues to emerge with each season and I am excited to see how she will contribute even more to the fashion industry.

with Nicole Richie

with Mary Kate Olsen

with Harley Viera Newton's bff/fellow dj Cassie Coane

with her sister Victoria Traina

source: tfs

Victorian houses called Painted Ladies as seen from Alamo Square Park

To survive a 7.8 magnitude earthquake that killed at least 3,000 people is a small miracle by itself, but to survive such a disaster elegantly certainly deserves a story. The Haas-Lilienthal House in San Francisco is one of the city’s architectural survivors from the 1906 earthquake, a disaster comparable to the havoc recently wrought by Hurricane Katrina.

This stylish building, considered as the city’s only intact Victorian era home, is regularly open as a museum, owned and maintained by the San Francisco Architectural Heritage. Sjef and I spent a big part of the afternoon of our second day in San Francisco at the Haas-Lilienthal House, not only to seek shelter from the afternoon heat, but also for a peek into the city’s prosperous past.

The house, complete with authentic furniture, withstood the 1906 earthquake with only slight damage, and according to our guide, the owner William Haas and his family watched the ensuing fire that broke out after the earthquake from the rooftop of this house. Haas was among the lucky few since many other rich families with bigger houses and villas in the city’s Nob Hill district either saw their houses burned down or dynamited by fire-fighters who were desperate to create so-called ‘firebreaks.’

Haas-Lilienthal House on Franklin Street, San Francisco

What is remarkable in the Haas-Lilienthal house, associated with the Victorian era due to its exterior features but is primarily done in Queen Anne style, with some Stick style details (according to our guide, so don’t quiz me for further architectural notes), are the authentic furnishing that evoked the life of higher middle class society in the late 19th century.

We started the tour in the basement which served as ballroom in the late 19th century. From there we proceeded to the main hall and living room, all furnished with the same furniture used by the Haas-Lilienthal family. Three generations of Haas and Lilienthal descendants actually lived in the house until it was donated to the city in the 1970s.

Crystal chandeliers, complete porcelain sets, a gas stove, and even plumbing details in the bathroom provided an intriguing glimpse into the lives of this wealthy family. Decadent would not be a fitting description as the owners, although they certainly lived well, did not built a house that impresses visitors with exaggerated luxuries. No bling-bling, as we would say today.

Our guide, however, pointed out that the architectural façade of the house cleverly employed architectural details and ornamentation that made the building look bigger or statelier. For instance, what looks like a high window from the outside, actually serves no functional purpose from the inside as it was built too high. In other words, the Victorian values of showing an affluent façade.

A section of the main dining room

 In the bathroom, one detail that caught my attention was a knob in the plumbing system that says “shampoo.” How the shampoo is incorporated into the water pipes is a puzzle to me, and a question I failed to ask the guide. 

The children’s playroom also included train models complete with landscapes and railtracks. Also of interest are black and white photos of the city after the 1906 earthquake.

On the same afternoon we also visited the row of Victorian houses across Alamo Square popularly known as the “Painted Ladies.”

During World War II these houses were actually painted in battleship gray with surplus Navy paint, and it was only in the 1960s that these buildings were painted with muted pastel colours, which continues to this day and proved to be, yes, very popular among diehard tourists.

Other areas of interest to visitors would be the neighborhood surrounding Lafayette Park where other fine examples of Victorian and Eduardian houses can be seen.

The 55-room mansion of best-selling romance novelist Danielle Steele is also worth a look even from the outside, with its neo-Renaissance, Italianate facade. Built in 1913, the mansion was the former home of sugar tycoon Adolph Spreckels.  Romances obviously brings in the moolah and that vision of decadent living makes me think of considering a career switch. But that, of course, dear reader, is another story.

A tip of the iceberg. View of Danielle Steel's 55-room mansion

Mostanában Danielle Steel Hullócsillagom című könyvét olvasom. A velem kapcsolatos félreértések elkerülése végett: ez a könyv nem egy regény, sokkal inkább egy önéletrajzszerűség az írónő Nick Traina nevű fiáról, aki mániás depresszióban szenvedett, s minden küzdelme ellenére ez a betegség legyőzte őt. Hogy miért is fontos ez? Nos, ennek kapcsán gondolkodtam el valamin.

