The Plucky Reader

The first thing you should probably know is that Yvonne Worthington Chase was dead.

Allow me to pose a hypothetical question. Totally for rhetoric’s sake. That’s it. Is it weird to stage book blog pictures in the middle of a busy, dimly lit coffee shop? Asking for a friend, of course.

Sorry. That is totally unrelated to this review. I just was trying to get the ball rolling. You know, try to start friendly conversation. Make things comfortable. Now that we’re all friends:

I have a yearly tradition. Every year at Christmas, I read through Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. I know it doesn’t change. I know it’s the same story every time. Scrooge always learns his lesson. Tiny Tim always blesses us, every one. (And I tear up every time, like it’s the first time.) Y’all. I read this book for the first time in the 7th grade. I can remember Mrs. Hagens, my seventh grade English teacher guiding us through it. And I still read it every year. For 17 years now. I’ve read that book 17 times. Making it my most reread book.

But this year, I changed it up. I did something different (and the entire world gasped a collective gasp because that really is very out of character for me.) This year, instead, I read The Afterlife of Holly Chase by Cynthia Hand. And it has been a delightful read.

This post will contain no spoilers.

So, here’s the deal.

I’m The Plucky Reader and I am addicted to books. I have been for as long as I can remember. I’ve been reading so long, I can’t even remember learning to read. I know that my grandmother taught me by using Disney tapes. She said that I learned different letters using the different fonts on the VHS tapes. I was four the first time I read a chapter book. Not because I was exceptional, but because I was one step off from those creepy Your Baby Can Read kids that used to be advertised on TV when I was little. (Totally parting the kimono here, but those kids couldn’t read, they recognized sight words as a unit, the same way we see a stop sign and know what it means without reading it.)

So, life progressed the way you would expect for a book nerd. I was everybody’s friend. I was the quarterback of the football team. I graduated valedictorian. I married my high school sweetheart. We have 2.5 kids, a white picket fence, two dogs, several acres in the country, and exactly $30 million in my bank account.

Or, you know, I have a handful of friends, I rode horses and ate my feelings, I graduated just outside of the top 10% of my class, and I married my college sweetheart. We have 3 dogs and no children and a chainlink fence in the country and our lives are pretty damned amazing. You can probably guess I wear glasses, because–hello–stereotypes exist for a reason, amirite? And you know what, I wouldn’t trade anything.

Review – The Afterlife of Holly Chase

The Plucky Reader: A Confession

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