The Romance Atheist

Amazon readers warned me about Thomas Pynchon's Mason & Dixon.  "Huge, tough book. . . . very clearly a masterpiece."     "Talking dog. . . . Mid 18-century prose style."

I mean, the size alone:

 

Sheesh!  Eight-hundred or so pages!

I dug in anyway. I found it delightful, got right into the pirate-era lingo, had no trouble "hearing" the two famous surveyors joking with each other.

At least until page 18 or so, when the talking dog entered at stage left.

And I couldn't do it anymore.

So, what else is out there?  

Well, since I've dipped my toe into the self-publishing ocean, maybe I should take a look at who else might be swimming around, particularly those paddling in my same little cove, the bay of LDS fiction.

I found a string of possibly delightful offerings and saved them to my wish list.

First try goes to The Husband Maker by Karey White.

Before we look closer at White's book, let me clear up a thing or two  This book is a romance. I can no more write a romance than I can sing a solo, which is to say that if I tried, people would beg me to stop, please, you're hurting us..

I couldn't come up with a Love Interest. Romance books are liberally supplied with men pretty enough to make your palms sweat and your mouth say inane things. Rich enough to buy their own islands. Interested enough to ignore entire sororities dressed in short shorts while you make up your mind whether you want them around or not.

Oh, and available.

Has anyone ever seen this creature?

Me neither.

And if I cannot see it with my own eyes, hear it with my own ears, I cannot believe in this . . . this being who dwells somewhere out there in the ether, and makes the earth move. Which makes me, I guess, a romance atheist. 

Not that books full of impossible characters can't get themselves sold. Weren't we just discussing a talking dog?  And don't we know that books full of wizards, vampires and aliens fly off the shelves? 

But in the end, all fiction is, um, unreal, right?

So I swallowed my prejudices and opened White's book and met Charlotte, a mid-twenties graphic designer in San Francisco.  White gave her some adorable flaws.  The girl snorts when she laughs. She's 5'11".  We all know it's hard to find a good man, but Dear Charlotte's got it even tougher, because she'd like to find one that towers over her.

Back in high school, one prom date was four inches shorter. When the photographer lined up all the couples for pictures, he switched Charlotte to the back row with the boys, and the date to the front, humiliating two teenagers in one fell swoop.

Anyway, everybody she dates marries the next girl they find after they break up with Charlotte. People are starting to talk about her little jinx.

Into Charlotte's life comes Kyle--rich, handsome, attentive and available. But somebody named Angus hangs around a lot, too. He's known Charlotte since high school, never dated her but witnessed all her awkward proms.

I'm only part way through Husband Maker, but strongly suspect that Angus is meant to be more than just Charlotte's guy-confidante. I will have to let you know.

White's easy humor greases the gears of this story, even if she tosses in a few too many stories of Charlotte's long-ago dates, the ones before the jinx took hold.

Husband Maker never calls anybody LDS, but Kyle and Charlotte definitely dwell outside the hook-up culture, even though they live in the age of iPhones and Pinterest. They go on planned dates, like a cheese-making adventure, which might be even more datey than real LDS kids manage to do these days.

Hopefully Charlotte will find the right guy, settle down and fix wonderful dinners like Chicken Pineapple Stir-Fry.

This might be my favorite stir-fry. The tasty secret is--ketchup! Bye-bye Nesquik really doesn't need fancy sauces to be happy.

Haste, oh haste, oh haste away!

Let's just get to the food right away, shall we? Today, we feature:   Honey Chicken Stir-Fry


This is the kind of recipe where I hide the leftovers behind something ugly, hoping the family will forget about them, so I can have them for lunch the next day.

And as for something to read, last time I mentioned George Ade, whose collection of writings I had just started. Now that I've finished the book, I want to rave about George's best, which was his treatment of musical comedy. In one story, a wife drags her husband to the opera. He thinks it's ridiculous and, just to make his point, writes his own little opera in which a fire alarm rings in a city apartment building and all the residents stand around singing about how they really must get out to save their lives--"Haste, oh haste, oh haste away!--but they just keep standing around singing. Then there was "The Sultan of Sulu," probably Ade's most famous work, a 3-act (or maybe 5-act, can't remember) play in which a bunch of soldiers land on the island of a sultan with 8 wives and proceed to Americanize everything. The song lyrics rival Gilbert and Sullivan. Finally, I could not wipe the smile off my face as I read Ade's essay poking fun at the all the conventions of the musical comedy.

In the dry period between returning the last stack of books to one library and getting a new stack at another, I am catching up on my periodical reading, namely Irreantum, one of the Mormon journals. After a hiatus in publication, they put out a double issue last fall from which I'd like to plant a big virtual blue ribbon on the chest of two authors: Darin Cozzens and Emily Milner.

Cozzens' short story, "Reap in Mercy," tracks two farming neighbors from the point of view of the serious, responsible one. Resentment builds through the years as the narrator watches the other get away with carousing, though repenting just long enough to try to go on a mission. Later, the narrator finds himself drawn in when his nemesis always gets "in a bind," the kind of bind that sends the him to work in the other guy's bean field at the expense of his own beans. Then the neighbor goes through his know-it-all period. Won't reveal more.

Milner launched her essay, "Beauty for Ashes," with remarks about the show, What Not to Wear. This is one of my favorite shows, so Milner hooked me right away, never mind her criticisms of dear old Stacy and Clinton. I liked peeking into her mind as she considered how she looks (pockmarked and overweight) and how people respond to it. Since I visit teach Milner's sister (lovely cheekbones, abundant curly hair, exercise enthusiast), I kept trying to picture what Milner really looks like.


Well, that's it for now. I'm off to stir tonight's spaghetti sauce.