Mindannyiunk életében történnek tragédiák: elveszítünk valakit, aki közel állt hozzánk, akit szerettünk, legyen az egy barát, egy kedves vagy egy családtag; velünk történik valami, amit nem könnyű kiheverni: csalódunk, súlyos betegek leszünk, vagy egyszerűen csak nem vagyunk jó passzban, és emiatt képtelenek vagyunk felállni, és haladni a számunkra kijelölt úton.
Bármelyik is essen meg velünk, ilyenkor olyan érzésünk támad, mintha az idő megállt volna, s olyan az életünk, mint egy megfagyott pillanatkép: minden mozdulatlan, minden megdermedt, minden ugyanolyan, s nem változik semmi sem. Közben nem vesszük vagy nem akarjuk észrevenni, hogy az élet megy tovább: ugyanúgy fel kell kelnünk minden reggel, ugyanúgy végeznünk kell a dolgunkat nap mint nap… A nap minden egyes nap felkel és az éj leszáll, az emberek jönnek-mennek, az évszakok idővel váltják egymást, az eső esik, a szél fúj…
Mindenkinek vannak nehéz időszakok az életében. A kérdés csak az, hogy az ember képes-e ilyenkor felemelt fővel viselni az élet újabb és újabb pofonjait, képes-e kitartani, bármilyen nehéz helyzetben legyen is; vagy hagyja, hogy a nehézségek maguk alá gyűrjék, és elpusztítsák őt.

“Az élet olyan, mint az óriáskerék, hol fönt, hol lent. Talán furcsán hangzik, de még hálás is vagyok azokért a dolgokért, amelyek megviseltek, mert ma már tudom, hogy ezektől lettem erősebb.” (Kate Winslet)

Sajnos azt hiszem, hogy én is most egy ilyen időszakon megyek keresztül.* Bevallom, sokszor nem könnyű, s bizony kaptam már jó pár igencsak fájdalmas és kemény pofont az élettől. Emiatt hajlamos vagyok elhanyagolni a számomra fontos embereket, mert egyszerűen néha úgy érzem, hogy nincs energiám, elfelejtem őket felhívni, mert túlságosan lekötnek a problémáim… És mire észbe kapok, már eltelt egy hét, két hét, egy hónap… Azonban rájöttem, hogy ilyenkor pont azokat nem szabad eltaszítani magunktól, akik fontosak a számunkra. Még akkor sem, ha úgy érezzük, nem érthetik meg azt, ami történik velünk. Ám attól még aggódnak értünk, és próbálnak nekünk segíteni, vigasztalni minket.
Hát,ennyi lenne a megrágni való mára

* Nem, nem szenvedek mániás depresszióban.

[This post first appeared in November 2006 and ranks among the 10 most popular posts of all time on the site. I am on a short semi-vacation.]

For One More Day: A Novel. By Mitch Albom. Hyperion, 197 pp., $21.95.

By Janice Harayda

It’s official: Mitch Albom writes at a third-grade reading level, according to the readability statistics on Microsoft Word 2004.

I know this because For One More Day struck me as so dumbed-down – even for Albom – that it fell below the level of the sixth-grade books I once edited for a test-prep company. So I typed a couple of paragraphs from the novel into my computer and ran the Word spelling and grammar checker, which gives you the Flesch-Kincaid Readability Statistics at the bottom. Albom, it showed, writes at the level of Grade 2.8. This was startling enough that I wondered if the paragraphs I had used, from page 24, were atypical. So I typed in the full text of pages 24 and 25 and found that they were atypical. Albom actually writes at a third-grade level, Grade 3.4, according to Flesch-Kincaid.

I used pages 24 and 25 because the first pages of a book sometimes don’t represent the whole of it: Authors may be clearing their throats or writing in a different tone than they will use after they have found their rhythm. So it’s often fairest to look not just at the first chapter but also at something that comes later. A chapter typically has about 20 pages, so I used the first full section of Albom’s book that follows page 20, a total of 305 words.

