Water for Elephants and Bucket Lists

Our book club is officially in full swing, after finishing up House Rules by Jodi Piccoult, which I found entertaining but likened it too much to a Lifetime movie, we chose Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen. I was a little apprehensive about this book, thinking that we had moved from one "chick book" to another, but I have to say that I was very much moved and entertained by this book. I won't spoil it, since we have our meeting on Tuesday to discuss over dinner followed by heading to the movies to watch the story play out on the big screen, but I know this was a wonderful novel by my physical reaction to this book.



You might be wondering, huh? Physical reaction? Sounds weird I know, but I do not know how else to explain it. It is strange, I find that when I finish a book, and if I really enjoyed it and was moved by the story, my body feels as if there is a hole in my chest, a small place where the breeze of the story that once moved through me lies still, and it leaves me with that strange feeling, like coming in from playing outside on a late summer evening into a still house. Maybe I am an unaware empath or something. Who knows.

Anyways, moving forward.

I enjoyed reading the author's notes on this book, about the research she did and the traveling to the museums, the books, and all the leg work that was involved, and reading this only cemented in me that I want, no wait, I need to write something. Ever since I read how Stephenie Meyers awoke from a dream and started writing scenes from the Twilight Saga during her sons' swim classes I have thought to myself, I can do that.

So, now that I am *gasp* 31 year's old, I think I need to start really taking stock of my life and what I want to accomplish. I have pretty much consider myself above adequate in most things that I pursue, which leaves me to believe that there still must be something I can be great at. Maybe I will get lucky and it will be writing, though I will not hold my breath. But I figure I will give it a shot.

Now...what to write about.

The Art of Racing in the Rain

Last year a little quiz thing circulated Facebook stating that according to the BBC, out of 100 "classic" books, most people had only read 6. It has been my goal since then to read every book on that list. So far I have read The Great Gatsby and The Lovely Bones, but I recently decided to take a detour from my BBC list and read The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein.

I was warned. This book was going to make me cry, and that it did.

I usually don't read books about animals, because I know they are going to die, and for some reason an animal dying almost always has to be more sad than a person dying. I was intrigued with the concept of the dog narrator, and I enjoyed the quirkiness of dogdom, but midway through it began to feel a little tedious to read. You know the dog is going to die, it is not really a spoiler, the first chapter sort of starts Pulp Fiction-style near the end. But as I got to the end it pulled nicely together and left me overall feeling like it was worth my time and money.

I recommend this book to anyone who can handle the emotional story of a dog and his master, and the story of their lives together and the beautiful wisdom and the pictures it paints of a dog and his family. I will honestly always look at my doggies differently now.