Air in the Heart, Hearts in the Air

Over the years, I've read lots of historical fiction by Beatriz Williams.  Yet I can't recall a single novel that reimagined a real-life icon.  So when I picked up Her Last Flight, I knew I was in for an, ahem, departure.  Because as its weighty title suggests, this book explores the age-old question: What really happened to Amelia Earhart?

And you thought I was kidding when I made that crack about an Earhart girls trip.  

In some ways, the premise is simple.  Because although a lot of things happen in this book, they're all rooted in this: Just Amelia, or as she's called, Irene, and her mentor Sam on a desert island.  Nothing to do and nowhere to go, the seconds ticking away on the time bomb of when-will-they-do-it?  It's an old trope, lending characters' fantasies a license they wouldn't otherwise have.  Not that it's salacious.  Oh, no.  Williams is nothing if not classy, shrouding the rendezvous in so much secrecy that you'll wonder if it even happened.  

Told in two timelines, Her Last Flight spans the late '20s to '40s to laud and deconstruct a legend.  Sparkling with Williams' signature twists, it's an old-fashioned love story, one imperiled by fate and fame.  Romantic and suspenseful, it has all the elements of good historical fiction.  Still, I can't help but prefer Williams' other novels, especially the Schuyler sisters series (although now that I think about it, Tiny Little Thing may be a tiny nod to Jackie O.).  Maybe because they allow Williams to color more boldly outside the lines.  Or maybe because I'm not big on being a passenger in an airplane, much less the pilot.  Either way, Her Last Flight is less of a girls' trip and more of a brunch.  You know.  Perfectly enjoyable, but you're a little too full after forcing that third croissant.  

I do still wonder what happened to Amelia, though.  Because I'm with Williams in her hope that the clouds she flew through at least had a silver lining.

An Alpine Adieu and an Ode to Books Too

Reading a favorite book series is like catching up with an old friend.  They tell you their problems, and you tell them yours.  Maybe you're still processing that Corvette that cut you off, or the look that the lunch lady gave you when you said that your mashed potatoes absolutely, positively could not touch your Salisbury steak.  And the books listen without judging you or spilling your secrets or asking for anything in return.  That's why books make the best friends.  And that goes double for whodunits, where discretion means staying on the right side of the law -- not to mention the cemetery.    

So it was with mixed feelings that I began reading The Alpine Zen, the last book in Mary Daheim's Alpine cozy crime series.  Although I was excited to find out how things would end up for journalist-extraordinaire-slash-sometimes-sleuth Emma Lord, I didn't want to say goodbye to Alpine and all the fun, suspense, and comfort that it's given me over the years.  Because a little intrigue and a familiar cast of characters -- no matter how backward or crotchety -- go a long way toward dissolving those day-to-day doldrums.  

Next up: girls trip with Amelia Earhart. 

And Then There's Mod

 Pompom Princess Bow Brooches

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: Worthington, JCPenney

Bag: Candie's, Kohl's

Belt: Wet Seal

Jacket: Material Girl, Macy's

 Lasting Lemons Necklace

Dress: Modcloth

Shoes: Charles Albert, Alloy

Bag: Nordstrom

 Serious Sparkler Necklace

Dress: L'Amour by Nanette Lepore for JCPenney

Blouse: Candie's, Kohl's

Boots: Impo, Marshalls

Bag: DSW

If I had the wherewithal and bandwidth-burgling bravado of a more brazen blogger, then I would've arranged for Bea Arthur's head to pop up at the end of that post title.  Not that I ever watched "Maude," "The Golden Girls" being the only sitcom of my acquaintance in the Bea Arthur canon.  But I do appreciate its sentiment, so celebrated-slash-satirized by that "Family Guy" ditty poking fun at its long intro jingle:

"Lady Godiva was a freedom rider

She didn't care if the whole world looked

Joan of Arc with the Lord to guide her

She was a sister who really cooked

Madame Curie was a strong woman character

Workin' all day in a science lab, yeah

Clara Barton was a famous nurse 

Who was rapping with the soldiers and bandages too

Susan B. Anthony, always out doin' stuff

Marchin' around and holdin' up signs . . .

Peter: And then there's Maude.

Pocahontas had it all goin' on . . .

Peter: What the hell?

An Indian guide with lots of Indian pride, Indira Ghandi ran a whole big country; that isn't easy even if you're a guy . . .

Peter: And then there's Maude?

Babe Zaharias was a really good athlete . . .

Peter: Aw, come on!

Good at track and field and professional golf, too

Peter: And then there's Maude!

Amelia Earhart flew a lot of airplanes except for that one time when she didn't come back

Cleopatra lived way out in the desert

Peter: And then there's Maude!  Come on!

But still found a way to keep herself looking fine

And then there's Maude

Peter: Ahh!  Ahh!  There we go!  That was an ordeal."

I like to think that the fiercely feminine and intrepidly indie online retailer Modcloth would sing along, too.  But then again, given the song's slightly anti-feminist bent (because who can tell what that rascal Seth MacFarlane is really thinking?), perhaps not.  At any rate, this post features a trio of Mod's most marvelous (and let's be honest, cheapest) pieces, set off, of course, by the sass and quirk of our treasured Trove trinkets.

And if that wasn't enough of an oddball overload, here's a shot of my Stila eyeshadow compact, which gives an ever-so-subtle (if peacock-painted) nod to the aforementioned Earhart:

That tiny, hard-to-read white writing just below the mirror says:

"Flying may not be all plain sailing, but the fun of it is worth the price.  - Amelia Earhart"

Soaring style, Stila, soaring style indeed.

Book Report: Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness by Ilene Beckerman

The last gasp of the back cover featuring Carmen Miranda, Mother Teresa, and Amelia Earhart, oh my.

You can't not like a book called Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness.  It has so much promise, so much uncorked sparkle, and even better yet, lives up to it.  Still, this bite-sized book isn't all lip gloss and lattes.  There's depth here, stirring thoughts lurking beneath the layers of blush and foundation.  And it's no wonder, as it's authored by Ilene Beckerman, the same woman who brought us the equally bittersweet memoir Love, Loss, and What I Wore.

In a nutshell (or should I say compact?), the conflict of Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness centers around Ilene being invited to her 50-year elementary school class reunion and all the insecurities that arise.  If you're anything like me, then you're wondering who the heck has an elementary school class reunion, and my answer would be a New York City elementary school for kids with high IQs.  Pretty intriguing, no?  I'd read a book about just that.  But Makeovers at the Beauty Counter of Happiness isn't about the exquisite pain of being a baby genius.  It's about a different kind of challenge, namely women's cross to bear in living up to impossible standards of beauty.  Ilene vents her frustrations in charming, unsent letters to celebrities, historical figures, and her eleven-year-old granddaughter.

Three things I like about Ilene: she wears red lipstick, she laughs at herself, and she didn't start writing professionally until she was almost 60.  It's such pearls that keep me going.