All of this raised a question: Does a novel written at a third-grade level deserve the same sort of review as books by authors who write at higher levels? Especially if the book appears to be a naked attempt to combine the theme of the movie It’s a Wonderful Life with the kind of framing device Robert James Waller used in The Bridges of Madison County (which tries to lull you into believing that a novel tells a true story)? Maybe not. So here instead are the grade levels I got for a half dozen other authors when I checked the readability statistics for 305 words of their prose:

Nora Ephron I Feel Bad About My Neck Grade 12.0
Alex Kuczynski Beauty Junkies Grade 10.3, an exposé by a New York Times reporter
James Boswell The Life of Samuel Johnson Grade 8.6
Stephen King Lisey’s Story Grade 8.3
Danielle Steel Toxic Bachelors Grade 4.8
Emily Arnold McCully An Outlaw Thanksgiving, a picture book for 4-to-8 year olds by a Caldecott Medalist Grade 4.3
Mitch Albom For One More Day Grade 3.4

I also ran the statistics for the Lord’s Prayer, using the punctuation in a 20th century edition of The Book of Common Prayer. And it turns out that Jesus, too, “wrote” at a third-grade level, Grade 3.8, according to Microsoft Word (although he spoke the prayer). So there you have it. Mitch Albom, writing at the Grade 3.4 level, doesn’t quite come up to the level of Jesus at Grade 3.8. But who would know it from all the attention he is getting?

Best Line: A quote from Louis Armstrong: “If ya ain’t got it in ya, ya can’t blow it out.”

Worst line: Many. Samples: “He chuckled.” “My mother chuckled.”

Editors: Leslie Wells and Will Schwalbe

Furthermore: This review has a reading level of Grade 9.5, excluding the supplemental information at the end, according to the Flesch-Kincaid Readability Statistics on Microsoft Word 2004.

Published: September 2006. Albom also wrote Tuesdays With Morrie (Anchor, 2005).

How to find the reading level of a book: Go to the Microsoft Word pull-down “Help” menu. Search for “readability statistics.” Select “display readability statistics.” This will walk you through the process of finding the grade level for any text you enter, including your own writing.

Grade levels and their corresponding ages in American schools: In the U.S, children typically begin grades at these ages: kindergarten, 5; first grade, 6; second grade, 7; third grade, 8, fourth grade, 9; fifth grade, 10; sixth grade, 11; seventh grade, 12; eighth grade, 13; ninth grade, 14; tenth grade, 15; 11th grade, 16; 12th grade, 17.

© 2009 Janice Harayda. All rights reserved.

Talented. Mature. Reliable. Internet-savvy.

No time for false humility: Lary Crews was born with the talent to write. He has proved his reliability by meeting more than 2,000 deadlines. Everything Crews has ever written was published.[Crews says, "Otherwise, what's the point?"]
Crews has pursued a full-time freelance writing career since 1983, writing more than 1,000 magazine articles and columns as well as four published books.

Two of his books – historical mystery novels Kill Cue and Extreme-Close-Up, both set in the Eighties – sold in excess of 500,000 copies in their original printings and have since been reprinted and are currently available from Amazon.com.

Unlike Danielle Steel, Nicholas Sparks and thousands of other writers, Lary Crews has been writing professionally on the Internet since 1990. He’s not just a good writer; He’s a good web content writer.

Seeking a skilled editor, proofreader or Internet researcher? Lary Crews is your guy. In addition to his expertise as a content writer, Crews can:

• Edit and improve anyone’s writing before it’s published.
• Research anything and provide concise summaries of what he finds.
• Proofread any kind of writing. Crews was trained in three style guides (AP, Chicago and APA).
• Correct spelling. Crews has an eye for it. He even corrects billboards along the road.
• Engage in nearly any sort of web project.

Crews began blogging in 1990, only the folks on Compuserve and Prodigy didn’t call it that back then. Looking for an experienced blogger/content writer? You’ve found him.

