“The Orphan Master’s Son” by Adam Johnson won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction 2013. The book, set in North Korea, is about a young man who rises to become a threat to the dictator Kim Jong-il, and then tries to get his wife and step children out of the country.

The Pulitzer Prize for Fiction is one of the most prestigious awards in American literature. Previous fiction winners have included Ernest Hemingway, William Faulkner, Jennifer Egan and Philip Roth. Publishers submit works according to published guidelines; winners for the literary categories must be U.S. citizens, except for the History category, where the subject of the book must be U.S. History. 1,327 books were submitted by publishers this year.

The other fiction finalists this year were What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank by Nathan Englander, and Eowyn Ivey’s The Snow Child.

Controversially, no book won the prize in 2012.

In the other literary categories, Embers of War: The Fall of an Empire and the Making of America’s Vietnam by Fredrik Logevall was awarded the History Pulitzer; Devil in the Grove: Thurgood Marshall, the Groveland Boys by Gilbert King was awarded the General Nonfiction Prize; The Black Count: Glory, Revolution, Betrayal, and the Real Count of Monte Cristo by Tom Reiss won the Biography or Autobiography award , and the poetry winner was Stag’s Leap by Sharon Olds.

Katherine Boo’s acclaimed, National Book Award-winning Behind the Beautiful Forevers: Life, Death and Hope in a Mumbai Undercity was a finalist for the General Nonfiction award.

The Pulitzer Prizes are awarded for achievements in journalism, literature and musical composition. They were established in 1917, and are run by Columbia University. You can see all the 2013 winners here.

Winners are awarded a certificate and $10,000. They receive their prizes at a luncheon at Columbia University on May 30th.

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You know that you’re in for an interesting reading experience when you find, nestled between the Table of Contents and the first page, this simple note:  “If you believe that you are the author of this book, please contact Haslett & Grouse Publishers (New York, New York) at your first convenience.”

What follows is an incredibly well constructed and fluid tale – or better yet, tales – of one man and the three muses that spur him forward:  a writer who is both a friend and his main competition, a femme fatale at the center of his world, and the stories that he is constantly losing.

That is the story of how I lost my very first book.  I’ve lost three others since – a novel, a novella, and a biography.  The first is disintegrating steadily at the bottom of a black lake.  The second is in the hands of a woman whom I love and will never see again.  The third is in a dusty African landfill, wrapped in the bloody tatters of my tweed coat, my gold watch still in the pocket.

But at the epicenter of all these stories – and they are separate stories, yet absolutely entwined with each other – is that they, as per the advice of the central character’s college professor, all tell the truth but “tell it slant”.  Each different chapter, each different story, if you wish, “are,” as the writer puts it, “all true, but only somewhere else.”  And it’s this off-balance relation that keeps the novel vital.

The central character, this writer, is never conclusively named.  He’s certainly not Walter Hartright, the spontaneous alias he gives when posing as an impromptu escort at a debutante ball (he regretted not using the name Sir Percival Glyde, but he didn’t think of it in time).  It’s not Timothy Wallace – he admits that he stole that name from an absent roommate whose name happened to be on the lease.  He could be Outis, but only because that is a given internet handle, not meant to be real and specifically chosen to thwart documentation.  But his lack of a name is not a deliberate bid at being coy (or is it?).  He simply is the “I” in the stories.

Likewise the other recurring (or so it seems) characters are synonymous in demeanor if not in packaging and labeling.  Is the Julian who is the college roommate the consummate writer Jeffrey, and/or is the subject of one of the lost stories, Anton, nonfiction instead?  Or is Anton the fictionalization of Julian who becomes Jeffrey as his fame spreads?  Or was there no Julian or Jeffrey or Anton, merely foils to the central character’s imagination?  There is a doppelganger (or appears to be) but it is not Jeffrey, although he is taken to be Jeffrey by Jeffrey’s own father, but then, that old man thinks everyone is Jeffrey, yet the central character uses this doppelganger to masquerade as himself as a distraction to the old man who thinks he is Jeffery, in an attempt to learn where Jeffrey may be….

It would be very confusing if the novel’s author, Kristopher Jansma had not been so brilliant in laying it out in literary form.  These stories have indeed been written “slant”; not off kilter or disjointed, not displaced nor jumbled; they clearly relate to each other and use items and images and shared bits of situations in ways that go further than “clever” (although there is plenty of “clever” in the novel), they hinge on unlooked for parallels that reveal unexpected yet intrinsic insights into not just what is next, but quite possibly what has come before.  Or are they simply conventions to be used?

