Although somewhat entertaining, The Writing Class by Jincy Willett is a light
mystery with writing advice. Willett should have heeded some of her own tips,
particularly when it comes to character development. Oh wait, she didn’t really
address that. Still, plenty of other writing elements addressed go unheeded.
The class, comprised of 13 students, is actually a nine-week workshop. It’s taught
by one-hit writer Amy Gallup repeatedly described as “a loner who hated to be
alone.” That’s not necessarily the kind of thing that needs emphasis. Willett could
show this more, rather than tell it so frequently. Amy’s tired and cynical attitude
doesn’t mesh with her sense of humor and appreciation of good writing when it
surfaces. She’s quick to categorize her students when a new workshop gets under
way. However, she soon realizes she’s made some judgment errors, particularly
when someone in the group begins to send anonymous threats, which ultimately
lead to murder. Nonetheless, the group grows close and despite, or because of,
the murders everyone becomes friends and suspects.
Part of the problem lies in the suspension of disbelief which simply doesn’t happen.
The first threats should have triggered someone, if not Amy, to contact authorities.
Although, there is some acknowledgement this should be done, it doesn’t occur until
too late. Perhaps the best parts of Willett’s novel appear in the different voices creat-
through her students’ writings. They are far better representations than the one-
dimensional descriptions of the characters. If this was intentional, Willett was
successful.
The Writing Class
Three Bookmarks
St. Martin’s Press, 2008
326 pages
A good salad is more than lettuce on a plate, and a good sandwich is more
than two slices of bread pressed together. This is evident at Terrazza Grill
where ordinary midday basics, like salads and sandwiches, exceed expecta-
tions in creativity and taste. Terrazza Grill focuses on fresh, mostly grilled,
cuisine with a Mediterranean influence. The menu features a lengthy list of
sandwiches, ranging from burgers to grilled cheese, but these are far more
intriguing than they might appear at first glance. For example, Grilled Formaggio
sounds better with its half Italian name, especially when considering its des-
cription: grilled sourdough bread with cheddar, provolone and Swiss. Ham
and tomato can be added to further raise the bar.
I ordered the Grilled Chicken Panini. The menu says the chicken is marinated.
The marinade is lost to the tangy aioli, melted provolone and roasted peppers
on focaccia with lettuce, red onion, and tomato. This thick, gooey combination
makes the word sandwich seem like an understatement.
My friend’s Grilled Pesce Insalata featured blackened tuna on mixed greens with
cucumber, tomato, avocado, dried apricots and Craisins. Initially, the tuna was
undercooked. Medium rare here is nearly still breathing, but the server happily
took it back for a little more grill time. The salad was beautifully plated with
balsamic vinaigrette on the side. It was apparently very good since no offer for
me to taste it was made, and I wasn’t quick enough to pull a look-behind-you-trick
to sneak a bite on my own.
Terrazza Grill
Four Plates
1005 West Colorado Ave. Colorado Springs, CO
As the mother of sons I was compelled to read The Mama’s Boy Myth:
Why Keeping Our Sons Close Makes Them Stronger by Kate Stone
Lombardi. My oldest, in his mid-20s, often boasts of being a “mama’s boy,”
however, my other two have yet to claim to the same title. Nonetheless, I
feel close to all three. Of course, they don’t tell me everything, but they share
quite a lot. More importantly, I no longer feel the way I did when they were
younger: that our relationship would stop flourishing as they got older. That
is not happening at all, and, according to Lombardi, I am not the only mother
enjoying this experience.
Lombardi combines interviews with mothers of sons, excerpts from studies,
personal experience, and historic trends that have led her to conclude there
is nothing wrong with strong bonds between moms and their boys. In fact,
she highlights a number of benefits for males. These include possessing more
expressive and thoughtful qualities. Yet until now, little has been written to
correct the bum rap directed toward moms if their sons were too sensitive or
socially inept; and having a male role model was considered the way to over-
come “problems” caused by a mom with tight apron strings.
Dads, as Lombardi notes, don’t face such scrutiny in their relationships with
daughters. All parents should be encouraged to maintain close ties with their
children. For moms it should happen without Oedipus’s looming shadow.
The Mama’s Boy Myth: Why Keeping Ours Sons Close Makes Them Stronger
Three Bookmarks
Penguin Group, 2012
324 pages (includes notes)
I’ve always loved to read, but there are times I just can’t bring myself to pick
up a book. Suffering overwhelming grief, experiencing mind-numbing fatigue,
and finishing an exceptionally well-written book have all, at one time or anoth-
er, contributed to a reading lull. I’ve had a bit of trouble picking up a book since
finishing The Dovekeepers. This made me think about other books that have
stopped me in my reading tracks*: Cutting for Stone, The Night Circus, A Prayer
for Owen Meany, among others, I’m sure.