Before blogging became popular, digital communities were mostly commercial online services such as GEnie, CompuServe, Prodigy and America Online. Beginning in 1990, Lary Crews worked as a writing expert for Compuserve and Prodigy.
In 1993, he began a profitable seven-year relationship with America Online, where he taught two classes a week, year-round and blogged extensively. He used one of the first online blogging services (from Pyra Labs) in late 1999, creating the Hollywood HQ blog. Since then, Crews has created a dozen blogs – including Aardvark, Comedy Squared, Rational Thought, UU InfoNet and Serendipity DooDah.

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Maxine Williams loved being married to millionaire Blake, he was a great entrepreneur, brilliant and a great person. The problem was that he wasn’t as good at being a husband as he was a businessman, so Maxine left with their 3 children in tow.

The pair are still friends, and the children get to see both their mum and dad as much as they want, although they don’t want their parents ending up with anyone else! So problems arise when Maxine meets fellow doctor Charles, the kids aren’t happy and they’re even unhappier when Blake falls in love as well.

But when a tragedy strikes, Maxine and Blake are thrown together once more, and she begins to wonder if The Rogue himself has changed. How will things work out for the pair?

Danielle Steel is one of the most prolific authors of our time, with an amazing 76 books to her name (as of Jan. 2009). She’s read worldwide, has had many books turned into TV films and is one of the world’s most read authors. So I was intrigued when this book turned up on my doorstep as I had never read any of Steel’s books before. I took them to be for the slightly older reader, a book that had a predictable ending and probably not something that is my cup of tea. Rogue was released in the UK in paperback in July 2009, and features a nice white, black and turquoise cover which looks nice and modern, and something I wouldn’t mind picking up off of a shelf. I eagerly began Rogue, interested to see what my opinion of it would be.

Well, I finished it within a day because it was very easy reading, and I was right – the outcome was entirely predictable. HOWEVER that doesn’t mean it wasn’t an enjoyable read and the story along the way to the ending wasn’t all that bad either! One thing that annoyed me a tad is nothing to do with the story itself at all – it is the rather large font used in the book, so it looks a lot longer than it really! I prefer a smaller text in my books so I found myself whizzing through Rogue in no time, and before I knew it, I was at the end. I don’t know if that is deliberate of the publishers to make the book a bit thicker for connsumers but it did irritate me a tad, although I suppose it isn’t that big a deal in the scheme of things.

The characters were all quite stereo-type American people. Blake is a self-made millionaire, womaniser, friendly and loveable guy who is still best friends with his ex-wife, a great dad to his children and charity donater too. Maxine is a successful doctor dealing with problem children (suicides etc), has a nanny who is her best friend, 3 lovely children, and a great relationship with her ex-husband. The only thing either is missing is a lovelife (see where we’re going here?!) and this book is their quest for happiness. I liked Blake and Maxine very much, there’s no reason NOT to like them to be honest! They’re well written, well developed and considering the pace of the story, we do get to know them well enough to care about them. The 3 children aren’t seen too much, but are typical of children of their age group, with Steel covering a couple of issues in here as well to bring them into frontline plot a tad more and to bring together Blake and Maxine for a moment as well of course!!

As I said, you can guess how this is all going to end within the first few pages, but I enjoyed the journey. The book explores different relationships, how circumstances can change over time and more importantly different kinds of love as well. The inclusion of a new male into an established family was well done and I absolutely loathed the character of Charles – if any man spoke to my children like that, he’d be out on his ear! It was a funny look at “step-families” in that respect because it did seem unlikely, but Steel doesn’t rush this even though its pretty inevitable how its going to conclude with that relationship! We don’t see as much of Blake’s relationships, as Maxine is the main character of the book but what we do see is enough to draw conclusions from.

While this was a very pleasant and easy read, I won’t be rushing out to pick up another Danielle Steel book! I really don’t think that at 23 years old, I am Steel’s main demographic and I imagine quite a few of my lovely library users would love this book, but it just wasn’t my cup of tea. It was all a little predictable, fast and cliche for me to fully enjoy it, but there are people out there who love just that – after all, she wouldn’t have sold 580 million copies of her books if people didn’t like them, would she?! Rogue is a good way to spend a day by the pool perhaps, but don’t go into it expecting too much as you’ll be disappointed! A fair read, good enough but just not for me!

Thank you to the publishers CORGI for sending us a copy to review.

Rating: 3/5