“It’s fiction!” he shouted.  “She’s just this character to you.  Both of us are!   And we always have been.  You don’t know what goes on in our heads.  You don’t know where we came from or who we are… Can you even tell the difference anymore between what you’ve written about her and who she really, truly is?”

Can he indeed – does he?  (Should he?) Or is it precisely because he does know these things  (he’s invented these things?) that makes the novel so moving?  It depends on where and what you are reading, for while it may not seem like it here, in a remote review, it resonates so much more deeply… somewhere else.  And it does so without eureka moments, without face palming; with simple dawning realization, and appreciation for a writer’s craft -both fictional and real.

I did struggle with one thing in The Unchangeable Spots of Leopards:  the blithe movement of the main characters from exotic location to even more exotic location, and often without concern or a sense of wonderment on what brought them there.   While perhaps understandable on the part of two of the three characters – an actress and a privileged fellow whose family owns an export/import business (which is consistent between many of the iterations of those characters) – there is still a feeling of crass entitlement that is somewhat banal.

“You are…” – the guard had begun, communing quickly with his brethren to be sure he had the English correct – “… not expected.”

“I’m Jeffrey Oakes!” he had cried as we were escorted away.  “I’ve never been expected in my entire life!”

From Berkshire to New York and then the Grand Canyon, to Dubai and Sri Lanka, to Ghana, on to Iceland and Luxembourg, one or two or all three of the main characters manage to find themselves in the midst of exotic cultures and political infighting, hermetic enclaves, sequestered colonial holdouts and the very seat of royalty, which reek of Gatsby-esque entitlement without a component of amazement or soul searching that flattens the characters rather than enhancing their existence.

But perhaps that’s the point.  Perhaps that’s part of the slant.  Yet blocking an intersection in a rustic upstate New York town while struggling to open a crate of exclusive Russian caviar discovered in the trunk of a sleek Jaguar that the owner doesn’t even know how to drive, and then eating said $2,000-a-tin caviar with their fingers while sitting on the hood of the Jaguar by the side of the road in the middle of winter while listening to a tape of Fiddler on the Roof is not something that speaks to me of depth of character.

Still, it is quite the story.  One of a chain of amazing stories.  All true, to some extent (at least somewhere), and all captivating, singly, yes, but especially read in total.  The Unchangeable Spots of Leopards is a masterful work of complex yet accessible storytelling, and in the end it doesn’t really matter which parts are real or what the honest names are of whom, because it all does ring true throughout, even if that truth is found somewhere else.  If you read it, you’ll understand – and enjoy.

~ Sharon Browning

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William Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” is one of the most adapted plays of all time, but none of the other versions included so many of television’s most favored names. For instance, this new version of “Romeo and Juliet” — the trailer for which you can watch above — stars Brody and Chuck Bass Damian Lewis and Ed Westwick and was written by “Downton Abbey” creator Julian Fellowes.

Starring Douglas Booth and Oscar-nominee Hailee Steinfeld as the star-crossed lovers of the title, ‘Fellowes’ take on “Romeo and Juliet” looks like many other takes on “Romeo and Juliet.” It’s all mannered and hallowed, even Westwick’s wig. (He plays Tybalt, because of course he plays Tybalt.)

Carlo Carlei directed this version of “Romeo and Juliet,” which is set for release in the U.K. on July 26. As of now, the film does not have U.S. distribution.

[via Indiewire/The Playlist]

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Jeannette de Beauvoir’s ASYLUM, in the Martine LeDuc series, in which a string of murders in Montreal are linked to a dark era in Canada’s past when children were sent from orphanages to asylums, and only the city’s public relations director can uncover the truth, to Kate Ottaviano at St. Martin’s, in a nice deal, in a two-book deal, for publication in 2014, by Lukas Ortiz at the Philip Spitzer Literary Agency (World).

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Rights to Edgar-nominated author of Ben Winters’s THE LAST POLICEMAN and THE LAST POLICEMAN Book 2: Countdown City, to Heyne in Germany, by Michael Meller Literary Agency, Tekin in Turkey, by AnatoliaLit, Sonatine in France, by Sea of Stories, Hayakawa in Japan, by Japan UNI, Triton in the Czech Republic, by DS Rights, and Nexus in Korea, in a nice deal, in a three-book deal, by Eric Yang Agency.

