Tagged Again

I've been foiled, tagged . . . and it's only Monday, for crying out loud.

My colleague Deirdre Savoy is the guilty party this time.

Total number of books:
I presume this means the number I possess at the moment. Very few, maybe three novels plus a handful of writing aids. Even before we relocated up here, my husband made the rather ominous remark that there was room in our house for either me or my books. Carting them up from a four-bedroom house to a one-bedroom apartment made no sense, and only the important stuff went into storage, so I shipped several cartons as a donation to the New Orleans Library. Since the library up here is deficient when it comes to contemporary A-A fiction, they're the recipient of the books I acquire now after I've read them.

Last Book Read:
I haven't finished the one I'm currently reading, so I can't count that one. Can't name the last one I completed, since it was too implausible and I just skimmed until I got to the end. The one before that was pretty good, uplifting and all that, but the author's incessant use of the character's names in and out of dialogue was too distracting. Very disappointing, coming from what is supposed to be a seasoned author. (Damn, how far back do I have to go already?) Before that . . . let's see . . . I guess it was Kayla Perrin's book about a sorority hazing gone horribly wrong . . . oh, what's it called . . . We'll Never Tell. That's it. Good book.

Five meaningful books:
The Love Machine by Jacqueline Susann. Very well put together. I learned a lot about characterization from that one, how to balance one's cast. In my opinion she peaked with this one; that next one she wrote was too silly.

Your Blues Ain't Like Mine by Bebe Moore Campbell. Taught me the importance of fresh metaphors vs. tired clichés. Her first novel and in my opinion her masterpiece. I admit it: I couldn't finish Singing in the Comeback Choir.

Plenty Good Room by Teresa Watson McClain. Beautifully told story of a troubled teen with a difficult home life. I see she's writing for Sepia now. I really must pick up one of her books. A wonderful talent who, unlike Ms. Susann and Ms. Campbell, is still among us.

Waiting to Exhale by Terry McMillan. An epiphany. There I was, in my mid-thirties, reading about black women who were also in their mid-thirties. It was heavenly. It was also (says me) her best book. I read somewhere that she's doing a sequel about the quartet 15 years later.

A Love of Her Own by Yours Truly. Okay, maybe this is cheating, but hell, Dee did it. I received many poignant reader letters about this story about finding love in the face of infertility. Writing this story did much to help me accept and cope with not having children of my own (that and the fact that I was past 40 when I wrote it and my still-held belief that motherhood is for the young!)

And I'm tagging . . . nobody. I need all the friends I can get!