Occasionally there are times I stop reading a particularly good passage just to
relish the image or writing. This happens frequently when I read Barbara King-
solver. But that’s pleasurable. I truly do savor good books. I get lost in them. I
think about them. I want characters to move into my home. Some stories I just
don’t want to end. When the especially good ones do, I sulk. I want more of the
same, not something new.
Perhaps I’ve been over-reading, a concept I’ve never really considered until now.
Is it possible to read too much? I hope not, but I am satiated from my last read,
and I’ve been reluctant to start anything new. Fortunately, this usually doesn’t
last long.
When I can’t read, no matter what the reason, I feel unmoored. The great thing
about books, though, is that I know there are others certain to stop me yet again.
I can’t wait.
*This is obviously taking that end-of-a-good-book feeling to the extreme.
Depending on perspective, the good or bad thing about historical fiction is knowing
how something will end – at least generally. Alice Hoffman’s The Dovekeepers
may have Masada in ancient Israel as its setting, but her novel about four strong,
captivating women is all new. It’s no spoiler to acknowledge that, yes, nearly every-
one dies; nonetheless, Hoffman’s characters are so vibrant and remarkable that
they make their home in our minds and hearts.
Hoffman typically combines the supernatural with the ordinary, but this is the first
time she blends these with history and religion. In her hands, the concepts are not
as incongruous as might be expected. Along with what could be perceived as a little
magic, other attributes shared by the women include survival, desire, love and relig-
ious conviction; these qualities move the fast-paced story toward its inevitable con-
clusion.
Hoffman clearly did her research. Rich with descriptive language of the harsh land,
the brutality of men, and Judaic traditions, Hoffman details the lives of the women
before and after their arrival in Masada. The four, Yael, Revka, Aziza and Shirah,
fill the pages with joy and heartache. They are of various ages, backgrounds, and
experiences; all are intelligent, sensual, even daring characters. Although each wo-
man shares her narrative, the voices are not that distinctly different.
In some ways reminiscent of The Red Tent for its portrayal of women in a Biblical
context, The Dovekeepers is a gripping representation not just about the existence
of faith but of its necessity.
The Dovekeepers
Four-and-a-half Bookmarks
Scribner, 2011
501 pages
The Blue Star was here first. It is like the older sister of Nosh, which I wrote about here
recently. The two restaurants share the same owner, and are lively, energetic venues where
the chefs get creative, even a bit carried away. There’s something to be said about experi-
menting with new foods, but I decided not to order the fried alligator and waffles.
I love good service at a restaurant, especially when it complements good food. The Blue
Star knows the value of such a marriage. The place was packed but our server was patient,
answered questions, and remained attentive long after our meal was served. I’m also
impressed when the owner stops by. This happened when we dined at Nosh last month,
and again at The Blue Star. I am certain he has neither a twin nor a clone.
My husband ordered the Burger with Cheddar after confirming Crème Brulee was available
for dessert. I ordered a Grilled Apple Salad with a creamy blue cheese vinaigrette. Although
good, it was superfluous. I couldn’t finish my entrée of Mini Crab Cakes, thick with pieces of
crab augmented by piquant colors and tastes on either side: a splash of wasabi mayonnaise
and bright chile paste. Jasmine rice shaped like the crab cakes was a welcome addition to
the plate.
Although, I suspect Fridays are always hopping, especially right after work, this particular
Friday was electric with weekend anticipation – and the apparent need to use a Groupon be-
fore its expiration date.
The Blue Star
Four Plates
1645 S. Tejon St.
Colorado Springs, CO
Anne Tyler is a gifted story teller. Her characters are ordinary, and if you live in
Baltimore — her setting of choice — they could easily be your next door neighbors.
She makes the potentially banal into something sublime. Such is the case with
The Beginner’s Goodbye, a finely-threaded novel about a man, Aaron, left to
scrutinize his marriage following the death of his wife in a freak household accident.
The story’s beauty deepens as Aaron is ultimately forced to confront his relation-
ship with not only his deceased wife, Dorothy, but also with his sister, co-workers,
and others he’d rather ignore.
The beginner in the title comes from the succession of books published at Aaron’s
small, family-run publishing house. Humorously based on the Dummies’ series, the
Beginner’s books address everything from kitchen remodeling to dog training, from
wine tasting to bird watching. In a way, Tyler’s novel is about how to avoid dealing
with grief. Aaron is pathetic, and, if not for glimmers of humor, would be a completely
disagreeable protagonist due to his efforts to deflect expressions and gestures of sym-
pathy as well as support. By the way, Aaron stutters and his right side is crippled. He
has a history of impeding assistance, which he mistakes for pity. He has always kept
everyone at bay. From Aaron’s perspective, so did Dorothy. Ironically, Dorothy’s re-
appearance as an apparition helps him acknowledge this and other truths.