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Katie Clark’s debut ENSLAVED, when a girl’s mom is diagnosed with the mutation, she confesses to her daughter that she doesn’t know what will happen if she dies; a medic at the hospital implies there is Someone who can help – except religion’s been outlawed for the last hundred years, to Nicola Martinez at Watershed, in a three-book deal, by Terry Burns at Hartline Literary Agency.

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Assaf Gavron’s THE HILLTOP, set in a fictional West Bank settlement, about the lives and follies of its residents, the Israeli soldiers who guard it, and their wary Palestinian neighbors, moving to Paul Whitlatch at Scribner, by Susan Golomb at the Susan Golomb Agency (NA).

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2013 Booker Prize judge and book reviewer Natalie Haynes’s debut THE AMBER FURY, about a young woman who moves to Edinburgh after her fiancee dies unexpectedly, where she teaches a group of troubled teenagers the Greek tragedies– but in the numbness of her bereavement she has little idea how deeply they will take the themes of revenge, retribution and fate, until it’s too late, to Hilary Rubin Teeman at St. Martin’s, at auction, for publication in 2014, by Patrick Walsh at Conville & Walsh (US).

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Natalie Lloyd’s debut A SNICKER OF MAGIC, about a twelve-year-old girl who moves to a Southern mountain town, sets out to break a century-old curse, bring back a forgotten magic, and finally find a home for her wandering heart, to Mallory Kass at Scholastic, in a very nice deal, at auction, in a two-book deal, for publication in spring 2014, by Suzie Townsend at New Leaf Literary & Media (world English).

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Katherine Grant’s SEDITION, pitched as in the vein of Sarah Water’s FINGERSMITH and Michael Faber’s CRIMSON PETAL AND THE WHITE, a dark, often humorous novel, about a group of young women whose nouveau riche parents arrange a piano concert to find the girls titled husbands, to Barbara Jones at Holt, in a pre-empt, for publication in Summer 2014, by Georgina Capel at Capel & Land (NA).

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Nonfiction

Author of THE $12 MILLION STUFFED SHARK, Don Thompson’s THE SUPERMODEL AND THE BRILLO BOX: Backstories from the Curious World of Contemporary Art, a gossipy revealing second book about the art world, with fresh material about the Crash of 2008, the rise of China and the Gulf States, buying on the Internet, and new behind-the-scenes stories about artists, dealers and auction houses, to Karen Wolny at Palgrave, for publication in Spring 2014, by John Pearce at Westwood Creative Artists.

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Adam Sobel’s STORM SURGE, an inquisitive look into super storm Sandy, examining the science behind the storm, its connections to our changing climate, and the implications for the future, to Karen Rinaldi at Harper Wave, by Coleen O’Shea at the Allen O’Shea Literary Agency.

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NYT bestselling author of Unknown Pleasures Peter Hook’s final installment in his three-part memoir which explores his years in New Order, the band that rose from the ashes of Joy Division to become one of the most influential groups of the eighties and godfathers of EDM, and THE HACIENDA: How Not to Run a Club, his story of the infamous “Madchester” club that helped birth the rave scene, again to Denise Oswald at It Books, for publication in 2015, by Matthew Elblonk at DeFiore and Company (US).

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NFL Hall of Famer and current ESPN analyst Jerry Rice’s take on the Super Bowl’s first half-century, telling the story through what he calls the greatest moments in football’s ultimate theater, taking readers down memory lane and talking to all the people involved – the players, coaches, broadcasters, and more, written with Randy Williams, to Mark Chait at It Books, by Jason Allen Ashlock at Movable Type Management (world English).

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Authors of RUN LIKE A MOTHER and TRAIN LIKE A MOTHER Dimity McDowell Davs and Sarah Bowen Shea’s MOTHER RUNNERS, which shares stories of women balancing work and family life with their passion for running, to Lane Butler at Andrews McMeel, by Jane Dystel at Dystel & Goderich Literary Management (NA).

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Tumblr blogger Curt Neil’s UNTITLED SCREENPLAYS, in which an unnamed screenwriter composes bits and pieces of screenplays, but can never make it beyond a few (humorously) hackneyed lines of a scene typically featuring dinosaurs or buddy cops, to Meg Leder at Perigee, at auction, by Hannah Brown Gordon at Foundry Literary + Media (NA).

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Essence magazine bestselling author of All the Joy You Can Stand Debrena Jackson Gandy’s DON’T BUY THE LOVE LIES!: 10 Revelations to Blow Your Mind and Transform Your Relationships, the secrets from her Love Academy Seminars, discussing how flawed thinking harms many relationships, exposing the 10 most common Love Lies and steering readers towards more honesty in themselves and from their men, to Molly Koecher at Sunrise River Press, for publication in fall 2014, by Linda Konner at Linda Konner Literary Agency (world English).

The post Coming to the Stacks: New Deals for April 2013 appeared first on LitStack.

“And where two raging fires meet together

They do consume the thing that feeds their fury.” 

Few lines capture the essence of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew better than these words. Spoken by the brash Petruchio, they reveal his confidence in his ability to transform the sharp-tongued Katherina Minola into his agreeable, compliant wife.

Though no other man would take on the challenge of taming Padua’s infamous shrew, Petruchio relishes the opportunity. He assures his comrades that he fears neither her ill temper nor her harsh words, for his interest lies in her noble pedigree and considerable wealth, but his actions convey more than an idle curiosity in the beautiful young firebrand.

Before his first introduction to her, Petruchio witnesses the aftermath of her temper on his friend Hortensio, who had simply corrected her practice on the lute. Kate’s response to his criticism was to break the instrument over his head. Wounded and distraught, Hortensio flees the music chamber, the sight of which fuels Petruchio’s enthusiasm for the ensuing contest.

“Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench!

I love her ten times more than e’er I did.

O how I long to have some chat with her!”

He gets his wish. Believing that this stranger is just another fop pressed upon her by her desperate father, Kate greets him with all the disdain and waspishness for which she’s known. Petruchio neither shrinks nor runs from her aggression, but meets it with a determination and wit that equals her own. Their heated banter kindles a competitive spark and awakens an attraction between them that simmers throughout the entire play.

Though Kate insults him, threatens him, even slaps him across the face, Petruchio holds his ground, undeterred from his ultimate goal. When Kate finally exhausts the last of her ammunition, Petruchio stakes his claim.

“And therefore, setting all this chat aside,

Thus in plain terms: your father hath consented

That you shall be my wife, your dowry ‘greed on,

And will you, nill you, I will marry you.”

But his profession doesn’t stop with that declaration. Petruchio states both the reason and purpose of his pursuit.

“Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn,

For, by this light, whereby I see thy beauty—

Thy beauty that doth make me like thee well—

Thou must be married to no man but me.

For I am he am born to tame you, Kate.”

Again, Petruchio reveals an interest beyond conquest. He leaves no doubt of his intention yet cushions the blow with an acknowledgment she’d not received from any other man. Petruchio admits he likes her. That confession, coupled with the appeal of his intelligence and audacity, stays Kate’s objection to the marriage.

But even that becomes a battle of wills, the opening salvo launched by Petruchio’s outrageous behavior during the wedding ceremony and his insistence they leave immediately after, foregoing the customary celebration dinner. Not yet realizing the full force of Petruchio’s resolve, Kate refuses to leave and announces to the crowd that the celebration is to continue, with or without the groom. Not missing a beat, Petruchio takes his bride in hand, pronounces “I will be master of what is mine own,” and whisks her away without a backward glance.

The subsequent scenes are filled with actions that, under any other circumstance, would likely be considered abusive, but Shakespeare laces this comedy with a liberal dose of farce, offering his audience the chance to view the classic battle of the sexes with enough humor and hyperbole to keep them entertained and engaged. One can almost imagine the men’s shouts and the women’s groans when Petruchio explains how he’ll train his wife the way he trains his falcons. Likewise, we can well envision the women’s cheers when Kate again finds her voice:

“Why, sir, I trust I may have leave to speak,

And speak I will. I am no child, no babe.

Your betters have endured me say my mind,

And if you cannot, best you stop your ears.

My tongue will tell the anger of my heart,

Or else my heart, concealing it, will break,

And rather than it shall I will be free

Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.”

This fusion of spirit and intellect energizes the audience and encourages them to choose sides, drawing them deeper into the story, a true testament to Shakespeare’s unrivaled ability to captivate and amuse.