This is no ghost story or smoke and mirrors tale. Instead, it’s about love, loss and un-
derstanding.
Four Bookmarks
The Beginner’s Goodbye
Alfred A. Knopf, 2012
197 pages
I ordered a quarter portion of The Thing and still couldn’t finish everything on the
plate. Don’t worry, the name isn’t reflective of the unknown. It’s one of several over-
abundant menu items at King’s Chef Diner. The Thing is constructed on a base of
Texas Toast, which I pretty much ignored, covered in a mound of the yin and yang
creamy/crunchy hash browns. Scrambled eggs, bacon, green chile and cheese com-
plete the hodgepodge. The quarter portion did an impressive job of concealing the
dish, but I knew it was there somewhere.
It’s important to know a few things about King’s Chef Diner. First, the green chili:
if this doesn’t make your eyes water like you’re watching a Hallmark card commercial,
nothing will. Of course, the chili is far edgier than it is sentimental. If the servers sus-
pect you are ordering the green chili for the first time, they’ll suggest getting it on the
side rather than having it doused over your breakfast. Be forewarned. It’s also import-
ant to know that most of the entrees, from the Breakfast Burrito to The Grump, a var-
iation of The Thing but smothered in gravy, are Extra Extra Large in size. Some half
and quarter options are available, but even those test the limits of the common appetite.
If by chance everything on the plate is consumed, servers come by to acknowledge your
admittance to The Clean Plate Club. It earns a sticker boasting of the accomplishment,
although a bulging belly does the same thing.
Four Plates
King’s Chef Diner
131 E. Bijou St.
Colorado Springs, CO
Cash Only
Open “7 a.m. to 4 p.m.-ish Everyday”
When I entered Corridor 44 in Denver for dinner I thought it was clear from the narrow
shape why corridor is part of the name. But I couldn’t figure out 44. Perhaps it’s the num-
ber of different types of champagne bottles lining one wall, or maybe it’s the many differ-
ent cocktails, featuring the bubbly, included in the drinks menu. Possibly, simply it’s the
owner’s favorite number. As it turns out, it’s the length (in feet) of the narrow hallway con-
necting the front of the restaurant to the private dining room in back. This mini-mystery
was but a slight distraction to an otherwise lovely meal.
Nonetheless, it seems people go to Corridor 44 for the creative alcoholic beverages as much
as for the food – at least this is the case earlier in the evening. As night progresses, the drink-
ing crowd completely takes over. This might explain the discrepancy in size between the ex-
tensive drinks menu and the diminutive list of dinner options. Beverage offerings range from
the sublime “Raspberry Truffle” (made with raspberry vodka, Godiva chocolate liqueur and
champagne) to the dignified “Tranquility” (made with blue curacao, amaretto and champagne).
The menu is more straightforward: Steamed Halibut, Roasted Chicken, Seared Scallops. All
were well-prepared, but the surprise dish of the evening was the succulent, flavorful chicken
with garlic mashed potatoes. I rarely order chicken; it’s too easy to prepare well at home. Some-
how I made the wrong call, so I had to settle for a few bites – some offered, some stolen.
Corridor 44
Three-and-a-half Plates
1433 Larimer Square, Denver, CO
Although I read a fair amount of nonfiction, my preference has always leaned toward fiction. As
I read Katherine Boo’s Behind the Beautiful Forevers, I had to remind myself this is a true
story – in in fact, many true stories; it’s simply written with the smooth, eloquent narrative that
makes it read like a really good novel. But, it’s sad and it’s true.
Boo writes of the Annawadi slum in Mubai, India. For three years she follows the lives of several
families and child-scavengers all trying to survive in an overcrowded, rat-infested community of
makeshift structures that serve as homes. Mubai has numerous slums that fit this decription, but
Annawadi is the one located in the shadow of the international airport with its cosmopolitan hotels.
What makes Boo’s chronicle so intriguing are the people and their efforts to make more of their lives.
As if poverty alone were not enough to keep them down, they face government corruption, lapses of
moral judgment, and fear generated by religious differences. Boo’s account includes the experience
of Abdul who, with his father and older sister, is charged with murder when a vindictive neighbor
lights fire to herself. The family’s efforts to move out of Annawadi are thwarted as income is lost and
bribes must be paid.
This description of trying to exist in Mubai’s slums is much, much more than what most think of as a
hard-knock life. Yet, for their individual and collective foibles, these people continue to dream that
someday they will have more.
Behind the Beautiful Forevers
Four Bookmarks
Random House, 2012
256 pages
The Blue Page Special 