Though the play ends with Kate’s capitulation, critics and fans alike wonder just what Shakespeare meant to accomplish with Petruchio’s victory. Some contend that the bard was simply bowing to the conventions of his day, a time when women were expected to obey their husbands without question. Others argue Shakespeare was a visionary, that Kate’s final speech extolling the virtues of wifely submission was delivered tongue-in-cheek by a woman who was smart enough to make her husband believe he had the upper hand, only to manipulate him later with her feminine wiles.

I believe the truth is much simpler. Shakespeare knew how to please an audience, and he made it his priority to do so consistently. Experts today would say he was speaking to his tribe. He understood how they thought, and he sought to make them wonder and laugh and think. Little did he know that half a millennium later, his tribe would still be listening.

~ Vickie Price Taylor

The post Celebrating Shakespeare: A Review of The Taming of the Shrew appeared first on LitStack.

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Jake Gyllenhaal’s reading of The Great Gatsby for Audible.com is coming out at a time when there’s a lot of attention being paid to the book and to Hollywood.

It’s the first in a series of what the Amazon-owned company calls “definitive recordings of the Fitzgerald canon in association with the Fitzgerald Estate.” Successive titles will include Tender is the Night and The Love of the Last Tycoon.

Hear a clip from Gyllenhaal’s portrayal below:

The post Jake Gyllenhaal Reads ‘The Great Gatsby’ appeared first on LitStack.

The two novels will be called The Wizard’s Promise and The Nobleman’s Revenge, with the first one landing mid-2014.

Cassandra Rose Clarke is a speculative fiction writer living amongst the beige stucco and overgrown pecan trees of Houston, Texas. She graduated in 2006 from The University of St. Thomas with a bachelor’s degree in English, and in 2008 she completed her master’s degree in creative writing at The University of Texas at Austin. Both of these degrees have served her surprisingly well.

During the summer of 2010, she attended the Clarion West Writers Workshop in Seattle. She was also a recipient of the 2010 Susan C. Petrey Clarion Scholarship Fund.

She has now released three novels with Strange Chemistry and Angry Robot, the latter novel being The Mad Scientist’s Daughter.

Of the deal, Cassie had this to say:

I’m beyond thrilled to be working with Amanda and Strange Chemistry once again, and it’s a such a delight to be back in the world of The Assassin’s Curse. I couldn’t be more excited about these new books!”

Strange Chemistry is Angry Robot’s YA imprint.

The post Cassandra Rose Clarke Signs on for Two More with Strange Chemistry appeared first on LitStack.

Sometimes it snows in April
Sometimes I feel so bad, so bad
Sometimes I wish that life was never ending
But all good things, they say, never last
And all good things they say, never last
And love, just isn’t love until it’s past

Those lyrics are from Sometimes It Snows in April, a little known but incredibly moving song by Prince Rogers Nelson, better known as Prince, or, at one time, the Artist Formerly Known as Prince.  But now he’s just Prince again.

Prince would know about snow in April, being that he’s from Minnesota, and still resides here when he’s not on the road.  And it’s also quite apropos today, since I’m sitting in my living room right now, and it’s April, I’m in Minnesota and yes, it’s snowing.  Not just the feeble snow I sneered at a couple days ago when the local weather forecasters started sounding the alarm, but a full out, piling up, covering-the-sleet-that-came-first kind of snow that is the bane of fun and frolicking and run of the mill commutes in the wintertime.  Except it’s not winter anymore: it’s been spring for almost three weeks now by the meteorological calendar, and we actually had a few days of promising spring weather to whet our appetites.  We thought we had turned the corner; we should have turned the corner by now.  But something seems to have gone wrong today, because there’s about 5″ on the ground already and it’s still coming down.

I suppose I should be thinking about heading out into it soon, to shovel and to let the Mighty Belle romp a bit since we didn’t make it to the dog park this morning.  (If there’s one wonderful advantage to being self-employed it’s that you can often pick and choose whether or not to be mobile.)  But that can wait a bit, because the snow is still coming down at a good clip, and my lingering first cup of coffee is still warm, and I just don’t feel like heading out quite yet.

Dara Moskowitz Grumdahl, a local food and wine writer and senior editor of Mpls. St. Paul Magazine, admitted on her Facebook page this morning that she was at least partially to blame for today’s snow, stating “I did put the shovel in the garage and transfer to my spring coat. I did do that. Mistakes were made.”  Others ‘fessed up to boxing up their gloves and mittens or bringing their bikes out of storage.  Tongue in cheek, sure.  Chuckle inducing, yes.  Completely off base?  Uh huh.

We like to put ourselves at the center of our universe.  Heck, that’s our default position, a component of our deeply ingrained survival techniques.  But the world is so much bigger than we are, the concept of “normal” is just as made up as Daffy Duck or coffee being necessary or that you shouldn’t wear white after Labor Day.  We want to put things in order, we want to compartmentalize and prioritize and rank in value those things that we have deemed important or those things of which we have come to cherish; we want to declare that snow in April is not normal and commiserate with others about it when it happens.

Doing these things certainly aren’t “wrong”, but they do expose us as being somewhat insular, as if we were islands of our own existence, individually, nationalistically, culturally.  Our world is so much bigger now than our individual expectations.  As our knowledge of the world grows both globally and intimately, and as our ability to interact with so many others who have such radically different experiences expands exponentially and immediately, we need to be more skeptical about what is “normal” and instead simply concentrate on what is, and determine if or how we should react to that.

After all, “normal” is based on past knowledge, on what has come before.  Because it has come before, we expect it to come again, in the same way.  While being aware of what has come before, and learning from it, is a good thing, too often if there is deviation from a past pattern, especially if that deviation affects us in a negative way – say, if it snows in April – then it must be bad.  And if it’s bad, we need to find the cause and fix it.  And therein lies a huge danger.  We may not fully understand the cause, and therefore tampering with the circumstances might bring about greater and more devastating abnormalities than were anticipated.  (Rabbits in Australia, anyone?)  Or, we may assign a cause, based on our deeply held beliefs, that really have nothing to do with anything and may be counter to someone else’s deeply held beliefs.  (Can you say, “Westboro Baptist Church”?  Now, can you say it without sneering?  Didn’t think so.)  Or, we may not be willing or able to identify the true cause of the abnormality, so we treat the symptoms instead, in effect spinning our wheels as the problem continues unabated despite our frantic actions against it.  Sometimes assuming that we can affect circumstances at all is in itself delusional (as rally hats – and rally monkeys – will attest).

Then we might get depressed because it seems like we cannot deal with these things outside the norm.  Like Prince, we might sit around and “feel so bad, so bad.”  Helpless.  Caught.  Resigned to our fate.  Forced into coping with cold and snow and ice, having to deal with shoveling and getting wet and huddling under grey skies when we should be watching the new grass emerge and waking up to birdsong, enjoying the shedding of layers and anticipating being barefoot again, when we should be out riding bikes and splashing in rain puddles while scanning for flower buds,  and sipping lemonade or gin and tonics instead of cocoa (or lukewarm coffee).

Or maybe, just maybe, we can let go of what is normal, and instead, embrace that which is.  Think not that snow in April is abhorrent, but that it is unexpected.  That while snow in April might have thrown us a curve ball, it’s pretty darned cool that we have built in diversity in our lives, that life itself keeps us on our toes, that it’s wonderful that life is so much bigger than we can compartmentalize.  We can marvel that as the sleet was falling last night, slapping coldly against our bedroom window in the wee hours, that there was also thunder.  Thunder!  That doesn’t happen in December or January!  The magic that is thundersnow tends to happen only when snow comes late in the year, like in April.  That’s freaky cool.

And then we might realize that while it’s okay to be thrown for a loop when something unexpected occurs,  we can often find something marvelous in it.  Or if not marvelous, then at least it may allow us a bit of spontaneity.  Or it can allow us to flex our flexibility.  At the very least, we need not give up on our expectations.  The snow will melt (most likely, very quickly).  The grass will green and the flowers will emerge and the bikes will come out as the mittens and gloves disappear.  Dara will be able to safely put her snow shovel in her garage and start wearing her spring coat again.  And even before then, any one of us can still sip lemonade (or gin and tonics) despite there being a half a foot of snow on the ground.  In April.

Ah, well, enough rambling.  It’s time for me and the Mighty Belle to go out and shovel some snow.  Well, I’ll shovel, and she’ll romp.  Maybe I’ll throw her a few snowballs – she loves chasing snowballs, and we probably won’t get another chance to do that again for quite some time.  After all, it’s April.  It’s not normal for it to snow in April, don’tcha know.

~ Sharon Browning

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